My NaNoWriMo Chapter 1

[tempered-rose.livejournal.com]

Title: The Eternal Heartache, Chapter 1 of ???
Characters: (this part) Cesc Fabregas, Bojan Krkic, Cristiano Ronaldo
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1,823
Warning: Descriptions of child abuse and jerk!Ronaldo
A/N: THIS IS MY NANOWRIMO. It is an A/U. They aren’t footballers. Please be kind if you read it <3 =-)
Dedication: Entirely dedicated to the enthusiastic and most entertaining, sweet, and loveable person ever in the history of the world: nicole811.











“Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde.”
‘I love you without knowing how, nor when, nor from where.’
– Soneto XVII – Pablo Neruda –



Gnarled roots and tangled limbs, a silver trunk lifts slowly, majestically from the silt of the riverbank. The spindly fingers travel down into the river, twisting underneath the water’s surface to find the comfort of nutrients in the riverbed. Five meters high with room to spare, the great tree stands proud and tall and has weathered many storms.

High up on one of the many limbs deep in the emerald canopy, a russet patch of fluff scampers along the branch searching for an escape from the cursed heat of the summer. No escape would come for the little red squirrel, nor for anyone in those days, in that town.

The small claws on the foot of the squirrel snaps a thin twig of a leaf and sends it falling towards the earth. The wind rises to meet the plummeting green plant and carries it up where it rotates and turns before slowly, gradually gliding down to meet the cold, silent river’s surface. Before meeting the surface, the leaf is blown up once more before it is implanted onto the river and begins a long journey to the sea.

It follows the river, bends when it bends, bobs when the current increases, and goes down the small lane of water until the point where the rocks pick up the current and the once-calm river becomes a choppy, raging river. Once past the minute rapids, the river calms again, as if the turbulence had never been in existence. The leaf cruises past a town, a damned town full of misery and unhidden sins, of secrets not kept and no justice given to those wronged by the hurt that was caused.

It is a hot day, hotter than the rest. The children of the town are outside, laying in the grass of the hills that surround the town in the small valley in Catalonia. Some were high up in trees, hoping that the jade leaves would keep away the sun’s heat. A few are in the river, playing in the cool water to keep themselves from the scorching heat from the unrelenting sun.

In a secluded place, away from the rest that is hidden away just like the town’s secrets and about as forgotten, a green leaf meets a sudden stop. A small boy looks down and moves his foot an inch back to move the leaf onward. He is a small boy for his age, the unkind children of the town constantly remind him of this fact. He is fourteen, but only just: his birthday was last week. His dark hair falls forward into his eyes, his sad eyes.

There is nothing to smile for in this town.

The boy is in the water up to his ankles and it cools him slightly. Downstream from him, his brother sits on a rock with a sapling and small line stuck in the water. It is a useless hobby, nothing ever worth anything is caught in this river anyway. The boy wades through the cool water, over the slippery rocks covered in slime, and pulls himself from the water to sit on the rock with his brother. He wraps his arms around him and hugs him. His older brother puts his arm around him and hugs back just as tight. They are alone but for each other, in this moment, in this life.

They sit in quiet silence, neither having to speak. They share a bond that is unbreakable; they have to share the same pain and sufferings. They understand what it is to be hurt deeply and repeatedly. The younger brother has many talents—most go unnoticed by their mother and their eldest brother. The middle brother always makes sure to take care of him, to see that he is well. He always treats him as though he were special, something the boy appreciates by returning the favor.

“We have to go home soon.”

The statement is spoken the exact moment when the sun breaks through the canopy and immediately heats the rock and the two small boys sitting there. The younger boy knows this to be true, but he does not want to go, not yet.

“Come on Bojan, let’s go.” His brother releases him and pulls up the line and holds it tight to the sapling.

“I don’t want to go yet.” He whines; he doesn’t mean to complain so childishly, but he doesn’t want to leave their peaceful sanctuary. “Please Cesc, lets stay a while longer.”

Bojan pouts and Cesc gives him a pained look. Truth be told, he himself did not want to return home either. But where else could they go? The heat was unbearable but at least the house had air-conditioning, no matter how unpleasant the house itself was. Cesc weighed the options mentally.

“A while longer, but if we stay then we go swimming.” Cesc smiles inwardly. He knows how much little Bojan likes to swim.

Sure enough, as soon as the word comes out of his mouth, Bojan is already stripping to his underpants and wading in the water as he goes. Cesc follows suit until they are deep enough that the water covers everything but their heads. The cool water that comes from the hills surrounds them and cools them immediately.

Bojan gets a moment of teasing and splashes Cesc. Cesc takes a minute to blink the water out of his eyes before he splashes back. Bojan splashes Cesc and a game begins; the laughter of the two brothers fill their quiet place.

Bojan floats in the river while Cesc lays on the rock when their splash fight is over. Bojan looks up through the leaves of the trees and watches the clouds make funny shapes. It is because of peaceful moments like this that make him think that maybe life isn’t all that bad.

Cesc eventually lifts himself from the heated surface of the large rock. He has made sure that the sun has completely dried him before he tells Bojan to get out of the water; it is time for them to go home now. He and Bojan redress quietly; their fun is over now and they know it.

They walk close together, but not touching, back up the trail they’ve worn from the road down the bank to the river’s edge. The grasses are tall and it would be easy to get tripped up in them, but Cesc and Bojan have traveled this route enough times to know for the places where they could get snagged and tripped up. Once they were on the road, they headed in the direction of their house.

“One of these days we will get out of here.” Cesc promises Bojan when he sees the younger boy get sadder with each footstep closer towards home.

“That’s what dad said.” Bojan says quietly. It isn’t rare when he mentions their father but when he does Cesc feels the same sadness fill him. Cesc stops them in the road and hugs Bojan tightly.

“We will.” Cesc swears vehemently and stares Bojan in the eye as he says it. Bojan nods and the two continue on their way home.

The turn the corner on the old, worn road and see their house. It is made mainly of stucco and tiles. The stucco, once a golden sand color, is now the color of pale milk. The winds of the mountains have worn it, the sun faded it. The once-brilliant tiles too have faded so that they are a brown color. The lawn is nothing but brown grass, dried from the hot summer sun.

The house in the bend of the road to town is a sad house. It is tucked away into the hills. When those driving in and out of town see this house, they forget it as soon as it enters their mind. There is too much sadness and rage hidden in those four walls. The two boys that know nothing but this house enter quietly, they do not want to disturb the air of tense quiet that is inside.

Cesc shuts the door quietly behind them and lets his eyes adjust to the darkness inside. The fan on the ceiling rotates in the living room, silence reigns. A breeze comes from the open door that leads to the tiled-patio outside. Cesc sees their mother outside in one of the lounge chairs; she is fanning herself with her eyes closed. Bojan sees her too and instinctively knows to revert back into his quiet, shy self. Cesc hates that he does that; he misses the boy that laughed openly back in the river.

The two start for their room that is shared on the far corner of the house. They are quiet but their mother hears them anyway. She opens her eyes slowly and then stops them both with a small call.

“Bojan, come here to me.” She holds out her hand from the chair.

Bojan looks at Cesc and Cesc nods, standing nearby in case he was to be needed. Bojan comes to their mother, Maria, and takes her hand. It is cold, like a stone, but firm; he knows exactly how firm it can be. She squeezes his hand, not hard but not soft either.

“Play me something my dear. I need to hear something sweet.” She smiles feebly at him.

Bojan gives a pained look in Cesc’s direction but nods and goes over to the old wooden bench and sits. He opens the case over the ivory keys and thinks of something ‘sweet’ to play for her. One of Mozart’s Sonata’s comes to mind and his fingers find the keys he needs to make the sweet music.

As he plays, Cesc thinks that this is the only good thing that their mother ever gave them, the sweet gift of Bojan’s music.

Bojan was halfway through the crescendo when the front door was forced open so hard it came back and hit the wall. Cesc, who had been lulled into a state of lazy happiness, snapped out of it like he had been struck with lightening. He moved closer to Bojan as Cris started yelling.

“Stop Bojan. You’re not any good! I’d rather hear bitches fighting than hear you play another moment! You’re never going to be worth anything!” Cristiano had walked over and jerked the bench away from the piano, the keys falling silent with a horrid clang. The first slap went across Bojan’s face the same instant.

Cesc jerked shakily into action and moved so that the next hit fell across his arm instead of on Bojan’s face.

“Leave him alone Cris!” Cesc tried futilely to get Cristiano to stop. Cris only smacked harder. Cesc turned so that Bojan was protected by Cesc’s back.

“You want some too Cesc?! You are worthless!” Cristiano shouts and pounds away with his fists onto Cesc’s back.

Outside on the terrace, Maria lifts the fan to move some air onto her face.