also from the ucl final time loop fic!
The most unbearable thing isn’t losing by eight goals.
It isn’t Allegri storming off the pitch long before the final whistle.
It isn’t the great booming echo chamber of their own fans jeering them while Real celebrates.
It isn’t Andrea sitting with his head in his hands and refusing to look anyone in the eye, it isn’t Paulo’s uninhibited waterworks putting Doha to shame, it isn’t any of the wreckage surrounding them.
It’s Gigi, still leaning against one of the goal posts, laughing.
“Fuck off,” Leo spits. “Stop. What’s wrong with you?”
Their captain only gestures vaguely and then covers his mouth with one hand. No use; the corners of his eyes are still telltale crinkled. Leo wants to hit him– or hit himself, he isn’t sure which one. Maybe both.
“Sorry,” Gigi says, straightening up and trying to school his face into seriousness. “You won’t believe me, but this is funny. It really is.”
There are UEFA officials trying to gather them to get their medals, but Leo stays laser focused on Gigi, vision black and shaking at the edges. “You’re crazy. That’s it, right? You’ve lost it.”
It only serves to set Gigi off again. “Maybe,” he admits. Then he’s nodding over Leo’s shoulder, pointing with his chin at the cup that isn’t theirs. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”