Today is the day I get to see him. Breath Fran. It's just a high school friend...that's now an international superstar.
I knew João when he still had his terrible haircut, when he'd invite me over to hang with his friends. When we'd spend summers on end with each other at his parents holiday house. He used to be my best friend, but somewhere between his sad attempt at speaking Spanish in 10th grade and seeing him on my TV, I started to feel more for him than I should've.
I always went for the blonde hair, blue eyes guys but suddenly I found myself falling for his brown hair and brown eyes. I found myself turning on the news to hear about Atletico in the hopes that I'd get to see him, even if it were just through a screen.
And before I knew it our phone calls got shorter, he got busier and I was left with only memories of the João I used to know.
I try to forget about it all because today is the day I get to see my best friend again. His family is hosting Christmas lunch at their house and they invited my family.
The chilly air outside is taking away from the fact that I'm sweating with nerves because I'm going to see him again. What if he smiles and I forget about everything or even worse, what if we find out that we have nothing in common anymore.
He became an international superstar while I still live in small town Viseu . I'm stuck in an office while he's out there bringing stadiums to their feet. What if all we have is history?
I walk through the doorway that feels like a second home to me. Five years later and nothing's changed.
I see him and I can't help but run into his arms. I close my eyes and rest my chin on his shoulder.
I was right. I'd see him and forget about everything. Forget about the dozens of missed calls, forget about the past five years trying to forget about him.
Five years and his smile still makes me weak in the knees. He still feels like those summers we spent laughing. His laugh reminds of all the good times we've shared. I let go of him knowing that holding on any longer would only be damaging.
We walk to the lounge area to catch up.
"So how does it feel to be back home again?" I ask. "It's a lot colder than I remember. But it's great seeing everyone again," he says. "I know your mom and dad miss you a whole lot when you're away," I say. "I miss them too," he says. "So what are you doing now?" He asks. "I'm an accountant at one of the local firms, but it's nothing as exciting as what you do," I say. "What's everyone else doing?" He asks. "Most of them moved to Lisbon or Porto," I say. "Have you ever considered moving?" He asks. "It's crossed my mind before but Viseu is my home," I say. "I was hoping that you'd still be here," he says. "That's sweet, I was hoping you'd come back," I say.
We sit on the couch facing the Christmas tree. I rest my head on his shoulder. And somehow it's starting to feel like old times, back when we were silly teenagers.
"I missed you Fran," he says. "Really?" I ask. "Of course, you're my best friend," he says. "I'm glad I still hold that title," I say laughing. "Always," he says. "Well, I missed you too, GiGi" I say. "Goodness we're bringing back the childhood nicknames," he says. "Anything to go back to our younger days," I say. "We really had it all back then," he says. "Then we grew up," I say. "I remember we'd sneak out at midnight and drink my dad's whiskey," he says laughing. "He never realised that it was gone," I say laughing. "He never did, those were the days," he says with a smile. "All we used to worry about was whether we'd get caught," I say. "Now it's just bills and reputations," he says. "I'd give anything to go back to those care-free summers we had," I say. "I was truely an idiot back then," he says. "What do you mean?" I ask. "I don't know if you knew this, but I had the biggest crush on you in high school," he says. "What? I had no idea" I say laughing, "why didn't you tell me?" "Part of me was scared it would ruin our friendship, the other part was just terrified of rejection," he says. "Imagine the tabloids had to hear you were once scared of rejection?" I say dramatically. "I still think some of those feelings are there," he says. "Come on, stop joking around," I say rolling my eyes. "What do you mean? I'm being serious," he says. "You haven't been back home in 5 years and then after 3 hours together, you come to this miraculous conclusion?" I ask. "But that's the thing, hasn't been 3 hours, it's been 10 years of knowing each other. You were there for everything, when I got my first national team call up, my move to Madrid. And a big part of me wants you there for everything that's still to come," he says. "Obviously, I'd like to run into your arms and say I feel the same, but you can't blame me for being hesitant. If that's how you really feel, why was it so easy to just forget about me for 5 years?" I ask. "I was young and stupid, I didn't realize what an amazing person I'd left behind. And that's why I'm here, I needed to let you know where my head is at," he says grabbing my hand, "and it would be a shame if I didn't at least try to win you over." "So let's say I agree, then what? We make more promises to keep in touch?" I ask. "Hear me out, I know this is asking for a lot, you move to Madrid. We can spend our evenings on the balcony, our mornings watching the news," he says. "You're a madman João," I say with a laugh. "A madman that gets the girl?" He asks. "Let me sleep on it," I say, "logistically, a move to Madrid has a lot of moving parts that we'd have to sort out." "So that means I have a fighting chance with you," he says with a smile. "You always did have the superhuman ability to wear me out," I say rolling my eyes.
