tr_fic | Chapter 11 =-D

Title: The Eternal Heartache, Chapter 11 of ???
Characters (this bit): Pep Guardiola, Cesc Fabregas, Bojan Krkic ; implied characters: Raul Gonzalez, Iker Casillas, Guti, Cristiano Ronaldo
Rating: PG-13 for implications of something ;-)
Words: this part is 2611 ; total words: 31,848 (aka 63%)
A/N: The last part of the last sentence in the first paragraph is so important I can’t even tell you how much. So if you grasp anything in this chapter, that’s one of the themes to grasp. *nods* Okay now that the PSA is over, I dedicate this chapter to the person who I chatted to while writing it, aka the person that I love muchy for being awesome,

melj1213. =-)

Last part here. All previous parts listed here.

Just past the old section of town, past the city’s center and the rounded domed tower of the Torre Agbar*, the modern section of town begins. Modernized art, buildings, even museums line the streets. In this part of Barcelona, only the artists and the influentially intellectual could make it here. The city does not sleep; cars and people rush past on the sidewalks as they make their way to new destinations. Some going to work, others to school at the university; others were going to get on the metro, even a few others were heading to the airport in the south side of town. There was always activity in Poblenou*, for it was the heart of the city and the heart never truly stops beating.

High up in one of the modern apartment buildings, a man sighs and places a letter on his desk. He is a young man, older than a boy but not old enough to be completely wise to the ways of the world. He has a good heart, a good soul, but is plagued like so many by pressures of society and family, of mind over heart, and hundreds of other faceless, nameless, problems that so many in the world struggle with daily.

The simple yet elegant script on embellished ivory stock paper leaves a very strict order, and even stricter warning, in its black scrawl. The man knows his duty; he has never completely forgotten it after having been reminded since the day he was old enough to comprehend things that adults told him.

His mind reminded him that the solution to his problem was quite simple that it was almost embarrassing. It was not a hard problem to fix, it repeated. His heart, however, refused to be cornered so easily. While in his mind he had surrendered, his heart vowed never to give up and stop beating for the freedom of choosing whom to love.

By the time the first of the golden rays of sunlight fell onto the passeig on Thursday morning, a routine had been set up. With the dawn, seven in the morning, the two men would rouse themselves. They would bask in the stability of their love for a few moments before continuing on with their daily plans. The younger of the two would proceed to make the breakfast made up of the requests from the night before. The elder man would shower, get the paper, and read the news from the world as he sipped on freshly brewed coffee. An hour and a half after the two men were awake, the boy would stomp down the stairs, ready for another day at l’acadèmia.

That morning however, there was a tiny blip in the routine because Cesc had a question.

Cesc was nervous, he had been nervous ever since this not-so-brilliant idea had formed inside of his head. There were a hundred risks, consequences, and punishments that could be taken out on him if this plan were to fall through. His mind had scorned every possible plan that he had come up with; the trouble, Cesc, the trouble the consequences, it warned, the consequences if you are caught! The risk is not just to you, idiot. Cesc had tried to reason with himself, to shake himself away from the madness of this idea. But he could not forget the man that caused such a risk; he wanted him desperately.

Cesc was the first one down that morning; untamable nerves had been barely beaten by rational logic. He put his hands in the pockets of his jacket; a chill had come about midweek that required such an article of clothing. It was September after all and Barcelona was no tropical island.

The boy saw his uncle sitting at the table, reading the paper with his feet propped up in the chair next to the one he was sitting in. Cesc noticed that Raul was noticeably absent. Taking a deep breath, Cesc walked in further and placed a hesitant knock on the doorframe.

Hearing the sound, Pep looked up and came to attention: he lowered the paper and took his feet out of the chair, almost embarrassed it seemed that he had been caught doing that.

“Cesc, come in.”

Cesc took a few hesitant steps forward and decided to deflect attention for a minute. “Raul’s not here?”

Pep’s eyes moved to look down at the paper for a minute before flicking back up at his nephew. “No, he was called in to work early this morning. Apparently, his sous chef has thrown a fit again and has threatened to quit, again.”

From his tone, Cesc knows there is a story that his uncle isn’t telling. “Is everything going to be okay?”

Pep rolled his eyes at the unknown story and nodded. “Yes, Guti is just a…he’s a…” Cesc hadn’t seen Pep struggle for words before now, but the man he was coming to admire greatly was having a fit of speechlessness. “He’s, well, he is just something else.”

“And Raul can handle him…?” Cesc asks, still unsure of what exactly the ‘something else’ was.

Something twinges inside of Pep, Cesc sees his jaw clench, as his eyes grow hard at the thought. “Yes, yes Raul can handle him.”

Cesc sees what he thinks is jealousy in his uncle’s eyes and he hears it in the man’s voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean— I—I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business, I—”

“Cesc, calm down.” Pep interrupts to stop Cesc’s ramblings. “It is all a bunch of nonsense that happened long ago. It is all in the past now.” Pep waves a hand dismissing the subject. “You have done nothing wrong by asking a question.”

Cesc nods but he doesn’t believe his uncle completely.

“I’m sorry, you wanted something?” Pep changes the subject.

“Oh, yes well um…” Cesc bites his lip, nerves winning out over logic this time. His logical persuasion argument was quickly sliding through his fingers as the nerves made a startling comeback. “I-I wondered if w-we were doing anything on Saturday.”

Pep thinks over his schedule in his mind. “Not anything special, no. I was going to be in my office working on some things that I need for a conference on Monday. Which reminds me, I need to speak to you and Bojan about next week.” Pep mentally scolds himself for forgetting about that. “Why do you ask?”

“What about next week?”

Pep laughs slightly. “I have to go out of town for two or three days. I wanted to ask you boys what you wanted to do about that.”

Cesc and Bojan had both been warned by Pep that he had to travel rather extensively for his work. It had not come up again since he told them about it, until now.

“Where are you going?”

“London.” Pep says thinking of the English capital many miles away. “It’s not Paris and certainly not Barcelona, but it’s…nice.”

Cesc’s eyes widen at the mention of the faraway town. He had always wanted to see it, to see the museums and the place where Arsenal played. He had it on his list of places to see before he died.

Pep noticed Cesc’s eyes light up at the mention and decided that he could file that too for use later on. Pep stands up and stretches for a moment before he reaches down for his coffee mug and turns to the pot to pour some more.

“You never did ask me whatever it was you came in here to ask.” Pep points out and he is pretty certain that Cesc is blushing about that.

“Oh yes…well, you see, I just wanted to know because I um…” Cesc fumbles through his words, “wanted to know if I could go hang out with a friend. On Saturday. For a little while.”

Pep smiles into the coffee pot. Well, at least the boy was making friends. That was positive parenting, no?

“Of course you can.” Pep says as he turns, fresh cup of coffee in hand. “Don’t even think that you can’t.”

Cesc smiles, clearly relieved. “Thank you.”

Pep nods. “Who are you going to be ‘hanging out’ with?”

Cesc swallows. Damn. He hadn’t planned that far ahead because he didn’t think that Pep would actually permit him to go.

“Just a friend from school.” Cesc tried to go for opaque answers.

Pep mulls the boy’s answer over inside his head. “A friend…does this friend have a name?”

Cesc swallows again. He didn’t want to get any of his friends into trouble, but nor could he tell the truth either. He did not feel right lying to his uncle and then asking his newfound friends to cover for him for that lie.

“I see.” Pep says and Cesc blinks at him. “One of those friends, huh?”

Pep is smiling slyly at him and nods. “I remember those days very well.”

Cesc doesn’t get what his uncle is saying but the other man seems to be lost in his own little fantasy land. Cesc notices his uncle is looking off into space and while the toaster is shiny, Cesc doesn’t think it is that fascinating.

“Um…Pep?” Cesc asks awkwardly and Pep blinks.

“Sorry.” The man has a twinge of red in his cheeks. He then clears his throat. “As your acting guardian, I cannot permit you to behave in behavior that is probably illegal and immoral.”

Cesc feels deflated.

“But, as your uncle, I say ‘just be careful’. I must insist that you are careful with everything related to that and that you make sure your safety comes first. It is very important to keep yourself safe, Cesc, do you understand me?”

Cesc nods, unbelieving that his uncle was going to let him ‘you know’ with Iker. It was because of this doubt in his mind that he asked, “Are you serious?”

“I was young too once, you know.” Pep sits down again at the table. “Let me ask you a question, even if I said no, would you not try to find a way around my decision to meet your friend?”

Cesc doesn’t even have to think before he answers. “Yes, I probably would.”

Pep nods. “I remember having to do that and I remember being caught for it and getting into a hell of a lot of trouble for it. This way, I skip the ‘I find out about it and we have a huge row over it’ part and move on to the ‘I know and I accept it’ part.”

Cesc still watches his uncle as if this were a parallel universe, perhaps it is. He never expected to be in this situation in Barcelona ever in his life, yet here he stood. Perhaps this was the infamously alluded to alternate universe. Perhaps this was the world that the poets were so devastatingly fond of when they composed their prose.

“So, you have a pretty good idea of what I am going to go do with my friend, and you are still going to let me do it anyway?” Cesc restates for his own clarification.

Pep’s eyes stare into his. “Are you going to be doing anything illegal Cesc?”

Cesc thinks on it. The age of consent to have sex was fifteen… He shakes his head. “No, no sir, I won’t.”

Pep nods. “Then, as long as you keep yourself safe and promise me that you won’t do anything illegal, I don’t see what the harm in you spending an afternoon with your ‘friend’ could be.”

Cesc decides that this is a bad time to mention that his ‘friend’ was more than a little bit older than he was. Perhaps if Pep knew that, then he would definitely reconsider. Cesc did not get to say anything more on the subject, though, as Bojan came in at that moment.

The boy hugged Cesc from the side and proceeded to walk into the room. He said ‘good morning’ and hugged Pep from behind as he continued around in a circle to grab a banana and a bowl for cereal.

Cesc awed the innocence that Bojan exerted. His brother was truly an innocent. He did not know the conversation he had interrupted, but nor did he need to know the explicit details, to know that something was going on. Bojan knew this, but still did not react in a panicked way; he merely was his calm and innocent self.

Cesc had always admired this about his brother. Even during the darkest of days, after the worst of beatings from Cristiano, Bojan was calm and innocent. He certainly had moments where he got mad when things were so blatantly unfair, he got cranky when he did not get enough sleep, and he was known to be a little resentful for the way he was treated at home. But generally, he was sweet and affectionate.

“Good morning Bojan.” Pep greets. “Pleasant dreams?”

Bojan nods and grins. “I had a dream where I heard the most divine music. It was the sweetest piece that you have ever heard and it was so pretty that I could have sworn it was real.” Bojan looks sad when he again realizes it was a dream.

Pep takes a sip of coffee and puts his mug back down. “Was it a guitar piece?”

Bojan nods, perking up again. “I remember thinking it would be even more perfect if it had a piano accompaniment. How did you know?”

“It’s entirely possible that you did hear something. Sergio from over the way plays the guitar at night when he can’t sleep. He’s very good isn’t he?”

“If you want to hear someone that is very good, you should listen to Bojan play the piano.” Cesc admires fondly as he, too, goes to get something to eat for breakfast.

Bojan blushes and Pep looks at him with awe. “I wasn’t aware that you played.”

Bojan is still blushing as he mumbles out an answer. “Yes, I can.”

“He’s very good.” Cesc adds as he sits down at the table, spoon in hand.

“Really?” Pep asks looking at Bojan. Cesc nods and Bojan blushes more. “Hmm…well I wonder if I can look into that for you. If you want too I mean. I know someone who knows someone that knows a great piano teacher.”

Cesc and Pep watch Bojan’s face light up at that. “I would like that!”

Pep nods, smiling. “I will see what I can do.”

Cesc is pleased that Pep is taking an interest in Bojan’s ability. He knows that Bojan wants to play again, he can tell that his brother has missed it. Perhaps this way, Bojan’s talent could be put to extraordinary use.

“Well, it’s time for another day to begin.” Pep says after he sees the clock. “Don’t be late boys.” He pats each of their foreheads as he puts his mug in the sink. “Lunch money is by the door.”

Pep gives a level look at Cesc, who nods and swallows in return.

“Have fun at work,” Bojan says and Pep thanks him before the older man walks out the door.

The boys eat in relative quiet for a few minutes, the appliances making sounds and the spoons clunked the bottom of their bowls.

“So this music piece was good you say?” Cesc asks, breaking the silence.

Bojan grins and nods. Cesc listens to the relaying of how the piece captured the emotions throughout the rest of breakfast and halfway to school. Bojan only pauses for breath in his recount. Cesc shook his head in amazement. Bojan would be a very good musician one day.

Torre Agbar* = A modern building in the middle of Barcelona

Pablenou* = A neighborhood in Barcelona, houses the Torre Agbar amongst other things. Read more here