Like We Used To || Manuel Neuer

18

                   When you are in love, time flies. Even if the time you spend being in love is done lounging in sweltering concretes with 'the one' while indulging in meaninglessly seamless conversation and gazing innocently into the void that is the universe, it fucking flies. It flies and even before it is over, you are left helplessly scavenging for the minutes that you have missed, but you didn't miss any.

"You squandered them all, you twat," I reprimand as Manuel eagerly ignites the last of our firecrackers.

He takes a few steps backwards, kissing my nose when he is close enough. "Azelie."

It is early in the morning of the day that I am expected to return to Gelsenkirchen, and Manuel didn't even save me a goddamn firecracker. He wasted them all. And just like that, we have wasted all of our time, but this lack of time, the prolonged aching and bittersweet sensation, evokes a sensation of genuine love. 

I really love Manuel Neuer, more than I ever have, perhaps not more than I will, but I eventually will, and God, that firecracker is loud.

I wrap my arms around Manu's waist and look at the exploding piece of machinery. There are sparks of light flying everywhere. It's red and blue and yellow and really blinding, but it is surely beautiful.

Manuel reaches forward to touch a flame and as I instinctively yank his hand away, he grins cheekily and says, "I feel sparks."

Immediately, I break into fits of laughter. At five o' clock in the morning when all I have consumed is a cup of excessively sweetened coffee, it is the funniest thing ever. It is also incredibly sweet, and so I pull Manuel by the back of his shirt and continue giggling and kiss him during the inbetweens.

"I feel sparks too," I murmur into him, bringing my fingers to his cheeks. I rest them there as Manu traces his lips to my jaw, dropping a tender kiss.

"Do you have to go, Becker?" he asks softly, pulling away.

"Yes, Neuer, I have to go. And I'm getting late, by the way. You distracted me with your firecrackers!" I look at the time, which reads half past five. "Shit, Manu. Don't you have that meeting with your teammates at six? You'll be late too."

He pouts. "I don't want you to go."

"This is goodbye," I say dramatically, and when Manuel persists his pouting, I add sassily, "Don't be such a drama queen, Neuer!"

"My girlfriend is leaving, for God's sake. Am I not entitled to be a little sad?"

I love him. I love him. I love him. He said girlfriend. I love him. I love him. Oh goodness, the loser said girlfriend. I love him.

"Azelie, you're beaming," Manuel observes, and I beam a little more.

"You called me your girlfriend."

"Did I?" he questions, raising his eyebrows. He's toying with me again. Manu knows that it drives me off the wall, but in our last minutes together in Rio, he is doing just that. And he has a goofy grin on his face and a mischievous glint in his eyes and I love him.

I grab my suitcase and glide it to the end of the pavement, where there is a taxi with an opened hood. The taxi driver is fast asleep and he is drooling with a wide open mouth and upon closer inspection, I see that it is Asher, just like I had requested, and seeing him in that way—so peaceful—makes me smile.

Manuel slides next to me and nudges my shoulder. "Are you going to leave me now, bud?"

"We should get going, right?" I say in response.

He nods. "You're right, I guess. So, like, you're really not staying, Azelie?"

I lean against the taillight. "No can do, Manu."