I don't do cute

I don't do cute - part two

Hola! Here we are with the second part of this little... "thing", hope you like that.
Let me know what you think about it and, if you want, remember to follow me on Instagram @imanonymousjuliet

The gala went smooth. No accidents, no crazy fans,... nothing.
Absolutely nothing.

He had hopped on the stage and taken his Balòn d'Or when the name "Lione Messi" came from the speaker. He said something in between a speech and a series of words without any logical meaning because of some Portuguese seated in the front row who hasn't taken his eyes away from him once throughout all the night.
Every chance had been perfect for Cris to touch the younger player: some dust on his jacket, a hair on his shirt...

Leo was feeling the burnt of Cris' eyes on his shirt during the speech, the heart was beating restless in his throat... he just wanted to hop off the stage and drive all the way back to the hotel.

As soon as he got off the stairs he's excused himself from anyone was congratulating to his records and the season only to lock himself in the nearest restroom.

Okay, every was going well until he's got caught by his anxieties and had to run away from the crowd. Away from Gerard and Ney that were making their ways to him.

Leo placed the Balon d'Or on a stand near the sink. The man who was looking at him through the mirror... had nothing of Lionel Messi, nothing of the little Leo who used to play down the streets of Rosario with a shattered ball and no shoes. That man, dressed in a Dolce & Gabbana suit, had nothing of him.

He was fucking scared.

The Argentinian took off the bloody red jacket placing it next to the award and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt undoing the tie. He tried to calm himself down by taking long and deep breaths but it was not working. He was scared of himself. He was scared of his fucking reflection.

Slowly Leo let his body sliding to the ground, head in his hands.
The cold and solid marble of the floor seemed to calm him a little, but he was still not ready to come back at the party.

- May I? -
Cristiano. He could have recognize the man voice out of a million others.

Leo didn't answer, he just buried his head further into his hands, too ashamed of himself to raise his eyes to Cris.

- I know this window, is it from the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, isn't it? - the Portuguese asked sitting on the floor next to the culè.

Leo moved his head up and down, words wanted not to leave his throat.

- I remember this one in particular because when I visited the cathedral, back in the early 2004, was the only one lighted up by the last ray of sun of the day - Cris kept talking while tracing the features of the tattoo on Leo's elbow.

Slowly, with the taller man speaking softly to him and caressing gently his cold skin, the number 10 was feeling more and more relaxed within every second.

- and do you remember that Clasico where Sergio got a red card? It was hilarious, especially in the lockers when... -

- Cris - the hoarse voice of Leo interrupted abruptly the merengue's monologue.

- Yes Leo? -

- thank you - Leo blushed hiding his face between his hands once again

- aww, you are really really really too cute when you blush - Cristiano smiled taking the younger chin with his hand forcing him to look into his eyes

- everything is okay Leo, look at me, everything is fine. Your love for football is pure and true, everyone knows, I know that for you all the money and fancy clothes means nothing - the Madridista was talking slowly, keeping stroking Leo's cheeks.

Leo didn't know what to say, the other man seemed to be able to read into his mind.

- You are worth every single award on this word, never doubt that - Cris smiled again.

They were just a breath away from each other's, both unable to tear their eyes off the other. Both too caught up in the moment to care of the aftermaths.

That was it. When no words can be spoken, only a slow touch of mouths can solve the troubles of a lonely heart.

Cris' lips were soft, too soft to belong to the Portuguese, too gently on Leo's ones.

Everything around them seemed to stop. Nothing else mattered but their lips crushing on each other's.

Nothing could have ever break the magic but Piquè opening the restroom door.

- ops, sorry - laughed the Spaniard leaving Leo and Cris alone again.

Leo was sure. He was a dead man. He could feel the blood running all the way up to his cheeks, probably he would have died for the overheat.

But he would have seen that one coming seeing how the day had been.

Leo turned to Cris slowly, only to see the merengue trying not to laugh.

- no - the Argentinian tried to shout the older man down

- don't... -

- you look so so so cute when you blush. You're irresistible - laughed Cris leaving a small kiss on Leo's nose.

Damn it.