yellow apparel

2

Stand By You (Ch ½)  (Roman Bürki imagine) 

“Roman,” you interjected angrily as you pursued him into the livingroom, “You won, you should be happy.” Roman glanced towards your direction condescendingly and dropped his eyes towards the side. “I understand you’re upset about my new job, but that’s not a reason to celebrate with your team,” you rationed, “And I thought you’d be-”

“I am happy,” he interrupted while reaching out for your hand earnestly. “I have never been more proud of you in my life,” he conceded as his teeth pressed up against his lower lip wistfully. “It’s just, that it’s in Milan,” he concluded, after an agonizing pause.

“I know,” you whispered, further entwining your fingers into his grasp. “But all your teammates are going to be wondering where you are,” you lamented, desperately trying to lead him out the door. “Please,” you pleaded, reaching up and pressing your lips against his collar.

“Babe, I am happy,” he assured you, placing his hands protectively on your shoulder blades. “You’re just going to give me some time to process all of this,” he sighed as he sauntered out of the door.

~ Roman’s POV: “Okay, what is up?” Marco interrogated, while grabbing my shoulder and leading me towards the corner of the bus, away from the rest of the young men decked on spiritedly in yellow and black apparel. “We’re supposed to be having fun,” Marco began irritatedly, “And right now, you look as happy as a hurt puppy who’s just been told he’s going to a kill shelter.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, trying to evade the German inquisition in front of me. “It’s just some problems y/n,” I hastily confessed trying to sidestep Marco.

“y/n? What did you do?” Marco questioned incredulously while scratching his head in astonishment.

“Yeah.” I admitted, rolling my eyes at Marco’s initial allegiance towards y/n. “And it wasn’t me that fucked up, but thanks for your assumption,” I added bitterly.

“I’m sorry,” Marco avowed. “You two just seemed to be perfect for each other,” he reckoned. From the opposite side of the bus, Christian took one look at my distressed expression, and waltzed happily towards Marco and me’s direction. Clearly, the eighteen-year-old had more than enough beer for the night.

“What’s up my German friends?” Christian sang while enthusiastically slinging his arm around my shoulder. “Actually, you’re from Switzerland,” the brunette corrected himself through bubbly laughter while Marco choked coyly into his drink.  

“I think you’ve had enough to alcohol for the night,” Marco announced authoritatively, while snatching the beer out of Christian’s grasp. “How about you go talk to Erik?” he suggested while gesturing towards our teammate’s direction. “I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.”

As the upbeat American practically skipped towards Erik’s direction, Marco raised his eyebrows prompting me to continue with my narrative. “Well, she got this new job she’s been wanting,” I said through gritted teeth, as Marco and I waved towards the fans that had swamped the bus. “And I’m really proud of her and everything,” I added, “It’s just- it’s in fucking Milan.”

“Oh,” Marco conceded through a sharp inhale, while pursing his lips together. “I mean, you could always try a long distance relationship, right?” he offered.

“Yeah, because those have been notorious for working out,” I sarcastically retorted while beaming ebulliently towards the overwhelming congregation of black and yellow figures underneath our position.

“Well, does she have to take it?” the blonde inquired further, while vivaciously toying with a lemon streamer that had fallen in our direction.

“Yeah, kind of,” I speculated, half annoyed at Marco’s perpetuate naivety. My girlfriend, unlike the majority of my teammate’s partners, wasn’t some gaudy model that could effortlessly abdicate a job offering. “It’s only one of the biggest accounting firms in all of Italy,” I added.

 “Dude, no offense, but you seem like a total prick right now,” an elated voice chimed in, causing both Marco and me to whip around. While taking an over-portioned sip of his beer, Christian rationed, “Your girl just got the career of a lifetime, and all you’ve done is thrown yourself one giant pity-party.” Me and Marco exchanged looks of astonishment as the young boy, who previously would never even dare to censure any of our opinions, continued his scathing assessment of my actions. “If you two truly love each other, you’d find a way to work things out,” he concluded adamantly through the piercing clamor that engulfed our bus.

“Yeah- but,” I resumed, but was instantly cut off my the young boy’s voice.

Yeah but, is just another set of words for people use for excuses. If she really means that much to you, you’ll find a way to make it work,” Christian shouted merrily.

I glanced towards Marco, who was visibly transfixed by the American’s abrupt words. I bit onto the flesh of my bottom lip, and shook my head in astonishment. He was right. “Have a great party boys!” I called out hastily, as I began to wield and dodge my way through the throngs of masses. She meant the world to me, and tonight, I was going to show her just that.