Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Inspired by real life events but taking a lot of liberties with it.

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The flight back to Dortmund goes by in a heartbeat, and I wish I could say it was because I slept most of the time. It’s not. I couldn’t sleep at all. My mind won’t stop replaying the events of the past few hours. It’s been a pretty exhausting couple of days. Only two days ago, we advanced to the Champions League final, and so much has happened in between.

When Cecilia showed up at my hotel room earlier today, I had managed to muster at least some amount of strength to face her — say goodbye to her, let her go — without falling apart in front of her. Or at least that was the plan.

Her kiss took me by complete surprise. At first, I had my doubts. The honesty in her eyes screamed at me to hold her, to kiss her, and to never let her go, yet I thought she was going to ask me the exact opposite. I would have had to deny her eyes. She didn’t ask me to leave her alone; she kissed me instead.

No way to know how it will go and it will probably not be easy — being under everyone’s scrutiny — but, I won’t let anything jeopardize this. As long as she wants me, I’m there. I will talk to Mats, as soon as possible. Perhaps even tomorrow, after a good night rest and with a clear head. Maybe even before I fly back to Munich to see her again. He knows already, he understands, but I won’t hide anything from him.

When I finally get home, I’m about to pass out. I get rid of my clothes and throw on some sweats. It’s still early to go to bed, but I have a couple days’ worth of sleep to catch up on.

I get my phone, to text Cecilia and let her know I’m home, when it starts ringing in my hand.

And it’s not her.

“Mats?”

“Hey, are you back?”

“Uh... yeah but...”

“Ah, yes, just saw your car. I’m coming up,” he says quickly, before hanging up.

Dammit.

I only have a few seconds before he comes barging in through that door, so I type in quickly. “I’m home. Something came up. I’ll call you in a bit.” and send to Cecilia.

With a sigh, I set the phone down on the counter and take a few breaths. I don’t think I can do this right now. I need a clear head, a good rest, to do this right. How can I discuss the most difficult thing I’d ever tell my best friend with a half-working brain?

“I am never giving interviews for Bild again... ever!” He slams the door as he storms in. He heads for the fridge first, as usual. “I hadn’t even left the place and they already had twisted my words into a headline.”

He’s bent into the fridge, when he peeks from the top of the fridge door, string cheese hanging from his lips. “Where the fuck is your food?”

“I think there are some grapes in the back.”

“You and your string cheese, man.” He shuts the fridge closed with his leg, a bag of grapes in one hand, a few string cheese packets in the other.

I shrug at him, making my way to one of the stools as he sits across from me.

“I had to text Mario,” he continues, peeling more cheese packets and pushing the bag of grapes in my direction. “Telling him what I had said, which he knows already, and the fucking kid goes on to say I had apologized to him!”

“Hmph...” I mumble while I play with the grape between my fingers. I don’t even think I’m hungry. I just want to go to sleep.

“I have nothing to apologize for!”

I stare at the grape between my fingers, slightly dozing off.

Not even a second later, a grape bounces off my forehead. I blink myself awake and look up. “What’s up with you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah...” I shrug, putting a grape in my mouth after all.

“What did Braun say? Did they clear you?”

I nod at him, as I chew another one, hoping it helps me stay awake longer.

“Excellent!” he says with a smile, a genuine one, banging his fist on the counter.

He’s clearly happy for me, and the fact I can play. He sits there, smiling at me, being a good friend and I have to tell him I’m in love with his girl.

“You know who’s not going to be cleared?”

Of course, he brings it back to Mario. “That’s what I hear...”

“I talked to Marco today. He still thinks Mario will play. Pfffft... He has no idea how they do business at Bayern. Anyone who thinks Mario doesn’t have only his own interest at heart, is a complete fool.”

“Come on...” I shake my head. “Marco is just trying to have his friend’s back.”

“I just don’t want him to be disappointed when he gets backstabbed too.”

“Yeah, well...” I shrug, scratching my neck. I am just over the drama.

“I swear... the sooner that kid leaves, the better.” Mats gets up from the stool, grabbing the grapes and the empty cheese wrappers, putting the former back in the fridge and the latter in the trash. “Let me just show you how good we can play without him.” He walks into the living room, turning on the PS3.

“You can use your beloved Hertha.” He laughs, throwing a controller at me, while dropping on the couch.

“Not tonight, Mats.” My voice is void of emotion as I run a hand down my face.

“Aw, come on. Just one game.”

“It’s never just one, and I’m tired.”

“What the fuck, Piszczu? It’s only 7 pm and you already look like a zombie!”

I don’t want to get into explaining why I’m so tired, and that is definitely the direction this conversation would go. Maybe if he burns some steam playing FIFA, he’ll leave.

I flop on the couch as he proceeds to take Mario off the team. “Buh-bye!” he sings, pressing the buttons. He can be such a kid sometimes.

A few games later, I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. I’ve also received the ass wiping of a lifetime — to much of Mats’ amusement — but considering the day I’ve had, I think I’ve done okay.

“I’m done...” I say, turning my controller off and sinking deeper into the couch with a deep breath.

“Alright,” Mats gets up from the couch, and I follow after him.

Just when I think I might get away with not talking to Mats tonight, my cellphone starts buzzing, vibrating next to Mats’ keys. He grabs the phone and chucks it my way. I catch it on my stomach with my hand.

Without thinking, I send the call straight to voicemail and try to compose my face before I look at Mats.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” He sends me a suspicious glance.

I shake my head, setting the phone on the counter again. An obvious mistake, since the thing starts buzzing again.

Fuck my life.

“It’s Cee Cee, isn’t it?” he asks from the door, his face falling slightly in realization. “Are you two...?”

“Mats,” I try to come up with something. It appears I won’t be well rested for this, but I still have to do it.

He turns around to leave, one hand on the knob, but then exhales and turns back into the apartment. He walks into the kitchen and starts rummaging through the cabinets.

“I was going to talk to you,” I say, from the counter, silencing the phone again. I need to let her know I’m okay before she worries, but how do I talk to her with Mats here? I can’t.

Every possible text I think to send to her ends up getting her more worried, so I lie instead, kinda, even though I hate it. At least this way, she’ll get some rest.

“The guys came over. Talk to you tomorrow?” I type quickly, and put the phone back down.

“What self-respecting Pole doesn’t have alcohol in his house?!” Mats crouches down to the cabinets under the sink.

“Mats...”

“Ah, bingo!” He takes the bottle of Sobieski out and sets it on the counter, searching for two small glasses. He pours vodka messily in the two glasses, before pushing one my way.

I open my mouth to refuse, but he cuts me off. “Don’t even try...” he says. “We’re doing this.”

“We have a game tomorrow.”

“You aren’t even playing, so drink up.” He tips his shot back, swallowing quickly with a grunt.

I stare at the shot glass in my hand. The vodka isn’t even chilled. This will sting. I swallow it quickly too, before facing Mats.

“So, you and Cee Cee, huh?” He wipes his mouth with his hand.

“I don’t know yet.” I won’t speak for her in front of him.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know… It’s too early to tell.”

“Is it me? Is she holding back because of me?”

“Well, there’s a lot to consider and-”

“Because I talked to her, Piszczu. I did. I told her to do whatever made her happy. And I meant it.”

And there it is, it all clicks in my head then. This is what prompted her to come talk to me, to give us a chance. It’s because he talked to her too. Just like he did for me. He gave us both the green light, because he knew we would have fought it otherwise.

He pours two more glasses, pushes one my way again.

“Mats, slow down. I really want us to talk about it, but not like this.”

His eyes widen as he stares at me. “You’re serious about her?”

“Of course I am!”

“Of course you are,” he repeats, tipping his glass. “You’re serious about everything.”

“You think I’d risk hurting you — messing things up between us — if I wasn’t?”

“You’re hurting me by not taking your shot, Lukasz,” he says mockingly, rolling his eyes.

Mats pours more liquid into his glass, pointing at my still full glass.

“Stop...” I say, trying to muster some authority.

“You stop,” he refuses altogether. “You’re one behind, bro.”

“Drinking isn’t going to make this easier.”

“I respectfully disagree.” He quirks an eyebrow, waving at the glass again.

I turn the glass with my fingers, not looking forward to it.

“You drink. I’ll tell you what would make this easier for me,” he offers.

I grab the glass and as I tip it, he adds. “You could start by not fucking my ex.”

Between his words and the liquid burning down my throat I choke. I have to get up from the stool and cough a couple times before I can breathe again. That’s when I realize he’s doubled over laughing.

“You’re so predictable, Piszczu,” he chuckles as I glare at him, my eyes tearing up as I gasp for air.

“I don’t think that was funny.” My voice is raw, my throat still burns.

“It wasn’t. I’m sorry. I mean, what I said wasn’t funny... you choking was though.”

I grab my head in my hands, running my fingers through my hair. I can’t believe he’s joking about this... about her.

“Hey... it’s fine.” Mats’ tone softens. “I said I’d be okay with it, didn’t I?”

When I face him he’s pouring more vodka into the glasses, a silly smirk on his face.

“Here,” he says, pushing the glass back my way. “Wash it down.” He smiles, tipping his glass back, and then groans, shaking his head after he swallows.

“That’s not how it works,” I say, reproachingly.

“Well, you don’t have any beer.”

I stare at the glass again, the previous two shots still burning in my stomach. I can’t remember eating anything after Cecilia’s dinner. Despite this clearly not being a good idea, I shut my eyes tightly, softly groaning as I down the liquid. I shake my head disapprovingly at Mats’ grinning face as I open my eyes.

When his hands are around the bottle again, I take my glass and get it away from him.

I make it to the fridge and search for some food myself, disappointed when all I find is the half full bag of grapes. I’m starving though, so I start popping them in my mouth, two at a time. I guess I underestimated how hungry I really was.

“Did you know...” Mats says as he jumps on the counter, sitting next to the fridge, bottle and glass still in his hands. “I got Cee Cee a puppy to try to make her stay with me...”

I stare at him blankly, my head swimming, I don’t know if from exhaustion or the liquor, but I can’t come up with words. This is happening. We’re talking about Cecilia — Mats and I.

“It was a douche move, I can see that now.” He pours himself another shot before he looks up at me again. “Talk about boyfriend material! I can’t even remember the creature’s name!”

“Wrinkles?” The name just falls from my lips without me even having to really think about it.

“See? You pay attention to shit!” He brings the bottle to his lips and chugs from it.

I close the fridge door, even though what I’d like to do is stick my head in it. My ears are burning and so is the back of my neck. Between the conversation and the alcohol in my system, it must have gotten ten degrees hotter in here.

“I don’t think I can do this right now,” I choke out, as I walk to the window.

I do want to talk about Cecilia, but not about her and Mats, and definitely not have him compare himself to me when it comes to her.

I open the windows of my living room as far as they go, sticking my head out a bit and breathing deeply.

“Listen...” He’s followed me and is now standing next to me. “Cee Cee is great, and she deserves to be happy.” He clasps a hand on my shoulder before he adds. “And so do you.”

“All I want is for her to be happy,” I manage to say. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Then, end of discussion.” He sets an arm around my shoulder and pulls me from the window back into the living room. “I demand a rematch.” he steers us to the TV.

“But you won...”

“I’d like to beat you again.” Letting go of my shoulder, he flops on the couch, turning on the console and smiling challengingly at me.

A few shots later, enough FIFA games to fry our brains, and after a juggling battle that ends up with a broken lamp, Mats finally passes out on the carpet mumbling incoherently about Cecilia. The sun’s about to come up though, and I have a meeting with Klopp in a couple hours. So rather than giving in to sleep and passing out next to him, I choose to make some coffee instead.

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As soon as Klopp sees me, his face shows concern. I guess the sunglasses don’t completely hide the fact that I feel like shit. My head is pounding, my stomach revolts at every sight, smell or even thought of food, and I don’t think I’ve ever been thirstier than I am right now.

It takes me a while to convince him that my shattered state has very little to do with my injury. My hip isn’t actually hurting that much, and it has remained numb after the painkillers I took earlier.

I tell him I’m nervous, anxious, and that Mats and I stayed up late burning off some steam. That would probably get Mats out of the game today (which he would have anyways after Klopp sees him at practice). He’ll be pissed at first, but he’ll thank me later.

After I kindly refuse breakfast, Klopp and I talk about my injury and how much he feels comfortable letting me do in the next two games, while I down two energy drinks in a row. The sugar and caffeine rush help me get through the few hours of watching my teammates train and prepare for the game.

Mats doesn’t disappoint, as he throws up after the first jog. Klopp doesn’t dismiss him though, he makes him finish the training. By the time Klopp’s done with him, Mats will be begging not to play today.

The game itself goes by quickly. Even though both teams have fielded most of their bench players, a game between us and Bayern is never dull. After a few controversial calls and a sending off, it ends in a 1-1 draw.

By the time I reach the airport, I am running on fumes and everything slows down around me. My eyes flutter closed a couple times even though I sit in the most uncomfortable position possible.

I’m going to see her today.

We have tonight and all day tomorrow together.

Me and Cecilia...

I can sleep when I’m dead.

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