A promise to keep (Scaimar)

One shot

December 31st, 1997

It should be like any regular new year. But the excitement of winning the U20 World Cup did nothing but transform your typical teens next-door into local heroes in their own cities. Lionel was received as if he has just invented the cure to all diseases, or even had holy powers like the Pope or something. And Pablo, was, indeed the prodigal son of Rio Cuarto. The whole Argentinian team decided to spend their New Year's Eve festivities with their families and go out partying with friends after midnight, as it is customary in their country. But a phone call, surprises the Aimars greatly.

—Pablito! What's up? Happy New Year!

Scaloni's voice at the other side of the old corded phone draws an instant smile upon his lips.

—Leo! Happy New Year! What are you doing?

—Just calling you, smart ass! It's been one hell of a year and I didn't want to start it without hearing your voice.

A smile begins to creep on the riocuartense's lips as he hears those words. He can't prevent the warmth in his chest from growing every time he listens to him, be it personally or through a phone call. It's been hard to forget the emotions that went through his veins during those days in Malaysia. It must be some stupid adolescent crush but it's fine as long as they are team mates.

—Shut up, culiado. You must say that to everyone.

—Oh? And that's how you thank me for spending a million pesos to make this phone call? Long distance calls are costly, mind you!

—Pfffft, right.

—Anyways, I hope you have a great year and... yeah that we'll see each other soon. Perhaps in Japan. Who knows.

—Hopefully. —Pablo replies, biting his lower lip and curling the phone cord with his fingertips.

—My official debut at the Dépor will be on January 4th.

—You scared? —asks Aimar, resting his forehead against the wall.

—Kinda. Well, yeah. Not gonna lie to you. I'm scared shitless but whatever, I'm game. I'm Argentinian and we have balls, you know —answers Scaloni with determination and a soft laugh— But anyways... besides that, I just wanted to say something to you.

—What?

—One day, you and I will win the World Cup. The real one. Together. I promise.

There's a sudden silence at Aimar's side. His heart starts pumping faster and the blood is ringing in his ears. It must surely be the adrenaline rush of wanting to win everything that's out there now that they know what victory tastes like.

— Alright, have fun tonight and get drunk for me! See ya Pablo!

—See ya! Thanks for calling. Have a great time, you too!

...

December 31st, 2002

—Aw come on, don't be so upset, man.

Lionel's been trying to lighten up the mood since Pablo picked up the phone in Valencia. The Dépor won over his team by several goals. It is well known that the Cordoban player is a short-tempered man and Scaloni knows, but he didn't intend this call to mock him in the slightest. He just needed to be close to him despite the Valencia F. C. awful year.

—Told ya I'm not upset. —answers Aimar with a low voice.

—Yeah, sure. I can tell. Come on, Pablito, one day you're up and the next you're down. It's just life.