ᶠÚᵗᵇᵒˡ Oɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs ⎳⎳

Fools (Courtoisnaldo⛵)

Thibaut felt no less defeated than his fellow team mates from their terrible loss today against Real Madrid- loosing yet again another Champions League final but just a degree worse than their last. To digest the fact that he couldn't save any one of the four goals scored by individual players from Real Madrid felt like the worst case of indigestion he's had in years, perhaps the worst he's ever had- with so much nausea throwing his eyeballs back constantly with strong and overpowering waves of it every few minutes, and even worse, bile gurgling up his throat trying to get itself out while Thibaut does his best to keep it back with an already bone dry throat, hot tears and a growing void of guilt swallowing him from within that pained every inch of his soul to not be able to reminisce it at all.

The blaring stadium lights blinded him but he didn't bother to close his eyes and hide away from the pain of it. He reluctantly stayed by his goalpost, the ball in his hands, tears streaming down his face, watching them gather up in a circle and jump like little children, chanting something in Spanish that he didn't bother thinking of what it could be. Watching them all smile like fools and hug each other's drenched bodies tightly without a care only made his heart sink further down. Thibaut won't say he's angry, because he simply isn't. He's upset. Scarred. Crying like a child left in the foreboding dangers of the darkness. He could hear Torres cry nearby, and don't even ask him how he knows for sure that it's Torres. That Spanish Bitch cries like the loudest ass on earth and it can legit be heard from miles.

Thibaut decides that instead of rotting in a place full of faces he no longer wishes to see and noises that are wrecking his brain, it's better that he returns to the four walls of his room and gets to have a piece of his mind in serene silence without having to hold back anything. He attempts to leave but feels a sweaty hand dampening his sleeve and instantly turns to look, to be met with eyes so beautiful and precious with the glint of a child's eye set over his pupils that could easily emotionally blackmail anyone felt forbidding to look at from just how precious and fragile it felt to stare back at. The dark color of brown bursting with happiness wisping beyond the barrier of his sockets and contaminating Thibaut's mind with copies of it. A smile so wide, gummy and interlocked with undertones of innocence and nothing but pure like a child's happiness made his heart flutter with awe because it all belonged to Cristiano- the only player from Real Madrid who he's ever loved and least hated conceding goals of.

- "Could you give me the ball? Or are you taking it??"

He spoke in such quick Spanish that even he's surprised that he could understand.

- "Uh no, you can take it."

- "Thank you, Thank You!" Cristiano said like his inner kid suddenly came out, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek before sprinting off to his team mates. 

Thibut placed his gloved hand on his cheek, feeling the place where Cristiano kissed. While caressing the place where Cristiano kissed, he watched as Cristiano giggled with his team mates and held the ball dearly to his chest, then all of a sudden looking back at Thibaut's direction with a wide smile plastered on his face and a look that he couldn't quite put a finger on, but reminisced the pleasant feeling of, nonetheless.

Well somebody isn't washing their face tonight.

---

Thibaut could hear the fading roars of the home fans chanting victoriously while he walks to a nearby bench to sit on and get himself an uber. He sighs and decides to let everything sink in, tightly clutching his duffel bag and continuing to walk on the sidewalk in the silence of a couple people upfront and a few cars passing by every now and then.

It has only been a few minutes since he left the stadium. Everyone stayed to get told off by Simeone, but he didn't feel like staying at all. Because he knows that if he did, he'd probably be shitted on for his 'poor' performance.

Thibaut sighs once more and takes a deep breathe, remembering the moment when he actually felt happy for a split second looking at Cristiano. No wonder, after all, Cristiano tops his list- the guy that he's so terribly in love with.

...Speak of the devil.

- "Oi! Where you heading?"

The person quickly catches up to his footsteps, breathing hastily, softly bumping him in the shoulder- and it pisses Thibaut slightly off.

Ofcourse it does.

- "What the f- oh."

Maybe not so annoying. Not annoying at all actually. He takes it all back, actually. Probably because Cristiano's hooded eyes and half smile- more like a charming, almost intentional smirk- is twisting his insides into a dog shaped balloon. Oh well. Side effects of falling in love with a guy that can work the charisma of a dual personality. Thibaut will never regret his choices, at least not this, if Future Thibaut does look back at this- he will be proud, because his taste is top tier.

And there are many, many girls and boys that can agree to that, including me.

Thibaut thinks of the innocent, wide eyes and sinless, white gummy smile from an hour back and it almost frightens him to think of all the things this man can do because holy shit. Wow.

He looks down at his feet, completely forgetting Cristiano ever asked him something.

- "Hey, where are you going?"

- "Hotel."

- "I am going with you, it's unsafe to go out so late at night alone you know?"

Thibaut could swear his heart skipped a beat, but then again- did Cristiano really think he's that pathetic? Does he just look that pathetic? Did Cristiano just really think anyone would dare to go near a guy of 6 foot and 7 inches?

- "I will be fine, you shouldn't waste your time on me and go celebrate with your team instead."

- "It was never an option, sweetheart."

Cristiano grabbed his wrist and turned them around, and before he could analyze everything, he's sitting in a Lamborghini, Cristiano's one to be specific.

And he doesn't even know why Cristiano would ever do that because there's no fucking way he buys that Cristiano likes him even the slightest in that way. Impossible. Never in this life.

- "Why does it bother you that I'm upset and alone?"

- "Because it just does. And I'm more than happy to be the reason behind your smile, so why not?"

- "Okay that is not true- whoever told you that- I can assure you it's not t-"

Cristiano put a hand over his thigh and stroked it gently, smiling and looking at his tensed and anxious and very obviously poorly hidden lie-expression through the rear mirror. It only made his heart flutter- to think anybody would be so foolishly in love with him felt unreal, but he wants to act profession- and so he does.

Thibaut blushes furiously, stealing a glance from him through the rear mirror and swallowing thickly and pressing his lips to a stop immediately.

- "Just let me help you out, okay? I understand how crappy it feels to loose, too, if you did not know."

- "That's quite a surprise"

- "Jealous of my silverware, is it?"

- "To be honest, a bit."

- "Well fear not, because none of my silverware comes to beat you either way, so you're safe."

Cristiano says with a squeeze to the thigh, and only if Cristiano couldn't hear Thibaut, Thibaut would've surely let out the yelp that he's kept steadily balanced on his tongue right now.

But all of a sudden, out of the blue, only when Cristiano takes a left turn does it hit him with realization of:

-"How does he know where my hotel is?..."

__________

Pt.2 will be out after i update my mafia book ig..? 🤷‍♀️

BTW 'TIS FOR U @courtoisnaldoisREAL