Hope ➻ Gerio [2]

04

❝ how many pieces have to break ❞ nick jonas

"Sergio Ramos, player of Real Madrid seen in Barcelona with Barcelona player, Gerard Pique," read the title of an article by a Spanish football website. With his face buried in his pillow, Kaka groaned. Why on earth did this idiot decide to fly to Barcelona knowing Mournhino was going to murder him? 

"Fucking dumbass," Kaka muttered under his breath. Turning around, he turned on his phone and dialed Sergio's number. 

"What, you fucking asshole."

"Mate, stop it. You're seriously messing up. If you just focus on football then - "

"Is this about me flying to fucking Barcelona? Because if it fucking is, please shut the fuck up, cunt." Sergio rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth.

"Look, mate. What I'm trying to say it, please don't make the wrong decision because of Pique alright."

"Says the guy who's career is slowly dying."

"Mate - I'm trying to fucking help you." Kaka's voice lowered as he balled his fists. His eyes were bulging out of its sockets, his face began to redden. 

"Oh shit, I touched the wrong spot, didn't I? Shouldn't have fucking told me what to do and what not to do." Sergio hung up and clenched his jaw. Kaka wasn't his boss, he was merely a teammate. Fuck Kaka. Sergio just wanted to see a teammate, a friend. Mourhino should allow that, he and Gerard are international teammates after all. 

Dragging his suitcase along behind him, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Goddammit. It was Mourinho. "Ramos, where the hell are you," Mourinho demanded.

"Calm the fuck down, you pussy. I'm in Madrid," Sergio commented like a teenage boy talking to his overreacting mother, "why the fuck is everyone talking about a tiny little thing and making it like I stole some shit."

"Well fuck you, Ramos. You're going to have to pay a fine for that."

"Why? WHy the hell do I need to pay a Goddamn fine for seeing my international teammate?"

"Well guess what. That international teammate of yours seems to be playing for our motherfucking rival whether you like it or not."

"Oh yeah? Well, there isn't a law against me taking a trip for a night, a fucking night, to meet a friend." Sergio swung his arm in the air exaggeratedly as he sighed and pursed his lips. HIs heart was pounding out of his ribcage. Blood was rushing through his veins. He had enough. "Well guess what Mourhino, you should go fuck yourself." Then he hung up, marched to the taxi line and went home. 

Meanwhile, in Barcelona, Gerard was with Shakira and Maluma. Maluma was with the kids, playing with them and their toys. In the mean time, Gerard was with Shakira in the kitchen. Shakira's blonde hair was tired up into a bun, which was weird to Gerard. Since she usually tired her hair up into a ponytail or she would let her hair down. But he just went along with it anyway. Maluma for the first time in a while had dark circles under his eyes. They were like shadows in midday. Jesus Christ, thank God I don't I have kids, Gerard thought. Soon, his thoughts wandered to how Sergio is at Madrid. 

"Gerard, Gerard! Pass me the mayonnaise if you don't mind," Shakira called Gerard while keeping her eyes on the stove. 

Jumping up and blinking abruptly, Gerard snapped out of his thoughts. "Sorry," he whispered. 

"You okay," Maluma added, "I mean since - well you know - it's been tough." 

Nodding, Gerard pursed his lips. "Yeah, sure. Just you know, tired."

"If you say so," Maluma said. 

All of a sudden, Gerard rinsed his hands and turned around. "I'm going to go for a walk." He put his hands in his pockets and scurried out the door.