Wallflower | Mario Götze

06. Spoon

Mario blearily awoke the next morning with the bright sun streaming through the windows. He drowsily snuggled further into the duvet and his pillows, hanging onto the last moments of sleep, when suddenly, with a start, something occurred to him.

Something was not right.

A heavy, arm was wrapped around him.

An even warmer body was spooning him.

He traced the foreign arm with his eyes, beginning at the hand that was resting on his chest, moving along the muscular arm that was tightly pressed into him, all the way up to the face.

The sleeping face of Marco fucking Reus.

He yelled in surprise, and his sudden outburst pulled Marco's sleep away from him. His eyes flew open in a panic, and for a moment, the two men stared, facing each other. Neither said anything nor moved.

And then they simultaneously shouted and jerked back from each other, so that they were now on either edge of the large bed.

"Marco!" Mario began. "What the hell was that?"

Marco despairingly shook his head. "I don't-I don't remember. I just remember getting into bed - my bed - and that's it."

"Just why. Why would your drunk brain think 'oh yes I'll just get into bed with my best friend!'"

"I wish I knew, but I didn't mean anything by it, I'm 100% straight. How I got here...is a mystery to you and me."

He looked so sad and confused, much like a child who'd lost their parents at the supermarket, that Mario couldn't help but believe him.

"Alright, alright. But this never happened."

He leant forward slightly and ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to smooth it out of the bedhead state. Whilst doing this, he heard Marco suck in a breath and run to the bathroom. Mario tried to tune out the sounds of Marco regurgitating the alcohol he had consumed the previous day.

He turned to the bedside table and picked up his phone, remembering his vow to take Eleanor out. He picked up her business card which was lying on the floor near the bed and typed in her number. He tried multiple texts, none sounding quite right, before he settled on a simple couple of sentences.

Mario

Hi Eleanor, it's me, Mario. Would you like to go out with me today? :-)

He looked up as he heard Marco spit mouthwash out into the sink and reappear in the room. He was rubbing his head and groaned. "I have got the worst headache now, Mario why did I drink so much?"

Mario snorted. "You tell me. Go and get some paracetamol or something and..." He trailed off as he heard his phone ping.

Eleanor

I would love to! :)

Without Mario noticing, Marco had crept over and was his reading texts.

"Aww," he cooed, then in a sing-song voice, said, "Mario's got a da-ate, Mario's got a da-ate!" Still laughing, he dodged the pillow Mario threw. "You know, I feel much better now, who needs paracetamol when you have budding romance, hmm?" In response, Mario stared at him in silence. "Alright, I'll let you get ready." He finally made for the door, but not without a kissy face, which earned him another attempt at being hit by a pillow. Luckily for him, Mario was not a morning person, and his aim was off. Mario could hear him giggling all down the corridor.

With a substantial amount of effort, he rolled out of bed and sleepily traipsed over to his holdall which had been carelessly dropped on the floor on his arrival. He rummaged through it and picked out some clothes, dressed, and went back to his phone.