𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒; 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑠

t. fornal x l. mosca (loser)

one shot with special dedication for fronkle_tople

and now... calm down... put on the headphones and relax...

'Lady Pank - zawsze tam gdzie ty'

___

Pain. Screaming. Tears. Despair.
The loss.

This feeling was awful. The very realisation that one had failed.... A pain he had never felt before. Even during the Olympic Games when they were thrown out by France. He had failed, as he thought about it, although in truth there was nothing he could do to help. The start was quite good; the first point, the second, the third.... And then it was all gone. Gone along with the dreams, because although the start was good, every moment the points flew against them. The loss kept growing and the gold medal was getting further and further away. And finally the verdict came; a lost World Championship final, after a missed play by Mateusz Bieniek and a ball that hit the net.

The Italians' scream of joy must have been heard by the entire city, although many Katowice residents, as well as fans from other parts of Poland and the world, must have turned off their televisions in pain and suffering, surrendering into the arms of Morpheus. The volleyball players, however, had no such privileges. They had to stay at least a while longer in the place of their doom. With tears in their eyes, or on their cheeks, with Bartosz Kurek passing somewhere between them, bestowing them with a hug and a warm word, as if he wanted to take all their pain away, dumping it on his strong shoulders as team captain.

Those inside the stadium, who did not leave with the loss, spoke of how proud they were of their compatriots. In the end, the World Championship silver medal was just as wonderful, although it left many unsatisfied. Jan Borysewicz appeared in the stadium, playing a gentle melody on his guitar, very familiar to all Polish fans, so it was they who took the reins, painedly singing about what they were feeling. About how important their great idols are to them.

Standing on the podium, Tomek felt pride on one hand. They were on their own ground, in front of their fans, but he knew that second place was not good enough. They should have been first. They should be the ones lifting the cup, they were at home, not the Italians. Tears streaming into his eyes made him see less and less. One of the Brazilians dropped his platter, another showed his middle finger to the camera.... But he didn't care, too focused on his pain.

Later, when he was finally able to go home after the whole ceremony, he couldn't stand it and burst into tears. He had failed completely. He was supposed to be a hope, and he was a failure, because he hadn't changed anything for the better since he came in. He felt like he was at fault. And as soon as he entered his loved one's instagram profile, that's when he couldn't stand it anymore totally. That's when he knew he had failed not only as a player, but also as a partner. Although he didn't see anything wrong with Leandro kissing some teammate's boyfriend, probably Yuri Romano, on the temple area, he was so hurt by the sight of him. It was as if he wanted to shout 'hey, Tom, can you see that?

Then, whooping with tears, he just wanted to forget. Get rid of everything that could only remind him of the Italians and the fact that they were the world champions. That's why he broke every longer pasta he could find into small pieces, and in the bin lay bottles of wine poured down the sink, bought to celebrate if they won. He took the beer out of the fridge and made his way to the living room, sitting down on the carpet with his back resting against the sofa.

He sat in silence punctuated by his own crying because he couldn't calm down. This was his failure.

Finally, after a long time, as he exhaustedly fell asleep sitting up, he heard someone enter the house. Then, as soon as he saw his beloved on the doorstep, he rose, and all his tiredness seemed to have left him.

"What are you doing here?" He wiped the tears quickly from his cheeks so that Mosca could not see them, although he had already managed to see them anyway. There was a pizza with pineapple on the table.

"I came to see how you were feeling...."

"Now? Don't be ridiculous" Tomek snorted. "A moment ago you didn't remember me, kissing some boy, so I'm supposed to just believe you now?"

Leandro sighed loudly, not knowing what to say. Fornal had always been sensitive, so he should have remembered that. Unfortunately, his emotions got the better of him and that was the only reason for his behaviour. Tom felt the tears come to his eyes once again, so he clenched his eyelids, not allowing himself another moment of weakness.

And then he heard soft, quiet music and he already knew that he was lost. That he could no longer be angry when Mosca, in crippling Polish, tried to sing his beloved's favourite song. A song that the fans in the stadium also sang to soothe their pain. One of the most beautiful they had both ever heard. That's why he immediately calmed down, snuggling carefully with his back against his torso, and listened carefully to the words that Leandro was trying to pronounce as best as he could, while gently brushing his ear with his lips

Już teraz wiem, że dni są tylko po to,
by do ciebie wracać każdą nocą złotą...
Nie znam słów, co mają jakiś większy sens,
jeśli tylko jedno, jedno tylko wiem...
Być tam... Zawsze tam, gdzie ty...

And later, when they were already lying in bed together and Leandro was hugging him and stroking his hair, Tom completely forgot about what had gone before. He no longer felt the pain caused by the silver and not the gold medal. Because who would care about losing a world championship final with the best man in the world next to him?

____

I know, bruh... I totally broke it,
but I needed to express my
emotions...

and song lyrics;

I already know that days are only for
to come back to you every golden night
I don't know any words that make more sense
if only one, one only thing I know
be there, always where you are