Chapter Text
Part 4
Characters
Steven
Xabi
A boy
A hotel room, completely dark. A lamp on the nightstand, turned off. XABI and STEVEN in bed, naked, barely covered by white sheets. STEVEN has an arm draped over XABI’s chest, his face buried in the hollow of the other man’s neck. Two red lights hidden under the sheets, placed on each of the men’s chests, flickering dimly to the rhythm of a normal heartbeat. On the nightstand, a street sign with the words ABBEY ROAD NW8 CITY OF WESTMINSTER. Above the bed, a large sign saying THE MAY FAIR HOTEL, STRATTON STREET, W1A 2AN, LONDON, 5th of August, 2013. On the wall, a strange graffiti of the word WHY. All three signs will only become visible when the light is turned on.
STEVEN: (in a very thick Scouse accent) Xabieeeeerrr.
XABI: (lazily) I told you I don’t like it when people say it like that.
STEVEN: (snake-like) Xxxxxxabieeeeerrrr.
XABI: Please stop.
STEVEN: Xxxxabieeer, Xxxaabiierrr, Xaaaaaaaabier.
STEVEN: Xaxa.
XABI: That sounds like cha-cha.
Silence. The sound of kissing. Red lights going on and off a bit faster, then returning to their normal tempo.
STEVEN: Xaxa. Or Bibi!
Xabi sighs dramatically. Silence.
STEVEN: Yes, Bibi. I will start calling you Bibi. Or Xabibi? I like Xabibi.
XABI: Habibi means “loved one” in Arabic, yes?
XABI’s light starts pulsing quicker.
STEVEN: Yeah, dunno, does it? I only speak English, mate. (In a stronger Scouse accent.) The Queen’s English.
XABI: I don’t think she would agree with that, Stevie.
STEVEN: It’s okay, Xabibi. We don’t agree with her either.
XABI: (ruffling STEVEN’s hair) No politics in my bed, please.
STEVEN: Not your bed, technically.
Longer silence.
The Beatles’ version of BABY IT’S YOU starts playing in the background.
STEVEN: So my boyfriend went to Abbey Road and all he got me was a lousy street sign?
XABI: I can’t just… how do you say… splash cash? (He chuckles.) I’m not like Cris, or...
STEVEN: Yeah, I, I get it, you’re not like the others, eh? (They both chuckle.)
Silence. XABI hums along to the song, slowly rocking his head and implicitly STEVEN’s.
JOHN LENNON: Uh oh,
it doesn’t matter what they say,
I know I’m gonna love you any old way.
What can I do, when it’s true.
Don’t want nobody, ‘cause baby, it’s you.
XABI: But you live in Liverpool! And I thought… (music stops) Do you even like The Beatles?
STEVEN: (spoiled, impatiently) I guess. But still, Xabibi!...
They kiss. Lazy silence follows.
XABI: Have you ever noticed how there is no difference between the darkness when you close the eyes and the darkness when your eyes are open but it’s very dark?
STEVEN: Never crossed me mind.
XABI: It’s strange, no? What if we are sleeping right now?
STEVEN: But you don’t see darkness when you sleep.
XABI: (childishly) Do you see red, instead of black?
STEVEN: I don’t know. Don’t think I see anything.
Silence.
STEVEN: Some red wine would be great now, though.
XABI: You can call room service. But they shouldn’t know I’m here.
STEVEN: Well that would be a sight, eh?
He fumbles for the phone on the nightstand, dials a number.
STEVEN: Yeah, can I have a bottle of your best red wine, please? Room 148. Xabi chuckles. Thanks a lot.
They kiss again, and STEVEN rolls on top of XABI when someone knocks at the door. STEVEN slowly handles his red light to XABI, who cradles it lovingly. STEVEN wraps a sheet around his waist and walks to the door. A shaft of light illuminates the bed and the BOY’s head peeks from behind the door. XABI comically fumbles off the bed the moment the light touches his skin, and rolls under the bed, sheets and red lights bundled at his chest. The BOY glances at STEVEN, mouth half-open.
STEVEN: Now, now, let’s not be cheeky. I’ll give you a big tip tomorrow if you stop gawking.
BOY: Yes, sir, sure, mister uhm Mister Stevie G, I mean, mister Gerrard, I (he mumbles inaudibly, then shakes his head and unceremoniously hands him a bottle of red wine, with a corkscrew stuck in it) Big fan, yes.
STEVEN: Cheers, now off you go. (waves him out of the room and closes the door. Everything is dark again.). Woah. Interesting. Looks like he forgot the glasses.
XABI pulls himself from under the bed.
XABI: (laughing nervously) Joder, that was close. Who cares about the glasses.
They both throw themselves on the bed and resume their previous position. XABI takes the wine bottle and drinks, then kisses STEVEN. His mouth, beautiful in the red lights, gradually goes down from STEVEN’s lips to his jaw line, then to his clavicle, then to his chest. The lights are racing. XABI slows down and places a few kisses on STEVEN’s chest, before laying his head on the pillow. The sound of their breaths slowly synchronises.
STEVEN: This wine is boss, I say, real good.
He traces circles with his fingers on XABI’s chest. The circles become smaller and smaller, closing in on the red light.
XABI: So what’s it like? When everyone adores you?
STEVEN: What do you mean?
XABI: I mean, you know, like you’re the heart of Liverpool, and all that, and you lead people and they admire you.
STEVEN: Don’t get your question, I mean, well, you know that. You’ve felt it.
XABI: Not like that. Did you see that boy’s big eyes? The way he must have thought of you.
STEVEN: Jealous?
XABI: (laughing) No, I mean, I’m just another good player for the fans, you’re… you’re Steven Gerrard.
Silence.
STEVEN: (frustration clear in his voice) Not that much. Not that Steven Gerrard. People will forget me – people forget me – (His voice breaks. The lights flicker at an identical speed, but are no longer synchronised. Long pause.) you forgot me.
XABI: I… what? If you’re talking about the testimonial, then you know well enough why I…
STEVEN: You could’ve said something, Xabi. And then Gratty told me about that damn twitter thing, and I know I shouldn’t care, but. And then, you know, it’s not my fault you left. People from Liverpool love furiously enough to have remembered you as Xabi Alonso, not as another good player, but you left us. I know we’ve been here before, but it’s the fucking naked truth.
Silence.
XABI: (cautiously) I do not think, Stevie, that you should lecture me on leaving.
STEVEN sighs. He reaches out and turns on the lamp on the nightstand. The signs are all visible, the WHY looming eerily over the bed. The red lights die out in the great luminous room.
STEVEN: Fine. Have it your way. Let’s talk about it.