Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3751897.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Football_RPF
  Relationship:
      Mario_Götze/Marco_Reus
  Character:
      Mario_Götze, Marco_Reus, Mats_Hummels, Ann-Kathrin_Brömmel, André
      Schürrle, Thomas_Müller
  Additional Tags:
      High_School_AU, I_don't_know, Hints_of_Mats/Benni, bff_Mario_Ann_and
      Andre, I_can't_explain_this
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-04-15 Words: 22062
****** They All Got The Same Heartbeat (His Is Falling Behind) ******
by noos
Summary
     If Mario truly thinks about it - and he doesn't like to think about
     it because that's when his dramatic side comes out - then he can
     admit to himself that he's been in a perpetual state of boredom since
     the third grade.
Notes
     I have absolutely no excuse for this. It kind of crept up on me and
     developed into a monster. I really don't know what to make of it, but
     I hope you like it more than I do. English is still not my first
     language and this thing is probably crawling with typos that I'll get
     around to correcting later (which means I'll never actually do it).
     Title from the Echosmith song.
"Quiet, Mr. Hummels! Eyes on your own work."

Across the room, Mario rolls his eyes for the tenth time in less than an hour.
Why won't his idiot classmates get that if they manage to sit still and be
quiet for just a few minutes, detention will be easier for everyone? He's had
to read the same page three times now because Thomas fucking Müller cannot keep
his mouth shut.

Mario watches annoyed as Mats snickers into his palm and Thomas howls loudly
when Marco throws a pen at him before turning back to his work.

"Mr. Müller, get ba-"

The teacher is interrupted by the bell before he can get another word in, and
he watches helplessly as Thomas, in his haste to get out of the room, trips
over his own feet and nearly knocks his head into a nearby desk. Mario looks up
at the noise as he packs his books into his bag and his eyes meet Marco's for
just a second before the latter bends down to help Thomas up, looking
thoroughly annoyed at the world. Mats pats them both on their backs, steering
them out the door and into the hallway.

It's not that Mario doesn't get it. They're young and in high school and it's
their last year before graduation, and okay, he might not like them a whole
lot, but he's not blind, some of his classmates are pretty decent-looking. In
the case of Mats Hummels, that means sculpted like fucking Greek statue, but
Mario's not looking to go into detail here. The point is, they're living out
their idea of a senior year (or more like the Hollywood version of a perfect
senior year) and Mario gets it. He just wishes he did not have to be there
while they did so.

Mario's aware that he sounds like a pretentious douchebag, but he can't help
it. He's not a loner by any means, is not depressed, doesn't have daddy issues
of any kind. His parents have known that he's gay since he realized it himself,
have accepted him for it like they'd accepted that his eyes are brown. He's got
his fair share of friends, he likes reading and football and headphones and
sneaking in a cigarette every now and then, and he can be as shallow as any of
them on a good day. It's just that he's bored.

If he truly thinks about it - and he doesn't like to think about it because
that's when his dramatic side comes out - then he can admit to himself that
he's been in a perpetual state of boredom since the third grade. He'd started
getting into all kinds of trouble around that time, from skipping homework to
skipping classes to skipping school altogether, and that's when his teachers
realized that he "wasn't feeling challenged enough." His parents took him to
what he likes to think of as a fancy-looking psych ward, and it was there that
some decorated physician determined that he was simply too smart for his grade.
So he skipped fourth grade and found himself in fifth grade the next year. It
got better, if only for a short while, but then it was pretty much the same. He
had the answer to everything before his teachers explained their lessons, he
skipped homework but never failed his tests and he had to correct his English
teacher on several occasions. By that time, both his parents and his school
were better equipped to deal with it, and the year after he found himself in
seventh grade. He hasn't skipped grades since, but he's had to change schools.
His parents tell him it's because Dortmund Prep is much more academically
advanced than his old school, but he's pretty sure it has nothing to do with
that and everything to do with his old English teacher having a nervous
breakdown after he refused to hand in his final exam lest she corrects the
several "typos" - it's not a typo when it'sgrammatically wrong, he argued - he
found in the exam questions. It's not his fault she was an inadequate teacher.
Long story short, he moved to his current school the year before. He still
hasn't been taught anything he didn't already know, but he's gotten better at
making everyone think he's actually learning something. He makes sure to mark a
few answers wrong every test or two, he doesn't talk much in class, and he
definitely doesn't correct his physics teacher's many, many, many mistakes.

"Mario!"

He's snapped out of his thoughts by a familiar voice, and he turns to find Ann
making her way over to him. He's standing by his locker now, and he cracks the
combination before he stuffs his books on the shelf and takes out his black
hoodie. He's pulled it on by the time his statuesque friend is standing next to
him.

"Where are you going?" She asks as she watches him take out his headphones
before adjusting his backpack.

"Home."

"You promised you'd watch football practice with me and André," she argues,
jutting her lips out in her most innocent pout.
He really doesn't know why it was that Ann - or AK as everyone called her, but
he refuses to use that revolting nickname to address her - basically adopted
him, but she came up to him on his second day at Dortmund Prep and announced
that she'd be willing to be his beard if he wanted. Mario hadn't even known her
then, but he'd argued that if he was in fact trying to hide his sexual
identity, then pretending to go out with her would be a dead giveaway, because
there is not a world in which someone like her, with her immaculate curls and
perfect features, would be interested in someone like him. Ann had let out a
very un-girly snort at his comment and Mario decided that he liked her right
then and there. Anyone who can look like a model and laugh like an alcoholic is
welcome to join his brigade of losers.
"Okay, first of all, you look like you're going to a photoshoot rather than
football practice," Mario shoots at her, eyeing her up and down. She really
does look camera-ready with her short shorts and high ponytail. "Second, I just
got out of detention, haven't I been punished enough for one day? Besides, I
don't want to spend another afternoon with you and André just so you can eye-
fuck Mats Hummels and André can stand next to Montana thinking that that
actually constitutes as flirting," he sighs, already aware he's losing the
battle when Ann hooks her arm with his and starts dragging him not towards the
school's exit, but towards the football pitch.

"Okay, ew," Ann says, scrunching up her face and even then she still looks
unfairly pretty. "I have not eye-fucked Mats Hummels since he started dating
Benni last month-"

"Mats and Benni?" Mario gasps, because genius or not, he likes a good piece of
gossip as much as the next person.

"Yes!" Ann's wide grin suggests she's perfectly aware she's won, and Mario
sighs as they continue making their way to the pitch. They're outside now, the
sun still shining bright and hot, and he can see the football team already
warming up in their yellow and black gear. "I've moved on to Mario Gomez."

Mario groans despite himself, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"I thought you had more sense than that," he mutters, squinting at the sun,
following Ann as she starts climbing up the bleachers. Mario spots André a bit
further up, practically drooling as he stands there gazing pathetically at
Montana as she walks with a few of her friends on the other side of the pitch.

"Hey, he might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but have you seen those
abs?" Ann says, stopping at the top row to wait for him. "Besides, don't think
I didn't see you checking out Reus' derrière on our way here."

"Please don't use the word derrière," Mario begs, squinting at the sun with all
the hate he can muster. "It brings out a new level of douchy in you. And just
because he's a tool, doesn't mean I can't appreciate his butt."

"Ugh, why are we talking about Reus' butt again," André groans as they finally
reach him.

Mario side-eyes him before he spots Montana approaching the bleachers with her
friends. He's feeling particularly evil after his conversation with Ann, so he
doesn't think twice about it before he calls out to her. "André wanted to ask
you a question  about our math assignment," he declares when Montana turns to
look at him.

He raises an eyebrow at André and he can see Ann snicker next to him. André
looks mortified to say the least, a rather forced smile plastered on his face
making him look like he's in intense pain. The sweat gathering on his forehead
and his paling complexion don't help, but Mario pushes him lightly towards the
girl in question as she makes her way over to them with a smile on her face.

"Go get 'er, tiger," Mario whispers before taking a positively glowing Ann by
the hand and pulling her a bit further away from them.

"That was uncharacteristically nice of you," Ann finally says as they settle on
the bleachers.

Mario props his legs up on the seat in front of him and Ann does the same,
crossing her ankles. He throws another look at André only to see him rub his
neck awkwardly, but the smile on his face doesn't seem so forced anymore, and
Montana looks like she's just as nervous as his poor friend.

"Yeah, well, they don't call me the looove doctor for nothing," he drawls like
a bad cowboy impersonator and Ann barks out a laugh next to him.

"Who has ever, in the entire history of mankind, called you the love doctor?"

Mario opens his mouth to answer, but is interrupted rather rudely by a football
almost smacking him in the face. The ball lands right in the middle between him
and Ann, making them both jump.

"Holy fucking shit," Ann howls, holding a hand to her heart before erupting in
laughter, and Mario can't help but join her.

Holy fucking shit indeed.

He manages to pull himself together long enough to pick the ball up and turn
towards the training grounds. He find Mats and Marco standing at the edge on
the bleachers, looking up at them.

"Sorry, AK!" Mats apologizes, waving awkwardly at them. "Marco here got a
little too excited with his passing drills."

"Yeah, sorry about that, Sunny," Marco adds, looking Mario right in the eye,
his trademark one-sided smirk making an appearance.
He looks particularly appealing today with his sleeves rolled up and his knee-
high socks unevenly clinging to his thighs, his hair almost golden in the sun,
and Mario hates himself for even thinking it. He throws the ball rather
forcefully at the blond, willing his blushing face to get a hold of itself. He
feels even worse when Marco catches the ball way too easily before winking at
him and turning back to join the others.
"Sunny, huh?" Ann smirks at him as he settles back in his seat, propping his
feet up once again.

"Shut up," he counters lamely, only causing her loud laughter to echo around
the field once again.

-----

"So, what are you being called in to the Principal's office for this time?"

"I have no fucking clue," Mario mutters, shutting his locker before leaning
back on it.

"Did you get caught with a lit fag in your mouth again?" Nuri asks, starting to
walk towards their next class with André in tow, and Mario pushes himself off
the row of lockers to follow his friends.

"Not since last week," he answers. "And Guardiola already confiscated my pack,
ribbed me long and hard, and gave me detention for that."

"Long and hard, huh?" André's smiling a little too proudly at his pun and Mario
wants nothing but to wipe that stupid grin off his face.

"Yes," he replies without missing a beat. "Unlike yours."

"Buuurn," Nuri drawls by his side, and Mario wonders not for the first time why
he's friends with these people. "Anyway, you can't be in too much trouble if
he's not in a hurry to see you," Nuri adds, his idea of being helpful. "He's
told you to come by his office during lunch. Sounds more like business meeting
than possible punishment to me."

Mario shrugs half-heartedly, already sick of this conversation. He walks into
his class, taking his usual seat next to Erik, Nuri and André settling on the
desk behind him.

Erik's nice. He's pretty shy which means he doesn't talk much, and when he
does, he actually weighs his words before he utters them, something Mario
appreciates greatly seeing as he's surrounded by morons all day long.

"Hey Erik," Mario greets his lab partner who smiles at him in return.

He hears a commotion on the other side of the room and groans audibly, already
aware of the source without having to look. He does look anyway, because he's
still curious to see what incredibly stupid thing his classmates are up to this
time.

Thomas is prancing around his desk, limbs awkwardly flailing as he dances to
some imaginary tune in his head. His face looks somewhere between high and in
pain, but knowing Thomas, he's probably just happy. Mario snorts despite
himself, because regardless of whether he likes him or not, he does look pretty
funny. Something that Lukas and Bastian seem to agree on, watching their friend
and howling with laughter at his antics. Mario's eyes find Marco right behind
them, and his chest tightens a little when he sees him next to Cathy,
whispering god-knows-what in her ear, her fiery cheeks and predatory grin
telling him all he needs to know. He can see her fingers under the desk roaming
dangerously close to Marco's crotch, and he turns before he can do something
stupid like go up to her and yank her away from the stupid blond boy.

That was another thing. Mario's a smart guy. Some would even go as far as to
call him a genius. He's reasonable, level-headed and practical, with feet
firmly planted on the ground. And yet, all these qualities seem to fly out the
window where Marco Reus is concerned. He doesn't like him. He really, really
doesn't. The guy's an absolute jerk. He's infuriating, cocky as fuck, kinda,
sorta really dumb too. He pisses Mario off. His hair pisses him off, his
attitude pisses him off, those damn knee-high socks he wears for football
training definitely piss him off. Even that fucking half-smirk gnaws at Mario's
nerves. And don't get him started on that stupid nickname he's taken to calling
him. Sunny. Where did he even get that? And where does he get off, giving him a
nickname, when they've interacted a total of 25 minutes in the past year?
Except that his stupid heart accelerates whenever their eyes meet, his palms
sweat when Marco's nearby, and Mario's smart enough to know he's got a crush.
Which is problematic in itself because for one thing, Mario doesn't evenlike
him, and two, Marco fucks anything with a heartbeat so no, Mario does not need
that STD-infested-walking-hazard, thank you very much.

Mario chances another quick look at the pair, and yep, Cathy's hand is
definitely closing in on ground zero. Ugh, wasn't she trying to get with Mats
just last week? Fucking Mats throwing everything off balance by officially
announcing he and Benni are a couple. Who does he even think he is, announcing
them as a couple like he's the queen of England and he's just found his
majestic other half.

Mario lets out another frustrated groan, turning back to his desk and wiping
his palms on his jeans a little too forcefully. Erik looks at him with a
slightly scared expression on his face and Mario throws him his best reassuring
smile before the boy resumes staring off into space.

"Cathy, please get back to your desk so that Mr. Müller can take his seat and
save us all from having to watch his more-than-phenomenal dance moves for
longer than necessary."
Mario has never liked Mr. Löw and his astounding lack of a sense of humor more
than in that moment.
He turns to look at Marco one last time as his teacher sets his messenger bag
on the front desk and makes his way to the board. Cathy's trudging sulkily to
her seat while Marco's adjusting his pants with an irritated look on his face.

The smile Mario throws at Erik this time is a lot more genuine.

------

"Mario, come in!" Principal Guardiola greets him, getting up from his chair and
ushering him towards one of the two seats in front of his desk. "I appreciate
your punctuality."

Mario tries to muster a smile as he settles in the seat, entirely too
uncomfortable in the principal's office. It looks clean and smells nice enough,
and the look on Guardiola's face suggests he's not in trouble, but he can never
be too sure. There have been way too many occurrences already where he's been
punished for things he did not believe were wrong.

"How have you been?" Guardiola asks, and Mario nods at him.

"Okay," he replies, trying not to sound too nervous.

"Good, that's good," Guardiola says, a bit too cheerfully for Mario's liking.
"Look, Mario, I'll get right to the point," he continues after a minute, a
serious look crossing his features and making his forehead scrunch up weirdly.
His balding head is practically glowing in the neon light and Mario gets lost
counting the creases on his forehead. "I need your help. Or, well, the school
needs your help. You know that we've got a tutoring program set up for kids in
need, and I thought it would do both you and the school some good if you were a
part of it."

Okay. Tutoring program. Not exactly what he expected, but it could be worse.

"I know you're not entirely happy with the school curriculum, and I know you
will feel much more satisfied when you're finally out in the real world where
you can absorb as much as you want of it, but until then, I think that helping
out other students will do you as much good as it will them."

"Okay," Mario agrees, unsure of what to say to that.

"I'll start you off with one student, and if the results are good, maybe you'll
help out others, and..." Guardiola's interrupted by a knock on his open
doorframe. He looks up, his eyes lighting up somewhat considerably. "Ah, Marco.
Late as ever, I see."

Mario feels his heart hammer in his chest because if this is what he thinks
this is, then he's in a fuck lot of trouble. He looks up at Marco as he stands
in the doorway, looking just as confused as Mario feels, his eyebrows raised as
he looks between him and their principal.

"Marco, take a seat, please," Guardiola offers, ushering him towards the empty
seat facing Mario. "I was just telling Mario that he's going to help you with
your English class."

"What?" Marco squeaks and Mario raises an eyebrow at him.

"Marco." Guardiola's eyes are serious and focused when they look at the boy.
"You're an excellent football player. And we love having you on the team. Your
academic records, however, are less than stellar. The school requires athletes
to keep at least a C-level in all classes. Right now, you're failing English,
so if you want to stay on the team, you're going to have to up your game
everywhere but on the pitch."

There's a moment of quiet as Marco absorbs the news, and for a second, Mario
can see a hurt look flash across his face, before it's replaced by his
perpetually annoyed look.

"Mario here is an outstanding student. He can help you get your grades up."

"Alright," Marco concedes, rubbing his face with his palm. "How soon do we have
to start?"

"As soon as possible," Guardiola says, turning to look at Mario who has a blank
look on his face. "I expect your grades to be up by your winter break."

"That's in six weeks!"

"Then you've got six weeks to cram, Mr. Reus."

Marco lets out a thoroughly annoyed groan and Mario gets the overwhelming urge
to hit him. This is not his idea of a good time either.

"Thanks, Principal Guardiola," Mario mutters before picking his books up and
all but running out the door. He cannot stand the put out look on Marco's face,
like he can't even think about being in the same room as him.

He's already out the door and in the hallway when he hears footsteps behind
him.

"Mario," Marco calls for him, but Mario steps up his pace. "Mario," his voice
comes louder this time. He can hear his footsteps approaching and Mario's
tempted to run. "Sunny!" He hears him call out and he's right behind Mario now.

Mario's suddenly yanked back by his elbow and he feels himself getting angrier.
He snatches his arm back, rubbing his elbow where Marco's fingers marked him
just seconds ago.

"Sunny-"

"What?" He barks at Marco, his frustration reaching new levels at the nickname.
"And stop calling me that!"

"What are you so upset about?" Marco's voice is too calm for Mario's liking,
and it only serves to irritate him more. "You're not the one who might get
kicked off the team."

Mario doesn't know what to say to that. How is he supposed to tell him that
he's pissed off because he might like him a little too much for his own liking?

"I'm just," he starts, unsure of what to say, trying to get his nerves under
control. He takes a deep breath before he tries again. "My school record
depends on this and I can already tell that you're not going to take this
seriously."

"Okay, first of all, I've seen you in detention more than I've seen you outside
of it since you started going here, so please don't pull the school record card
on me," Marco retorts, raising an eyebrow at Mario. "Second, stop being a
judgmental ass, you don't even know me. Third, I will get kicked off the team
if I don't do this, and since we're bound to get to know eachother a little
better in the coming weeks, then I'll give you a little head-start: there is
nothing more important to me than football."

"Fourth?" Mario replies expectantly when he sees Marco hesitate for a second,
feeling a little more relaxed despite himself and crossing his arms over his
chest defiantly.

"What's wrong with Sunny?"

Okay, Mario has to admit he's caught a little off guard here.

"What?" He asks, trying to keep up with Marco but failing miserably. He's never
failed at anything before so it's getting personal.

"Why don't you want me to call you Sunny?" Marco asks, and the seriousness in
his voice confuses Mario even more.

"Wh-" Mario starts, trying to gather his thoughts, but Marco's infuriating
smirk is starting to show itself which only makes Mario's heartbeat increase.
"You just said it yourself, we don't really know eachother," he finally speaks,
trying to come up with a better excuse than because it makes me want to punch
you in the face and then kiss you. "Why would you want to call me Sunny?"

"Because, that's what you are," Marco counters, and Mario wants to slap that
smirk off his face. "You don't exactly look it right now what with that hissy
fit you're throwing," Mario can feel an undignified squeak of objection
bubbling in his throat but he's interrupted before he can unleash it on the
world, "but I've seen you smile, and when you do, you look like the freaking
sun."

And okay, Mario chokes a little on his tongue because who the fuck says things
like that? Marco Fucking Reus, that's who.

"Marco!" Mario hears before he can get a word in, and he turns to find Cathy
coming towards them, waving a little too excitedly, her heels clinking on the
tile floor. "I thought we were getting lunch together," she pouts at Marco,
stopping right in front of him, not sparing Mario a second glance.

"Yeah, sorry about that, I got a little held up."
Marco takes a hesitant step backwards, looking from her to Mario.
Mario just rolls his eyes at him before turning to go, pulling his headphones
on in the process. This conversation is clearly over and he really doesn't want
to stick around to watch Cathy molest Marco in the school hallway. He thinks he
hears his name being called out, but he doesn't turn around to make sure,
raising the volume up and heading quickly to the nearest exit.

-----

He ends up sitting in the courtyard outside, under one of the larger trees, his
headphones shielding him from the noises of the real world. It's warm enough
for him to shrug his jacket off, the sun shining down brightly, and he has to
squint to try and find his friends. He doesn't spot any of them, so he leans
back against the tree, closing his eyes, trying to clear his cluttered mind of
all the mess his earlier meeting with the principal has caused. What bothers
him even worse is that he's never like this. He's usually so in control of his
mind and body, so perfectly capable of deciding what to feel and when to feel
it. Except where Marco Reus is involved. And he hates him all the more for it.

He vows to himself then and there to not let it affect him. If he's going to be
tutoring Marco for the next he-doesn't-know-how-many weeks, then he needs to
get a firm grip on himself. He can't snap at him every time he talks to him,
can't exactly growl at the boy every time he calls him Sunny.

Sunny.

He feels himself blush at the nickname. The way it rolls off Marco's tongue.

I've seen you smile, and when you do, you look like the freaking sun.

He feels the corners of his mouth lift up at the memory before he pulls himself
together. No. This is exactly what he's talking about. He cannot lose himself
to this. He frowns a little forcefully instead, and he knows he must look
ridiculous like this, lounging under a tree with his headphones, eyes closed
and pissed off at the world.

His headphones are snatched away from his head before he can think more on it,
causing him to startle phenomenally. He opens his eyes to find Ann and André
flanking themselves on either side of him.

"Who are you fighting with in there?" Ann asks with a smile on her face, but
Mario can see the worry in her eyes when she reaches out to smooth out the
wrinkle between his eyes.

"Nobody," he mutters, allowing himself to relax under his friend's comforting
touch.

"Is this about the meeting with Guardiola?" André asks on his other side,
pulling out three paper-wrapped sandwiches and offering one to each of them.

Mario takes his food, smiling gratefully at André before nodding his head a
little. "Sort of," he starts. "I'm supposed to start tutoring Marco in
English," he continues trying for a casual tone. He checks his sandwich for
tomatoes, and takes a bite of it when he finds none in sight.

"What?" Ann gasps, straightening up and looking at Mario with eyes as wide as
saucers. "Marco Reus?"

"Buns of Steel?" André asks at the same time and Mario can't stop himself from
barking a laugh at the old nickname.

"The one and only," he confirms and both his friends look a little less
dumbfounded but still very much shocked. "His football future depends on his
grades," Mario explains. "And his grades apparently depend on me."

"Well, Cathy's certainly not going to appreciate you cutting her Marco time
short," André says after a while, and Mario sees Ann wrinkle her nose at him.

"Yeah, she has been kinda up his ass ever since Mats blew her off, hasn't she?"
she asks, chewing on her food thoughtfully.

"That's an understatement," André mutters, and Mario tries to keep a perfectly
neutral look on his face, not wanting his friends to get a whiff of his
potential feelings for the boy. "She was practically sucking him off in bio
this morning."

"I'm pretty sure he's not interested," Ann says, taking another bite of her
sandwich.

"Oh please." His perfectly-crafted indifferent facade comes crashing down with
that spectacular snort he lets out. "It's Marco. She's got a pulse. He's
interested."

"Nope," Ann argues, shaking her head vehemently. "I've known Marco Reus my
whole life. I was the target of his interest for a pathetic two weeks in
seventh grade. This is not how he acts when he's into someone."

André shrugs and Mario keeps quiet. He really does not want to draw attention
to himself by getting unnecessarily ranty about this. 

"So, are you going home?" Ann asks after a few moments, and Mario's relieved at
the change of subject.

"I can't," he groans. "I've got detention."

"Again?"

"I fell asleep in history," he mumbles around his sandwich and Ann and André
chuckle in complete and utter delight at his despair. God, he hates his
friends. "It's not my fault the teacher bored me out of my brain!"

"So you'll watch football practice with us then?" Ann asks, her hopeful voice
almost enough to convince Mario, but not quite.

"Not today." He shoots Ann his most apologetic look. Naturally, she doesn't buy
it.

"Fine," she shrugs anyway, pouting a little before leaning back against the
tree to finish the rest of her sandwich.

They finish their food watching the people around them and making fun of most
of their classmates, and Mario feels himself finally relax. He's really
grateful for Ann and André despite what he likes to pretend, especially when
they help take his mind off a certain stupidly tall blond classmate of his.

He heads to detention when the bell rings. It's just him and two other kids
today, neither particularly talkative, so he proceeds to finish his homework
within the first ten minutes. He kills the rest of his time by reading his
entire physics book, and he's happy to find he actually learns a couple of
things.

He's rounding the corner towards the nearest exit after detention when he all
but runs in to Marco. Can this day get any worse?

"Hey! Watch it-" Marco starts, taking a step back and ready to fight when he
notices it's him. "Oh, it's you."
Mario narrows his eyes at him but then remembers his thoughts from earlier.

Be civil.

"How observant of you," he mutters instead, leaning down to pick up his book -
a frayed copy of Fight Club - and Marco's jacket.

"Thanks," Marco smiles at him when he hands him the garment. "I was actually
hoping to run in to you," Marco says, looking at his watch, jumping from one
foot to the other. "Although not quite so literally," he mutters before shaking
his head like he's trying to clear his thoughts. "Anyway, I wanted to see what
time you'd be at my house today?"

"Wh-" Mario starts, furrowing his brow because what?

"Or would you rather we go to your place?" Marco continues before he can get a
word in. "Whatever suits you, I'm fine."

"Today?" Mario finally manages to let out, his mind catching up to the
conversation.

"Tutoring," Marco says slowly, like he's talking to a toddler. "You. Me. I told
you I'm taking this thing seriously."

"Oh," Mario says dumbly. "Yeah, today's good. Your place is fine," he
continues, trying not to panic at the prospect of being in Marco's house.
Meeting Marco's family.

"I was thinking we could just walk to my place after practice," Marco offers,
pointing behind Mario towards the pitch exit. "I mean, I'm assuming you're
staying to watch? I've seen you do it a lot with Ann and André, recently."

Mario feels a flush creep up his neck despite himself.

"It's nice though," Marco continues rambling. "I like it when you stay and
watch."

And just like that, all of those keep your composure pep talks Mario gave
himself earlier fly out the window, and he feels his heart speed up at Marco's
words. And shit, Marco's looking at him expectantly, so he should probably stop
standing there like an idiot and actually say something.

"Yeah," Mario utters and he wants to smack himself in the head because he's
pretty sure he's got a vocabulary that surpasses that of most people and yet he
can't remember words to use right now. Basic, uncomplicated, everyday words.
"I'm, um, staying to watch. Yes. I mean, um, we can meet after. To go study."
Fantastic, Mario. Seriously. Well done
"Awesome," Marco says, grinning widely, and Mario's stupid heart skips a beat.
Get a fucking grip. "Let's go then," the blond continues, walking towards the
pitch and looking at Mario expectantly.

To his credit, while he looks a little stunned at the entire encounter, Mario
finally manages to get his legs to catch up to his brain and he starts walking
alongside Marco.

They don't speak on the way there, but Mario's surprised to find it's not
entirely awkward.

Ann and André are there on the first bleachers when they walk out onto the
courtyard, and Mario can see Ann's face light up when she notices him heading
over to the pitch.

Mario smiles despite himself, bright and happy and relaxed, a low chuckle
escaping him. They're at the edge of the pitch now, and Mario turns to look at
Marco one last time before they separate.

"See?" Marco says, pointing at Mario's face as he starts walking backwards.
"Sunny."

Mario watches Marco run off towards the field where his teammates are already
warming up, and he can't keep the smile off his face. He sees Coach Klopp clap
Marco on the back before sending him over to join the others.

"I thought you weren't staying?" André questions as soon Mario's reached his
friends, a knowing look on his face.

"Yeah well, I couldn't let you idiots embarrass yourselves without me," he
counters. "Yeah, okay, I have to tutor Marco later so I'm staying," he admits
when Ann raises her eyebrows skeptically at him.

"Remind me to send Marco a fruit basket for Christmas," Ann says and Mario
barks out a laugh so loud that almost everybody turns to look at him.
Surprisingly though, for probably the first time, he feels too happy to even
care.

Montana joins them after a while to André's greatest pleasure, and they spend
the afternoon watching their classmates play - and by that he means laughing at
everyone on the field - and Mario thinks he hasn't felt that okay with the
world in a long time. He doesn't like to really think about the reason for
that, laughing easily at André's jokes instead and poking Ann in the ribs when
she catches him staring at Marco for too long.

-----

They don't end up walking home. Mats offers to drive them instead, and while
the ride is pleasant enough, Mario tunes out half the conversation when the
dark-haired boy starts gushing about Benni. Mario doesn't know Mats well enough
to judge, but he has to admit he would've never had him pegged as the gushing
type. He soon discovers, however, that if he has to draw the heart-eyed-emoji
in the shape of a human, it would be Mats Hummels talking about Benedikt
Höwedes. And under any other circumstance, Mario would find that nauseatingly
cute, but if he has to hear about Benni's perfect smile for another minute he
might poke his own eyes out with a toothpick.

By the time they're at Marco's doorstep, Marco fumbling with his house keys,
all of Mario's previous excitement is gone and replaced by a very unwelcome
nervousness.

"Welcome to Casa Reus."

Marco's standing in his hallway with the door open, waiting for Mario to step
inside the house, and the only thing the latter can think about is how this is
the douchiest welcome he's ever heard. But then again, it is Marco Reus, so he
shouldn't be that surprised.

"Marco?" Comes a girl's voice as soon as the door's closed behind Mario, and
Marco groans, an annoyed look coloring his features as he throws his duffel on
the ground under the cluttered coat rack. "That better be you in there or I'm
going to- oh, hi!" The girl in question appears through a door to Mario's left
and stops as she spots him. "And who might this chubby-cheeked creature be?"
She asks, a curious smile on her face, and Mario feels himself blush under her
scrutiny.

"Mario, this is Melanie, my sister," Marco introduces dully as he toes off his
cleats next to the bag. "Mel, this is Mario."
And wow, Mario would've never guessed Melanie's his sister. She looks nothing
like him. She's curvy where Marco's stick-thin, her brown hair and round cheeks
so far off from her brother's ashen hair and fair complexion. But Mario feels
warmth emanate through him when she smiles at him, the same kind he feels - and
Mario won't admit to that even under torture - when Marco's crinkling eyes and
teasing smile show themselves to him.
"Mario?" Melanie asks, eyeing the boy from head to toe.

"Götze," Marco answers before Mario can say anything. "And stop harassing him,
Mel," he adds before pulling Mario by the elbow and dragging him into the room
Melanie just came out off.

Mario trails behind Marco as they make their way, his arm tingling under
Marco's fingers, Melanie's footsteps behind them.

"Hey Caro," Marco says as they pass by a blond girl sitting in what looks to be
the living room, and her dismissive wave is the only sign that she even hears
him.

They go through another doorway and wind up in the kitchen where a woman - and
Mario's going out on a limb here, but he's guessing Marco's mother - is rifling
through a cupboard. Marco finally lets go of Mario's arm and heads over to the
fridge, leaving him to stand awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, Melanie
skidding to a stop right next to him, eyes still raking him in, the amused grin
a fixture on her face.

Marco's mom pulls out a can of what looks like corn before she closes the
cupboard and takes a step towards the kitchen island, startling when she
finally spots their new guest. She smiles tentatively at him, her eyes only
leaving him for a second to look at Melanie and then Marco who's barely visible
behind the fridge door before fixing Mario with another smile.
"Hello there."

"Hi." Mario can swear his face in on fire when he waves awkwardly at her.
"Mom, this is Mario, my friend," Marco mumbles as he pulls out two cokes from
the fridge. "He's here to help me study for English."

"Mario Götze?" Melanie asks, a look of recognition crossing her features.
"Wait, Mario as in Fabian's genius little brother?"

"You know Fabian?" Mario asks, finally regaining his voice.

"We have a few courses in common at uni," Melanie explains, waving her hand
around and a fond look crosses her features. "He won't shut up about his
brother who's skipped two grades." Did Mario say he was on fire before? He's
definitely reached volcanic lava heat level now. "No wonder he's here to tutor
your ass," she adds, turning to look at her brother, and Mario can't help but
notice how Marco's looking at him like he's just solved all of life's
mysteries.

"Melanie, language!" Marco's mom scolds before turning to look at Mario again.
"It's nice to meet you, Mario."

"You too, Mrs. Reus," Mario replies. He means it too. Marco's mom's hair is the
exact same shade as her son's, her eyes warm and her smile bright and
contagious.
Mario doesn't know what to do after that, staring awkwardly at Marco's mom as
she fishes for a can opener from a drawer, and his palms are so clammy around
the strap of his bag that he worries for a ridiculous second that they will
soak through the nylon.

"Alright, well, we'll be in my room studying," Marco announces and Mario
breathes a sigh of relief.
Marco grabs a bag of chips off the counter before pulling Mario by the elbow
and out the kitchen door.

He only lets go of him when they're back in the main hallway, turning to head
up the stairs with Mario in tow. Marco's room is the only one to the left of
the staircase. He opens the door and steps inside before Mario follows him in.
The room is not at all what Mario imagined, and yet so very Marco that he
wonders why he thought it would be anything else. The walls are a dull beige
color, but the bed sheets are a mix of black and the brightest shade of yellow.
The bed's to the furthest end of the room, cluttered with clothes and some
school books. There's a desk by the window where a stack of what looks like
sports magazines rests next to a laptop and a corkboard on the wall with
pictures on it. The desk chair is barely visible under a mountain of clothes,
and there's an impressive collection of footballs and cleats resting at the
bottom of the open wall closet.

Marco sets the chips and cokes on his bedside table before trying to clear some
space on the bed, throwing his school books on the floor and his clothes on top
of the substantial pile on the chair.

"Make yourself at home," he ushers to his bed.
Mario stands awkwardly in the doorway for a few more seconds before finally
taking a few shy steps towards the mattress. He pulls off his backpack and
leaves it on the floor before he makes his way to the bed and plants himself on
the very edge, hands clutching the sheets on either side of him as he takes in
the room, his features still contorted into what he knows is an uneasy look.
"I won't bite if you make yourself comfortable," Marco comments, raising an
eyebrow at Mario before handing him a coke.

"Thanks," Mario whispers. He hesitates for another heartbeat before shrugging
and toeing his shoes off.

He's going to spend quite a lot of time in this room in the foreseeable future,
so he might as well learn to start getting comfortable.

He pulls out his English notes from his backpack and proceeds to lift higher up
on the bed until his back hits the wall. He props the notebook up on his knees
before opening his can and taking a sip.

Marco soon joins him on the bed, firing up his laptop and handing it to Mario
before settling himself in an identical position right next to the boy, close
enough for their arms to be touching, and Mario feels his cheeks flush despite
himself.

"So, your brother knows my sister." Mario appreciates Marco's efforts even if
he's not particularly fond of small talk. They don't know much about eachother
other than that they go to the same school, so they've got to get the ball to
start rolling somehow. "Well one of them at least."

"The girl in your living room, Caro?" Mario asks. "That's your other sister?"

"Ugh no," Marco groans at him. "And thank fuck for that. Caro's way too high
maintenance for us mere mortals," he mutters to himself and Mario's dislike for
the girl creeps up on him. "She's Mel's best friend. She mooches off my sister,
so she practically lives here. My other sister, Yvonne, is married. She lives a
bit further up town."

"Oh."

"Care to explain the genius thing then?" Marco asks after a moment, opening the
bag of chips and offering some to Mario.

"Genius might be overdoing it a bit," Mario mumbles a little uncomfortably as
he shovels some cheese puffs into him mouth. Truth be told, this is not his
favorite subject to talk about.

"But you've skipped two grades?" Marco asks and Mario nods faintly. "That's
genius in my book."

"You're failing English," Mario huffs, raising an eyebrow at the blond. "You're
hardly a reliable reference. And anyway, we're not here to talk about me," he
continues, trying to change the subject. "We have to get you that C by winter
break."

"B" Marco corrects and Mario turns to him with a questioning look on his face.
They're so close he can see the flickers of brown in his green eyes, but Mario
tries not to focus on that. "I failed my last exam. I need at least a B on the
next test."

"Well then we better get started," Mario sighs, handing Marco his notes. "Okay
so we're doing figures of speech right now," he starts, straightening up a
little to look at his notebook on Marco's leg. "Which part are you stuck on?"

"The whole thing," Marco groans, furrowing his brow. "Why won't these pesky
ancient poets just fucking say what's on their minds instead of beating around
the bush?"

"People don't always say what's on their mind," Mario mutters and he tries not
to think about how much he can relate to that. He focuses on Marco's long
fingers instead, almost mesmerized by the nimble digits as they tap
rhythmically on one of the corners of the notebook.

"I do."

"You know, figures of speech are a lot easier to understand once you know what
you're looking for," he tries again, taking a different route.

"But I don't know what I'm looking for."
Marco groans again, frustration evident on his face, and Mario realizes for a
second that he might have misjudged him. He really does look like he actually
cares whether he understands this shit or not.
"Alright," Mario says, bumping Marco's shoulder to get him to look at him. He
feels his heart skip a beat when he does, his breath slightly catching in his
throat before he shakes it off. "Who's your favorite Hip Hop artist?"

"That's pretty assumptive," Marco shoots at him. "How do you know I like Hip
Hop?"
"Your fashion sense is somewhere between wannabe gangsta and interpretive
dancer. If you're not into Hip Hop then you've got some serious issues."

Mario can't bottle in his smile when Marco lets out a loud surprised laugh.

"Touché," the blond concedes, taking a minute to compose himself before
flashing Mario a grin. "I don't know, though. I can't pick just one."

"Alright." Mario straightens up a little, pointing at the iPod on Mario's
bedside table. "Put this on shuffle," he orders, and it takes Marco a few
seconds to react. He picks his iPod off before turning to stare quizzically at
Mario. "Just do it," he urges, and the blond finally does as he's told. "What's
the first song playing?"

"Hey Ya by Outkast. I like this song," Marco says, smiling at Mario.

"I do too. Now google the lyrics for me," Mario tells him returning the smile.

"Here." Marco props up the laptop between them once he's done.

Mario swallows audibly when Marco scoots closer to him, pushing their knees
together under the laptop. He shakes his head a little to gather his thoughts
before looking back at the screen.

"Alright, let's scroll down to that last part," he says, pointing towards the
last couple of lines. "When he says 'Now all Beyoncés and Lucy Lius and baby
dolls, get on the floor',  does he literally mean that? Like does he literally
want Beyoncés and Lucy Lius and baby dolls to get on a floor?"

"No, not literally," Marco answers dutifully.

"What does he mean then?"

"That he wants the pretty girls to start dancing."

"Exactly," Mario agrees, smiling. "So Beyoncé and Lucy Liu is a metaphor for
pretty girls just like get on the floor is a metaphor for start dancing.
Someone like Shakespeare or Keats would say something fancy like 'fairest
jewels amongst them all' to point out pretty girls instead, but it would still
mean the same."
"Makes sense."
"Can you find another metaphor for me in the lyrics?"
Marco looks a little unsure at first, but then he visibly relaxes at Mario's
encouraging nod. 

"I think," he starts, "when he says 'Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbor'."

"And why is that a metaphor?" Mario asks.

"Because he's not actually talking about the sweetener, he wants her to give
him some love." Mario turns to look at Marco, and the unsure look he gives him
is so unlike the confident blond he associates Marco with that Mario startles.
He wonders for a wild second how weird it would be if he just hugged Marco
right now.
"There you go," he says, grinning at him instead, and Marco looks like a kid
who just discovered ice-cream. They stare at eachother for a little longer than
necessary, their breathing a little too loud in Mario's ears. He clears his
throat and turns to his notebook again. "Now let's look at this verse from
Poe's 'The Raven'," he points at the bottom of the page where the words are
written. "'And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon.' Can you find
the metaphor?"

"Ghost," Marco answers quick enough to actually impress Mario. "Because he's
not talking about an actual ghost, but the fire."

Mario can't stop the proud grin that takes over his face if he tries. He nods
at Marco and the latter's eyes light up once more.

"It's that easy?" he asks, his eyes darting from Mario to the notebook and back
again.

"It's that easy."
Mario lets out an undignified squeal when Marco tackles him in a hug before
dissolving in a fit of giggles.

-----

Marco's not a dickhead, Mario comes to learn in time. He's slightly arrogant
and has a dirty sense of humor, but he laughs easily and generously showers
those he cares about with affection.

The next few weeks pass by in a blur and Marco becomes somewhat of a fixture in
Mario's life. They don't spend too much time together at school, but they still
acknowledge eachother a lot more. Mario finds himself sitting together with
Marco and Thomas in detention on more than one occasion, and sometimes Mats and
Marco hang out with Mario and Ann before practice.

Afternoons are an entirely different story, however. Mario starts coming by
Marco's house everyday and by the end of the second week Mario can swear he
knows every detail about Marco Reus. He quickly overcomes his mumbling
tendencies and starts to feel more relaxed the more time he spends with Marco.
Talking comes easy to them, and Mario's especially surprised to learn they're
so much on the same wavelength that most times they don't actually have to
speak to understand eachother.

Mario adapts so ridiculously fast to his new routine but he doesn't actually
comprehend how much his time with Marco becomes a necessity until he's forced
to deprive himself of it one day. It's Wednesday  and he's been tutoring Marco
for four weeks now, when he has to bail on football practice and skip their
studying session to help Fabian move into his new apartment. Hanging out with
his brothers is something he looks forward to, but on that particular day he
feels so weird and out of place the entire time, fidgeting and on the edge the
like he's not where he's supposed to be. He tries to brush it off and not think
about it, emptying box after box with Felix and Fabian, refusing to acknowledge
how ridiculous he's being.
His phone vibrates in his pocket just as they're unpacking the last of the
stray boxes. He doesn't recognize the number on his screen when he fishes the
device out of his pocket, but he doesn't dwell on it, shrugging lightly before
taking the call.
"Hello?"

"So, I was trying to work on the new Keats poem we're doing in English, and I
think I managed to figure out everything."

"Marco?" Mario asks into his phone, furrowing his brow.

"Do you get regular calls about Keats poems and English homework? Cause I mean,
if you do, then no, not Marco."

"Smartass," Mario mutters but he can't keep the grin off his face. Marco is
calling him. Like actually taking the time to pick up his phone and talk to
him.

"I missed you too, Sunny."

If Mario's heart beats so fast at those words that he actually believes he
might be having a heart attack, then no one has to know.

"How'd you get my number?" His voice breaks a little at his inner freak-out but
he hides it behind a cough.

"AK," Mario replies matter-of-factly. "She's one tough cookie to crack, that's
for sure."

"What'd you promise her in return?" Mario asks, because if there's something
that Mario knows, it's Ann, and she's not one to hand out favors for free. "And
for the love of everything that's holy to you, stop calling her AK."

"That I'd get you to go to Mats' party with us," Marco admits. "The one he
throws every year right before winter break."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" He can't help his amused tone. He is
amused.

"I figured I'd tell you how much Ann really wants you to be there," Marco says.
"She really cares about you."

"She does," Mario agrees, and he can't keep the fondness out of his voice. Ann
is one of his best friends for a reason. "But you, my friend, are going to have
to try a lot harder than that."

"I do have a backup plan, you know."

It's ridiculous how grounded Mario feels again by just hearing Marco's voice,
like some of the missing puzzle pieces are fitting right back into place. And
while he can admit that to himself now, he's still not willing to examine the
thought closer than necessary for fear of what it might mean.

"Oh yeah?" He challenges, snapping himself out of his thoughts.

"Yep," Marco confirms. "I'll just drag you there."

Mario chuckles. "That's not a very practical plan. Besides, I'll tie myself to
my bed."

"Ooh, kinky," Marco drawls and Mario's cheeks color significantly.

"Shut up," he says lamely, trying to keep the embarrassment out of his voice.
"I just don't see why I have to go and watch a bunch of stupid kids get drunk
and rub off on eachother. I don't even like any of them and-"

"I know, I know, grandpa," Marco cuts him off, a desperate tone to his voice.
"You don't like any of them, you hate the world, school is your enemy, yada
yada yada," he adds with a bored voice and Mario rolls his eyes. Marco quiets
down for a second, and Mario can almost hear the clocks ticking in his head
before he speaks next. "I know," he says suddenly. "I'll make sure Mats gets
pretzels from that Bavarian place you like so much."

"I'll be there."

-----

They're at the edge of Marco's street two days later, heading over to his house
to study, when the blond suddenly turns left, altering their course.

"Marco?" Mario asks, stopping to look at Marco who continues to walk in the new
direction, kicking his football at his feet.

"We're not going home today," he throws at him, not even turning back to look
his way.

"What do you mean?" Mario asks, taking a few steps to follow Marco for fear of
losing track of him as his friend starts jogging to catch up to the ball. "We
have to study."

"Not today," Marco says, stopping at the edge of what look like a park, and
turning to look at Mario. "I'm going to teach you to play football," he yells
at him from across the street.

"Marcooo," Mario groans, jogging towards him. "We have to study, come on. I
don't want to learn to play football."

"We've been studying for almost a month now. We can take a break for one day,"
the blond argues, walking into the park.

"Marco, I'm not even dressed properly," Mario tries, stepping up his pace to
catch up to his friend's longer strides.

"You're wearing sweats."
Marco raises his eyebrows at Mario when he's finally walking alongside him
"But I'm not wearing the right shoes either," Mario tries again, pointing
exasperatedly at his feet.

"It's not like you're in heels," Marco shrugs, dropping his bag next to the
goal post. The park is awfully quiet, expect for a few kids playing on a set of
swings on the other end. "You can shoot a goal in Chuck Taylors. Besides, I'm
only going to teach you a few easy things. I know you refuse to be bad at
something, but it's okay to let someone else show you the ropes sometimes. You
can't be a genius at everything."

And that's it. Mario's not a particularly evil guy, but he wants to wipe the
teasing smirk off Marco's face so bad right now.

"Alright," he concedes, throwing his backpack on the floor, before he removes
his headphones from around his neck and stows them in its front pocket. "But
start me off with something easy."

"Yeah, yeah don't worry, I'm just going to teach you to shoot properly," Marco
says, placing the ball at the edge of the penalty box. "This is not the
crossbar challenge."

"The crossbar challenge?" Mario asks, walking over to him.

"It's just this challenge they do where you have to shoot at the crossbar
instead of aiming for the goal," the blond explains.

"Like the top bar of the goal?"

"Yeah, but you have to be like a football fiend and super good at it to get the
aim right," Marco adds, and Mario can tell he's already sick of this
conversation.

Mario doesn't say anything else before grabbing the ball and walking a bit
further away until he's outside the penalty box. He takes a couple more steps
to his left before he stops and places the ball on the ground.

"Mario, come on, what are you doing?" Marco groans but Mario can see his ears
perk up when he sees him taking a few steps to stand behind the ball. "Mario?"
He asks again, and for the first time since he's met him, Marco looks utterly
unsure of the world around him.

"You might want to step out of the way," Mario states. He sounds like a jerk to
his own ears but Marco had it coming.

He flashes a grin at his friend before he turns his focus to the ball at his
feet. He takes a deep breath before he starts running, aiming for it. He hits
it where he knows the perfect angle for this kind of shot is, and Marco ducks
as the ball flies right by him to hit the crossbar. Mario's grin grows wider
when he sees his mission completed, and he looks back at Marco just as the
latter is straightening up again, his eyes bulging out of their sockets,
looking from Mario to the crossbar and back again.

"You," Marco starts, his shell-shocked state all the explanation needed for his
inability to talk properly. "Wha- how," he continues stuttering as Mario walks
over to him. The ball is at Marco's feet again, having hit the bar and rolled
over to where he's standing, still trying to form words.

He moves over to claim it with his feet, but just as he's about to do so, Mario
steals the ball with one swift movement. Marco looks at him again, eyes wide as
saucers, and he moves towards him to take the ball, but Mario fields him once
again. Their eyes meet and Mario can't stop from chuckling.

"You little piece of shit!" Marco finally finds his voice before breaking into
a smile and tackling Mario.

"Marco!" Mario yells, unable to stop from laughing even as he feels himself
lose balance and before he knows it, his back is on the grass, Marco landing
heavily on top of him.

"You condescending little asshole!" Marco continues to shout through his
laughter, tickling Mario where he knows he'll feel it.

"Mar- Marc..cooo" Mario yells louder, hiccupping the words through his own
laughter that's echoing in the park, and he finally manages to push his friend
off him.

"You know how to play!" Marco accuses, the smile still plastered on his face as
he gets to his feet and offers Mario his hand.

"I never said I didn't." He takes Marco's hand and pulls himself up. "You just
assumed."

"You're a dirty little fucker."

He pushes Mario once again, but this time he grabs him by the front of his
shirt before the latter can fall on floor, pulling him closer to him instead.

Mario feels the breath get knocked out of him when he finds himself chest to
chest with Marco, his friend's eyes green and bright in the afternoon sun,
looking at him like he's trying to see through his defenses. Mario tries to
back away from Marco, the sheer intensity of his gaze frightening him, but
Marco's firm hand on his chest keeps him in place.

"What else are you hiding in there?" Marco whispers and Mario feels the hairs
at the back of his neck stand up.

They're so close Mario can count Marco's eyelashes if he wants to, and he feels
like kicking himself for how cheesy he's being.

Marco's fingers loosen their grip on Mario's shirt before the blond moves his
hand to his friend's face. His thumb brushes Mario's cheek so fleetingly, his
touch light and feathery and unsure, and Mario thinks he's imagining it.
Marco's hand hovers near his face a second more before he finally backs away
from him.

"There are kids on the other end of the park," Mario whispers after clearing
his throat. "You shouldn't swear in front of them."

It sounded a lot smoother in Mario's head, teasing and playful, but he's so
caught up in the moment that he barely manages to say it at all. Thankfully,
Marco takes it as it is, chuckling as he finally steals the ball from Mario.

"Quit yapping you smartass and show me exactly how good you are at this thing."

-----

"Götze!"

Mario turns to see who's calling out to him, and his jaw nearly drops when he
spots Coach Klopp making his way over to him.

It's been three days since Mario has seen Marco properly, not since he revealed
to him just how good a football player he actually is. They spent that entire
afternoon kicking the ball around, Mario entertaining Marco with stories about
his antics with Felix and Fabian. They'd gotten so caught up in their time
together that they only realized how late it was when Mario's phone started
ringing off the hook, his mother's worried voice filling his ears when he
picked up.

They couldn't meet on the weekend since Mario had to go down to Bavaria with
his parents, but they'd texted almost the entire time, Mario's phone glued to
his fingers the whole trip.

Today was no better as Mario had barely seen Marco the entire day, only
catching him briefly in biology, but Cathy had planted herself firmly by
Marco's side the entire time before Mr. Löw arrived to class, so Mario stuck to
his desk only waving at Marco when the latter called out to him.

He stayed with Ann and André to watch football practice, the thought of finally
spending time with Marco after making him happier than he'd ever like to admit.

The players went in to change when the training session was over, and Mario
made his way to the front gate with Ann and André to wait for them. They were
going to a grab a bite to eat with some of their classmates so they were
waiting for them to finish when Mario heard Coach Klopp call his name.

"Coach Klopp?" He asks, and he can't exactly hide his surprise from him as he
makes his way over to him.

"I hear you're a football wizard."

Wow, the man really doesn't beat around the bush, does he?

"What?" Mario tries to go for innocence, but he knows he's failing at it when
Klopp smiles at him.

Damn you Marco.

"Reus tells me you're good. I want you to try out for the team."

"The football team?"

"No, the classical ballet team. Yes the football team!" Klopp snaps at him and
holy shit he's actually smiling and it terrifies Mario. "He says you're really
good."

"Marco has a big mouth," Mario mutters, an annoyed look crossing his features,
and Klopp actually barks out a laugh.

"That he does," he agrees, his eyes lighting up with what can only be described
as fondness, and Mario warms up to the man. "But he's also got a sharp eye for
talent."

"I played for my old school for a few years," Mario admits finally, looking up
at Klopp nervously. "I haven't done so in a while, though," he's quick to add.
"I just kick the ball around with my brothers sometimes, but that's all there's
been for the past few years."

"I want you to try out for the team." Klopp repeats. "Tomorrow, right after
class. This is not up for discussion. Guardiola thinks it's a wonderful idea."
He shoots him one last look before turning to walk away. "Don't be late," he
yells at him when he's a bit further away before continuing to make his way
over to where Mario knows the shower rooms are.

"What was that about?" André asks when Mario joins them again.

"I'm trying out for the football team tomorrow," Mario says, a slight haze
still keeping him from absorbing the news entirely.

"Oh my God!" Ann shrieks out suddenly, jumping on Mario out of nowhere, and he
barely manages to keep his footing to stop them from falling down. "You're
gonna be a football star!" She yells is his ear, arms wrapped tightly around
him, and Mario can't stop from laughing giddily. "This is going to be so
awesome," she continues when she pulls away, keeping her hands firmly on his
shoulders. "We'll watch you practice and I'll make glitter banners for the
games and-"

"Wow, Ann, calm down before you give yourself an aneurism," he cuts her off,
but all he gets in return is a delighted cackle. "I might not even make the
team," he adds as an afterthought.

"Yeah, right," André mutters from next to them, the smile on his face
suggesting he's just as excited as Ann.

-----

To absolutely nobody's surprise, Mario ends up making the team. And when he
says nobody, he means Marco, Ann and André, the only people who really matter.
Everyone else is shocked to say the least, none more so than his new teammates,
but Marco tackles him to the ground when Klopp announces the news, his smile
brightening up the whole pitch, and Mario can't help the laugh that escapes him
as he wraps his arms around his friend and takes him down with him. He can hear
Ann's voice cheering somewhere in the background, and before he knows it the
rest of the team is on them, welcoming Mario into their midst by crushing him
in a manpile.

They get off him just when Mario's vision starts blurring due to lack of
oxygen, and Marco offers him a hand to help him up which he accepts happily.

"I'm so happy you're on the team," Marco tells him honestly, wrapping an arm
around his shoulder easily as they make their way over to the locker rooms.

Mario smiles back at him, allowing himself to let his guard down for a moment,
wrapping his arm around Marco's waist and squeezing a little.
"Hey," he starts, clearing his throat nervously. "Thanks, Marco. For pushing me
to do this."

"You're welcome, Sunny," Marco says, and the smile on his face gets impossibly
brighter. "I don't know why you're so quick to hide out from the world," he
continues, an unusually serious air to him. "But I don't think you should be so
ashamed of being good at things."

"I'm not ashamed," Mario argues weakly, his words faltering a little, and Marco
stops and lets go of him before turning to stand in front of him.

Mario feels inexplicably cold at the loss of contact, but then Marco's hands
are on his shoulders, and he feels whole again. He's terrified of what that
means.

"Maybe you're not," Marco shrugs, looking him in the eye. "But you've built a
wall so high around you that you won't let anyone see just how smart you are.
Or how funny. You could be the next Miroslav Klose and you're trying to hide
it, for fuck's sake!"

"Okay, you have got to calm down," Mario tries to downplay Marco's words, the
intensity in his eyes scaring him. "I am not the next Klose," he adds but
Marco's smile darkens a little, and when he drops his arms from his shoulders,
Mario feels his world grow dimmer. "Besides, I let you see how smart I am. I'm
letting you in," he admits in a low whisper, reaching out hesitantly to play
with one of the strings tied around Marco's wrist. "You're breaking down the
wall." He lowers his gaze to focus on Marco's wrist under his fingers, his
confession scaring even him in its sheer honesty.

"Yeah," Marco whispers as he turns his wrist and hooks two fingers with Mario's
before he can pull his hand away. "I'm glad." He squeezes lightly before
letting go and turning to go change.

Mario stays rooted to his spot, an uneasy feeling in his stomach. It's the
simple truth of it that really scares him. Marco's breaking though to him,
peeling that fence he's built around his heart layer by layer, and soon enough
he'll be able to hurt him.

"Are you coming?" The blond asks, stopping a bit further ahead and turning to
look at him, an easy smile on his face.

Mario smiles back before he makes his way over to him.

Another layer gone.

-----

Marco gets his second test result a week later, the last day before the break.
He got a C on his first, which Mario was very proud of him for, but it was
still not enough to get his overall average to a C. Thankfully, Guardiola had
given them until winter break to get his grade up to par.

Mario's digging through his locker for some books when Marco comes barreling
into him, throwing his arms around him before pulling back and shoving a
corrected test paper in his face.

"A-!" He screams at him, clearly having a terrible time controlling his
excitement. "You did it! You got me an A!"

Mario laughs as he takes the paper from Marco, forgetting about his books and
turning to look at his friend. "It's all you, darling," he drawls teasingly,
Marco's excitement rubbing off on him.

"This counts for half my grade which means I've got a C+!" Marco continues
excitedly, before adding, "and I couldn't have done it without you."

Mario swears everyone can hear his heart hammer in his chest at Marco's words,
but he feels bold enough to lift himself higher on his toes and pull Marco into
a hug. "I'm so proud of you," he whispers in his friend's ear, and he feels
Marco snake his arms around his waist, palms warm and strong on his lower back
even through the thick fabric of his hoodie.

They stay wrapped up in eachother a lot longer than socially acceptable, but
Mario doesn't care, especially not when he feels Marco bury his face in his
shoulder, his warm breath tickling Mario's neck. The cold feeling he's grown
accustomed to whenever Marco's not in close proximity makes an appearance when
the blond starts to pull away, but before he can dwell on it, his friend's lips
are on his cheek, the ghost of a kiss.

"Thank you, Sunny," he whispers before he pulls away completely. He starts
walking away from him before turning one last time to look at him. "I'll see
you at the party tonight."

"Yeah," Mario mumbles to himself a few seconds later, Marco long gone, leaving
him standing dumbly in the hallway. He can't stop himself from running his
fingers where Marco's lips had been a minute before, a secret smile gracing his
lips, the flush on his cheeks a striking color. "I'll see you tonight."

-----

He spends an extra fifteen minutes in front of his mirror that evening,
fretting over his outfit and perfecting his hair. He's got a pair of dark jeans
on, just the right amount of skinny, with a grey thick wool sweater and white
high tops.

He's got to leave the house in ten minutes and head over to Ann's to help her
pick an outfit, which he's not particularly excited about, but according to
Ann, "there is no point in having a gay best friend if he's not going to share
his inherited fashion wisdom" with her. Mario had taken offense to that, but
then conceded and agreed he's be there to impart his wisdom on the world.

It takes Ann about an hour to finish perfecting her look, curling her hair and
applying her make up just right. Mario's way past the point of being surprised
when she looks like she's stepped off a runway when she's done, her high-
waisted skirt and crop top showing just the right amount of skin.

It takes him less than half an hour to get sick of the party once they're
there, the only highlight being the pretzels he was promised, front and center
in a cardboard box on the kitchen island, the words "DO NOT TOUCH - PROPERTY OF
MARIO GÖTZE" scribbled in a thick dark marker on the front in what Mario
recognizes as Marco's messy scrawl.

He walks back into the kitchen to find another pretzel, but ultimately gives
in, grabbing the box to go find a seat on the couch outside. The house is
crowded with people, some of them way too old to be here, and Mario glares at
everyone who so much as breathes his way.

"Here," he hears someone say, and he looks up to glare at the offender, only to
find Thomas standing in front of him, a red cup offered his way. "You look like
you need it," he adds, plopping down next to Mario on the couch.

"Thanks," Mario says, trying to muster a smile at his teammate, because he's
come to quite like Thomas. He takes a sip of his drink and can't help but
wrinkle his nose at the horrible taste before draining the cup in one go.

"Easy," Thomas chuckles next to him, and Mario offers the box of pretzels to
his teammate. "Thanks." He takes one out and bites into it. "These are really
good."

"I know," Mario mumbles, and he can't stop his eyes from wandering to where
Marco is.

The blond is sitting at the foot of the stairs with Cathy, his tongue so far
down her throat Mario thinks he can probably feel her tonsils. For her part,
Cathy has her hands on Mario's chest, roaming freely and grabbing possessively
at his shirt, and Mario has the overwhelming urge to either hit her or go pry
her hands away from Marco. He hates that he feels that way, hates that he can't
stand to see Marco with someone else. His stomach rumbles uncomfortably,
absolutely nothing to do with the six pretzels he's shoved down his throat
already, but Mario blames it on that anyway. He hands Thomas the box before
pulling himself off the couch, taking Thomas' drink with him, and he's out of
the house before he can hear him object.

He can't exactly leave because he's promised Ann they'd walk home together. But
she seems to be having a great time with Gomez and he doesn't have the heart to
go up to her and tell her he wants to be anywhere but here.

He finds himself under a tree in Mats' backyard instead, the faint music from
the house the only sound in the otherwise quiet night. It's too cold for anyone
else to come outside, and Mario pulls his beanie out of his pocket, sighing
happily when he finally covers his ears against the cold. He drains Thomas' cup
before pulling a cigarette pack from his other pocket, shoving one in his mouth
and fishing for the lighter. His fingers are freezing but he manages, closing
his eyes and resting his head against the tree as he puffs on his stick.

"That's where you ran off to?"

He nearly jumps out his skin, having not heard anyone follow him, and he nearly
chokes when he opens his eyes to find Marco making his way over to him, steps a
little unsteady. He slides down next to him easily, taking the cigarette out of
his hand and Mario's too shocked to react. Marco takes one drag of it before
throwing the cigarette into his own cup, the liquor at the bottom effectively
killing the small orange spark.

"What are you doing here?" Mario asks when he finally finds his voice.

"It was getting a little stuffy in there."

"What, Cathy not giving you enough oxygen to sustain your pretentious ass?"
Mario lets out and he hates himself for being so defensive.

"Are you jealous, Sunny?" Marco asks, an amused smirk on his face, but he's
slurring his words more than usual and Mario knows he's had too much to drink
already.

"No," Mario mutters, but his voice sounds too weak to his own ears.

He feels a shiver run through him as the cold seeps in his bones and he
shudders noticeably. He can see Marco shrug out of his jacket from the corner
of his eye, and he turns to object but is met with the heavy garment slapping
him in the face.

"You need it more than I do," Marco interjects before he can say anything.

Mario can't really argue. He drapes the jacket over his front, hiding his face
in the collar. It smells so much like Marco that he almost wants to cry, but he
refrains from doing so and turns to look at his friend instead. While Marco
doesn't look as cold as he himself feels, he's still shivering slightly against
the cold night air, and Mario feels a little bad for taking his jacket.

"Here," he mumbles, feeling bolder all of a sudden and scooting closer to
Marco. He drapes the jacket over the both of them before taking Marco's hands
under the garment, rubbing his own over them to keep them warm.

"Thanks." Marco's voice is so low he almost doesn't hear it, and when Mario
turns to look at him again, he realizes just how close they are.

He can see the faint freckles on Marco's nose, and all it takes is for the
blond to lean in a few centimeters before their lips meet for the first time.
Mario's brain stops working for a minute, his lips acting on their own accord,
moving in time with Marco's. He feels Marco grip his fingers under the jacket
and he can taste stale beer on his lips, but also something else, something
that makes his stomach lurch, and it takes another few seconds for his mind to
register the taste. Lipgloss.

Cathy.

He's on his feet so fast he feels slightly dizzy, and he has to lean against
the tree for a second to steady himself. He takes one look at Marco, lips
swollen and a confused look shrouding his features before he bolts into the
house. He finds André on the dance floor with Montana, begs his friend to make
sure Ann gets home safe, before he's out on the street walking over to his
house. He allows himself to break down only when he's in the confines of his
own room, crawling into his bed and burying his face in his pillow. He smells
cigarettes and a little bit of Marco's perfume on his fingers, and he realizes
just how completely fucked he is when he can't keep his hands away from his
nose. He falls asleep trying not to cry.

-----

When he wakes up the next day, he's still wearing his clothes from the night
before. He tries not to remember the reason for that, tries to blink away the
memory of Marco's lips on his, of Marco's hands in his, of Marco, Marco, Marco.
He knows he's failed when he feels a wetness on his cheeks, and he allows
himself only a few minutes to feel bad before he gets it together.

He's got six texts and three missed calls, most from Marco, and he feels his
heart squeeze inside his chest, the tiny spark of hope that's never truly gone
threatening to grow again. He wants to crush that damn spark so bad.

11:05 - Marco:Where'd u run off 2?

11:12 - Marco:Sunny, gettin really worried here

11:14 - Marco: Mario?

11:23 - Marco: André says uve gone home. So, yea. At least text me so I can
know u got home safe?

00:43 - Ann - Sugarbean, ready 2 go when u r. And boy, do I have a story 4 u!

03:36 - Marco -sorry I kissed u

He reads the last text over and over again, until the words start sounding
wrong in his head. He wonders whether Marco was still thinking about their kiss
at three in the morning when he sent that text, or if he'd been making out with
Cathy again when he remembered to send it.

He forces the thoughts out of his head, dialing Ann's number instead. She picks
up on the first ring.

"Good morning, sunshine," she greets happily, and Mario winces at the nickname.

"Hey Ann."

"You're not okay," she announces, her voice taking a grave turn, and for the
first time ever, Mario hates that she can read him so easily.

"I will be," he whispers, a sigh escaping his lips.
Lying to Ann is not an option. Not only can she see right through him, but he
doesn't believe that lying to those he cares about can do him any good. Except
maybe when it comes to Marco.

"What happened?" She sounds worried, and Mario wants to kick himself in the
shin for it. "I'm guessing it has something to do with Marco." Mario's heart
skips a beat at the name. "He was looking for you all over the place last
night. He even called me at eight in the morning to make sure you got home
safe." His chest hurts at the revelation, the reminder that Marco actually
cares a little too painful. He just wishes he cared enough. "I had to call your
mom to check that you were home."

"Oh my god, Ann, you called my mom?"

"Marco was pestering me about it!" She argues, her voice sounding slightly
angry. "Besides, you weren't answering my calls either. I was worried too."

"I'm sorry," he sighs again, guilt eating him up.

"So what exactly did happen?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he says honestly.

"Fair enough," she concedes. "Look," she adds after a minute. "I don't know
what happened yesterday between the two of you, but for what it's worth, I
think you're making a mistake this time. Shutting him out won't do you any
good. You know I love you to death, Mario, and I want you to be happy more than
anything in the world, but you can't keep everyone out because they might make
you sad someday."

Mario marvels again at just how well Ann knows him. He hasn't even told her
what happened or what the problem is, and already she knows. He just wishes he
could believe what she's telling him.

"I'll think about it," he decides. "Hey, listen, I think I'm going to go to
Bavaria with my dad tomorrow."

"But I thought you weren't going until next week with Fabian," Ann says. "We
promised Mats and Marco to meet them at the Christmas Fair tomorrow and we've
got André's pre-Christmas party in a few days," she continues weakly, and her
voice suggests she's already aware this is a battle she's going to lose.

"I really need to get away for a bit," he forces out and he feels so pathetic,
running away like that, but he can't stay here. He hears Ann sigh in defeat,
and he knows she won't try to get him to change his mind. "I'm sorry, Ann. I'll
make it up to you."

"My Christmas present better be worth you ditching me for two whole weeks."
She's making the effort to sound okay and Mario loves her all the more for it.

"I'll make sure it does."

They talk for a few more minutes before they hang up, and Mario feels better,
if only slightly. He pulls out some fresh clothes and starts heading over to
the bathroom before he stops to look at his phone. He stares blankly at it for
a few seconds before he opens a new text.

To: Marco
Hey. Going to Bavaria tomorrow morning so can't make it to fair. See you after
break.


-----
 
That's the last time he tries to get in touch with Marco during the entire
break. He does his best not to think about him, helping out his grandparents
around the house, spending way too much time playing FIFA with Felix, and
walking aimlessly around the streets of Memmingen to keep his mind off things.

Christmas comes and goes, as does New Year's. Marco texts him a generic "Merry
Christmas!" on the occasion to which Mario doesn't reply. It's his New Year's
message, however, that makes Mario's heart beat so fast it threatens to fly out
of his chest.

00:03 - Marco:Happy New Year. Hope ure having a good time wherever u r right
now. I miss u

It's almost 2 am when Mario reads the message, and he spends a good five
minutes staring at it before he stows his phones back in his pocket and spends
the rest of his night convincing himself that he's not thinking about Marco the
entire time.

They get back to Dortmund two days later, and Felix finds a gift-wrapped
package waiting at their doorstep. Mario doesn't think much of it as he starts
grabbing some of their bags from the trunk, but then his little brother asks
who Sunny is and Mario drops their luggage and stares at the package in Felix's
hands.

He locks himself in his room before he opens it, staring for a long time at the
small note with "Merry Christmas, Sunny - M" on it before unwrapping the
package. His heart is in his throat when he finds the Beats headphones that
must've cost Marco a fortune, in the exact shade of purple that he wanted.

He keeps the headphones in their box on his bedside table, and he lies on his
bed for a long time staring at the ceiling. He's never felt so lost in his
entire life, never felt his life so out of his control. He can't get his heart
to stop hammering in his chest at the mere thought of Marco, can't get his mind
to stop shouting murder at him at the mere thought of opening up to him, can't
even get his fucking cock to not stand upright at the mere thought of Marco's
sweat-slicked back. Damn organs and their nasty habits of not cooperating.

The first few days back in school prove to be hell. Avoiding Marco when he's
grown so accustomed to looking for him in the hallways is harder than he
imagines. He feels the breath get knocked out of him when he sees him for the
first time in bio, the memory of their kiss so clear in his head. Marco's eyes
meet his for a second, his face brightening up with a smile that falters rather
spectacularly when Mario's answering frown is all he receives. Mario feels like
he's being punched repeatedly, Marco's saddened expression breaking through his
defenses, but he refuses to give in completely, turning to join the
conversation between Erik and André.

He pairs up with Thomas at practice, avoiding Marco at all costs, and he's both
relieved and saddened when it doesn't prove to be very hard as Marco seems to
be over their friendship.

On the third day back, Ann, André and Montana force him to grab a bite with
them after practice. They're tucked into a booth at their favorite diner when
Mario notices Gomez and Cathy making out by the old jukebox. He stares at the
scene unfolding in front of him, trying to make sense of it, when Ann follows
his line of vision.

"Oh yeah." She shrugs. "That's been going on since the beginning of the break."

"But I thought-" he starts, unsure of how to go on, eyes wide as he looks from
Ann to the very disturbing - and he means verydisturbing, Cathy's moans are
actually starting to be heard over the substantially loud music - PDA taking
place in front of him. "And you and Gomez," he fumbles, looking at Ann again.

"Me and Gomez nothing," Ann laughs at him. "Turns out that ridiculous ego is
only there to make up for shortcomings that go way beyond his IQ."

"What she means is he's got a tiny wiener," André whisper-shouts.

"Oh please," Ann lets out a sound somewhere between a snort and a chuckle
before rolling her eyes. "Tiny doesn't even begin to cover it," she mutters and
André laughs along with her.

Mario's still staring dumbly at the embracing couple to react properly.

"Marco basically ditched her at the party, in case you were wondering," Ann
remarks offhandedly, and while Mario knows that there's nothing remotely
offhanded about her comment, it certainly grabs his attention. "I'm not exactly
sure what went on. All I know is that one minute they were making out, the next
he was telling her that he's not into it. It took her less than an hour to
console herself though, latching onto Gomez like a Koala Bear to a tree."

Mario feels his heart stop, knows what he's about to do is a really, really,
really bad decision. He looks at Ann for a second more, and she stares at him,
a knowing smirk lighting her features.

"You've got to let someone in sooner or later," she whispers putting on her
best fairy godmother face and it's all the encouragement Mario needs.

He's out of his chair before he can think about it, pressing a quick kiss to
Ann's hair and making his way towards the exit. He hears André ask him where
he's going but he only waves him off before he's out the door and sprinting his
way over to Marco's. He only stops when he's on his street, walking slowly up
to his house to catch his breath.

He knocks before he can think about what he's doing, but then a sense of panic
washes over him, and he's about to turn and flee the scene when the door bursts
open and Melanie's there.

"Mario!" She cries out happily, pulling him into a crushing hug and Mario can't
help but smile into her shoulder as he wraps him arms around her. She's so much
like her brother and she doesn't even know it.

"Hey Mel."

"Where have you been my little chipmunk?" She asks, stroking his hair
affectionately as she pulls away from him. "It's been too long since I've seen
you here."

"We went back to Memmingen for break."

So what if he's not telling her the entire truth. He's not exactly lying.

"Right," she nods at him. "Fabian told me you guys wouldn't be here for
Christmas."

Mario smiles at her for a few seconds before clearing his throat. He feels
awkward standing in the doorway, but he can't exactly leave anymore. Might as
well do what he came here for.

"Is Marco here?"

"Oh, yeah," Melanie says, moving to allow him in. "He's in his bedroom helping
Caro figure something out on her phone. Come to think about it, they've been at
it for a while now," she mumbles as she starts making her way up the stairs,
Mario at her heel.

Mario looks around as he climbs the staircase, a little concerned at just how
much he's missed these steps and that cramped hallway, how familiar they've
become to him. He doesn't dwell on that thought though, because suddenly he's
got a bad feeling in his stomach that he can't seem to shake.

"Marco, Mario's here," Melanie announces as they walk into the room.
Mario nearly walks into her when she stops in her tracks and starts wailing. He
sidesteps her instead, and wow, this is so not what he had in mind when he
decided to come here.

Marco is lying on his bed with Caro half on top of him, engaging in what can
only be described as a make out session. They pull apart when they notice the
intruders and Mario can't do anything but stand frozen to his spot and stare at
them with wide eyes. To his credit, he manages to keep his cries bottled up,
even the ones bubbling in his throat, dying to be let out. It's like someone's
emptied a bucket of ice water on him.

"Eeeeeeww," Melanie cries next to him. "Ew, ew ew ew, no, no, so much no," she
continues before essentially forcing Caro off her brother and out of the room,
and Marco looks confused for a second, his eyes unseeing, but then Mario sees
the flip switch in his mind when he finally realizes that Mario is in fact
standing in his room.

It's at that moment that Mario remembers that his legs do work, and he takes a
few steps back, not taking his eyes off Marco. "I'm just gonna..." He mutters,
but he doesn't think it really necessary to continue.

"NO!" Marco jumps off his bed in what can only be described as a state of utter
panic. "Mario, don't." He's crossed the room in two strides and pulling Mario
back by his elbow before he can leave the room.

Mario doesn't say anything, standing still with Marco's fingers wrapped around
his elbow, all the energy suddenly drained out of him.

Why does the only boy he's ever truly cared about seem to do nothing but hurt
him?

Melanie clears her throat, seemingly having gotten lost in the exchange in
front of her. She looks at her brother, and Mario can see the anger in her eyes
even before he hears it in her voice. "That was-"

"The first and last time this happens," Marco cuts her off before she can get
another word in and Melanie nods at him before getting out of the room and
shutting the door behind her.

It takes a few minutes for Mario to register that he's alone with Marco now,
and his heart beats wildly in his chest when he does. Marco still hasn't let go
of his arm and he can feel his eyes on him. It makes the hairs at the back of
his neck stand up.

"Sunny."
Marco's voice is barely above a whisper. It puts Mario on edge.
"What?" He barks at him, anger seeping through his voice when he finally turns
to look at him, surprising even him.

Marco flinches, probably not expecting this particular reaction out of the
usually quiet boy and it makes Mario's insides hurt.

"I-" Marco fumbles, struggling to get a grip on his words. "I, um, I missed
you. I missyou."

"You certainly got a funny way of showing it," Mario mutters and a bitter laugh
escapes him.

Marco's eyes flash and Mario can see his temper flaring.

"You're one to talk."

"I never said I missed you."
He wants to take the words back as soon as they're out of his mouth.

"Well then what is it that you fucking want from me here, Sunny, because I
don't know anymore!" Marco's voice is rising, and he finally lets go of Mario
and takes a step back, raising his hands up in frustration. He takes a deep
breath before continuing. "I don't know what to do here. I thought I was
reading the signs right, but then I kissed you and you actually skipped town!"
"I didn't go to Bavaria because you kis-"
"You basically blew me off for the entire break. I thought it would be okay
once we were back in school, but you won't talk to me, you won't even look at
me. If you didn't want me to kiss you, then all you had to do was push me away.
But I don't understand why you had to shut me out of your life like our
friendship or whatever the fuck you want to call it means nothing to you." If
only he knew how wrong he was. "We haven't really known eachother for that
long, Sunny, but I thought I'd rated at least a little more than that to you."

He looks so fucking lost and Mario hates that he's the reason behind that. He
just wants to pull him into his arms but he's so afraid of how good it will
feel, and what it would mean to openly put himself at the mercy of someone.

"Caro was just there," Marco whispers after a minute. "She saw that I was
feeling bad, that I am feeling bad, and she just wanted to make me feel a
little better."

"Does it feel better?"

"No," Marco admits, his voice broken and too low for Mario's liking. He takes a
few steps back towards his bed before sitting on the edge with his hands in his
lap, looking up at Mario with tired eyes. "You being here makes no sense right
now. What do you want from me?"

Mario takes a deep breath before walking closer to Marco. He stops when he's
right in front of him, kneeling until they're on eye-level. He reaches out for
Marco's wrists, starts fingering the threads around them like he loves to do so
much. It's now or never.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I don't like seeing the guy I'm into make out with
other people," he whispers his confession, averting his eyes and focusing on
Marco's wrists instead, the milky flesh peaking through the abused black
threads.

"So you're into me?"

"At this point you've got to be the only person on the planet who's not aware
of this," Mario chuckles, finally looking up at Marco, and he feels his heart
skip a beat when a tiny smile graces his friend's lips. That's a step in the
right direction. "Ann reminds me of it on a daily basis," Mario rambles,
rolling his eyes at the thought of his best friend. "I'm pretty sure even
Thomas noticed at Mats' party."

Marco snorts lightly, turning one of his arms under Mario's and starting to
draw nameless patterns on Mario's wrist. Mario feels a shiver run through him
at the feathery touch, losing balance and ending up on his butt. His cheeks
color on their own accord because embarrassment is his middle name, but he
can't even be mad at Marco when he barks out a laugh, because the next minute
he's joined him on the floor, sitting cross-legged right in front of him,
reaching for his wrist again to continue his ministrations. Mario sits upright
in front on him, his legs spread on either side of Marco, their hands meeting
in the middle.

"So what are you saying?" Marco asks after a minute, his eyes hopeful as he
looks up at him.

"I don't know yet," Mario admits. "I like you, Marco. So much that it scares me
most of the time because you can hurt me without even trying."

"You do realize this goes both ways, though? That you can hurt me just as
easily?"

"Yes," Mario sighs, aware that he's already done that by shutting him out for
three weeks. "I just need some time to figure it out before I can start owning
up to it."

"Okay." Marco sounds solemn, so patient, so fucking at peace with it all, and
it throws Mario off a little.

"What?" He asks, and if it comes out a little defensive Marco doesn't comment
on it.

"Take your time figuring it out."
Marco nods like they're not discussing their potential relationship.

"And you?"

"I've already got it figured out," he states, looking at his fingers on Mario's
arm. "I won't be making out with anyone," he says simply, and the certainty he
says it with tugs at Mario's heart. "Unless you're up for it," he continues a
second later, that infamous half-smirk that Mario hates - loves - finally
making an appearance.

"Not with that face I'm not," Mario teases and Marco chuckles delightedly.
Mario has never seen anyone so amused at being insulted.

The air is thick all of a sudden with the admission, both boys now aware that
there is something developing there, and while it might not be completely out
in the open, it's enough for them to know it for the time being.

Mario looks around Marco's room for a second, taking in the familiar
surroundings he's come to love, and his eyes land on Marco's iPod dock in the
corner when he remembers. He pulls his hands from Marco's, the other boy's face
flashing with worry at the movement, and Mario hates himself for turning Marco
into someone as paranoid as him. He flashes him his most reassuring smile
before leaning back to fish around for his wallet in his front pocket. He pulls
out a wrinkled envelope from his wallet and hands it to Marco before stowing
his wallet back in his pocket and moving his hands to rest them on Marco's
folded legs.

"Merry Christmas," he whispers and Marco looks up at him for a second before
turning back to the small package.

His eyes bulge out of their sockets when he pulls out the two wrinkled Jay Z
concert tickets, looking from Mario to the tickets and back again.

"But- but these are sold out!" He panics, turning the tickets in his hands to
check that they're real.

Mario's smile widens at his reaction, an affectionate laugh bubbling in his
throat.

"I bought them back in November when they first went on sale," Mario waves him
off.

"You bought me my Christmas present when you'd been barely tutoring me for two
weeks?" Marco asks, finally losing the shocked look, his face lighting up in a
smile instead.

"I'm very impressionable," Mario shrugs.

He's barely managed to get the words out before he's knocked backwards, Marco's
arms circling his waist as he lands on top of him, and yeah okay, he's missed
Marco's tackle hugs more than he can put into words.

"Go easy on me," Mario tries to scold, but the laughter in his voice belies
him. "I'm an old man."

He wraps his arms around Marco, holding on tightly, for the first time
surrendering himself completely to the need to be closer to him.

"Thank you," Marco whispers into his ear, his voice muffled by Mario's
shoulder, before he pulls back a little to look at him.

He props himself on his elbow, half lying on top of Mario on his bedroom floor,
the plush grey carpet under them, and they look at eachother for a moment
before Mario speaks.

"I've already cleared it with both our parents since the concert's in Berlin.
Fabian and Melanie are coming with us."

"You asked my parents for permission to take me to a concert," Marco smiles at
him, and Mario feels himself blush.

"Don't be so dramatic about it," he shrugs it off with a laugh. "Thank you for
my headphones, by the way."

"I was worried you didn't like them. I haven't seen you using them at school."

"They're still sitting unused by my bed," Mario admits, lifting one of his
hands to play with Marco's hair. "Part of my 'stop-fucking-thinking-about-
Marco' regimen." Marco chuckles quietly, but Mario swallows thickly. "I missed
you too." He feels a weight lift off him at the whispered confession. He looks
up at Marco when he feels his fingers on his cheek, his thumb stroking his
blush.

Marco's got an unsure look on his face, like he's trying to weigh the
consequences of his next action, but before he can make a decision one way or
the other, Mario closes the distance between them, pulling Marco closer until
their lips meet. It's different than their first kiss, unhurried and tentative,
their lips sucking and their tongues licking their way into eachother's mouths.
Mario feels himself shudder under Marco when he bites on his lower lip, and
they pull apart slowly, neither wanting to overwhelm the other. This is enough
for now.

Marco rests his forehead against Mario's, both basking in their proximity, and
Mario doesn't open his eyes for a few heartbeats, relishing in the feeling of
just being there with Marco. The blond still has his eyes shut when Mario opens
his own, short puffs of breath ghosting over his cheeks, and Mario can't stop
from reaching over to Marco's lips and touching them. Marco finally opens his
eyes when he feels Mario's fingers on him, his gaze full of an emotion Mario's
too scared to name.

The light-haired boy closes the distance between them one last time, leaving a
brief kiss on his lips before pulling away completely. He leans back to sit on
his legs, a smile tugging on his lips, and when their eyes meet again, Mario
returns it, reaching over to link their fingers together.

-----

They spend the rest of the afternoon lying side by side on Marco's bed,
catching up on everything they've missed the past few weeks. Mario thinks he
might burst when Marco turns suddenly and leaves a kiss to his shoulder before
resuming one of his many stories. He doesn't know how he's going to get used to
Marco's random bursts of affection and the butterflies that subsequently riot
in his stomach when they happen, but he sure as hell wants to.

Marco's mom comes by a while later to check if Mario's staying for dinner, and
her son's already told her yes before Mario can get a word in. She smiles
warmly at them as she turns to leave, but before she can close the door behind
her, a tiny blond ball of energy bursts into the room, speeding past her and
jumping on Marco's bed.

"Uncle Marco! Uncle Marco!" The little boy yells excitedly, wrapping his tiny
arms around Marco's middle.

"Nico!" Marco calls out, laughing at the small body suddenly on top of him, but
the little boy is already straightening up with wide eyes, having noticed the
other person on the bed.

He yelps as he tries to get off the bed hurriedly, his cheeks flushing a
magnificent shade of red. He struggles to jump off the mattress without falling
down before running towards the door and retreating to hide behind the legs of
the woman who just walked into the room.

Mario straightens up when he sees her, the unfamiliar girl who looks so
familiar, a perfect mix of Marco and Melanie. She's got a smile on her face
that could light up an entire neighborhood, and Mario can see the small boy
peeking at them behind her.

"Hey Ivy," Marco smiles at her before jumping off the bed and walking over to
hug her.

"How's my favorite brother doing?" She teases in way of greeting, and Mario
likes her already.

"Much worse now that you're here," he shoots back.

She sticks her tongue out a him once she lets go and Marco laughs good-
naturedly. Her eyes find Mario, now standing awkwardly behind her brother, and
Marco turns to look at him before it seems to dawn on him that they don't know
eachother.

"Ivy, this is Mario," he introduces, turning to look at him, and Mario feels
himself go dizzy at the happy smile on Marco's face. "Mario, my sister Yvonne."

"Mario?" Ivy asks, raising an eyebrow at him. "The same Mario he hasn't shut up
about in over a month?" She adds, stepping closer to him, and Mario swears his
cheeks are on fire. Even Marco who's usually so cool about practically
everything is blushing. "It's nice to finally meet my brother's boyfriend."

"Ivy, he's not-"

"Nice to meet you too," Mario replies, and it's worth it if only to see the
look on Marco's face at the backhanded confirmation.

Mario clears his throat after a second, turning to look at the little boy who's
now standing alone by the door, his cheeks still on fire, his blond hair
falling into his eyes. Marco follows his line of vision and starts moving
towards his nephew when he spots him.

"And this," Marco starts as he kneels in front of the boy, stroking his hair
affectionately, "is my favorite person in the whole entire world."

The boy's face lights up like a Christmas tree, his smile so bright it puts the
sun to shame.

"You want to meet my friend Mario?" Marco asks, taking Nico's hand in his.

The little boy nods exaggeratedly, locking his small hand around his uncle's.
Marco stands up and they start walking towards Mario, Nico's eyes big and
bright as he takes the new boy in. Yvonne takes the chance to escape the room,
waving quietly at the boys before making her exit.

"Mario, this is Nico."

"Hi Nico," Mario says, kneeling in front of him. "I'm Mario."

"Do you play football too?" Nico asks, and the way he's looking at Mario would
make him uncomfortable if it were anybody else.

"I do," Mario confirms, nodding his head and the boy smiles.

"He plays almost as good as I do," Marco grins as he sits down and crosses his
legs next to him, and Mario chuckles as he nudges him in the ribs.

"You have very chubby cheeks," Nico informs, touching Mario's cheeks with his
tiny palms, and Mario only grins wider. "And a very sunny smile," the boy adds.
"I like it," he declares.

Mario turns to raise his eyebrows at Marco who's got the biggest smile on his
face and is staring at them like they make his world turn.

"Are you sure he's not yours?"

-----

Marco, it turns out, is Mario's first and last student. Guardiola informs him
of that on a Monday. It's nothing to do with the result - because that was more
than satisfactory - but mostly because Mario has his hands full with football
practice, and all the other students who need tutoring are already covered
anyway. The principal reluctantly admits to him that a big part of choosing him
to tutor Marco had to do with keeping him busy enough to stay out of trouble.
That proved to be successful enough with Mario's trips to detention becoming
less and less frequent, even less so since joining the football team.

Mario's nothing short of ecstatic at the news, because it means he can continue
to spend his afternoons on Marco's bed, alternating between talking and making
out and even occasionally studying.

At school, it's slightly different. Marco and Mario are more inseparable than
ever, but they keep their hands to themselves and their lips decidedly apart at
all times. Mario's still not sure whether he wants them to go public or not,
even if he's not so confused about his feelings for Marco anymore. He likes
Marco. He wants to be with Marco. He is with Marco. There's another word he can
use to describe his affection for Marco, but that one scares him too much to
even think about, so he tries to keep his thoughts from straying to it.

Mario and Marco's constant proximity means that their friends start hanging out
with eachother a lot more, and nobody's more surprised than Mario when it takes
Ann a mere two weeks to develop feelings for Thomas. Real romantic feelings.
For Thomas Müller.

They're hanging out in Mario's house when she tells him. Thomas is horsing
around with her and Manu when she smears some frosting onto her cheek while
laughing around her cupcake. Thomas stops his antics for a moment to wipe the
smudge off her face, casually licking it off his finger, and Ann rushes out of
the room in sudden panic, dragging Mario out of his conversation with Marco and
Mats and into his bedroom where she proceeds to have a fully-fledged-breakdown
over her very much real feelings for one Thomas Müller.
It takes her only a week to get over her initial shock and own up to it though,
because, in Mario's own words, she is Ann-Kathrin fucking Brömmel and if she is
insecure about herself, then there is no hope for the rest of humanity. So she
walks up to Thomas right before practice one day and asks him out on a date.

That was almost ten days ago, Mario muses as he watches Ann laugh loudly at one
of Thomas' jokes, his arm wrapped carefully around her shoulder.

He's sitting in a corner booth at their favorite diner, sandwiched between
Marco and Nuri, casually observing the people around him. They only finished
practice a while ago, but André and Montana suggested they go get something to
eat, so here they were, half an hour and the entire football team later,
causing a ruckus at one of the local diners to the waiters' greatest misery.

Mario feels Marco link their fingers under the table, and when he looks at him,
Marco's still way too engrossed in his conversation with Lukas that Mario
wonders whether he's aware of his actions. He turns to see if anyone has
noticed, but nobody seems to care. Ann is roping Thomas into taking a selfie
with her, André and Montana are whispering conspiratorially with Manu, and
Mats' face is buried so deep in Benni's shoulder Mario wonders for a second if
he's breathing at all. He only relaxes when Mats comes up for air before
sharing a laugh with Bastian who's on his other side.

Mario squeezes Marco's hand a little, and the blond immediately turns to look
at him. His eyes are searching but content, like he's a peace with it all, and
Mario just... loves him. He does. There's no questioning it anymore. He might
as well admit it to himself.

"What?" Marco asks, his voice barely audible, scooting a little closer to
Mario, like he's trying to disappear into him.

"Nothing," Mario whispers. "I just," he hesitates for a second, but then he
feels Marco's thumb run over his knuckles and he just knows. "I don't want to
hide anymore."

It take Marco less than a second to close the distance between them, their lips
molding together perfectly, so familiar with eachother now and yet always so
hungry for more, and Mario gets so lost in Marco that for a moment he forgets
about the world.

"I knew it!" Mats barks at them, snapping them both back to reality, and Mario
pulls away to look at his dark-haired friend.

He feels a laugh bubble up his throat as he takes in his wide-eyed face and
impossibly large grin, turning back to look at Marco who's muttering curses
under his breath, but he looks entirely too happy to convince anyone of his
foul mood. Mario laughs even louder before hiding his face in Marco's shoulder,
his blush making an expected appearance.

Ann walks alongside him as they leave the diner a while later. They're heading
over to Mats' house to watch some movie, and Ann pinches his waist lightly to
grab his attention. Mario smiles at her and takes the opportunity to wrap his
arm around her as they continue to make their way. They huddle together in the
cold February air, clinging to eachother as they bask in their mutual
happiness.

"Oi!" They hear a voice behind them and they turn to find Thomas looking at
them. "Hands off my woman!" He orders from his place next to Marco, but the
tone in his voice suggests he's anything but serious, and both Mario and Ann
burst out laughing before they proceed to ignore him and turn their attention
back to the road.

"I can't believe you're actually going out with Thomas Müller," Mario comments,
looking down at Ann with a teasing smile.

"I can't believe you're actually going out with Marco Reus," she counters, her
perfect eyebrows raised.

"And I can't believe I'm going out with Montana Yorke," André says out of
nowhere, materializing out of thin air and wrapping his arms around both their
shoulders.

"Yeah, no one can believe that either," Ann shrugs and Mario's answering laugh
echoes in the twilight.


-----

Their concert weekend in Berlin ends up being even better than expected. Fabian
and Melanie, it turns out, are just there for show. They leave them mostly
unbothered and even let them room together - which Mario and Marco take full
advantage of.

They lie in bed for a long time after the concert, still high on the feeling of
dancing and jumping around and singing in tandem with twenty thousand people.
Marco's on his back, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, one of his hand
buried in Mario hair, combing through the brown locks and lulling Mario slowly
into slumber. The latter is lying on his front a little further down on the
bed, his head propped on Marco's stomach, drawing nameless shapes onto his
boyfriend's pale chest.

"So, I was thinking," Marco starts, clearing his throat and startling Mario out
of his trance. He sounds slightly nervous and Mario furrows his brow curiously
at him. Marco's fingers are still furiously combing through his hair, and Mario
presses a kiss to his stomach in a reassuring manner. "We don't have to if
you're not up for it, cause I know you're not really someone who particularly
enjoys school functions or big crowds, definitely not school functions that
have big crowds-"

"Marco," Mario interrupts his rambling, raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow at
him. "Get to the point."

"Doyouwantogotopromwithme?"

"What?" Mario asks, lifting himself higher on the bed, high enough that his
chin is now propped up on Marco's chest, their faces inches apart.

He takes in Marco's face, really takes him in for probably the first time ever,
and his breath catches in his throat. He can see every freckle on Marco's nose
even in the dim light, can count every one of his eyelashes if he wants to.
Marco looks back at him with the same intensity, his eyes searching, the corner
of his mouth lifting just a fraction. One of his dimples makes an appearance,
and Mario can't stop himself from reaching out to touch it delicately, one of
his fingers grazing Marco's lips, almost afraid he'll break under his hand.

"I was thinking we could go to Prom together." Marco's voice is barely a
whisper, his breath tickling Mario's fingers.

"I would say you're doing it to try to get into my pants, but..."

Mario looks pointedly at his pants thrown haphazardly on the floor and Marco
chuckles lightly under him, deep in his chest where Mario can feel it. He
scoots close enough for their lips to touch, pressing a murmured yes into his
skin before pulling back, the soreness in his lower back when he shifts a
little reminding him exactly why they can't get lost in the moment again. He
winces at the sudden discomfort, his eyes squeezing shut for a second before he
feels Marco's palm on his lower waist, long fingers soothing against the curve
of his ass as they rub gently in a shy attempt to take some of the pain away.
Mario presses another kiss into Marco's skin, reveling in the feeling of his
boyfriend under him, resting his head against his collarbone.

"I'm serious, though," Marco murmurs after a few moments, nudging Mario's
temple with his nose in an effort to get him to look at him. "If you're not
feeling this prom thing-"

"Ugh, Marco, one would think you know me well enough by now to know I don't
actually compromise unless it's something I want to do," Mario groans as he
looks up at him. "I'm kind of insulted, if we're being completely honest here."

"You're always insulted," Marco shrugs and Mario tries for his most offended
look.

"I resent that!"

"See?" Marco nudges his cheek this time. "Insulted."

"Whatever," Mario mumbles because clearly he's the king of comebacks. "I'm not
doing it for you anyway. I have to be there to see Mats wave at his peasants
when he's elected king. And besides, it will make Ann happy. She's been
planning our prom outfits since the day we met."

"Don't tell her you're going then. I can get so many favors out of her if she
thinks I'm still trying to get you to agree."

"I am not going to let you mooch off my best friend!" Mario tries for his most
scandalized tone which only causes Marco to laugh at him.

"Oh please, any idiot can see you've been doing for two years now," he counters
and Mario can't keep the smile off his face.

"Guilty," he admits, his grin only widening when Marco laughs louder. "Don't
make a big deal out of this," Mario says before he can stop himself, "but I
kinda love you."

Marco's eyes widen for a second, his laughter dying on his tongue, but his
features soften, the hand on Mario's ass wrapping itself around his waist to
pull him even closer, his other hand combing through his hair again.

Mario's not exactly sure why he thinks this is the right time to say it. Maybe
because this is the first time that he's felt so completely happy, so content,
so entirely whole. It might also have something to do with Marco looking at him
like he's the only thing that matters in the world, like the sun and the moon
and the sea and the universe pale in comparison to him.

"Yeah," Marco whispers after a while, scooting closer to claim Mario's lips
once more. "I kinda love you too."

-----
 
 
Prom is exactly how Mario always imagined it: Loud and obnoxious and
ridiculously over-the-top, with crappy music and terribly spiked punch to boot,
and when he finds himself in the middle of the overcrowded dance floor with
Mats' flashy crown on his head, jumping up and down with Thomas and Mats and
Andre as Marco and Ann dance circles around them, Mario knows he's never had so
much fun in his life.
Graduation, on the other hand, turns out to be so much more bittersweet than he
ever thought possible. In his overly active imagination, he'd always thought he
couldn't wait to get out of Dortmund, couldn't wait to finally leave school and
go and explore the world, but then Marco happened and everything went to shit.
The realization that he would be heading to Munich with Ann and Thomas less
than a month later while Marco stayed in Dortmund with Mats hits him with full
force smack in the middle of his Valedictorian speech, and his heartbeat
quickens as he struggles to breathe, stumbling on a few words. But then he
finds Marco in the crowd, his eyes bright and happy and so green in the
afternoon sun, and when he flashes him a smile, Mario feels his heart stop.
They'll be okay. He finishes his speech with flourish before accepting his
diploma, but he still cries a little when they drive André to the airport that
night to catch his flight to London.
Marco refuses to say goodbye to him when he drives him to the airport a few
weeks later. He hugs him for a really long time before they have to separate,
and Mario takes the opportunity to memorize everything about him in that
moment, his smell and the way his arms feel around his shoulder, the way his
light stubble tickles Mario's neck where he's buried his face, the way his
fingers grip at the back of his shirt. And when they pull apart to look at
eachother, how green and soft and loving his eyes look when he takes him in,
the way his blond locks fall into those eyes, and most importantly, the way his
mouth quirks at one end when he flashes him that crooked grin that drives Mario
up the walls before he whispers "See you later, Sunny."
 
 
-----
 
"Oh my Goood!" Melanie's barely opened the door before she's screaming and on
Mario, her arms tight around his neck as she crushes him into a hug.
"I missed you too, Mel," Mario chuckles as he returns the hug just as eagerly,
surprising even himself by how much he's actually missed Marco's loud sister.
"I thought you weren't coming til next week!" She pulls back suddenly, her
voice still too loud for Mario's poor fragile ears, but it's Melanie, so he's
not really expecting anything less.
"The official story is I'm not. I wanted to surprise Marco."
"He is going to flip," Melanie laughs giddily, rubbing her hands together
conspiratorially as she moves aside to let Mario in.
Mario stops for a second in the doorway, about to take off his coat and leave
it on the hanger before he remembers that Marco might see it. He keeps it on
instead and takes a peek around the hallway. "He's not home, right?" He asks
just to be sure.
"No, but he should be back soon with Ivy and Nico."
"Good. I was thinking I would wait for him in his room," Mario explains, his
cheeks flushing lightly.
Truth be told, he doesn't really want his first moments back with boyfriend to
be in front of everyone. It's bad enough that he has to surprise him at home
and not at the apartment Marco shares with Mats since he's already home for the
holidays, he really doesn't want Marco's parents to see just how completely
gone Mario is for their son, and he's missed him so much he doesn't know if
he'll be able to stop himself from doing something stupid like jumping his
bones the minute he lays eyes on him.
"I see how it is," Melanie laughs before she winks at him and Mario remembers
this is the same girl who posed as their chaperone in Berlin when all she did
was allow them as much privacy as they could afford. If anyone understands,
it's definitely her. "He's going to love his surprise."
"Let me just say hi to your parents first."
Melanie puts her arm around him as she leads him to the kitchen where Marco's
parents are. His mom cries a little when she sees him, pulling him into a bone-
crushing hug and Mario can't help but smile and return the hug with just as
much affection. Even Marco's dad who's never particularly shown enthusiasm
around him seems to be ecstatic to see him, and he wraps his arms around him in
a brief welcoming hug before Mario excuses himself to hide in Marco's old room.
His heart squeezes in his chest when he steps into the room, the place where it
all started. He takes it all in, the beige walls and wool carpet, the stack of
sports magazines on the desk, the corkboard with all the pictures - now mostly
pictures of them - and he's surprised when it feels a little like coming home.
He pulls his jacket and scarf off, adds them to the pile of clothes on the desk
chair, toes off his boots next to Marco's old cleats and makes his way over to
the bed. He lies on the familiar bed that smells so much like Marco, his arms
behind his head as he stares at the ceiling, thoughts full of Marco and
tutoring sessions and stolen kisses on this bed.
He doesn't know how long he's been lying here before he hears the bedroom door
open and close. He turns his head to look at the intruder and his breath
catches in his throat when he finally sees Marco, pretty much like it always
does around his boyfriend. The blond is typing furiously on his phone, too lost
in his text to notice him. It's not until Mario's own phone pings in his pocket
that Marco looks up with a dazed look on his face, and it takes him a few
seconds to react to Mario's figure on his bed.
"Wha-" Marco startles, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, frozen to the spot as
Mario sits up on his bed with a growing smile. "Whe-" He tries again. "When
did- How-" He's fumbling for words and Mario loves him.
Before his boyfriend can try - and fail - to get another word in, Mario's on
his feet and in front of him, his shaking arms wrapping themselves around Marco
as he buries his face in his neck. It takes Marco a second more to register
what's happening, that Mario's here and real and in his room and around him,
and it's all it requires for him to loop his arms around his waist in a grip so
tight Mario can hardly breathe, but he doesn't care about breathing right now,
not when he can finally feel Marco against him, feel his heartbeat against his,
his breath on his neck and his skin under his fingers.
"How are you here?" Marco finally manages to find his words, but he only
tightens his hold on Mario, his breath tickling Mario's neck where his lips are
pressing the words into his skin.
"I wanted to surprise you." Mario is pretty sure his heart might burst out of
his chest.
"You have no idea how much I missed you," Marco murmurs in his ear before
pulling slightly away, enough to look at Mario, his eyes shining and his lips
quirking into a smile.
"I'm pretty sure I do," Mario argues before he kisses Marco like he's been
wanting to since he last saw him at that airport in Dortmund.
They're so lost in eachother they don't realize how long they stay like that in
the middle of the room, too caught up in their reunion, and they only break
apart when they hear a loud bang at the door. They've barely managed to detach
their lips when the door bursts open and in comes running a tiny head of blond
hair.
"MARIO! MARIO! MARIO!"
Mario bursts into laughter when Nico jumps on him knocking him backwards and
making him lose his footing, and thank fuck for Marco's bed because he'd be on
his way to the hospital right now otherwise. Nico doesn't let any of that deter
him however, scrambling up the bed and hugging Mario's middle with his tiny
arms, yelling about pretzels and football and chubby cheeks.
"I missed you too, buddy," Mario manages through his laughter, hugging the
small boy as he struggles to get up. He looks up at Marco when he finally does,
Nico's arms not letting go of his legs. "Are you absolutely sure he's not
yours?"
Marco's booming laughter can be heard all the way downstairs.
 
 
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