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Football was always supposed to be the bigger thing. Everything else, just a means to an end. In the big schemes of things, it has always been about climbing as high as the sky allows it. For more goals, more wins, more trophies. Leverkusen couldn't have been the end, not at only twenty two anyway, not when everyone couldn't stop gushing over him and calling him one of the best attacking midfields of his generation. Leverkusen was good to him, more than he could've hoped for, but as every good thing, it had an expiration date and they all knew it. The hardest thing to come to terms with wasn't leaving the club, it was leaving behind everything else that could've been.
When Jamal knocked at his door on a Thursday night, Florian didn't ask why, he just hugged his side and guided him to the sofa. He came to say goodbye, drove all the way there for them to share one last moment together.
Florian knew he had many ways to inform Jamal of his contract with Liverpool, it wasn’t a trivial choice to do it by texts, he thought about it long enough and came to the easy conclusion that behind his screen was the safest way to share the news, anything else would have left too much space for feelings to sneak into. He wanted at all costs to avoid this exact case scenario he now finds himself in, where he’s able to feel the warmth of Jamal’s thigh next to him, and every decision he ever took in his past feels wrong.
He’s silent under Jamal’s watchful gaze, waiting for the motion to take him, a spectator of his own life he can’t bring himself to act in.
“So, Liverpool then?”, Jamal questions once the silence stretches for far too long, becoming too awkward for the both of them.
He has never been one to feel this way around Florian before. Today is different, he knows it, can feel it in the air around them. He wonders if it’s just in his head, but Florian is so stiff, his eyes are stuck on the wall when he nods, a small “Yeah” barely coming out of his tight lips.
“That’s…nice. Cool” Jamal offers for lack of other words he wishes to use but can’t, because he’s trying his best. It’s not nice, and it isn’t cool either. It sucks, especially knowing the other choice was Bayern Munich, his city, his team, him. But it's tricky, because Jamal isn't certain Flo knew he was a possibility, Jamal himself isn’t too sure. “I hope you're happy there”, it’s not supposed to come out so earnestly, but it’s hard to contain his heart when it just wants to leap out of his chest and make a home in between Flo’s ribcages.
Florian looks at him for a couple of seconds, assessing his face, as if memorizing every expression before they leave each other. Jamal gets it, he has been doing the same for a while, storing all of it in a locked box in the back of his mind, not knowing when he will be able to open it again.
He sighs, looking away once more before softly replying “I hope so too, I hope I'm not making a wrong decision” it's on the verge of something bigger, something else he wants to say out loud but can't bring himself to. Jamal has analyzed this boy too much in his past and has never seen him this anxious. He's jittery, like Jamal gets sometimes when he drinks too much caffeine, but Flo hates coffee, he knows that, like he knows a hundred other facts about him.
“There’s no reasons for you to have taken the wrong decision” he tries first, but noticing Florian’s lack of reaction he backpedal “even if it doesn’t go like you want, you’ll find a way to bounce back anyway, i know that, i know you” he just wants to cheer him up, to push the bad thought away, he knows how overwhelming the voices can get when it’s the only thing you hear.
“Sure, yeah” Flo gets up, brushing the conversation aside. He picks up the tv remote discarded on the dining table next to an unopened box of Adidas shoes and comes back to the sofa, further away from Jamal than they initially were.
It’s a blow to Jamal’s confidence, he tries not to take it personally but fails, faltering at the distance.
He lets his eyes linger on the room. It’s not the first time he’s here, in Florian’s space, but he had never seen his house in this light before. It sits still and cold, no matter how lived in and disorganized it looks. If the house could talk, it would probably ask Florian why he is leaving. It’s stifling, or maybe being around Florian just makes his throat constricted. He feels unbalanced, doesn’t know what foot to stand on as he watches Florian switch channels and pretend to be interested in a tennis match, the sound of the rackets hitting the ball so loud in the silence of the room.
“Do you like tennis?” Jamal wonders out loud, filling the space with his soft voice.
“No, I'm just - no” and there’s that. But the channel stays on, and Florian doesn’t look away from the screen once. The sound of the tv makes the knot in both of their stomachs tighter.
“He’s good” Jamal tries but it sounds hollow, he has no idea what he’s talking about. Florian only hums and they’re brought back to the heavy silence that Jamal can’t stand. “When are you leaving for England?”
Florian lets the question sits in between them as he thinks of his next words, “In a couple of days, I need to pack some things first”
“Do you need help with that?” Jamal offers immediately. He’s so eager to please, to be helpful, to have any reasons to stay around and remain in Flo's space.
The issue is, Florian does not seem to share the same eagerness. “No it’s okay, my mom will help”
It should be enough for Jamal to move onto something else, but he has never been good at taking hints,“What about your girlfriend?” he asks.
Flo gulps, his focus still on the screen, “we broke up. She didn’t really want to leave Germany, so… yeah” He breathes out the last word like it pains him to say.
“Oh” is the only sound that comes out of his mouth. Jamal feels stupid, even though it’s not his fault, and he could not have expected this answer.
“Yeah, it’s alright” Florian assures.
Jamal can’t believe it, he can’t imagine how it could be alright to end a years long relationship for any reason, he’s not sharing his life with florian and still he can’t bring himself to come to terms with him leaving. He can’t help but furrow his eyebrows when he asks “is it?”
“Well i’m going to miss her but it’s not- i’m not heartbroken over it, you know?” Florian insists.
But Jamal doesn't know, how could he? He never had a girlfriend and Florian knows that. Still, he nods, his eyes lingering on the other man’s frame. He wants to ask if he loved her. The words stay stuck in the back of his throat. Maybe it’s better that way, not knowing. It’s easier to imagine an answer that fits him and what he wishes to hear.
Florian is silent againt next to him, fidgeting with the remote, waiting for a way out. Jamal gives him one. “Do you want me to leave?” he asks out of nowhere, trying to catch the other man’s eyes.
It works, he looks back at him instantly, eyes too big for his face, “what? why?”
Jamal shrugs, “I don’t know, i feel like i’m bothering you, i can go”
“No, I don’t- I don’t want that. You’re not bothering me” he looks so sincere, hurt by the sole thought of Jamal leaving.
It makes something bloom in his stomach. He licks his lips and tastes the sugary flavor of hope. “Okay”, he whispers.
“Sorry, I'm just thinking a lot, about a lot of things” Florian explains, and Jamal knows he means it, can read it on his open face.
He wants to smoothen the crease in between his eyebrows and throw caution out the window. Would it be so bad if he reached for him now? Showed him kindness in a way no one else probably ever has before? It's a risk he wants to take, but the thought of it still makes him ill. He sits a little closer to him instead, his knee bumping softly against Florian’s when he speaks up “Like what? You can tell me.”
Florian’s eyes fly to their legs first, lingering on the contact point. They stay here for a beat before finally looking up to find Jamal already looking back kindly. Too kindly. He sighs, hiding his face in between his hands, rubbing at the soft skin Jamal finds himself wanting to kiss. “I don’t know Jamu, it’s just a lot”, he mumbles.
The nickname fuels the fire in Jamal’s heart. “You don’t have to tell me” he replies as softly as his own voice allows him to.
“it’s not that i don’t want to, it’s just-” he gulps, looking up at the ceiling, his hands falling to his knees once more. The tennis ball is still going from side to side, the sound of it proof of the exchange.
Jamal traces his profile with his eyes, admiring the straight line of his nose, his open lips, struggling to find the next words, the hair above and under it, his sharp cheekbones. Florian looks back at him and when their eyes meet, he realizes one fundamental truth he can’t ignore anymore. He gulps, Florian's eyes immediately drawn to the move of his Adam’s Apple. It sits heavy in between them. Looking at him, Jamal knows even if they are on the same page, Florian will never speak about it. The responsibility lies with him, as scary as it sounds. He’s terrified at the prospect of acknowledging what’s weighing him down, but he has, he will never forgive himself if he leaves now with everything that could’ve been still unopened. He just needs one minute of bravery, five seconds, a couple of words he will not take back once they land and fill the silence.
“Flo” he whispers, his tongue sits heavy in his mouth, voice rough with something he can’t name.
Florian is looking at him, waiting for Jamal to ruin both of their lives with his next words.
“You’re probably going to hate me, but I have to, or else - or else i’ll hate myself” He doesn't know what’s worse, really, but keeping it to himself feels like a punishment more than a secret.
Florian shakes his head, “I won’t” he promises, and his eyes speak for him.
Jamal chuckles softly, “you don’t even know what i’m going to say”
He just blinks at him, his fingers playing with the sofa under them to ease the rising anxiety he can’t seem to get rid of. Jamal takes a deep breath, it comes out shaky. If he wasn’t so stressed out, he would probably feel embarrassed at the whole scene. “I'm going to miss you” is the only thing that comes out. It's still safe, nothing Florian doesn't already know, but it lands differently that it would’ve landed before.
Florian looks sad when he replies “I’m not disappearing, we’ll see each other with the national team”
He feels like a kid on the verge of a tantrum when his next words comes out weak, “But it’s not the same”
Florian looks away again, as if the sight of Jamal hurts “i know”
“I can’t let you go without you knowing” he says, bracing for impact. Soon he won’t be able to take it back.
“Knowing what?” the other man whispers, his heart beating out of his chest.
“That i love you” It’s terrifying and freeing at the same time, like standing on the pitch ready to take the last penalty shootout. There’s only two possible endings.
Florian doesn’t reply, but his eyes fall back on Jamal immediately, analyzing his every move and reaction while the other man holds his breath.
“I love you, and I know we’re friends and this is probably going to ruin it, and you’re not - you’re not even into men, but I had to say it, I couldn't keep it with me anymore. It’s okay if you’re disgusted or you don’t want to see me again, i’ll make my peace with that, but i needed you to know”
Florian opens his mouth to reply, and it sends Jamal spiraling. The simple thought of his answer is too much to deal with, so he keeps on talking instead, "I mean, maybe love is a big word. Maybe i don’t love you, but i want to kiss you when i look at you and i think of you a crazy amount of time, and i want - i want to hold your hands and do those kind of things, and i know that you’re not, it’s not like that for you but really i don’t mind because it’s alright. I just want-”
“Okay” Florian replies quickly, cutting him in the middle of his sentence.
It throws Jamal off balance, “okay? What do you mean by that? Okay you heard what I said, or okay to something in particular-”
Florian’s hand finds his cheek and he immediately stops speaking. Their eyes meet, Jamal looking down and Florian looking up at him. He licks his lips before leaning toward him, their noses clashes first, softly, their lips following right after. It’s measured, slow. Jamal's heart beats out of his chest, only held upright by Florian’s hand on his cheek, travelling to the nape of his neck, his fingers toying with the short curls on the back of his head. He has to hold back a moan, maybe too much for a first kiss, but it’s Florian. His mouth is wet against his, it’s sloppy. Jamal cups his upper arm, his fingers finally tracing the vein he always finds himself entranced by. He’s the first one to break the kiss, wanting to look into Florian’s eyes and ask him if he’s being real, but the other man chases his lips, holding him in place with his tight grip. Jamal feels the butterflies in his stomach fly everywhere, he wants to catch them to remember this specific moment. He puts his forehead against Florian’s and waits for him to flutter his eyes open after a couple of breathless seconds, the sight he’s met with is dreamy. His eyes darkened and pupils dilated by their shared moment. He looks shy, his reddened cheeks screaming to be touched.
“Thank you”, He whispers.
Jamal can’t help but smile at him, wondering if he fell into one of his dreams. “why are you thanking me?”
“for being brave for us both. I’ve been- it was heavy in my head and stomach.I didn’t know we wanted the same thing, and i would’ve left with it in my boxes” He says just above a whisper, pressing their noses together.
Jamal brings his hand to the other man’s cheek, his fingers brushing the soft skin. “i’ve been wanting this since i was a teenager, I think”
“What? a man?” Florian questions seriously. Jamal wants to laugh at him, he just smiles softly.
“No, you,” he admits.
“Oh” Florian’s cheeks redden and Jamal wants to lay kisses all over them. He feels drunk in love, the skin under his fingertips so hot it makes his digit tingle.
“So what then?” Jamal asks.
Florian gazes up at him before pressing his lips softly against the tip of his nose, "I am going to kiss you some more”
“Mh?” Jamal hums in between kisses.
Florian nods against him, “mh. and then - and then we will figure it out”
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
On the tv screen, the tennis exchange is finally coming to an end, the ball silenced by the screams of the public celebrating the winner.