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The sun rises the same as every other day.
It’s a random Tuesday afternoon in training when he’s convinced himself that he’s finally over it, and then he sees Omar jogging his way with a wave of his arm and spotting his usual bright smile. Hugo thinks he had only momentarily moved on, then quickly realises he was never really over it. Despite repeatedly saying it to himself till it stuck, Hugo knows that he is damned. He knows it from the tender feeling in his chest when Omar presses his fingers softly into his ankles, holding him in place during the sit-ups, holding his gaze every time he pushes himself up. He knows it from the glee he feels when they are riding on bicycles next to each other, and he gradually peddles faster to ignite a silly race. He knows it from how the little things began to matter more.
He finishes his set, and they are both called over for the next drill.
He misses yet another shot in training, perfectly positioned for a goal, but it goes far too wide. His mind was elsewhere, distracted, not fully present with his body. His passes have been sloppy, too, and his game has been indecisive. Hugo tries to do better the next time. He makes a good run, accelerating with every stride, pushing him to go faster, the kind of speed that seems to carry fierce determination. The target is in sight. He strikes the ball passed his way, but the connection is off, sending it over the bar. The momentum is still too great to stop his body, propelled by the force of the sprint, and before he can gradually adjust, he is pressed against the unyielding metal post in a light collision. Another good chance created by Omar wasted. Hugo is yelled at to focus. He exhales slowly, then huffs in disappointment and turns his face, brushing against the cold surface as his breath catches up. He slides his fingers from between the net, then pushes himself against the goalpost, and he’s off, walking away from it. He doesn’t need to look in Omar’s way to know the expression on his face. His lips in a tight line, and stern eyes.
He is called over and then told to switch teams by Dino after a list of other instructions. Hugo stretches his arms, pulls off the vest, and then slides the gloves off his hand, too. Hot frustration burns inside him, sizzling. He knows he’s not supposed to let things off the field affect the happenings on it. He knows this, but it’s looking easier said than done.
It helped to be on the team opposite Omar. The competition became thick in the air between them. He knows exactly how to spur him on. And after all, he doesn’t think he can handle Omar’s disappointment.
He is waiting near the parking lot after the call ends. The car will still take a while to reach and pick him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other and leans against the wall of the building, his right knee bent slightly, ankle pressing against his achilles. He scrolls on his phone, switching between apps for about five minutes, then pushes himself off the wall. He’s swaying on his feet and humming when he thinks of just going back inside, but before he can fully make up his mind, he hears voices nearing him. He looks up to see Omar and Farès walking in his direction.
Farès is describing and explaining a story while moving his hands in exaggerated motions, slicing through the air, and Omar is nodding along. He gives a glance his way and grins as he approaches him. Hugo slips his phone into his pocket. They ask him what he’s up to, and he tells them he’s waiting.
Omar offers him a ride, but Hugo replies that he’s good. He’s insistent, though, and turns to look at Farès for backup, who is ever the agreeable one for Omar, nods less enthusiastically. Hugo, too, turns agreeable in the end
The ride is awkward, to say the least. He had felt not just like a third wheel but like the wheel that rolled off a carriage and wasn’t even noticed because of how little it provided. He doesn’t think he has even heard Farès attempt to speak that much Arabic before. He caught Omar’s glance drifting to him in the rear-view mirror at intervals.
He doesn’t waste any time getting out of the car when they reach his location, hollering out a quick goodbye. He walked away a fair distance, the cool wind heavy against his skin when he began blinking rapidly and then rubbing his eye as he felt something scratchy there, and then he heard his name being called. He turns to see Omar striding fast toward him, and before he can register, he is close, almost too close, handing him a cap in his hand, his fingers entangled in his and his breath on his face. “You left this.”
“Thanks,” he mumbles while nodding, not letting go. His left eye blinking awkwardly.
“What happened to your eye?” Omar questions.
“I think something got stuck in it.” He suspects it was an eyelash or maybe less likely a speck of dust from somewhere. He couldn’t get it out no matter how much he rubbed his eye, which maybe wasn’t the right move, anyway.
“Here. Let me.” He took his face in hand, thumb pressed on his cheek, pulling down slightly just under his eye. Hugo bent down a bit to allow him to blow lightly into his widened eye.
“Better?”
“I think it’s still there.”
He brought his face even closer, unbelievably close, their lips mere inches apart. He doesn’t miss the quick glance down to his lips before he starts inspecting while furrowing his eyebrows until he finds what he was looking for and swipes the inner corner of his eye. An eyelash on the pad of his thumb. He blew it away. Hugo swallows hard.
He raises his eyebrows as if to ask if he is fine now.
“Yeah. It’s good now.”
“Hmm. See you tomorrow.” He waves after patting his back.
“Yeah. See you.”
He watches the outline of his back grow into a silhouette away from him. From afar, he can see Farès in the car. He can’t exactly tell if he was watching them or not. He turns to walk to the entrance of his home. A lightness to his steps and a smile tugging on the corners of his lips.
On top of a dresser in his room, he sees a set of keys that aren’t his next to the coffee pack given to him by Omar, Turkish grind written on it, that Hugo is still unsure when to make. It wouldn’t be the same, and he preferred it from his hands, anyway. Although, Omar already familiar with the way around Frankfurt and Germany had told him some of the best places he knew that he could go to for delicious food or a nice cup of coffee. There’s a perfume bottle also placed on it, one whose scent Omar had said he liked on him. A pot with a snake plant is on the other side on a tall metal plant holder. It’s extremely easy to take care of, unlike his whirlwind of feelings.
He remembers the times he stayed over at Omar’s place. It all began with a reason no deeper than the simple fact that his house was closer. And the days when the weight of the work wore heavy on his muscles, exhaustion climbed on him like a second skin, tired limbs— all he wanted to do was crawl into and cozy up into soft sheets overpowered with a familiar scent. Gradually, he moved from sleeping in a guest room to his bed like a welcomed cat.
Hugo remembers the last time. He had thought, by morning, it would be the dozenth time he’d disappeared between the final breath of the night and the first crack of dawn, just before the alarm for the morning prayer, before the sky began to be covered in a transition haze. Or maybe it would be the half dozenth, where he stayed, at ease to watch the sunlight pour into the room, slowly spill across his face after Omar sunk back into the mattress for a few more minutes of sleep that couldn’t completely be caught again, their legs entangled.
After prayer, Hugo would spin lazily on the kitchen stool, watching him go through the motions with practised ease, even though he only did this once in a while when time allowed for it. He would sometimes stare at the paintings on the wall, giving a passing wonder to what piqued Omar’s interest to buy them. The aroma of coffee in the air, the knife hitting the wood board, the clink of dishes, the soft hum of the early hours, Omar’s smile as he poured into his cup. Sometimes, it would be Turkish tea. They would talk about the most random things. He let these moments linger because of the imminent feeling that they wouldn’t last.
He wasn’t stupid to think there was a distant future where this continued. He hoped- no, he knew there were bigger things for him on the horizon. He was never low on ambitions. He had worked hard and at a swift pace to prove himself again when he arrived at the club mid-last-season. They had both spent hours with each other on the pitch figuring out what they liked. There was a clear-cut connection formed there. He recalled Omar had once laughed at the sight of him trying to balance his iPad on a stack of self-help books to watch a match from earlier in the season. And Omar, he already had massive names keen on him. He had, after all, commanded his name be known. His game did all the talking. It won’t be long before he would be off to a different club. And that’s just how football can be, fleeting. But amid the infinite stretch of time and the endless expanse of the universe, their paths had converged, and they had been allowed these moments with each other. For that, he was glad.
Hugo began to notice it everywhere they went, how effortlessly he drew people in. How easy Omar was to love. It wasn’t much of a wonder how he had also started to look forward to seeing him more and the ever growing familiar warmth that spread through him every time he flashed that endearing grin of his.
Then, he messed it all up.
He had joined some of the other guys from the team on a night out. They were in a space tucked away in the corner of a restaurant with a good ambience and low lighting. Some football matches played on the TVs afar.
“So, yeah, it doesn’t show up.”
Are you even allowed?” Nathanial questioned.
“It’s only inadmissible.. not allowed if a lot completely intoxicates you, and like, this doesn’t last long anyway.” Farès responded.
“Bro, no one’s taking more of that unless you’ve got a death wish or something.”
“There’s your answer.”
It was easy for him to justify whatever he did even if they fell into murky waters.
“You know what I heard? It loosens your asshole.” Nnamdi made a gesture with his hands and laughed.
“Shut up. Don’t talk about all that.” He mumbled.
“What? It’s true.” He gave a light shrug.
Farès, of course, was ever so easy to tease, then looked to him for some support, but Hugo just chuckled.
He brought out the bottle. “Heki. You in?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Farès untwisted the bottle cap, popped it off and brought it near Hugo’s nose. A hint of the sharp scent was already detectable. He looked up and met his gaze momentarily. The amber bulbs in the shape of the name of the restaurant reflected in his eyes. They looked starry, almost like constellations. He tilted his head down inhaled the vapour then let his head fall back. A rush of euphoria surged through him. He closed his eyes halfway and felt his muscles let loose. He looked to the side to see Farès take his turn to inhale after passing it around. Niels was the only one to decline and had passed it to Junior. His gaze drifted back up ahead and caught sight of Omar enter the place. He shot upright.
“I thought you said he wasn’t coming,” Hugo said, making a switch to French.
Farès looked confused and then also spotted him. An alarmed expression crossed his face.
“That’s what he told me. That he wasn’t feeling well.”
“I called him,” Niels announced. “I texted to check up on him, and he said he was feeling better, so I insisted he come over.” He explained with a shrug.
Hugo motioned to the bottle, and Farès hurriedly hid it, almost knocking over Hugo’s glasses from the wooden table. He doesn’t think he could handle Omar’s disappointment in him.
“Mon gars!” Niels got up to hug Omar to which replied the same as he embraced him back.
When he was done greeting everyone else, he looked toward Hugo, and his smile shifted a bit. “You okay?” He nodded quickly and too much. He didn’t look convinced, but he turned his attention to Farès behind him.
He didn’t sit with them just yet, saying he was headed to the restrooms and would be back in a bit.
It’s not long before an almost peculiar confidence striked Hugo. Maybe he could blame it on the loosened inhibitions caused by the drug, or perhaps it’s something else, preferably it was the former.
He got up abruptly and mumbled he would be back.
He jumped over the two steps headed to the restrooms, and opened the door to see Omar finished washing his hands and putting them under the dryer. The loud ventilation sound evaded the air of the quiet and almost empty space. No one but them.
Omar doesn’t notice him till he’s close. Nearly stumbling, but steadied himself by holding the marble counter when Hugo hugged him from behind. He laughed and asked him what all this was about. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror. Pupils dilated. A delicate flush on his face. When he began to kiss his neck, his smile disappeared, but he didn’t push him away. He wonders if he had imagined it, the desire reflected in his eyes, the feel of his pulse racing under his lips on his neck, the soft exhale. It was when he had kissed up along his jaw and reached next to his lips that he shoved him away, not harshly. A wave of panic flashed through him as clarity hit him like the most pungent smell. Before Hugo could call out to him or say anything, Omar had already darted out.
He began to pace around from where he stood and thought about what he would do now, what could be the next line of action. He stopped to do some diaphragmatic breathing. Once he calmed himself, he went back into the restaurant, into the loud chatter diffused with distant music. He saw Omar was no longer there, and neither was Farès.
Omar gave him the grace of acting like nothing happened and carried on like usual. It would seem that way, but he noticed how distant he actually became. Conveniently avoidant. A hot pool of shame formed in his stomach thinking about it. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time. The incident had revealed the labyrinthian depth of longing he held.
When Omar started to attempt to bind the bridge between them again. He’s the one who tried to turn avoidant in an attempt to ignore his feelings till they dissolve into a bottomless pit. Neither did the feelings go, nor did the act last. Still, he was relieved to drift back into a normalcy almost reminiscent of before.
On an almost random day, Omar came up to him and asked if he wanted to come over, which took him by surprise. He almost too eagerly agreed. They ended up at his place. He took in the once familiar surroundings he hadn’t seen in a while. There was a new poem stuck on his fridge, next to the one he had told him that he had memorized when he was younger and it stuck cause he liked it. The basketball hoop not far from it was no longer there.
When he turned on the tv and held the console in his hand, he saw Farès’ profile logged in. He switched profiles as Omar settled beside him. They conversed while they played and when Omar looked at him, the light from the tv screen reflected in his eyes, like fragments of nebulae.
After a long while, he fell asleep on the couch. At a point, Hugo got up groggily and headed to bed. He knew who it belonged to from the familiar scent that coated him. He felt a dip on the other side.
It was well past midnight when he was awakened by Omar pulling him close and wrapping his arms tightly around him, with his chest pressed against his back as he nuzzled into the crook of his neck, his lips brushing the skin there. He could tell he was still half asleep, at least by his steady breathing.
The proximity sent a shiver through him and made him ache in ways he couldn’t explain. An awareness flickered through him. He noticed the subtle shift in his breathing pattern, more intentional and awake.
His hand moved down to the hem of his shirt, and his fingers grazed against the faint trail of hair on his lower abdomen. Hugo let out a shaky exhale, and Omar’s hands slipped under the fabric of his shirt. Cool fingers on his skin. Then, with a subtle pressure of his fingers, his hand glided up to his chest. His thumb brushed across his hardened nipple. The sudden sensation sent a jolt of heat through him, and he gasped, and a low moan escaped through his lips before he could stop it. He continued with deliberate circles. His body reacted by instinctively arching back into him, and he could feel him hard against him. He wondered if he would possibly just come like this if Omar continued that way. He could feel himself hard, slick on the tip.
Omar’s hand swept down and began to rub his crotch over the fabric of his sweatpants, and he let out a whimper. That only lasted a while before his hand slipped under Hugo’s waistband, hovered almost hesitantly, then he pulled his back and spit into his hand, and unexpectedly just the sound of that made the tiny hairs on his arm stand.
Omar turned back and pulled down his waistband, the radial side of his thumb pressed and slid down his hip. He finally took his cock in his hand, spreading his pre-cum mixed with his spit all over, then slowly began to jerk him off.
He moaned out his name, a sound pulled from the depths of his inner core. Omar’s hand worked out his cock as his lips brushed behind his ear, teeth lightly grazing the outermost curve of his ear. His hand continued in the up and down motion with gradually increasing speed. Hugo pressed the side of his face deeper into the pillow. A small wet spot of saliva formed on the cover. His lips remained parted. The molten hot desire in him in no rush to cool.
He began to grind against him. It felt good, but Hugo despised the fabric acting as a partition. The thought of Omar in him, fucking into him, nearly sent him over the edge. He continued to roll his hips against him, and with a few more tugs, Hugo spilled into his hand with a cry. The orgasm rippled through him. His body set off with nerves. Omar took his hand away and wiped it on a towel near his bedside table, as he came down from the high.
He grumbled that he should go to sleep with a change in demeanour, but Hugo wouldn’t listen.
“I want to.” He turned around and pinned him down. “I want to make you feel good too.” .
Omar’s gaze was curious. Hugo’s knee pressed between his legs. He let go of his wrists and pushed up his shirt. He let him. Hugo’s mouth dipped down to his collarbone, wet on his skin, and he began to trail kisses down to the waistband of his trousers. Omar’s body, his toned stomach, heaved rhythmically under him as he did. His happy trail brushed against the side of his face. Hugo pulled his drawls down. One hand rested on his thigh, tracing the line of a vein and the other drew out his cock.
He lathered up substantial amounts of saliva before spitting it and letting it drip on his cock. He traced the top, then wrapped his hands around it and began to stoke. He used the tip of his tongue to make a gentle series of teasing movements to the underside of it. Omar’s fingers flexed in his honey-shaded curls.
Hugo placed his hand on the base and engulfed him in his mouth. He finally began to suck him off to which he heard a pleased groan. He bobbed his head up and down on his cock, his tongue pressed flat against it. Omar closed his eyes for a moment with a deep sigh before fluttering them open to watch him. He immersed himself further with his hand tightening in his curls as he took in more of him. He would usually complain about anyone messing up his hair, but in this moment, he really didn’t care. Omar’s hips thrusted upwards and his cock hit the back of his throat so he pulled back a little, but continued determinedly. His eyelashes damp. The obscene wet sounds filled the room. He was eager to please him.
A loud moan ripped out of Omar, and he let him come on his face. Smeared on his face. There’s a hint of the taste on the edge of his lips. Hugo briefly considered licking it clean, but wonders if that may or may not mortify him. He wiped his face, and then his hands with a towel instead. He had felt invigorated in every corner of his being, so alive, but now sleep was catching up to him, and he softly fell back on the mattress next to him.
He woke up to the chirping of birds, followed by the blaring of his alarm. Hugo opened his eyes halfway and saw the room was basked in darkness rather than being claimed by sunlight. He reached his hand to the other side of the bed. He woke up to an empty bed. He came up with reasonable explanations that all failed him. He found out Omar had already left. He left not long after, too, after locking up the place. The keys jingled in his hands.
On his way to the ground, he saw an instagram story from the club, videos of arrivals. Omar had forgotten his key, and had to have someone let him in. Hugo pressed the zigzag side of the key into the pad of his thumb.
As the day progressed, It dawned on him that it was going to happen again. He dreaded it already, but Omar wasn’t distant like before. At first, he acted like nothing happened, but didn’t treat like a flaming ball either. Then later, he explicitly told him this time to forget anything ever happened as well. Hugo nodded, but he had a feeling hurt betrayed his features. He kept the keys and Omar didn’t ask.
He knew it wasn’t the same, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking back. Boys in the academy, who reassured him it was well for him to provide them with pleasure. Boys that would convince each other it wasn’t anything serious, and that it didn’t matter at the end of the day. He would see and meet them at the mosque, what had happened long forgotten. The guilt used to eat him up inside, but then he grew indifferent to it. He had more important things he had to focus on… like working toward getting into the senior team, which would eventually pay off. It was different with Omar. For Omar. It’s different there.
He, later on, met up with Farès in his hotel room to play on the POGA case he carried with him on away matches. Soon, the casual atmosphere thickened with tension. Farès jerked him off, while he simultaneously returned the favour. “Just a little more,” he drawled out into Hugo’s shoulder. He knew he was being used as a substitute for what he couldn’t have. They would never talk about it again.
It’s another day in training, he’s back to his previous form. He ends the day satisfied with himself, or at least, much more than the embarrassing display he had put out the day prior.
He sees the headlights of a car flicker off close to his home as he nears after entering the gate. Omar gets out of the driver's seat and approaches him.
“Hey. We need to talk.”
“Hmm? I’m not sure what there is to talk about right now.” He walked past him to the entrance.
“Stop being like that.” He held him firmly.
Hugo almost let a ‘sorry’ slip through his lips at the tone if it weren’t for his own insistence on being stubborn. “Okay. I’m listening.” He said instead, in a tone that still gave him away.
Omar looked unsure, unlike his usual self. He looked like he was thinking what to say next or perhaps, wondering why he came here in the first place. Hugo decided he had something to say as well. He began almost rambling with his voice increasing steadily, rising in frequency, and Omar looked taken aback
He continued to speak with candour. “You know that I overthink. You know this! And yet, you can't even be a little straightforward with me. You have me so confused. And I get it, really, but just tell me you don’t want me.” He lets the words fly out. “Sometimes, I start to think that you enjoy seeing me humiliate myself, and then you get to reject me again.”
“What? Come on. You know that’s not true. Why would you even think that? It’s hard for me too.”
“Why lead me on, then?” His voice fizzles out towards the end of his sentence. He knows he might sound a bit childish, but the frustration has come to a boil.
“I’m not- “ Omar lets out an exasperated breath and rubs his temple. “Okay. Look, this time, if you want, you can be the one to reject me if that somehow makes you feel better or…” He holds his hand up when he’s about to interrupt him, like he knew he was going to make an offer he wouldn’t refuse.
“Or?”
“Or… You could let me kiss you.” He trudged closer.
“Please. Yes,” he whispered.
They held each other’s gaze for a moment. He could see clear desire dancing in his eyes. Omar closed the inches between them. His lips pressed onto his, pulling him in. The kiss is slow at first, but it deepens after the initial uncertainty dissolves. Soft lips moving against his. His hand came up and his jaw and Hugo melted under his touch. The kiss grew hungrier, and he grabbed the sleeve of Omar’s jacket. Despite the chilly weather, his insides felt like they were standing under a sweltering sun.
They pulled apart. Their foreheads pressed together as they caught their breaths. He could hear the thud of his heartbeat pacing.
“Look. Let’s go inside and talk it out, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Hugo nodded. “Let’s do that.” His voice came out ragged.
All faith begins with a dreadful anxiety preceding the leap.
