Where the wind whispers

Title: All I Want…
Pairing: Pep Guardiola/Bojan Krkic , Bojan/Gerard Pique implied
Rating: R
A/N: My Christmas present to the sweet & wonderful notsostrange <3 :-) ILU BB! :-D *hugs* It’s angsty just so you’re warned.



An American pop Christmas song played on the radio but nobody was really paying any attention. The other players milled around in groups, chatting and laughing. Everyone was caught up in the festive spirit it seemed, everyone but him.

Every time he got near the coach, the man would make an excuse and depart from the group. It was not so obvious that it drew attention, oh no Pep was too subtle for that. To the casual observer, it just appeared that the manager was making the rounds and chatting to his players. Avoidance was a brilliantly tricky thing like that, easy to do yet harder to be seen.

Pep knew what Bojan wanted, Bojan knew he did, but that is why he was avoiding him. The boy could remember the harshly whispered words a few hours earlier in his office clearly. Pep had had him against the wall, literally, and his breath had felt hot against his skin.

“Don’t do this Bojan,” Pep warned. “Not tonight.”

“But you know what I want…” He had practically whined.

Pep groaned in frustration as he kissed the boy roughly. “You won’t get it. Not with everyone’s families there. Not with my family there.”

Pep had released him and sent him on his way. Bojan knew he would have run out of there as quickly as possible anyway, simply to hide his tears. He hated that he had to hide his feelings; he didn’t like it at all.

The various wives and girlfriends loitered around the room, gossiping and gabbing with each other about things that only interested them. Bojan found them hallow and fake and he hated the hypocrisy that he had to live in—that Pep had to live in.

Perhaps that was why when Gerard offered him glass of champagne after glass of champagne that he accepted so willingly. He wasn’t stupid; he knew he was a lightweight and could easily be dropped by alcohol. But every touch that Pep gave his wife and every smile he gave his elite eleven, the lure of an alcoholic haze seemed too great to resist. So he didn’t.

After his sixth glass, he could not quite recall what happened exactly. He vaguely remembered someone’s lips hot and wet against his own and against his skin. It had to be Gerard, no one else had paid him any attention. He remembered darkness, hot and heavy darkness that was not helped by his drunkenness. He could tell by the lack of soreness that he had not been fucked, he supposed that was a good thing. The tangy taste of come in his mouth, however, suggested that he had at least blown someone, Gerard.

Bojan’s head pounded and he did not care anymore what he looked like or how people saw him. He had a headache and his heart was far too heavy in his chest. He made his way up from the banquet hall where the party was being held to Pep’s office. It was gracefully quiet and no one would dare disturb Pep’s office. It was for that reason that he walked in, uncaring of what Pep thought if he were to find him. It was the bastard’s own fault, Bojan reasoned.

He lay his head down on the leather sofa and hoped that the pounding in his head would go away. The one thing he wanted the most he could not have; he never would have. Bojan had known the painful truth from the beginning but he still wanted Pep. He reached too far and had his fingers burnt day after day and yet he continued to reach out. He wanted Pep’s love just for himself. It was a selfish thought but Bojan could not help himself.

Bojan closed his eyes and wished the pain away from his head, his heart, and his tired body.


Pep walked into his office intending to get a small parcel he had saved for his boy. He stopped suddenly when he saw his boy, Bojan, on his sofa. He was disheveled, rumpled, and fast asleep. The old man’s eyes took in the boy’s still form and felt the hurt beat from his heart.

He removed his suit jacket and balled it up and carefully lifted Bojan’s head to put the makeshift pillow underneath. Bojan didn’t even make a sound; Pep could smell the alcohol. He silently damned Gerard for giving him liquor and then damned himself for allowing it in the first place.

Pep pulled the large FC Barcelona blanket out of one of the drawers and unfolded it to put over Bojan. He could sleep comfortably here; he would not be disturbed. He watched for a moment as the boy slept away, unknowing that he was here.

“One day it will be different Bojan.” Pep promised silently.

He hesitated a moment longer before he walked over to his desk and pulled out a small silver box with a bow around it. The watch inside was not much but Pep had made sure that the engraving on the inside was something that Bojan would remember.

“I love you.” Pep whispered as he set the box down on the floor beside the couch and bent down to place his lips on Bojan’s temple. He then pulled back and walked out quietly, repeating the phrase engraved in the watch to himself once.

“All I want is you.”