Possibility -- Bojan/Pep
May. 8th, 2010 10:58 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
tempered-rose.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tr_ficTitle: Possibility
Pairing: Pep Guardiola/Bojan Krkic Implied
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Because![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
butbyskylight wrote this incredibly awesome fic. Also, the song for this fic is Possibility by Lykke Li.
So tell me when you hear my heart stop,
You’re the only who knows
Tell me when you hear my silence
There’s a possibility
I wouldn’t know
The Italian newspaper crumpled in his hand as his fist sank down onto the table slowly. It was not an angry gesture per se, he was just unsettled by the front-page headline. The girl in the corner looked over with big green eyes and then looked over to her mother quizzically. The woman who was as quiet as he used to be just walked over to her and picked her up and carried her out, making sure that she gave him a concerned look as she walked past.
Bojan did not pay any attention to it. He knew that she loved him, as did their daughter, but that did not change the fact that he had been hallowed out a long time ago when he had been rejected. When Pep had let him be sold without a merciful interjection to the new president that could have spared him.
But it did not matter now. He was no longer the scared little boy that craved the master’s loving praise or just a few moments of his time. He wasn’t a wide-eyed boy that was treated as an innocent. He had grown up—he had a family now and while to some that was the perfect happiness and all you could want in the world, it wasn’t what he truly wanted.
And he hated himself for it.
He didn’t want to want Pep. He didn’t want to yearn for those strong hands on his skin. He didn’t want to love him.
Bojan forced his hand to release the paper and straighten it out to look back at the headline. Now no matter how much self-loathing he still had for loving the man that had betrayed him really did not matter anymore.
On the front page of the newspaper was a large photograph of ‘the most honorable and legendary’ Pep Guardiola followed by an article that outlined his outstanding career achievements and personal life accomplishments. It was the usual fluff that newspapers did when celebrities and stars had given their last for their cause. Tomorrow no one would remember the Catalan giant and all he did for Barcelona—they would go on to the next big performer and eventually Pep would be forgotten.
Bojan looked sadly at the picture before he forced his mind and his eyes away. He stood slowly and went into his bedroom and picked up the kit he had worn since Pep had sold him fourteen years ago. The black and white vertical stripes of Juventus had become routine to wear but he still missed the other stripes—the blaugrana stripes.
He shoved the kit into his worn out bag and hoisted it over his shoulder and started for the door. He had a match to play and then he would take his daughter for ice cream after. It was just another day in his own personal hell and this time he was sure the regret would swallow him whole.
By blood and by mean
I fall when you leave
By blood and by mean
I follow your lead
Pairing: Pep Guardiola/Bojan Krkic Implied
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Because
butbyskylight wrote this incredibly awesome fic. Also, the song for this fic is Possibility by Lykke Li. So tell me when you hear my heart stop,
You’re the only who knows
Tell me when you hear my silence
There’s a possibility
I wouldn’t know
The Italian newspaper crumpled in his hand as his fist sank down onto the table slowly. It was not an angry gesture per se, he was just unsettled by the front-page headline. The girl in the corner looked over with big green eyes and then looked over to her mother quizzically. The woman who was as quiet as he used to be just walked over to her and picked her up and carried her out, making sure that she gave him a concerned look as she walked past.
Bojan did not pay any attention to it. He knew that she loved him, as did their daughter, but that did not change the fact that he had been hallowed out a long time ago when he had been rejected. When Pep had let him be sold without a merciful interjection to the new president that could have spared him.
But it did not matter now. He was no longer the scared little boy that craved the master’s loving praise or just a few moments of his time. He wasn’t a wide-eyed boy that was treated as an innocent. He had grown up—he had a family now and while to some that was the perfect happiness and all you could want in the world, it wasn’t what he truly wanted.
And he hated himself for it.
He didn’t want to want Pep. He didn’t want to yearn for those strong hands on his skin. He didn’t want to love him.
Bojan forced his hand to release the paper and straighten it out to look back at the headline. Now no matter how much self-loathing he still had for loving the man that had betrayed him really did not matter anymore.
On the front page of the newspaper was a large photograph of ‘the most honorable and legendary’ Pep Guardiola followed by an article that outlined his outstanding career achievements and personal life accomplishments. It was the usual fluff that newspapers did when celebrities and stars had given their last for their cause. Tomorrow no one would remember the Catalan giant and all he did for Barcelona—they would go on to the next big performer and eventually Pep would be forgotten.
Bojan looked sadly at the picture before he forced his mind and his eyes away. He stood slowly and went into his bedroom and picked up the kit he had worn since Pep had sold him fourteen years ago. The black and white vertical stripes of Juventus had become routine to wear but he still missed the other stripes—the blaugrana stripes.
He shoved the kit into his worn out bag and hoisted it over his shoulder and started for the door. He had a match to play and then he would take his daughter for ice cream after. It was just another day in his own personal hell and this time he was sure the regret would swallow him whole.
By blood and by mean
I fall when you leave
By blood and by mean
I follow your lead
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