No Future for You
Disclaimer: I do not own Galactik Football and I make no money from this fanfiction.
The Past…
Artegor had always been a solitary child, his parent's one and only, and that had suited him fine. He lived in a world filled with adults, his parents' friends; he ignored them and they ignored him, he was only a child and not worth bothering with. He wasn't lonely but he was ambitious- just not in the way that his parents would prefer.
Football was his passion, his life, the life he lived secretly right under his parents' noses. He practiced incessantly, thought about it constantly, but it came as an Akillian-shattering shock when his parents eventually found out that their 'precious' son had been recruited to the Akillian football team, football was such a common sport in their eyes. There was no retrieving him though; they had lost him if they had ever had him in the first place.
Artegor sometimes wondered why he wanted to play football so badly. People had asked him many times but he had never been able to come up with a satisfactory answer. It wasn't as if it was the only path he could have chosen.
True, with football came power (sometimes it seemed like the most important thing in the Galaxy) but he could just have easily become a politician; his family had enough connections and money that had he chosen this path he would have had no difficulty. But the problem with politicians was that they appeared to be independent but really were reliant on everyone else for success. With football it was the opposite, there was only the appearance of a team, out there it was every player for themselves. Or maybe it was just instinct.
All Artegor knew was that he wanted it.
He'd never known that you could feel that for a person until he met Aarch.
He met Aarch on the first day of training with the team, he hadn't seen him at tryouts or he would have remembered him (Artegor later found out that Aarch had been scouted and had been offered a place on the team without needing to audition). The second he laid eyes on Aarch it was like dark lightening striking him.
Why Aarch? This was a question he would ask himself many times. Was it his talent? That certainly helped but that wasn't it. Sometimes Artegor thought that he and Aarch were the same but other times he thought they couldn't be more different, complete opposites. It was just one of those things he couldn't explain; Artegor usually appeared fairly apathetic to most things in life, but those things he did want he pursued obsessively. So it was with Aarch.
Not everything went exactly to plan. He was inexperienced in interacting with people his own age and Aarch wasn't exactly passive, he had ideas all of his own. Artegor spent so much time observing Aarch, telling himself he was gathering necessary information when really he was just too paralysed to act, that it was Aarch who made the first move. Artegor never really forgave him for that.
He was always wary, he was never really clear about how Aarch really felt about him, Aarch only pretended to be an open book, whereas Artegor was easier to read that he might have wished. It wasn't obvious to anyone else because no one else was looking like Aarch was.
Artegor never asked Aarch how he knew, there were many questions he wanted to ask but couldn't because he didn't want to put himself in that position of weakness. Aarch had kissed him for the first time so boldly, with no hesitation, so confident that he had Artegor.
Because he did and Artegor had walked straight into that trap, knowingly and willingly.
If Artegor's weakness was that he tended to fixate then Aarch's was that he was greedy, he wanted everything, he cared what everyone thought of him. Artegor didn't notice this immediately, Aarch just seemed so natural, but Aarch's insistence that no one should know about the two of them gave it away. Aarch wanted it a secret because he couldn't guarantee the reaction he would get from everyone around him.
So many times Artegor would appear to be just on the verge of saying something revealing, stopping only when he saw the panic stricken look on Aarch's face. He enjoyed pushing it to see how far he could go before he'd stop, he'd mutter some offhand remark that no-one understood and would go unexplained and so would be ignored.
It wasn't that he wanted to tell anyone especially but he didn't want to walk on eggshells either, he pushed it because he wanted to see how much Aarch really belonged to him.
He knew he had him when he followed him to the Shadows Archipelago, away from his precious friends and family, his worshippers. That let him know that Aarch felt the same inescapable bond that he did, that he valued it over everything else.
Or it told him that he valued his football career over everything else and he just happened to be there.
So, despite himself, he continued to push Aarch further and further. He had what he wanted, Aarch all to himself, but still he couldn't stop. The Smog could have been partly to blame or it could have just been something inside of him that just couldn't leave it alone. He wasn't kind, he made far too many pointed comments about Akillian and all Aarch had left behind, he knew he was pouring salt into a wound.
Eventually he pushed Aarch too far and he lost him entirely. Although the Smog was also partially to blame, as was Aarch himself, it was his decision after all.
The whole Galaxy knew the story, the falling out, and Artegor's numerous attempts at revenge. No-one knew the full truth, not even Artegor; he didn't really understand anything Aarch did, how he'd escaped so unscathed from the relationship, he didn't even fully understand his own cravings, this need to destroy Aarch. He loved him. He never stopped. He hated himself more than he had ever hated Aarch but he wasn't able to stop himself, in the end it had been up to Aarch to stop him- perhaps that was what he had wanted all along.
The Present…
Aarch rubbed his eyes, looking tired and old. Artegor watched him and wondered how they'd ended up here, the middle ground of friendship, with Aarch leaning on him for support.
Aarch had lost his way which was strange as he had never followed a path; he'd carved his own, Aarch always landed on his feet, but not now. Perhaps it was because he had finally got everything he wanted so he didn't know where to go next.
"I never thought I'd live to be this old," Aarch murmured, sounding utterly exhausted.
"I thought I'd die on the pitch, that once my football career was over then I would be too. That's why I left the Smog Poisoning as it was, "Artegor admitted in return.
He walked over to put a hand on Aarch's shoulder, to comfort him, and there's a brief moment when he thinks that it might turn into something more.
But the moment faded, it was just a remnant of something long gone. Artegor walked away knowing there was no future for them anymore.
Yeah, that's it for this fic, the 'present' bit is set in Season 3 if that isn't clear, it seems like Aarch is on the verge of a breakdown from what I've seen in the first 4 episodes of the season. So yeah, review please! Oh and I'm kind of low on ideas right now so if anyone has any requests then pm me or leave your request with your review and I'll see what I can do!