Page 232 of Off the Pitch

His lips were soft against mine, and yet hard. It was as if they were anchoring me in reality. “W-what are you doing here?”

“You needed me, so I came. Sorry it took me so long to get here.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.” I reached out, placing my hand tentatively on his chest, double-checking he was real. “I didn’t think you’d come. I-I didn’t… I thought… I thought maybe…” The words refused to voice themselves, but I got the feeling Félix understood.

“I know. I know. But I’m here. I’ll always be here for you. I promise.”

The tears came before I could stop them, sliding down my cheeks embarrassingly fast. Of all the things I’d expected to happen, this hadn’t been one of them. I buried my face in his chest, willing my tears to stop. I was so overwhelmed with emotion I didn’t know what to feel first. Relief, happiness, and shock all swirled in my chest, leaving me feeling more drained than anything.

“Gah, what the fuck, man?” I said, rubbing my eyes and pushing the last of my tears away.

“I know.” Félix chuckled.

“You’re such a twat. You could have told me instead of trying to be mysterious.”

“Probably. I wanted it to be a surprise though. I didn’t want you to tell me not to come.” He kissed me again. “Can we go inside now? As sweet as this is, I don’t think we should be doing this on your doorstep at three in the morning.”

“You’re the one who showed up at this time!” I grumbled, waving him into the house and locking the door behind him.

“It was the first flight I could get. And I had to fly business class!Business class! I haven’t flown like that for years. It was so cramped. I have no idea how the people in economy function!”

“Oh no, how will you ever recover?” I said, letting the sarcasm drip from my words and trying not to laugh.

“It’ll take me a while.”

“Come on,” I said, turning to hobble back up the stairs, shaking my head. “Let’s go back to bed.”

“God, yes, your bed is so much more comfortable than an aeroplane.” I heard Félix following me up the stairs. When we got to my room, I stripped off my t-shirt and climbed back into bed. It was still warm, and I sighed happily as I watched Félix throwing his clothes into a pile on the floor.

“Fuck, that feels better,” Félix said, as he pulled off his jeans and boxers. “I knew it was a stupid idea to fly in jeans.”

“Then why did you?” I said sleepily, watching him with amusement. For once, seeing Félix naked didn’t make me want sex. I just wanted to cuddle and bury my face in his chest.

“Because I just grabbed whatever clothes were nearest while I was changing my flight.” Félix shrugged off his t-shirt before pulling back the duvet on what was already his side of the bed. “I didn’t really think about what I was wearing if I’m honest.” The mattress dipped as he slid into bed, opening his arms and pulling me into his chest. I went willingly, wrapping my arm around his waist and carefully positioning my leg over his so it wouldn’t get knocked.

“How’s your leg?” he asked. His fingers caressed down my spine, and I took a deep, shuddering breath. I smelt Félix’s cologne, the spiced citrus scent still faintly clinging to his skin.

“Sore. Not as bad as it was when I first did it, but it still hurts every time I move it.”

“Will you need surgery?”

“Nah, it’s not that bad,” I said, taking another deep breath of Felix’s scent. I’d always loved the sharp tang of citrus. “The doctor I saw yesterday thinks it’ll be about six weeks. I’ll be fine for the start of the season… just not…”

“Just not for the World Cup.” Félix’s voice was warm and soft. I looked up at him, defiantly expecting to find pity in his eyes, but there was nothing there except heartbreak and understanding.

“Yeah.” I felt my eyes threatening to water again, and I shut them tightly. I was sick of crying. “It sucks, man. Like, what the fuck? Why me?”

“I know,” Félix said, squeezing me tighter. “I know. It’s not fair. It never is.”

The tears fell then. I couldn’t hold them back no matter how hard I tried. And for once I didn’t want to. I’d tried to be brave, tried to pretend since I came home that it didn’t bother me, that I’d get there next time, but that didn’t help right now. Four years felt like a fucking lifetime away.

“It’s really not,” I said, choking the words out in between sobs. I’d never cried like this before in my life. “I just… I wanted it so badly, and I don’t fucking get a choice now.”

“I know, baby. I know,” Félix said.

“What the fuck do I do now?”

“You’re probably asking the wrong person.” Félix chuckled darkly, and I hiccupped into his chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever really dealt with what happened to me. But I think you grieve a little, and maybe you cry, and then you relax and recover and watch the matches and cheer for your friends. It’ll hurt, whatever happens, but I think eventually you’ll have to let it go… You can’t hold on to it forever without hurting yourself.”

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