tr_fic | It is finished. (Reply)

Title: The Eternal Heartache, Chapter 39 of 39 The Epilogue
Characters (this part only): Cesc Fabregas, Raul Gonzalez/Pep Guardiola, Bojan Krkic, Lionel Messi; Vicente Rodriguez, Iker Casillas/OFC, Kaka mentioned
Rating: PG-13
Words: this part: 1,104 ; overall total: 95,477
A/N: Okay…*gulps* this is the end for real this time. *sniffles* I do hope you’ve enjoyed this story and thank you once again if you’ve read it throughout its writing. I really am grateful for all the friends I’ve made, the comments I’ve received, and all the doors I’ve opened thanks to this story. Thank you very much guys for a fabulous time for me to write this. This chapter is for all of you that have ever read it. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you :-)

Last part here. All previous parts listed here.

It was strangely quiet around the house that afternoon. The windows were open and the fans were going, but those things hardly made any noise at all. There was no chatter from anyone and there was no sound of a television or anything else to disturb the quiet. Downstairs, the tick, tock of the Grandfather’s clock created a lull in the afternoon.
The only sound was the radio, playing an oldies song quietly in the background. It was on simply to break up the quiet on a hot summer afternoon.

And then there was a noise.

A simple little zip that began one moment and ended a few seconds later. Then all was quiet again.

Cesc looked around his bedroom and shook his head. He had gotten entirely too used to this place already. He could not quite believe he was leaving it now. He shook his head to clear his mind from distraction and proceeded to put the last of his clothes in the final bag he had to pack: his suitcase.

As he was putting his things in the bag, he stopped when he reached one of his shirts. It was a Barcelona shirt, the shirt of the Captain. He ran his fingers lovingly across the badge as he swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. He held the shirt tightly in his hand as he spun on his heel in the room to take a step closer to his brother’s bed. He folded the shirt carefully and laid it on the smooth coverlet that was draped across the bed. Cesc stepped back and hurried to finish packing.

What had started as an organized effort—socks neatly folded, trousers folded to avoid wrinkles, shirts pressed and laid carefully on top of the growing pile—quickly turned into a hurried mess that Cesc knew would undoubtedly give him wrinkled clothes later. Oh well, that wasn’t important, he thought as he finished up packing. He had a plane to catch and he had wasted too much time saying goodbye to Vicente earlier that he was going to miss it probably.

He finished and zipped the bag, quickly pulling it over his shoulder and he left the room that had become his bedroom, his sanctuary for almost a year.

In the wake of his departure, he had left behind a cork message board with news clippings of various interest that he had had.

One was the celebratory article written up about how Barcelona had recently won the double. There were lots of photographs about the team that dotted the board. Another was of how a young Catalan boy named Bojan Guardiola had been pre-accepted into the Julliard School. Coincidentally, on the back of that particular article, there was another one about a wedding. A man named Iker Casillas Mourinho had married his fiancée, Eva, and they were now expecting their first child. There was also a picture of them on the steps of the cathedral in which they had gotten married, but it was now blacked out.

Cesc had made sure of that with the security of a permanent marker.

He moved down the stairs quickly and out the front door. Bojan was standing next to Leo as they dribbled a football between the two of them, waiting for him to come back. Raul was leaning against the car, chattering to Pep about how he would miss him while he was gone.

When everyone noticed Cesc, they smiled at him and came to attention.

Bojan was the first to approach him. He shared a look with his brother that conveyed more words than any long winded speech ever could before he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around his brother. Cesc held him close and closed his eyes, trying to remember this exact moment—the way Bojan smelled of soap and the way the sun was hitting his neck, warming only that one spot of his skin, and the way the air smelled of cinnamon, left over from Raul’s breakfast that morning—in his mind.

When Bojan let go, Raul moved closer and ruffled his hair a little before shooting him a smile.

“If you need any advice, I’m a call away. I’ll get you through your freshman year on a gourmet meal if you just call.” He grinned and Cesc smiled back.

“Thanks.”

Leo offered his hand to Cesc, who took it and shook for a moment. He smiled shyly at the older boy, now grown into a man, and Cesc smiled back. They had an understood agreement between them that no matter what, on pain of death, Leo would be looking out for Bojan since Cesc would not be around to do so himself. Leo had agreed and they had promised to stay in touch.

“Alright, son. Ready to go?” Pep asked opening the passenger side door for Cesc.

Cesc put his bag in the trunk and turned to look up at the house that had changed his life. He studied the way the sun was peering brightly over the age of the roof and the way the trees on the sidewalk cast a shadow over the stoop. He noticed the umbrellas still open on the landing from the night before’s storm.

He turned back to Pep and nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Oxford awaits,” Pep replied with a smile before he moved around to get inside the car. He called to Raul, “see you in a few days, love.”

Raul blew him a kiss.

“Don’t worry. Me and Bojan will only throw a party or four until you get back.” He grinned, throwing his arm around Bojan’s shoulders. Both grinned at the leaving pair.

“If you break it, buy a new one to replace it cause I don’t want to know about it.” Pep said before shutting his door and Cesc smiled a little to himself as he waved at both of them. Then he shut his door and waited for Pep to start for the airport.

As the car rolled down the street and away from the life he had grown accustomed to, Cesc could not help but look in the rearview mirror. He saw Bojan watching the car depart before Leo squeezed his shoulder. Raul had smiled at both of them and was ushering them inside.

The last thing Cesc saw of that street was the little group of boys down at the other end of the block. He squinted but he could not mistake the easy movements and the bright color of the Brazil shirt the boy wore as Kaka darted between the other boys to score one more goal.