Vienna || Erik Durm one shot

A/N: This story is inspired by the song Vienna by Ultravox. :)

This is getting tiresome. Of course Erik is happy they won the match; with a score that big, but they haven’t won the cup—yet. That’s why he doesn’t want to celebrate too much. Someone stumbles into him. A laughter that follows sounds all too familiar. Erik shakes his head, half amused half exasperated. “Careful, Mesut,” he tells his not-so-sober teammate, who merely chuckles.

“Sorry, mate.” Mesut lets out another drunken laugh. He looks so unstable it makes Erik worry that he’s going to fall if he lets go of him. Like an answer from above, someone—André—takes a hold of Mesut and leads him to a nearby chair. Erik breathes in relief. After giving Mesut one last look and being sure he sits down fine Erik walks down the stairs that leads to the beach. He needs to stay away from the party, his drunken mates and the euphoria of winning the semi-final. A little tranquility is what he craves.

He can still hear the dance music but it’s getting more and more subdued the closer Erik gets to the beach. A few more steps and finally the sound of waves and wind greet him, already making him feel much better. It’s a refreshing change to the alcohol smell he’s been inhaling lately. Don’t get him wrong; like guys his age he loves to party, but even he would have enough when there was a party every other day.

He’s considering to sit on the sand when he realises with a startle that he isn’t alone. A girl is standing a few metres in front of him. She has her back on him so he can’t see her face; all he can see is her dark hair, which reaches her waist, and her dress, that in this lack of light can be any colour. She doesn’t seem to notice him. Erik is torn; a part of him wants to leave her alone, but another part of him is intrigued, as there’s something about the girl that makes it hard for him to look away.

“This beach is big enough for the two of us. Why are you still standing there?”

The voice startles Erik. He struggles to find a suitable reply. “I’ve just been here for a minute,” he says and mentally cringes as it sounds so lame.

The girl turns around. She is beautiful, almost angelic; it’s easy to see, even in the dim lights that come from the resort. “Fine. I’ll leave. You can have this spot.”

No, he doesn’t want her to leave. “Wait. You said it’s big enough for us two, then why are you leaving?” he tells her, discreetly crossing his fingers that she’ll stay.

The girl looks at him with her big, exquisite eyes, which can be any colour, too. She seems amused, and yet she casually shrugs. “OK.” And she turned back to the sea before them.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I love watching the sea at night, where it looks mysterious, calm, but also beautiful and serene,” she said. Whilst her English is really good, he can still hear a slight accent, which makes her sound even better to him.

“You’re one of the German footballers, aren’t you?”

“Pardon me?” Erik blushes. Her scrutinising gaze obviously tells him she knows he wasn’t listening to what she said. He wonders if she can guess why…

“I said you were one of the German footballers.” Her gaze is deep and piercing. Still Erik can’t look away. He dumbly nods. The girl says again, “Your team played well. We deserve to be beaten with that score. We let the shock of the first two goals carry on throughout the match. That and the feeling of inadequacy for losing Neymar.” Her voice is calm and her look softens.

As he has guessed; she’s Brazilian. “Thank you. We just play as if every match was our last match in the competition. I think you’re right that the grief of Neymar’s injury got the best of Brazil today.”