Rafa's diary - day twelve

[louiselux]

Title: Rafa's Diary - day twelve
Pairing: definitely Fedal
Warnings: bit less worksafe
Notes: I'm pretty excited to announce that niennah has begun writing a rather awesome companion piece to this fic, from Roger's POV. The first instalment is here. I urge you to read - it's great!


day one day two day three day four day five day six day seven day eight day nine day ten day eleven

Day twelve – Friday

I'm back at the hotel after basically a whole day of playing table football and getting physio. The whole thing reminded me of juniors – the never-ending hanging around waiting for stuff to happen. Outside the windows of the players lounge, the practise courts were wet and shiny, and we kept coming back to stare out at the rain like we could make it stop. The sky was dark grey and a white mist had eaten the city. What a washout. I was cold too. It's chilly here.

"It's better if it doesn't stop," Toni said to me, in the morning, as we watched the rain in a little group. Fernando and his coach stood a little way off, both looking glum. "Your stomach needs it to not stop."

"What I need is some luck," I said, and he glanced at me, then nodded. Toni doesn't believe in luck, not even slightly. He believes in planning, attentiveness and hard work. But maybe even he believes it this time. I wonder if he's worried about me.

"It would be nice if you didn't get the shitty end of the stick for the scheduling," Rafa Maymo muttered. The funny thing about Maymo is that he has lot of opinions about everything but it takes him a long time to trust someone enough to say them out loud. I sometimes think that he prefers writing things down than speaking. Just as I was thinking that, he looked at me strangely, and then wrote something in his little book!

Benito called and tried to make me do the blog but I told him no. My mood is confused and it's hard to think what to say about anything. There are a lot of things I don't want to say anything about. My family, my friends, what I honestly think about the stupid scheduling of this tournament-- all those vital things that fill up my head.

Roger came into the players lounge. It was a surprise! Maybe he is allergic to the attention in this place-- usually a lot of people flock up to him and want to talk. But this afternoon it was quiet and he sat alone with a cup of coffee, watching me beat—no, pulverise, even if I say so myself-- Maymo at the foozball table. It's hard to think of another time that I've seen Roger alone with no one wanting his attention. I was a little bit too aware of him watching but I tried hard not to look too much. I don't think it worked.

He laughed and gave me a chocolate croissant as a prize for winning, so I ate it right there while he watched me, and I did not miss how his gaze fell to my mouth. He smiled. He always smiles at me. Mirka came in at that moment. She gave Roger an odd look when she saw us together, and then he said goodbye and left. Toni and Maymo were watching us.

It's late now, past 1am and I should be sleeping. My stomach is sore, even with the anti-inflammatories. They are the strongest type Maymo has, and they make my guts ache.

Writing this stuff down about Roger is a mistake because it sharpens all my thoughts, and tonight, at this moment, all my thoughts are about sex—about the way he looked at my mouth—about how it would be to reach out and remove his shirt and caress his skin. I wonder what he would sound like if I did that? Is he a very sensual person? Would he moan?

God. My diary might become x-rated fast if I don't stop.

I'm so tired. I know the best way to make myself fall asleep.

Comments

[adela80.livejournal.com]

Mmmm. . . so great the way you and niennah are now doing the same stuff from different points of view. I'll be sorry when this finishes.