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Madrid.
Karim was silently sitting in the dressing room after another failed game on his behalf.
Once again he hadn't managed to score a goal and had received the sheer hatred from his own audience as an extra kick in the stomach. He was used to it, seeing how he'd been enduring it for years but that didn't make it any easier.
Every time he heard them whistle it cut through him like a blunt knife, opening him up at his sternum slicing him all the way down to his navel.
Being whistled and booed by rival teams was normal, every player endured shit like that, but to suffer through it in your own stadium, your own home where you were suppose to be safe, happy and loved, well that wasn't something that he would ever be able to get used to. How could he?
He was pretty thick skinned but not made of marble. He had feelings too, not that anyone seemed to care about that in the stands. Every time he had to stand into the tunnel, listening to the crowd roaring above him, he had to muster all of his remaining courage to force his legs to start moving toward it. He told himself to be brave and to not let them get to him, but he couldn't pull it off.
If he would be an offensive midfielder nobody would have batted an eye at him, instead he would receive applause for his famed assists and hard work, but no, Karim wore shirt number nine, Ronaldo's number and had no other choice but to score on a weekly basis. If he didn't he would be booted out.
And unfortunately, for some reason that was beyond his understanding, he was having the absolute worst season of his professional career. Nothing was working for him. Not even his infamous connection with Cris.
Cris worked hard to be supportive, tried to feed him chances but Karim managed to ruin every single one of them, again and again until he wasn't even sure why he was even playing at a club like this anymore.
He knew it frustrated the flouncy Portuguese to see him fail so many times, because in the end all Cris wanted was for everyone to perform at their best, but Karim just couldn't turn his luck around, no matter how hard he tried.
And right now, after another failed game, he felt himself being too tired to fight for his spot anymore. He wanted to give up. He had missed six chances tonight, six. He was a fucking joke.
He was convinced that Cris would rather play with Marco Asensio at the moment than he would with him. Marco would have scored at least twice tonight if he had been on instead of him. Karim was sure of it.
He knew it was unfair to the Marco that Zizou kept favoring him and put the talented youngster on the bench while he was in much better shape. Marco never let him see his disappointment or resentment but Karim knew that deep down he was feeling it.
Even if he was far too elegant to hold it against him.
He heard his teammates roam around near him but nothing really registered. He sat there, like a statue as he heard lockers being slammed shut and water running from the showers.
A hand was being lowered to his shoulder. He didn't have to look up to feel who it was, for he recognized the firm pressure of the lean fingers. ''Bro, they don't know shit,'' Cristiano said, resolute, in French. He often spoke French with Karim, but very few people knew he spoke the language. A small gesture that meant the world to Karim, it only enhanced their friendship. Cris wasn't fluent in French but the fact that he at least made an attempt meant everything.
''No, they do. And they were right to whistle at me. I'm a fucking failure,'' Karim spat out hotly. His cheeks were burning and he felt tears sting behind his eyes. He couldn't be weak here, not now. Not with everyone there.
The hand squeezed his shoulder-blade painfully hard, not to hurt him but to pull him out of his deep, depressing thoughts. Cris knew that Karim was always vulnerable to his inner demons and that they needed to be chased off with pitchforks before they would devour him whole. ''Stop saying that. You can never be a failure mon frere, you helped me score remember?''
Cris demanded an answer and Karim nodded stiff. His head was killing him. ''See? No failure could ever give me an assist like that,''
''You need to play with Marco instead of me, he'll do what I can't right now,''
''No I don't, and he doesn't know me like you do. He can't read my mind like you can. Didn't you notice that whenever I play with him, I actually score less than when you're there beside me? You're my best partner remember? The one who gave me the most assists out of everyone here.
I don't want a new partner, I'm perfectly happy with the one I got. Those asshole fans may not appreciate all your hard work and sacrifice but I do. And the team does too. Even Marco get's it, he didn't say anything to you did he?''
Karim shook his weary head, he needed some aspirin. ''Nah, of course not, he's far too nice for that. Too humble. But I know he's thinking it from the bench. Hell they all are, even Borja and Isco. That they can do a much better job than me, and they're not wrong. You know they aren't,''
''Yes they are,'' Cris disagreed stubborn. He would never let Karim down, never. When Karim was sinking to the bottom of the ocean, Cris would always be there to save him, to drag him back to the light.
Karim felt his heart swell up five sizes due to Cristiano's fierce and undying loyalty. It was so valuable to him, even if it was totally unjustified.
To have someone around who still believed in him, even if he didn't. Cris sat down besides him and their strong legs were brushing together. ''Fuck all of them. I need you, doesn't that count for anything?''
Karim pondered on that for a moment. He and Cris had always been tight like two peas in a pot. They joked around all the time, they shared little secrets and were actually quite attached to each other. They were the first ones on the training field every day and the last to leave.
Cris had inspired him to work even harder on his skills and he had improved a lot thanks to their extra hours.
During that time alone they talked about everything, from their children to women, to pets and other teams and players. They knew each other well. Karim knew that Cris needed those extra hours with him as much as Karim needed them.
Karim was Cristiano's designated rock. The one constant steady factor he had in his oh so busy lifestyle.
A moment of peace and solace in his exceedingly full schedule. When one of the two was injured and couldn't be there for a while, the other often felt lonely. When Cris was injured Karim still did his extra work out as if he was still there, but he felt extremely alone without him.
Sometimes they would FaceTime during practice when Karim took a break. Cris would comment on his workout that he had been watching from home, shouting at him for doing it all wrong without him there to correct him, saying that Karim was growing lazy in his absence.
When Karim was injured he knew Cris had it even worse. He thoroughly hated being alone.
Karim was much better at it than Cris could ever be. He would call Karim about two times a day, to ask him what he was doing and to whine to him about their teammates not training correctly, not following his high-no impossible- standards and screwing everything up.
They had nothing in common and yet they needed each other like the sun needed the moon.
Karim gleamed at Cris, who had slouched down on the bench beside him, looking pensive. ''Of course it means something to me. I'm just so tired of it all. I-can't do it anymore, I don't wanna go back out there. I'm scared to face them. Like do they honestly think that we'll play better if they keep shouting at us? That it will help us perform?''
What was it about Cris that always made him spill out his best kept secrets? His darkest thoughts and recurrent nightmares. He would never understand the true meaning of whatever bond they shared and how it worked so well for both of them.
The only thing he knew for certain was that it did work, on so many levels and to them that was all that mattered.
''Yeah I don't get it either, but uh-I heard you say you wanted to talk to Zizou tomorrow, what's all that about?'' Cris wanted to know. His chocolate colored eyes were dark, lidded and laced with concern.
Damn it. Karim had hoped Cris hadn't been close enough to catch that, but apparently he had underestimated Cris' hearing.
''I'm gonna tell him that I want to be benched for the next home game. I want Marco to play and I really need a break,'' Karim heard the words slip out before he could stop himself.
Cris' eyes widened and he stomped Karim's shoulder, clearly startled. ''No you're not! Are you fucking insane? Why the hell would you do that?''
''Because it's the right thing to do! He's earned it. And I can't take one more second of their hatred.
I've been so scared to go on the pitch that I have to go to the bathroom about ten times before the game, didn't you notice?'' Karim gritted through his teeth. He felt so embarrassed talking about his erratic bowel movements to anyone, but he knew Cris wouldn't mock him, not in his current state of sheer vulnerability.
''I did notice,'' Cris said, a little more friendly now. All the anger and shock evaporated in the blink of an eye as was typical for his entire character. He could turn from the fierceness of the sun back into the calm of the moon in a split second. ''But I think this is a mistake Karim. You can't just let a few assholes who chose to forget all the great years you have had, boot you out like that. You have to stay strong. I mean they fucking boo me too don't they?''
''Yeah and as much as you love to tell yourself that you don't give a shit about it, I know it bothers you. A lot more than you'll ever admit,''
Cris attempted a failed shrug and eventually gave him a dejected glance. ''Yeah of course it bothers me,'' he looked utterly deflated and disarmed sitting there like that.
His proud, strong mask falling to the floor, revealing the real Cristiano, the one very few people knew existed. Deep down in a place that Cristiano had guarded with a giant ten foot wall, armed with guards and booby traps. It had taken Karim years to tear that wall down.
But he knew he was the lucky one, most of his teammates would never get there. Would never see what a beautiful human being Cris was underneath all that armor.
Cris swallowed thickly. ''But we can't let them intimidate us,''
Karim quivered involuntarily. ''Too late bro,''
''I won't let you do this, you're signing your own death warrant by doing this,''
''It's not your decision Cris,''
''Well maybe it should be, because I'm affected by this too if you pursue this,''
''You can't change my mind about this mon frere, I made my choice. Zizou already knows about our appointment tomorrow,''
Cris' eyes shifted again, more disheveled and-was that panic he saw in them? Karim placed a hand on top of Cris' and held onto it. ''It will be fine bro, don't worry about me,''
''I always worry about you,'' Cris complained dramatically.
''I know,'' Karim looked around to find the dressing room almost completely vacant, only Sergio and Lucas were still present, chatting in rapid Spanish about something incoherent. ''You guys coming? I think they wanna clean up here,'' Sergio reminded them, tapping his watch to tell them they were late.
''Yeah,'' Karim stood up and hauled Cris up from the bench. They collected their gym bags and left. When they reached their cars Cris blocked Karim's door with his arm. ''Please don't do this, at least think about it for one more night?''
''Okay, I will,'' Karim promised, knowing full well that he would never change his mind about it. Cris' defeated expression told him that he already knew it was an empty promise.
''See you tomorrow,'' Cris sighed, as he hugged Karim briefly. ''Yeah and thanks, for-you know,''
Cris did know, he always knew. He just nodded, stepped into his Lamborghini and left.
Karim didn't sleep much that night. When he woke up he was completely exhausted.
When he arrived at Valdebebas two hours later, he saw that Cris and Zidane's cars were the only ones present. He stepped toward Zidane's office and knocked on the white door. ''Come in,'' Zizou's calm voice called out.
''Bonjour Zizou,'' Karim greeted, shuffling anxiously to the desk like a child going into the principal's office.
Zidane smiled reassuringly at him, looking calm and balanced as always. He had a nice smile, Karim always noticed that. Even after all those years together, Zizou's presence still slightly intimidated him.
They had always been close but Karim would always feel as if he was walking with a giant when he stood besides the great Zidane.
He had been a childhood hero of him and the fact that they had actually played for the same teams had been a dream. His only regret was that they had never played together at the same time. But still, having him as an assistant coach and then his main coach was incredible.
''Bonjour Karim, come on in,'' Zizou said, as he gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
Karim shut the door and his heart was hammering in his chest when he sank into the comfortable office chair. Zizou's keen eyes were already screening him, trying to detect why he was here and what this was all about. ''So what is on your mind?'' his coach asked.
''I want to be benched for a while,'' Karim blurted out, unceremoniously. His statement caught Zizou off guard. His eyes went wider and his jaw faltered slightly. ''Oh,'' was all he could muster to say.
''I mean, I appreciate your persistent confidence and all that, but-I need a break. And it's not fair to Marco and the other kids to keep playing me while I'm not performing. I don't understand why you keep favoring me, but I do know that it's not good for the team. Or to the fans. They all think you're crazy not to bench me. You're losing them if you keep putting me on a pedestal,'' Karim mumbled.
Zizou folded his long, pale fingers together and mused on that for a bit. ''Okay, I need you to listen to me very closely when I say this. The fact that you're sitting here, offering yourself up to the bench voluntarily is beyond noble. It shows the kind of man you are and it's a testimony of your personality.
But with all due respect, I'm not favoring you. You have earned your spot over the past eight years don't you think? You broke countless club records. You're Cristiano's best partner, the one who gave him the most assists out of everyone, surpassing even Mesut.
I keep having faith in you because I know that you'll do better again, you're just having a bad year so far. It happens. Even Cristiano isn't doing as well as last year, goal wise. It's natural.
You two are still my best, most effective duo though. And while I understand that the whistles from the fans are hard to hear, I'm asking you to persevere. Stick with it, fight your way out of it and earn back their affection. If anyone can do it, it's you. I know it. You're like a phoenix Karim, you keep surprising me every time by rising from the ashes when everyone has lost faith in you,'' Zidane extended his hand over the desk and lowered it to Karim's. It was warm and supportive. Zidane locked their eyes together. ''If anyone can rise it's you. Therefore I'm going to deny your request to be benched,''
Karim felt the bile rising in the back of his throat. He had to do something. ''I'm getting sick before every home game now. Nauseous and anxious. Is that what you want for me? Not to sleep at all before the game because I'm dying with nerves?'' Manipulation seemed to be his last, desperate resort.
He clenched onto Zizou's hand for dear life, noticing how clammy his own was feeling. ''Just one game of rest, that's all I'm asking. No one will even blink twice if you do that...please,''
When his coach saw the tears shining in his eyes he finally conceded. ''All right, one game then, just one,''
Karim nodded, immensely relieved. He got his rest. Marco played the following game but also didn't score or give Cris any assists, which made Karim feel a tiny bit better, and then it made him feel guilty for being such a selfish prick. He wanted the kid to do well, Marco was one of the best young players he'd ever seen. He had the potential to grow out to be as great as Cris himself. So he went to Marco after the game and told him to keep his head up. That he would do better the next time. Marco appreciated that, he could tell.
Weeks later Real was playing Alaves at home. Karim was a starter again and the game went rather well. But again he didn't have much luck. He hit the post, just missed the target and scored a goal that was disallowed because of offside, but Karim questioned if that call was correct. He did assist Cris and Gareth and was involved with all three goals.
The crowd seemed to back him again, giving him new energy to do better.
They had also clapped for him when he got subbed out during the Champions League, against PSG. Even though he hadn't scored, they still cheered more than they whistled. It was a tremendous boost to his confidence.
Today the fans had been amazing too, clapping for him every time he did something right, supporting him like they had in the good old days. He wanted to score so bad, to reward their confidence by doing what they all wanted him to do.
But his luck had been fucked up, as it had been all season. It felt like someone had cursed him sometimes. He was on three goals now, in the Liga and knew he had to do way better. Zizou had benched him for some games and Marco had played haphazardly. Sometimes amazing, other times a little sloppy and too eager to do well.
Karim had been fine with it, taking a step back so that the youngster could prove himself. He knew that the crowd already loved Marco more than they would ever love him, but that was mostly because he was a Spaniard. The crowd would always love a Spaniard more than a foreigner.
During halftime against Alaves Cris had talked him up again, assuring him that he would score today. That he felt it in his bones.
When Cris had scored the first goal at the end of the first half, he had done so thanks to Karim's sly back heel pass. He didn't storm off to celebrate himself but instead, gestured at Karim to come over, hugged him and pointed to the crowd that he owed that goal to Karim, that they should show him respect.
And miraculously, the fans did.
They did cry out for him. Karim had felt his heart grow even warmer thanks to Cris' selfless declaration of brotherhood. For a moment it felt as if the weight of the world was no longer pressing down onto his back anymore. That Cris had carried it off of him and placed it on his own shoulders. That's what brothers did right, have each other's backs.
During halftime he could not stop thanking Cris, for giving him the credits. Cris eventually grew so tired of it that he playfully pounded Karim's side, just to get him off his back.
But Cristiano would go even further in his charitable mood that day. He had scored twice and reached a new milepost in his career. Three hundred goals for Real Madrid. Quite the accomplishment. Karim could only hope to ever reach that number.
Still, he would never be jealous of Cris, not really. He admired him too much to hold something like that against him. He wanted Cris to do well as much as he wanted himself to perform.
Near the ending of the game, Gareth got tackled inside the penalty area. He went down and the referee rewarded them a penalty.
Karim had already stepped to the side waiting for Cris to take it, seeing how he always took them and he could score his fiftieth hattrick but for some reason, Cris handed him the ball. ''No, this one is for you,'' he said solemnly and shoved the ball into his hands. ''Don't miss eh?'' he added with a wink.
Karim was so shell shocked that he could barely find his focus again, the pressure was building in his stomach.
He had to do this, had to score it otherwise he would look like an even bigger idiot.
Cris seldom missed one and was now offering up his chance for another record so that he could gain some more confidence. It was a sacrifice that Karim had never expected from his partner and that threw him off balance.
Though in hindsight, if anyone had made it his personal mission to get Karim back into his old form, to lead him out of his depression, it had been Cris. And it wasn't without result, Karim's form had improved a lot over the past few weeks. He may not have scored much but he was giving good assists again and he actually started to believe in his own capabilities a bit more. He told himself that he couldn't choke, not now.
He had to clear his head the best he knew how, focus and just score that bloody penalty. He couldn't throw away Cristiano's enormous gesture like that. He had to do this. Missing was not an option.
But he had such bad luck lately that he was worried about hitting the post again, or maybe shooting it miles over the goal. Or slipping in the grass and missing it completely, That was surely define his season.
The Bernabeu seemed to be holding in its breath collectively.
Karim tried to steady his racing mind but his time had run out and the ref had blew the whistle. Karim didn't think about it, he acted automatically and shot the ball into the left corner of the goal. The goalie nearly saved it, but thankfully couldn't get to it in time. He scored.
The stadium exploded around him. Everyone was happy for him. A giant sigh of relief escaped his lungs. He was all over Cristiano in seconds, thanking him over and over as he felt his teammates crashing down onto him.
Gareth was shouting in his ears, congratulating him in a mixture of English and French. Other people were shouting. Cristiano said nothing, he didn't have to.
The fans were shouting his name when it echoed through the Bernabeu. Karim let it wash over him like a hot shower after a freezing cold, lonely day. He was back in their good graces, at least for now.
Thanks to Cristiano. For he had never given up on him, not even when Karim had given up on himself.
After the game, they sat in the dressing room together, in a comfortable silence. Karim slid a little closer and embraced Cris tight. So tight he could almost hear his brother's ribs crack. Cris never flinched though. ''Merci mon frere,''
Cris smiled into his neck. His fingers stroked over his back and he squeezed Karim's cheeks with that boyish smirk of his. ''Anytime bro. You earned that. I owed you one for all those goals you gave me over the past few years,''
''Thanks, it meant-well you know. A lot. Let me take you out to dinner as a thank you tonight okay?''
Cris smirked. ''All right, can I pick the restaurant then?''
''Of course you can, we'll do whatever the hell you want. And I'm buying,''
''Well we can discuss that later,'' Cristiano argued. Karim knew that he never liked to accept money from his teammates. He always insisted on paying for dinners. But Karim wouldn't let him win that debate tonight. ''No, I'm buying and I'll kick your ass if you fight me on this,''
Cris made a disapproving noise. ''As if you could do that,''
''I could, but I won't,''
''Because you know that I'm stronger than you,'' Cristiano retaliated with a sly chuckle.
''Maybe but I'm taller than you,'' Karim countered.
Cris snorted disgruntled but couldn't argue that. Karim was one centimeter taller than him and it always wound Cris up. He even stood on his tippy toes at team pictures to make himself taller than Karim.
Something that always highly amused Karim. He used to tease him about it all the time, until he learned that Cris was actually insecure about his height. And didn't like those comments. So he stopped. Because Karim, despite his poor reputation, was actually quite a nice guy.
''Shut up you shit, let's go home and get ready for dinner,'' was all Cris said.
Karim offered him a hand and lifted him from the bench. ''Love you bro,'' he teased, mild.
''Yeah, fuck you too,'' Cris sneered, but Karim didn't miss the wink that followed. Or the hug he received that was typical for Cris in showing his affections.
He had never said ''I love you too'' back to Karim. But he didn't have to. Karim knew he felt it and that was all that mattered.
They put their bags over their shoulder and left the dressing room with their arms curled over each other's shoulders and a laugh upon their lips.
The end.