The Teammates

Never say goodbye, you're the apple of my eye

But no, our moonlit silhouettes they part and fade, I'm left with a loneliness that has no name.

Xabi took a deep breath, slowly inhaling, slowly exhaling, placing a smile on his face. It was crazy how easily he had learned to fake a smile over the course of a month, how quickly he became good at lying. He wasn’t sure when it happened, even less sure how, but it was almost second nature to him, and if he was honest with himself, he didn’t like it. He wanted to be open with everybody, he wanted to tell Brendan he wasn’t ready, but he couldn’t bring himself to, instead he had nodded and smiled. Of course he wanted to presented as the latest, and probably the last summer signing for LFC.

He slipped into the press room at Melwood, and heard the familiar sounds of cameras clicking away. There were many photographers and journalists there, much more so than usual, and five times as many as he remembered back when he first signed. Flashes flew around the room, recorders turned on, pen was put to paper, everyone was eager to perfectly capture the hero’s return home.

He sat in the chair in the middle of the room, Brendan on one side, Ayre on the other as the two started off the press conference. They talked about the excitement of having him back, how crucial and important piece he was to the puzzle, to the machine that was Liverpool Football Club. The flashes were blinding, they hadn’t stopped since he came in, and small purple-green circles danced in front of his eyes, giving him a headache he had not wanted.  Xabi found it hard enough to focus for long periods of time now, and his mind always drifted…

There were too many things running through Xabi’s head all at once, it was beginning to drive him crazy. He had spent days muddling through, trying to figure out what had gone wrong during the game, but there wasn’t a exact time where he could point and say ‘That’s it, that’s what I need to change.’

It had been worse during the press conference, where the journalists had been nothing but blunt about his performance against Chelsea. Could he have been a little faster? Possibly. Man-marked better? Definitely. All the questions had been answered for him. They had screwed him over, making Xabi feel worse and worse by the second.

“Don’t listen to them.”

Xabi looked up from the edge of his bed to see Steven standing in front of him, with a stern look in his eyes. “What?” Xabi hated himself for sounding so pathetic, especially in front of the captain.

“This is a team sport, it wasn’t your fault alone. It was everyone’s fault, everyone had a crap game, so don’t beat yourself over it.”

“I didn’t clear the ball. I should have but I didn’t.”

“It happens to the best of us, that.”

“It never happens to you.” Xabi looked up at Steven, while the Scouser sighed, settling next to him and slipping an arm around his shoulders.

“Yes it does, you’ve seen it yourself.” Steven’s blue eyes stared straight into Xabi’s, his face was impossibly close, so close in fact, that Xabi could count every single eyelash that framed his eyes.

He looked away, unable to hold Steven’s gaze any longer, and unable to explain that weird feeling in his stomach and the sudden acceleration of his heartbeat. He had momentarily forgotten what he felt so down about, with Steven so close, it was certainly odd. Must be the loss.

The loss, that’s right.

“I’m responsible for the loss, everyone knows it, and now we’ve dropped points…”