you're not really going, are you?
and despite the somber sound tied around the words exchanged between the lifelong friends, one would spot a relief in the smile given to andrew by his former mentor, the one who sat through heavy nights and heavier mornings, and who now found himself in a situation he hadn't quite come to picture.
letting go of someone he had cared for.
a parent, mattie had already come to experience many firsts. the first walk. the first words. the first standing human ; a world of firsts, all unique to his born children. then there was this, the first move, an experience he hadn't pictured he'd deal with until his own children would grow up and spread their wings in search for something bigger than sweden's own plains and stockholm's concrete roads. andrew jansson had always been an exception for him, as a friend as well as a teammate, and this was no different. a tear formed within his gut, the older urging to say ; are you sure you're old enough ? as if he had any right to lecture his twenty-seven year old colleague, let alone his current captain, the one who was meant to lead them on into the finals.
it won't be the same, mattie laughed, back leaning into the old couch. by now, it had already served its purpose, stained and torn. who am i going to lecture now?
everyone but me, i've had my share already!
from the edge of his teens to well into his twenties. to find himself face to face with mattie despite all this time felt strange, almost nostalgic, eespecially now that he knew he was staring down the abyss of a new era, a new country and a set of new chances. there was no need to explain, no need to elaborate. mattie understood. mattie always understood, and such quality had been the rescue his former self had needed, the unruly teenager with such anger in his heart. that broken soul of the past needed someone like mattie, someone who'd take the time to listen, who'd allow him to breathe and then deal with it all.
don't. quick to turn the conversation around, mattie knew what was coming and he didn't want to hear it. he knew. he didn't need to be reminded of it. this isn't a good-bye, i know that and you know that. this is a so long and 'when should i take you to the airport'. we're still going to call each other, we're still going to come visit you, and i'm certainly grabbing the chance of sending my kids on an all-paid vacation with you so i get a chance to breathe.
he had known the first night he had offered his couch to this homeless kid, a lanky thing who had barely had the guts to meet with the eyes of him upon entering the home he shared with himself at that time. he had known when he had stumbled in on the same teen, hunched over a sink in the middle of the night, terrified and crying with blood in his hands; he still questioned that night, but he chose to leave it. there were secrets they shared, and there were things they kept to themselves. their business would, at the end of the day, remain theirs to deal with it, and that was more than enough for mattie. if it ever came a day where andrew would choose to let him in on the details of his illness, or whatever it was, he would be there. just like he had been there all those other times, and he'd take it all and turn it to the best outcome.
wasn't that what fathers did?
you're gonna do so fucking well, i'm almost envious, mattie added, arms shifting behind his head. you've earned it though, and i know marcus is going to be overjoyed to pick you up at the airport.
arms on his knees, andrew shrugged. it still feels undeserved. there are guys out there who are better than me, i just happen to...
be the center of attention?
again they shared a laughter, the two soon gazing out the window of mattie's house. outside his kids were playing alongside his wife, throwing water balloons and running around in wet grass; the yard was the same, the couch was the same, the faces were the same.
only this time it was not welcome home, it was see you soon.
you're gonna go far, kid.
