Chapter Text
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In which Real Madrid wins but Luka doesn’t celebrate.
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Luka is slowly heading off the pitch, trying his best to hide the discomfort in his left shin. Sergio falls in step with him.
“That was brutal,” Sergio says, grinning at Luka. He thumps Luka on his back, not hard enough to send him stumbling but it’s a near thing.
Luka swipes his hair off his face. “Thanks.”
It’s not like his goal twelve minutes before the end of the match was all that important, the score went up from 3-1 to 4-1, but it sure felt nice to be the one who put it in the net.
“We’re back in the game, we’re back!”
Luka doesn’t share Sergio’s optimism on that just yet – he’s always cautious of the good things in life because he knows it’s never easy like that. One win that would change everything? Hardly. They’ve fallen behind by way too many points and everyone on the team needs to start pulling their weight or else tonight’s success is going to be forgotten as soon as the weekend is over.
“Hell yeah,” Luka says anyway, trying to feed off Sergio’s enthusiasm. They won tonight, Luka should feel happy. He only feels tired.
Sergio throws his arm around Luka’s shoulder, swaying them from side to side. Luka ducks out from the hold with a chuckle, grabbing Sergio’s hand and pulling it away. His fingers brush a spot close to Sergio’s cover and Luka feels Sergio go still. Luka finishes getting free, glancing up at Sergio. Sergio’s face is open, his eyes are wide, he looks truly happy, high on the victory and with no care for the rest of the world.
Sergio keeps looking at Luka and there’s something odd about it, like Sergio is waiting for Luka to say something or like Sergio is trying to gauge Luka’s reaction. The moment between them stretches but Luka has no idea what he’s supposed to say, what his captain expects of him. “Great match,” Luka tries to enthuse, just to be safe.
Sergio blinks, nods and then he’s turning away, heading to give the post-match interviews.
Luka plops down on the wooden bench in their locker room and leans his head back against the wall, heaving a sigh as he gingerly prods the muscle in his shin. Nothing a long hot shower and a good night’s sleep won’t fix. He’ll have the physio look at it tomorrow.
Luka changes and steps into the shower where he loses track of the time. He massages the twinge out of his leg first, then he shampoos his hair and lets the warm water wash away the biting chill that settled in his bones during the game.
By the time he emerges from the showers it’s more than half an hour later and most of the guys are already gone. Sergio is chattering to Marce, who looks about ready to leave. Sergio is still wearing the sweaty jersey and he doesn’t look like he had a chance to catch his breath yet. He perks up when he spots Luka and soon he waves Marce goodbye and comes over to Luka instead. “Hey, Lukita.”
“Finally done with the interviews?”
Sergio shrugs. “It wasn’t too bad today, Toni came to switch with me, they had more questions for him.”
Because Toni scored the equalizer, Luka muses. “The coach kept you, then?”
“Yeah,” Sergio says.
Luka finishes towelling his hair dry and puts on a shirt, tugs at the sleeves and makes sure his cover isn’t peaking past his cuffs. “How’s Gaz?” He asks Sergio because he would know more than Luka.
“More tests tomorrow,” Sergio reports. “It doesn’t look good.”
With Gareth, it never does. But Luka is not about to point that out as he doesn’t want to put a damper on Sergio’s mood.
There is the odd pause again, like Sergio is giving Luka room to do or say something but Luka has no clue what it is about. He isn’t aware of any huge screw-ups during the game that he caused and Sergio has already commented on Luka’s goal. There’s nothing to discuss right now. There’s nothing to apologise for.
Sergio’s eyes are warm and he doesn’t seem to be angry. He’s obviously tired but that’s about it, as far as Luka can tell. He’s not good at reading people but luckily, if it’s something important, Sergio won’t be able to stay quiet about it, he’s bound to snap and get whatever this is off his chest. Sergio doesn’t do bottling things up inside. If Sergio is angry, he’s angry. None of that ‘it’s fine’ nonsense.
Sergio grabs a towel from his locker and slings it over his shoulder, then dives back into the locker to look for his comb. When he speaks up his head is still in the locker so his voice has a funny metallic echo. “Wanna go grab a bite and celebrate?”
Luka shakes his head even though Sergio can’t see him. “I’ve got a plane to catch early in the morning. I told my mother I’ll visit.” He has passports to find, luggage to pack and phone calls to make. They’re still five points behind where they should be in La Liga standings, there’s nothing to celebrate, not really.
“Oh, okay,” Sergio says and maybe it’s just Luka projecting but it sounds like Sergio is disappointed.
Luka feels a sudden need to defend his decision. “I haven’t seen her in a while and we’ve got a few days off. The last time I was in Croatia was a bit… hectic, after the World Cup and all that.”
Sergio lets out a chuckle. “I can imagine.”
Luka makes a vague sound in throat. Sergio knows what it feels like to win a World Cup with his NT and Luka knows what it’s like to almost win. “Next time?”
“Sure. Have a safe flight.”
“Thanks,” Luka says as he finishes getting dressed. He spares a quick glance at his locker to make sure he hasn’t left anything important behind and slings his bag over his shoulder.
Luka makes it several steps to the door before Sergio calls out, “Oh, hey, Luka.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget to bring me back that mar… mar–something, okay?”
“Maraskino,” Luka fills in. “You’ve got it.” As if he could forget.
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