Chapter Text
[15 December 2024, Lisbon, Portugal] - Kind of takes place over a series of flashbacks
It was Ruben’s first official Manchester derby and he had won.
Viktor really wanted to be excited for Ruben, he really did, but he was lightheaded with how incredibly angry he was.
He was watching Ruben’s post match interview, admiring how beautiful his boyfriend was (Cause Ruben was his boyfriend, right? Even though Ruben had barely called him in the month that he had been away so far and didn’t attend Sweden’s games during the international break and didn’t FaceTime him because “he was busy” and stopped sending flowers and —)
Point is, Ruben had been just a tad bit distant, but he still made sure to check up on Viktor and tell him that he loved him. That meant something, right?
Right?
It would’ve meant something if it hadn’t been shoved down his throat that Ruben was developing feelings for his new captain, Bruno.
It started with the interviews. He noticed how Ruben’s eyes would light up when the name “Fernandes” was brought up by the interviewers.
"So Ruben, you’ve only been here for three weeks. How are you finding getting along with the captain, Bruno?”, one of the journalists asked him.
“Ah Bruno, I love him.” Freudian slip. “Like a son, of course. Like a son. He’s the best player I’ve ever worked with. Very easy to interact with. He plays well, you, you, tell him to work and he works. Simply the best.” Ruben said with a cheesy smile and a glint in his eyes that Viktor easily caught onto.
The best?
The best?
THE BEST?!
When that interview first got released to the public, Viktor didn’t know whether to shrug it off, cry, or call Ruben and demand answers for why he had said that. He swallowed his anger and tried to reason with himself that Ruben was obviously buttering up Bruno for the media. But he still couldn’t shake off the fact that he somehow knew Ruben was falling in love with Bruno.
He tried to mention Bruno in one of the very few conversations that he had with Ruben every now and then. This was before he got the premonition that they were seeing each other. Now Bruno’s name held the weight that Voldemort’s name did in Harry Potter.
[25 November 2024]
“And how are things going with Bruno? Any luck with your new captain?”
Ruben stuttered for a bit. “Yes, yes. Bruno is fine. Lovely guy.”
“Why are you suddenly stuttering? Is something wrong?” Viktor was oblivious at the time.
“Ugh, stress you know? We just lost to Newcastle. I’m not very happy.”
Viktor sighed, plopping onto his couch. “I wish I could be there for you. I miss you so much. You don’t even know.” Finally admitting how much he hated the distance between him and Ruben brought tears to his eyes.
“Not a day goes by where I don’t think of you. I mean it, you’re the —” Ruben’s cut off by the sound of a man speaking in Portuguese in the background and a door swinging open. Viktor wasn’t entirely fluent yet, but he could make out the words “shower” and “hot”. Ruben muttered something back before directing his attention towards the call.
“Sorry, it’s my cousin. He’s just staying over for a bit.’’
Looking back at the sound and tone of voice, it was most likely Bruno.
Viktor nodded even though Ruben couldn’t see him. “I see. Greet him for me.”
Ruben grunted in approval before clearing his throat, “I need to go Viktor. I’ll talk to you later”
“Alright Ruben. Take care. Amo você.”
“Ah.. amo você.” Before Viktor could even say anything else, Ruben cut the call.
[3rd December 2024]
Viktor had heard rumours that there was some kind of “initiation” Bruno did where he’d sleep with new players and coaches when they came to Manchester United. Even with some of the players who had just been called up to the Portuguese national team. Allegedly, Ronaldo wasn’t a fan of the practice, but as long as it didn’t involve him he was fine with whatever “degeneracy” Bruno got up to in his spare time.
He had asked Victor Lindelof for some insight, since they both played for Sweden and Victor knew Bruno personally. After swallowing his pride and shame and pacing in his room for minutes on end, Viktor finally mustered the courage to ask Viktor if he knew anything about the “initiation”. After about 30 minutes, Viktor sent him a text back. It was a forwarded message; Victor had obviously got this from someone else. He obviously wouldn’t know anyways. Lindelof had been at the club before Bruno, and to be quite frank, Lindelof was one of the straightest men to ever walk the planet.
“Suite 66 of the Marriott in Manchester. You walk in and find Bruno sitting there, naked and ready for you. Condoms and lube in a basket. Some sort of flowery but spicy smelling candle lit somewhere in the room. Like potpourri. It’s either very rushed or very slow and you may leave feeling ashamed or embarrassed. When you sleep with a man usually, he doesn’t demand. He just opens his legs and waits for you to finish and compliments you and tells you it’s the best night of his life. Not Bruno. Bruno demands. He critiques. Makes you feel less of a man when you don’t live up to his expectations. Kind of makes you realise how dirty the whole act of sleeping with another man is at the end of the day.”
Viktor’s nose scrunched up at the last sentence. Obviously there was nothing wrong with the act of sleeping with a man, but homophobia and biphobia were rampant amongst footballers who were closeted.
What made him feel even worse was now knowing that Ruben had fucked Bruno.
Ruben had cheated.
Viktor was about to send a thank you message when he saw Victor typing, deleting and typing again for about a minute or so. Finally a message came through.
“Apparently things got really… interesting with Ruben and Bruno 😏 Ruben loved the first time so much that they started seeing each other regularly.
Ruining team chemistry though. You can’t walk around anywhere without seeing them making out or being handsy. Even giving each other handjobs on the bus when we travel.
Not homophobic, but keep that at home.”
Viktor felt like all the air had been sucked out of him. He needed to vomit. Or cry. Or pass out. Or do all three at the same time.
Why would Lindelof tell him this? In Lindelof’s defence, he didn’t know that Ruben and Bruno were in an intimate relationship and probably thought they just had a good player-coach relationship.
Viktor shook his head and began to type with shaky fingers.
Does he mention me?
You? Rarely. Maybe when trying to pump Rasmus up for a game but outside of that? No.
Rarely. Okay.
When he does, what does he say about me?
You are a good and hardworking player. He really liked you.
Liked.
Liked.
Liked.
Liked, not loved. Liked.
Liked, like a background player or somebody who didn’t contribute to the team's success.
Not loved, liked.
He was past the point of fighting tears. He sent Victor a quick “cheers bro” and sobbed into the cushion of his couch.
[Present Day]
The anger from that conversation with Lindelof and the image of Ruben and Bruno staring into each other’s eyes after Bruno’s equaliser was making a heavy brew of jealousy, hatred and anger that Viktor couldn’t shake off. He’d never felt this strongly about Ruben, because Ruben had never given him a reason to worry like this.
He really didn’t know what to do. He was paralysed with how helpless he was in this situation. So close yet so far. He couldn’t see Ruben to check if he wasn’t seeing Bruno anymore. He could send someone to spy on Ruben, but what’s the guarantee that that person does their job well or doesn’t get caught and paid off by Ruben to lie about his whereabouts when reporting back to Viktor?
He was so painfully useless.
He knew sucking up his feelings and letting them boil would make him lash out and get angrier on the pitch. An angry player equals more fouls and more yellow and red cards to his records. He also knew addressing Ruben was not going to fix things. But he had to say something. He couldn’t look spineless in… whatever this was.
He picked up his phone and dialled Ruben’s number.
No answer. As expected.
He dialled again. And again. And again. And again.
He wasn’t running away from confrontation anymore, and he was done being tossed around.