Fandom: German National team
Pairing: Klinsmann/Loew, various
Disclaimer: I still don't know people mentioned in this story and I still hope it isn't true. The plot is still only my fantasy.
Author's notes, previous chapters and music here
Timeline for the series is here
He’s had a lot of time to think. A lot – by his own measurement. A lot and then not enough. Not nearly enough to think about everything to go through everything that was going on with him.
It has happened in
Maybe – he thinks – it was when he threw the cheap plastic lighter into the trash-bin and missed. Or maybe – he reasons with himself – when his palm was gripping the doorknob so hard he was unable to feel his own fingers – maybe it has happened then.
It goes through his mind – ‘I must not fear, fear is a mind-killer’. It doesn’t annoy him, but what is unnerving is the thought that he doesn’t remember where he heard or read it. And he doesn’t fear. But still it goes on and on and on. And he doesn’t even know – or remember – what are the words that continue the phrase.
He doesn’t fear. There is the greatest insurance he has – and it is Jürgen’s ‘I love you’ that he’s heard the last time they’ve said goodbye. And many times before that.
But that night in München he’s looked in Jürgen’s eyes and realized that Jürgen wouldn’t hear him whatever he might be saying. And he’s listened to the sleepy voice on the other side of the line, recognizing it and rationalizing – yes, this one, and how much sense it makes that the two are bound by their club and the World Cup and the swift understanding that only friendship brings…
And there was another night. In winter, much earlier, and there was a name falling from Jürgen’s lips – and the name now matched the voice.
He’s cowered out back then, and did it again – and was ready to continue so. But he’s had too much time to think.
He didn’t want to know what he didn’t want to know – and that’s where the word ‘fear’ comes up again. He didn’t want to know why’s and what’s, and so he didn’t. At first.
Till the reason took over. And another one of Jürgen’s soft ‘I love you’ told him that he may ask whatever he wants – and that the answers will hurt him no more than the questions.
He’s felt himself sure enough to ask Jürgen anything – any question he kept pushing aside more than a year. The only thing stopping him now from blurting it all out loud was the thought about the one he loves. If he could do it without causing the disquiet on the other man – he’d do it long ago.
But he wants to ask. Curious and anticipating, he wants to ask, but even more – he really wants to know.
Everything there is to know. He feels it to be his right – after all, he’s the one Jürgen says ‘I love you’ to.
There is time.
A straight-line sequence.
Measured by seconds and hours and years.
Measured by the points that mark important turns.
Every regret in this world comes down to ‘if only I’ve done it in time’.
Black leather jacket and tousled hair – this is him. And in front of him Jürgen, steel-grey shirt strangely making his eyes look even bluer than they are.
“I’m sorry to make you wait even longer”, says Jürgen with the soft smile.
“Can’t it wait”, he protests loudly. And nods, agreeing, at the same time.
“Just one more hour. I’m sorry, Joachim”, Jürgen turns to leave. And he thinks he hears a barely audible whisper just when Jürgen walks out of the door.