My take on the dynamic between Davi and Enrico (and consequently Mikel) PT. 1 2 3 4
After a few days of silent treatment, during which Enrico is left to wallow in remorse, Davi is finally able to forgive him. Even though his latest behavior remains unacceptable, the Italian had never really shown himself to be that kind of person up until then. Since Davi understands the reasons behind why Enrico pretended to be like that, he is able to put those awful months behind him and move on.
They finally get together. Officially. WellâĻ not exactly officially. After all, no one knows theyâre together except the two of them.
They talk about it, and since they are already in the mood to be vulnerable, Davi makes it clear that he wants to keep it a secret, at least from most. Their relationship is important, but heâs given everything to this career and has no intention of letting it all go up in smoke just yet.
Luckily, Enrico has no issues with this decision and instantly eases the mood by making Davi laugh. He assures the Spaniard that no one is entitled to know anything anyway, and that he has the utmost respect for Davi because as far as Enrico is concerned and remembers from his years as a midfielder for Hellas Verona, the average football fan is a compulsively heterosexual closeted man at war with himself, who identifies too strongly with the players to accept that outside of the pitch they might not be misogynistic troglodytes like them, paired with poor trophy-wives whom they repeatedly cheat on while begging them on their knees to churn out onehundred children they couldnât care less about, aside from posting their photos on social media of ostentatious first-birthday parties and cakes of biblical proportions that babies cannot even eat, let alone enjoy.
Setting aside hyper-specific football player tropes, now that Enrico can finally allow himself to be fully committed to the relationship, his nonchalant attitude has improved. Not that he was a particularly bad partner before or anything, quite the opposite actually, but now his behavior feels a lot likeâĻ wellâĻ that of a husband, and Davi is enjoying it much more than heâd care to admit.
Of course, the Italian is still something of a free spirit. Sometimes he disappears for days on end, then comes back in the middle of the night and leaves the next morning again, but at least now Davi knows that everything between them is out in the open and that he has no reason to worry anymore.
Along the way, Davi rekindles his friendship with Mikel, too, who seems oddly enthusiastic to hear from him. Following their breakup, Davi has surely given the Galician a jolt to the heart time and time again with his âI might kill myself at any momentâ attitude. So that could be why.
Maybe Mikel feels guilty. Davi hopes not. He has been far too good to him, given all the baggage of problems Davi was carrying around with him back then.
Speaking of Mikel, Davi has noticed something else. While Enrico didnât seem to care about the Galician at all before, now, every time Mikel organizes a get-together with Igor, Pedro, and occasionally Joan, Davi is quite positive that Enrico is jealous, even though the Italian does everything in his power not to show it.
And if he just has to be delusional, at times Davi feels like even Mikel isn't exactly indifferent towards the Italian now that he knows about them. As a matter of fact, aside from Raffaele, the Galician has been the only person Davi felt safe enough to reveal his new romantic situation to, and Mikel, ever the kind soul, appreciated him for confiding in him and even assured him that he would be there to support him no matter what. Their hug had lingered a little too long for being an ex, but what are the chances that Mikel might still be into him? None.
Maybe Mikel just isn't a fan of Enrico because he looks too goth for the Galician's liking. Who knows. Or maybe it's because Enrico is tall and for a change skinny jeans actually look great on him. Or maybe that's just Davi's own projection.
Whatever.
The usual tabloids seem to have resigned themselves to the fact that theyâre dealing with a total bore whom no one wants to date. But thatâs just fine with Davi, if heâs being honest. The more private his personal life stays, the better. Heâs only in his thirties, and thereâs plenty of time left in his life to come out. At some point in the distant future. Preferably, when he's not a professional footballer anymore.
Enrico is right about the football world. A football player of his caliber would never be allowed to be anything but straight if he wants to keep his career.
Especially because heâd like to keep playing until heâs forty, if he can, and then retire from professional football and maybe become a club coach or something like that. With a little nostalgia, he thinks back to his time with the young players in Vigo and all the wonderful experiences he had during his one-year contract there with them. Itâs been about seven years now, but to him it still feels like yesterday.
He watches his plans go up in smoke when, during the first match with his beloved Real Madrid, after triumphing at the European Championship with the Spanish national team, Davi tears his anterior cruciate ligament for the first time in his career. And heâs sidelined again. At least for 12 months this timeâĻ wellâĻ maybe even longer, judging by the way his coach is tearing his hair out.
Hair... he doesn't actually have since he's bald.
"I really hope you plan to retire soon, Davi," is the first thing the club doctor says upon entering the facility's infirmary. "Especially if you'd like to still be able to kneel in the near future."
Davi just groans in response. This doesn't seem to faze either the doctor nor his mother, who instead gives him a reproachful slap on the back of the head.
"Given your medical history, I would give youâĻ Four or five years at most before your knee gives out completely, but thatâs only because youâre insanely stubborn. If it were anyone else with a worse prognosis, Iâd be optimistic if I gave them two to three more seasons."
His mother looks as if she might smother him with the medical examination table's pillow at any moment. Davi has always pushed himself too far. For the sake of victory, he has always gone to any lengths to avoid the bitter taste of defeat, even if it meant sacrificing his own well-being. And now he bitterly regrets it as he despondently listens to the club doctor tell his mother that if things continue this way, he won't have a knee anymore, but a pile of shattered bones, muscles, and nerves held together with tape.
ÂĄVenga ya! Aside from a few minor, insignificant injuries likeâĻ like a dislocated kneecap at fifteen and again at seventeen, damage to the meniscus, and, of course, microfractures from stress, his knee is in great shape. NoâĻ? ACL tear aside, of course.
"Wonderful. You hear that?" His mother is making a show of her extensive knowledge of all the Roman Catholic saints in their country. "Oh well, never mind! You'll bounce back just like you always have, sweetheart. I'm sure of it."
"And if you don't, you can always retire!"
Davi observes, mildly amused as his mother shoots a grim glare at the club doctor, who ducks discreetly behind the papers he is filling out.
"Anyway. The reconstruction surgery is scheduled in three weeks from now to allow swelling to subside, range of motion to return to normal, and to prevent arthrofibrosis. The first one to two weeks following the surgery are going to be brutal; support for basic daily tasks, pain management, and mobility is crucial and required. The good news is that after around eight to ten days post-operation, you should start to become more independent, but you will still need help with meals, errands, and changing dressings. No driving and absolutely no heavy-lifting, are we clear?"
Mother and son can only nod.
Since Davi's parents know nothing about him and Enrico, Davi obviously has no explanation as to why some random friend of his that they have never even met before is in his apartment taking care of him like a devoted boyfriend, so, before and right after the surgery, he stays at his parents' house.
Considering that Enrico is currently in New York for the launch of his and Raffaeleâs brand, and was originally supposed to stay there for a while, this arrangement works for both of them, although Enrico tries to be there as much as he can. But flying back and forth from New York is a real hassle, and Davi doesn't want to be such a burden, so he downplays his symptoms, earning more than a few skeptical looks from the Italian via video call.
Plus, spending time with his parents stirs up in him that ever-present longing to open up about his sexuality, all the more so because, with all the attention heâs been getting from his boyfriend lately, a certain thought that brings a sheepish, love-struck smile to his flushed face has been on his mind a lot. A lifelong dream, shattered by the discovery of his homosexuality, and now reborn from his forced premature retirement from professional soccer.
As he gazes dreamily at the ring finger of his right hand, Davi feels butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He hasnât even thought about how to propose, and before going for it, heâd like to learn more about Sinti traditional customs, though he doesnât really know who to ask or where to start.
To be fair, he knows exactly where he should start.
Davi lets out a sigh as he steals a discreet glance at his parents, who are standing side by side in the kitchen while his father cooks dinner, teasing each other and laughing like little kids.
It would be about time to at least come out to his loved ones, but his knee really hurts, and he canât afford to have his family turn against him right now.
It can wait, and in the meantime, Davi can still allow himself to daydream about embarrassing things.
Three weeks into his recovery, Davi is once again free to stay at his own place, on the condition that he spends the weekends at his parents' house. As an avid lover of independence and the peace of mind that comes only from being alone with himself, Davi is beyond happy. Heâs also thrilled because this means he can finally see Enrico without his parents finding out. Although by now, the idea of coming out to them has taken root in the back of his mind.
So much so that after spending an entire week giving himself a nervous breakdown after another in front of the mirror while searching for the right words, he finally decides to go for it this weekend. Itâs do or die.
His mom's light eyes are boring into his own, and he feels the earth beneath his feet give way.
"SoâĻ there is something I need to tell you, uhmâĻ both." His eyes meet his father's, and for an instant, he ponders whether it might have been better to talk to his mother about it first, just the two of them. "Something important."
"Yes. What is it, sweetheart?" His mother nods, sounding a bit impatient. "You know you can tell us anything, quit mulling it over in your head and spit it out, yeah?"
Throat tight and heart pounding, Davi decides it's now or never.
"I'm so, so sorry. I hope you won't hate me for this, butâĻ It's something I've kept hidden ever since my first international tournament, when I was only fourteen, and now that I'm in my late twenties, wellâĻ I don't think I can take it anymore." Davi's voice cracks as he fiddles with his wristwatch. "You are my parents, you will always be. I love you with all my heart, and the last thing in the world I want to do is disappoint you orâĻ or embarrass you with my life choices, butâĻ but at the end of the day, itâs my life, and I know that if I kept lying to everyone, but especially to myself, Iâd never be happy."
Out of the corner of his eye, Davi sees his mother open her mouth as if to say something. Conscious that if he were to let her interrupt him at that very moment, he might chicken out and not be able to say what he needs to, he quickly continues.
"I tried to pretend nothing was wrong with my current situation, to see if maybe it wasnât just in my head, if I wasnât just convincing myself to prefer something different fromâĻ well, what Iâm supposed to, I guessâĻ but now Iâm really sure. Now that I have the concrete opportunity to choose who I want to build a future with, I canât ignore how I feel about it. And besidesâĻ with my knee problems, I might have to retire from professional football sooner than expected anyway, so it seems to me that this is the right time."
Instinctively, Davi averts his eyes, squinting to avoid their gaze, unaware of the look of revulsion gradually distorting his parents' features. "SoâĻ" he clears his dry throat and tries to be as discreet as possible as he wipes his clammy, trembling hands on his pants. "Mom, DadâĻ I'm gay."
One could hear a pin drop all the way from New Zealand, so much is the silence that follows his confession. He doesn't dare open his eyes, doesn't dare breathe. His legs are shaking, and the longer the silence drags on, the more nauseous he feels.
"Oh, praised be the heavens!"
Davi cracks open a light eye only to see his mother crossing herself with a shaky grin.
She seemsâĻ relieved?
"Oh my gosh, Davi, you gave me such a scare!" Before Daviâs mind can even begin to process his confusion at his motherâs reaction, she leaps up from her chair, athletic as ever even in her sixties, and pulls him into a tight bear hug. âCome here, oh, my brilliant, precious baby! For a moment there, I thought you were about to tell me you'd accepted Arsenal's transfer proposal."
Arsenal'sâĻ transferâĻ what?
Crushed in the boa constrictor-like grip that is his mother's hug, Davi's jaw practically hits the floor. To be honest, he wasnât quite sure what kind of reaction heâd even expected. Of course, in the pep talks heâd given himself in front of the mirror over the past few weeks, heâd tried to mentally prepare himself for the worst-case scenario, while hoping for the best. But thisâĻ this was something he never would have expected. He couldnât even have imagined it.
"Jesus, I almost died." His father's booming laughter shakes him to his core, kicking his brain into high gear. "First, you chose Real Madrid over my beloved Barça, now this. Oh, but thank God, you are just gay and not an Arsenal fan!" The older Spanish man slams down a firm hand on his son's back. "Life is still good!"
"SoâĻ" his mother teases him with a light nudge and a smile that brings out the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. "Is there someone you would like us to meet, Davi? Or maybe it's someone we know already, mhm?"
"It's Querardo, isn't it?" Davi turns a number of shades of red at his father's comment. "I've always thought there was something more going on between the two of you, seeing how close you wereâĻ but I'm by no means complaining! He's a good man."
"And a decent football player, too," his mother adds, placing both hands on her eldest child's shoulders.
"Iâwhat? No, Jesus, no! It's not Querardo, what?" Not feeling very thrilled about the direction the conversation is taking, Davi figures it's best to set the record straight. "WellâĻ he's not someone you already met, but you might have seen him on a fashion magazâ"
"So there is a he!" Davi's mother's face lights up, and she interrupts him without missing a beat. "Does your sister know? I'm betting she knew way before us!"
"Is he still Spanish, then?" Davi's father tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes at Davi, before clasping his hands together and muttering under his breath, "Please God, don't let him be French, please."
Casting a doubtful glance in the older man's direction, Davi reassures him, "He's Italian, actually, butâĻ uhm, before him I used toâ"
"Oh, Italian? They have always been excellent footballers, even though their profile has declined in recent years. Failing to qualify three times in a row certainly doesn't leave a good impression."
As always, his mother manages to bring up football in any conversation, no matter the context. Itâs almost a talent. His father, on the other hand, pulls a face of annoyance, folding his arms across his chest.
"Italian men are fine, I guess. I will never forgive that damn beach lifeguard who stole my very first girlfriend from me while we were on vacation in Jesolo, though. He and his stupid, beautiful singing voice."
All of this feels surreal to Davi, who is still frozen in place in shock, trying to keep up with his racing brain. His parents, who, religious as they are, until a few minutes ago might as well have been the most homophobic people on the face of the earth, merrily speculating about his boyfriend. Not mad, not disgusted. Nothing. Just relieved that he doesn't want to play for a different club.
Meanwhile, his father has never stopped rambling on about his bad experiences with Italy and Italian men. "âĻEh! But at least she got what she was looking for; everybody knows that Italian men are prone to cheating! They charm you, sweet-talk you into thinking that you are the only bella in their life, but there are at least thirty other bellas in their life, and they still have the audacity to be extremely jealous! And that stupid falsettoâ"
"Oh, stop it, now! Will you?" Davi's mother delivers a light slap to his arm, rebukingly. "You don't know all Italian men in this world, and it was mainly your ex-girlfriend's choice to leave you so easily for another man, not the beach lifeguard'sâĻ although he could have steered clear of flirting with a woman who was clearly in a relationship."
"Mhmm, I don't knowâĻ Italian men, as far as I'm concerned, make for good flings but not for good husbands."
Wait. Who even mentioned marriage? Was it him? Did it just slip out without him realizing it?
"Oh, and watch out for his mother. Theyâre all completely obsessed with their mothers. As a matter of fact, if his darling mother disapproves of you, it's over, son. Nothing can come between those mama's boys and their mothers, not even God!"
"Ignore your dad. When are you going to properly introduce him to us, Davi?"
"Uh." First introductions. Right. "SoonâĻ? I'll ask him when he's back from New York this week."
In all honesty, Davi is actually terrified at the prospect of meeting Enricoâs mother. What his father claims, at least in this case, is the absolute truth. Enrico is dangerously devoted to his mother.
If Davi isn't mistaken, during one of their first meetups when the Italian was still doing his student exchange in Andalusia, Querardo had teased him precisely because Enrico had coldly broken up with a girl he was seeing only because his mother didnât like her at all. Really not reassuring.
God, he can only hope that won't be his fate.
Maybe he could bake her something Italian. But then Davi recalls the look on Enricoâs face when, one evening, delighted at the prospect of treating him to a nice surprise, he had proudly presented him with his Spanish take on Italian lasagne.
"OhâĻ you shouldnât have," had been Enricoâs first, tactful reaction to the dish in front of him, after he had discreetly dissected his portion with a fork. Then, when Davi had bashfully reassured him that it hadnât been a big deal, Enrico had produced a pained smile and, with the aplomb that only an Italian, mortally offended by the desecration of a national dish abroad, could have, he had replied again, âNo. Seriously, Davi. You shouldnât have.â
EhâĻ maybe not a good idea.
Well, perhaps he could try to bribe her with money. Or maybe he could pretend to be ill on that particular day until Enrico and his mother both give up on him ever meeting her. SÃ, a brilliant plan.
On a more positive note, at least he no longer has to hide his relationship from his family anymore. Needless to say, as soon as he gets the chance, he shares the news with Enrico and lets him know that his parents would like to meet him properly. The Italian assures him that as soon as he sorts things out in New York and can run the business remotely, heâll be more than glad to meet them. And that heâs proud of him for coming out to them. He knows how hard it must have been for him and is relieved things worked out okay.
Davi tells Mikel too, on the phone, and the other Spaniard's shower of sweet words, congratulations, and praise for having managed to open up to his family brings a familiar blush to Daviâs cheeks. Mikel still has that effect on him, after all. Davi can count himself extremely lucky that he and Mikel managed to salvage at least their friendship. Even if itâs mostly long-distance, itâs still better than nothing.
In one of their phone calls, Mikel, aware of the injury, insists on offering to visit Davi, as the school where he works is closed for the summer break.
WhichâĻ is unusual to say the least.
Ever since he's known him, one of Mikel's most distinctive traits has always been his fondness for firm boundaries when it comes to protecting his alone time. No matter how sociable he turns out to be once he's overcome his initial reserve and caution, the Galician has never really been the sort of person to suggest doing something like that spontaneously. He's a bit like a cat.
In any case, Davi isnât at all bothered by this radical change in his friendâs behaviour and is actually delighted with the chance to enjoy the company of someone other than his parents or his much-loved little sister, even if only for an afternoon. However, under the pretext of wanting to assist him for a little while, so that Davi doesnât have to rely too much on his busy parents, Mikel ends up staying over for a few days.
Needless to say, Davi brings this up with Enrico right away, but the latter doesn't seem particularly bothered by it, much to Raffaele's bafflement, who can't fathom how his compatriot could not be the least bit alarmed at the prospect of his boyfriend and the latter's ex being alone together for endless days in the apartment.
Enrico just looks at Raffaele like he is from another planet, then replies that, as an adult of sound mind and will, he assumes that if Davi is in a relationship with him, itâs because he wants to be. Which also means that, even if Mikel were to take advantage of the situation to make a move, Enrico couldnât honestly care less, since he doesnât perceive him as a threat to their relationship. And in any case, should Davi ever decide to cheat on him, Enrico assures Raffaele that his respect for him would automatically vanish, and he wouldnât be interested in the Spaniard anymore.
So, to sum it up, who gives a flying fuck? Heâs got other things on his mind, honestly.
Truth be told, Enrico has a hunch about what lies behind all of Mikelâs insistence and enthusiasm about wanting to stay in touch with Davi, and he also knows full well that Daviâs crush on the Galician has never completely faded, but then again, what difference does it make?
He certainly canât stop the two of them from being friends, nor can he ignore the fact that Davi is his own man and free to do as he pleases. If tomorrow he were to ditch him to go live in Vigo with Mikel and cook him cocido madrileÃąo for the rest of his life, the only thing Enrico can do is come to terms with it.
Meanwhile, in Madrid, old feelings begin to resurface. As his stay is coming to an end, Mikel confesses to Davi that he hasn't gotten over him yet and that it pains him to behave in such an unseemly manner, given that Davi is already committed to someone else, but that he couldn't bear for it to remain unsaid.
Caught up in a bit of a panic, Davi doesn't know what to say, but luckily for him, Mikel knows him fairly well and reassures him that he doesn't have to rush into anything and that he can take his time to think things through if he needs to.
In the morning, right after saying an awkward goodbye to Mikel, Davi calls Enrico, forgetting that, due to the time difference, itâs the middle of the night in New York. After a few rings with no answer, Enrico, bless him, picks up.
Still half-asleep, the Italian is met with a barrage of ramblings in Spanish, butchered Italian, and English. A stream of apologies, pleas for forgiveness, and information that Enrico swears he could have done without.
Davi has absolutely no idea what to do. On the one hand, at fourteen, Mikel had been his very first crush, and their relationship had ended up being so short-lived that it left him yearning for what might have been had he not been so afraid to come out to his family.
On the other hand, though, he really loves Enrico now. So much so that he'd be happy to marry him, if the Italian were up for it as well.
Oh, and naturally, only if Enrico's mother were up for it, too.
Definitely wide awake and devastated, yet a champion at keeping it together, Enrico promises him that whatever he ends up choosing will be cool with him and that he shouldnât feel guilty about anything, because itâs his life. He has every right to change his mind and live it with whoever he wants. That heâll be just fine as long as Davi does him the favor of not cheating on him behind his back, but instead informs him of his decision like he just did.
Whether once the call is over, Enrico has to press his palms against his teary eyes and lie to Raffaele about the reason why, Davi will never know, and thatâs just the way it should be.
