You absent-mindedly tugged at your school blazer once a cool gentle breeze caressed your frame before letting a breath out your nose. You observed your boyfriend playing in the vast field; he positioned himself at a grassy spot, awaiting the next move. You leaned at the side rails of the bleachers, giving smiles and nods occasionally when he'd wave at you.
After never-ending apologies to a crushed Alfred and quiet contemplation, you decided to forgive Antonio again, and watch him in his soccer practice since you knew how much he wanted to show off to you. Surprisingly, you were the only audience the team had and you were glad, you were sure to go Chuck Norris' granddaughter mode if the bleachers were flocked with fan girls, Antonio's fan girls to be more precise. You tried to calm the green jealousy monster that aroused within you at the thought of all those shameless girls, your boyfriend's idiocy, and today's previous events that were just like any day. Your patience was awfully wearing thin but you still loved that idiot. Maybe talk to him about these issues you had before you lose it? Yeah, you didn't want the relationship to end in such a way.
You caught movement through the corners of your (Color) eyes, and you turned your head to see a staggering snow-haired teen you knew oh-so well.
"Um… do you need help?" you queried seeing how Gilbert Beilschmidt struggled with his right leg up the steps towards the white bleachers. He wasn't in the field when he should be, his bandaged right ankle said why.
"N-nein," he breathed using the rails for support," Zhe awesome me does not need help from zhe likes ov you."
You laughed dryly; you were used to having him around considering the fact that he was one of your brunette boyfriend's best friends in The Bad Touch Trio. You scooted over to give the albino a seat after straining to get to the bleachers, he panted heavily before putting back the cocky expression that always embraced his features.
"What happened to you Bino?" you asked, calling him by the nickname you recently gave him since he was basically looked like an albino though he wasn't one. He gave you a questioning look before you glanced at his bandaged right ankle.
"Soccer." The ruby-eyed boy simply answered. You just nodded trying to get used to the silent behavior of the usually irritating loud-mouth; he probably wanted to keep his pride about how un-awesome he was now. By the lose black tie hanging on the collars of his white disheveled uniform and the sweat trickling the sides of his fair face he seemed like he came a long way to just get here, in the soccer field which was behind the main building. He painfully stretched his injured leg gritting his teeth.
After minutes the unusual silence between you two who should have been sarcastically arguing and ending up getting each other in a head lock or biting the other's arm at this length of time; Gilbert finally regained his breath,
"Ave you seen Gilbird?"
You shook your head before asking him another question," Aren't you suppose to have a crutch?"
"Zhat …would be un-awesome to look at." He glanced away embarrassed he admitted it to you of all people; nevertheless his arrogant expression did not waver. You scoffed,
"Idiot, it will take a long time for you to be awesome again if you hurt yourself like that. We all should be 'un-awesome' at one point before being awesome again."
The Prussian boy next to you sneered at you before grumbling, "Whatever." However, deep inside what you said actually made sense and strangely made him feel better even though he wounded his own pride right in front of you. You were unaware of the wary glance a certain Spanish player gave you as you smiled at the scowling boy seated next to you,
"Bino, where'd you put your crutch?"
"…it's in zhe locker." The Prussian answered hesitantly, you made him give you the location and the code. He watched wordlessly at your retreating form, (Color) hair dancing gracefully at the wind while you dashed towards where his locker was sited. He crossed his arms, fine, he'll let you have your way just this once.
The Spaniard focused on the game waiting for the opportune moment he'd use the move he had not yet perfected. He just saw you smile at his white-haired best friend, it was unusual, and you two usually ended up in a brutal engagement. He felt weird, he trusted his best friend but he could not help but think: Have you noticed how charming the Prussian could be? If you did, would you be leaving him for the fair-skinned male? You wouldn't do that right? Right. The checkered soccer ball rolled to a stop towards his awaiting tanned form drawing other players towards the tool that would make their goal and the fact that he was a few feet away from the goal was an advantage. Perfect, he'd draw your attention towards him with this move. Even if this was just soccer practice he still planned on impressing you before confronting you. He sincerely focus his attention as he stretched his right leg towards the ball, faking a kick but actually stretching a mite more, tucking the ball behind his ankle tossing it upwards with just the right amount of strength.
"Mi amor, this is for you!"
The Spanish player yelled as loud as he can for you to hear. As the ball darted skyward, Antonio gathered vigor into his legs as he leapt upwards in aim to make a goal with his forehead. The moment the black and white ball came to his reach it was one of those moments where everything would go slow motion, that same moment, he squeezed his emerald eyes shut as his forehead came in contact with the ball…
Goal.
There was astounded silence; the Russian goal keeper was sprawled to the grassy ground missing the ball. The Spaniard panted heavily from the adrenalin rush, resting his palms on his bent knees, dark locks clinging to the sides of his sweaty face. That should have gotten his girlfriend's attention; still panting he eagerly skimmed to the bleachers hoping to get a good reaction, his verdant eyes ignoring his gaping albino best friend. What disappointment washed over him to find where you were seated, vacant!
Loud cheers and compliments were thrown towards the victorious Spaniard, but his distant eyes rendered defeat. He stood up to his full height with his chocolate-locked head to the ground before mustering what he could before looking up with a plastered grin that did not match his saddened eyes. The coach praised him and his team's work before sending the sweaty players off. Antonio replied automatic thanks towards the players as some patted his back, and some yelling out their respects at the awesome move. The well-honored player in his red and yellow uniform stole on last glance towards the bleachers to find it empty with the exception of the still gob smacked Prussian. The Spaniard sighed before being dragged away by his proud teammates into the changing rooms.
"Hey Bino! Look who I found!"
The Prussian snapped out of his trance at the call. You were grinning, wooden crutch in hand and his fluffy feathered friend on your shoulder. He was entranced again at the sight of you; he found the sight awesome, no, cute. However, he pushed away the thoughts. He did admire you no matter how bitter or sarcastic you both were to each other but his admiration never crossed the thin line between friends and lovers. You looked around quizzically, noticing that the players were gone leaving an empty field.
"You should 'ave seen it fraulein."
You gave a questioning look at the albino while helping him into his crutch.
"Antonio made a goal vith a move I 'ave never zheen before!"
You were suddenly anxious, has he done the move he had wanted to show you while you left?
"I do not understand his language but he zertainly did it for you."
He rambled unaware of how apprehensive you've gotten. Once, you assisted him to get off the bleachers, you dashed towards the changing rooms but the injured albino called for you. You glanced back to see a nervous Prussian, which was unusual,
"Danke."
He muttered before shuffling away with Gilbird in shoulder. You gaped for a while at the ebbing loudmouth; you smiled softly before running.
You waited outside the room leaning against the cement wall as the sun was slowly disappearing at the horizon. Two emotions rioted inside you: Satisfaction and Guilt. Satisfied because you knew the Spaniard was disappointed but it felt like a good pay-back though it was not enough concerning his obliviousness upon the events this morning. Guilt because you knew revenge was not right and the fact that you were quite contented with his distress drove you guilt-ridden. Frustrated you sigh and close your tired lids, you were still going to apologize to him no matter how much he deserved the displeasure of you not being able to be there when he did his 'rare' move.
"Querida,"
You look up to have your (Color) eyes meet Antonio's deep green ones that held melancholy but still had a soft smile. He had finished changing and emerged with the other players out the changing room. He was dressed in the old uniform without the black tie though, a white towel hung on his neck. His slightly wet locks in a darker shade than they normally were, clung to the sides of his sun-kissed face; he was still handsome as ever.
"Toni! I'm so-"
Said male enveloped your frame in his solid arms, forsaking the gym bag he had in hand, plopping it to the ground. You gasped, you were used to his random embraces but this one seemed desperate as he buried his face at the crook of your neck. It was silent a while, your palms were resting on his shoulder blades, rubbing his back now and then. It was at times like this that you thought you had forgiven him for his incomprehension, but then he'd do it again; he'd be completely insensitive about your feelings towards his female friends. You parted your mouth to apologize but then he cut you off,
"It wasn't just the only move I had in store for you, corazon. Don't worry about it."
Relieved, you hugged him tighter hoping you could be just as forgiving as he was. But your unheeded jealousy was different from his disappointment is it? You couldn't answer all the questions you had, but what you knew was you were still upset, jealous, and he had to know in order to save both of you. Maybe tomorrow because now wasn't a good time. You suddenly felt uncomfortable before you pulled away taking the towel around his neck and ruffling it across his slightly damp chocolate hair drying it up before half-heartedly joking to cover up your tension.
"You, sweaty dog!"
That same afternoon the Spaniard treated you your favorite (Flavor) ice cream like he planned, he decided not to confront you now though, he might just add to the drama and maybe it would just upset you than you already were. Not much of a conversation was given during the whole thing. Strangely, you both preferred it though. He remembered the smile you had when you talked to Gilbert, he wanted to make you smile like that. Make you smile that comforting, yet amused smile. Make you smile the different smiles you possessed which were far better than the one you had given Gilbert. He hadn't seen you smile like that for a while now and he felt terrible that his best friend could make you smile like that. You used to smile like that for him.
The Spanish football player pressed a soft kiss to your lips once you were at the doorstep of the house where you lived on your own since your parents passed away at your early age leaving you with your grandmother before she passed away as well. You gave a small smile, said your thanks and farewell as you walked inside your home. Antonio sighed; that smile you had just given him was not like the one you had given Gilbert.Normally, the smiles you'dgive the loudmouth were one of sarcasm but that time you gave that beautiful amused and encouraging smile. Gilbert, his best friend, the very albino you were irritated with, he made you smile like that—not Antonio Fernandez Carriedo himself, your boyfriend.
