#hoemmels

who hogs the duvet: Mats. listen, he’s the little shit who’d even do it on purpose, and we all know it! (he loves Benni, we know he does)

who texts/rings to check how their day is going: both of them. they’re in a long distance relationship, and this is the way they show that they care for each other – also Mats does it more, cause we know that man is basically glued to his phone

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts: probably Mats, I feel like this is something he’d be good at!

who gets up first in the morning: definitely Benni

who suggests new things in bed: Mats, but Benni has done so before and will again

who cries at movies: Mats (he will deny it on his deathbed, tho)

who gives unprompted massages: Benni, he can tell when Mats needs one, even when Mats is too proud to admit that his neck is sore

who fusses over the other when they’re sick: both, because Benni’s a mother hen and Mats is very very fussy when it comes to Benni

who gets jealous easiest: neither. Benni would have more of a reason too cause Mats is a flirt even when he doesn’t try, but he trusts him

who has the most embarrassing taste in music: Mats. Benni is definitely the cooler out of the two

who collects something unusual: Mats and his eccentric self (tho maybe Benni does collect cool hats or something?)

who takes the longest to get ready: MATS

who is the most tidy and organised: Benni, I mean c’mon, Mats’ the most chaotic person ever

who gets most excited about the holidays: Mats!

who is the big spoon/little spoon: Mats is the big spoon, Benni’s the little spoon, but they do switch sometimes

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports: Mats is a terribly sore loser, so him

who starts the most arguments: they both do so equally; also, they don’t argue often but if they do it’s quite the big blowout, usually

who suggests that they buy a pet: I …. honestly don’t know

what couple traditions they have: long calls until they both fall asleep on different ends, going for coffee together, going somewhere nice to see the sunrise/sunset, cooking together

what tv shows they watch together: pass, I hardly watch TV myself

what other couple they hang out with: Manu and Thomas and whatever baby ship they end up adopting (cause again, Benni is a mother hen and all the younglings come to him for dating advice)

how they spend time together as a couple: talking on the phone and texting when they’re away from each other, making up for time lost when they are reunited in their breaks, hardly leaving the house or the bed

who made the first move: probably Benni

who brings flowers home: Mats – let’s face it, he’s a hopeless romantic

who is the best cook: they’re both really good, but Mats does make an art form out of it

INSTAGRAM: Felix and Sebastian Höwedes-Hummels

Felix: aesthetic posts, most of it is related to his job (football). mysterious. artsy.

BLISS 10: “I like that you make me laugh so much that my cheeks hurt.” 

–––––

It’s almost midnight, and Mats is drunk. Above him, the stars are sparkling, and as he kicks a pebble ahead of his feet, for just one second, he wonders what the heck he’s doing. He’s twenty years old, and every logic in the world tells him that he shouldn’t feel like this – not so soon, not when he’s still this young, when he hasn’t even had those feelings for long.

But he can’t help it.

See, Mats Hummels is fully, irrevocably, truly, madly, deeply in love.

That in itself is nothing new, of course. Already a month back, he fell so quickly for his fellow U-23 centreback – Benedikt Höwedes. Benni is older than him by a good ten months, a Schalke player with galaxies all over his cheeks and sunshine in his eyes. And Mats is lucky – Benni feels the same for him too. They’d confessed, they’d kissed, they went their separate ways for a few weeks of holidays and then they’d reunited. Everything since then has been pretty much out of a dream, but still, there’s something Mats hasn’t done yet. Something very important.

His head is swimming, and this time he’s sure that it’s not only the alcohol that is making it spin. Because Mats Hummels, drunk and clumsy as he may be, is on a mission.

Of course, all his friends slash teammates have told him it is a terrible idea. They’re probably right, too, but at this point, Mats couldn’t give more of a fuck.

He can’t believe he hasn’t told Benni yet.

It hit him out of nowhere, really, when he’d been nursing his fourth beer, talking to Neven, Schmelle and Nuri. He almost dropped his glass when he thought of it, gaping at the red brick wall in front of him. Schmelle had waved his hand in front of Mats’ eyes, but not even that helped. No, instead, Mats scrambled up from his chair, throwing some excuses over his shoulder as he searched for his jacket among all the others, leaving the small dive bar with nothing more than a few hasty goodbyes.

They were in a bar in Essen, so really, it wasn’t all that far to Benni’s place in Gelsenkirchen. Surprisingly, Mats remembered which bus to take even in his inebriated state, missing the right stop though, so now, he had to walk back all the way to his boyfriend’s apartment.

It’s a warm night, and he feels slightly too hot in his burgundy dress shirt and denim jacket, but he figures he might lose it if he took it off – he learned a few years ago that his drunk self isn’t to be trusted.

Of course, that begs the question why he still thought it a good idea to come to a halt below Benni’s bedroom window, of course, tilting his head to look up at it until his neck starts to hurt. But also, Mats is too far gone to really care all that much.

“Hey, Benni!”

He knows Benni won’t hear him, of course, he’s not that stupid – but he also knows that Benni always keeps his window open on summer nights, something they’ve actually argued over before, back in Sweden, so it was at least worth a try.

Nothing happens.

Mats sighs. With a huff, he fishes his phone out of his pocket. It’s difficult to text with his slow fingers, hitting the wrong buttons all the time, and eventually, he gives up. That of course leaves only one method, if he doesn’t want to get in trouble with Benni’s landlord, that is.

Now, the thing is, Mats can’t sing. Of course, he does have the vocal cords to perform an act of singing, but what leaves his mouth is less an actual, proper rendition of the only song he can remember right now – which is, quite unfortunately, Jingle Bells – and more of an old door’s quiet shriek.

Honestly, it probably doesn’t help that he’s drunk of his ass (though this is a sobering experience in itself) and his voice is hoarse from playing table top football with the others only an hour earlier.

It takes two stanzas and around one minute for Benni to poke his head out of his window.

“Have you gone insane?!” he hisses, before running a hand over his face, groaning. “Mats, it’s half past twelve. Do you want me to get kicked out?”

Mats winces, but then puts on his most charming smile.

“I admit, my methods may be questionable, but, my lord, would you let me into your castle still?”

Benni rolls his eyes so hard that Mats is sure it must hurt. He closes the window, and only about thirty second later, the door buzzes and Mats is let in.

He takes two steps at a time until he reaches the second floor, where Benni’s small two-bedroom apartment is located.

His boyfriend is leaning in the doorframe in only a too-big t-shirt that upon second glance might be Mats’ and striped boxers. His hair is a mess, but he’s smiling, and Mats’ stomach feels so warm, happiness pooling there and overflowing until it reaches every part of his body, seeps out of his fingers that seek Benni out, pulling him close, pulling him in.

“What the heck are you doing here,” Benni murmurs into Mats’ neck as Mats breathes in his scent, a combination of grapefruit shower gel, freshly washed sheets and simply Benni.

Mats kisses his hair as he pulls away gently, wincing when he realizes he must smell of alcohol and the cigarettes some idiots from another party smuggled into the bar.

“I just …”

It doesn’t happen often, that Mats is at a loss for words. But somehow, looking at Benni now, so heart-stoppingly beautiful, his Benni, they evade him, hiding in the dark corners of the hallway, away from his sight.

So instead, he takes Benni’s hand, pulling him towards the living room, stumbling over his own feet but managing to catch himself just in time. He guides them towards the couch, sitting down and pulling on Benni’s hand until his boyfriend sits down in front of him.

“I need to tell you something.”

He takes a deep breath.

“I like you.” Okay, that was stupid, let’s start over. “I like you a lot. I like your smile, your eyes. Your freckles, I absolutely adore those, your dry sense of humor. I like that you make me laugh so much that my cheeks hurt, that you laugh at my dumb jokes when everyone else would rather I just shut up. I like your compassion, and your ambition, and the fact that you adore your stupid blue club more than any player except maybe Neuer.

“I,” he looks Benni straight in the eyes, locking their fingers together, “I think I’m in love with you.”

There.

There it is.

At first, Benni doesn’t say anything, and for a second, Mats is genuinely worried. Then, a chuckle escapes Benni’s lips, growing into a giggle, then into warm, rumbling laughter.

Yeah, Mats is confused too.

He startles a little when there’s suddenly a hand on his cheek, thumbing over his stubble, his jaw, his cheekbones.

Benni’s eyes are earnest, sincere, and he leans in to kiss Mats on the lips despite the foul smell. They’re fond when Benni pulls away, caressing Mats’ neck.

“Oh, Mats … honey, I know. I’ve known since Sweden.”

Mats is sure he must have looked quite perplexed at that moment.

Benni chuckles again.

“I see the way you look at me. I see your fondness, I see your appreciation. I have eyes, Mats, and I can tell you look at me exactly the way I look at you.”

Oh.

Mats bites his bottom lip. Then, he a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Does that mean …?”

Benni rolls his eyes. “Yes, you idiot. I love you too. Now kiss me again.”

And yeah, since he’s already here, Mats assumes they might as well make the best of this night.

TERROR 2: “What was that noise?”

–––––

It happened on a stormy Wednesday night. It was January, and since winter break was one of the rare times they actually got to spend together these days, Mats and Benni had snuggled up on the couch, with Mats’ head on Benni’s shoulder and Benni’s hand playing Mats hair as Mats was softly reading to him from a magazine.

It was cosy, comfortable, a quiet night like it was rare for them now, living in different cities, different countries. A late Christmas gift for both of them, an early birthday gift for Benni.

And as they were, the wind roaring outside, rustling the trees and making the windows tremble every now and then, creating a space inside that felt more like home than most things in their hectic lives, Mats startled when Benni’s gentle caresses stopped suddenly and immediately.

He tilted his head up ever so slightly, putting the magazine to the side, peering at his husband from underneath his dark curls.

Benni was looking out of the windows, eyes squinted ever so slightly, as if trying to make something out in the all-swallowing darkness of the night.

“Did you hear that?”

Mats frowned. “What do you mean?”

“There was a scratch, I think. Different than the wind. Closer, too.” He was still staring outside intensely, not even flinching when Mats scrambled into a sitting position, fumbling for his glasses where he’d left them on the coffee table.

He tilted his head, waiting, trying to make out anything but the howling of the storm, and then–

“There. There was it again. Did you hear it? What was that noise?”

Benni was right.

In between the groaning of the trees, the rustling of month-old leaves on the ground and the rain hitting their windows, there had been something. A scratch, a creak, as if someone – something – was trying to work their door open.

Mats felt his blood freeze in his veins. “Oh god, Benni, I think someone’s trying to rob us.”

He wasn’t proud of it, but Mats had never been the one to keep a clear head in a situation like this. Not like this had happened to him before, mind you, but sadly, he wasn’t in the least surprised that it was Benni taking the lead here.

“I don’t think so. But get your phone and go to the kitchen, just in case, okay? I’ll give you a sign if you need to call the police.”

Mats nodded, too troubled to even reply. He almost dropped his phone as he picked it up, but in the end he managed to store it safely in his back pocket. Slowly he retreated to the kitchen through the back of the living room, suddenly glad that the lights had been dimmed to create a cozier atmosphere – this way, if anyone was watching them, they might not have noticed him slipping away.

With his stomach churning, he observed quietly as Benni was crouching down, picking up an object from next to the coffee table; only on second glance did he recognize the bottle of wine they had shared earlier. His heart was drumming against his ribcage while be watched from the shadows as his husband crept up to the door – slowly, carefully, trying to stay out of sight.

‘Be careful, Ben. Please, just be careful,’ he thought, his guts twisting into knots, gripping his phone so tight that he feared it might shatter in his hand.

He almost had a heart attack, when suddenly, Benni yanked open the door. With a scream dying in his throat before it could even escape, he charged forward, ready to come to his husband’s rescue – stopping short when suddenly, Benni fell down on his knees, putting down the wine bottle carefully, extending his hand into the dark, not even paying Mats any attention.

“Hey,” he whispered into the dark, “hey there. What are you doing outside in this weather, don’t you have someone dry and warm to go?”

There was a meow. Quiet and pitiful, followed by the tiny noises of small claws clacking on the flagstones in front of their back door, and Mats was still stunned into silence as Benni bent down picking the cat – kitten? – up and lifting it up in his arms before kicking the door close behind him.

The dark brown tabby looked, for the lat of a better word, exactly like you would expect a cat left out in the rain to look.

It had big green eyes that it was blinking into Mats, and with a chuckle, Benni followed it’s gaze, a smile forming on his lips as he saw that his husband was observing the two of them quietly. The kitten tried to escape his arms at first, wiggling around, but then immediately snuggling into Benni’s chest, leaving a wet spot on his shirt, seeking protection as Mats took a few more steps towards them.

Benni petted the cat’s head, and from here, Mats could hear that it had started to purr.

“Don’t worry. That’s just Mats. He’s harmless. Most days, at least.” He beckoned Mats closer. “Come, take a look. She’s really sweet. A little sweetheart, aren’t you?”

Mats had never had a cat before. He wasn’t even a cat person, not one of those who bent down to pet any feline that passed through their way; but there was something about the helplessness of this tiny little creature, the way she so eagerly was accepting Benni’s comfort and went to sniff at Mats’ hand curiously before rubbing her head against it, purring louder, that made a hidden compartment in his heart open, as if unlocked with an inaudible click.

“Hey there,” Mats whispered, exchanging a look with Benni before gently scratching her head, “Hi, hello. I’m Mats. Nice to meet you, young lady.”

The cat meowed at him, and Mats chuckled.

No, this was a lot better than a burglar.

(The next morning, after letting her sleep on a nest of blankets on the couch, they took their little visitor to the nearest vet. After finding that she was unchipped, it hadn’t even been a decision before Mats decided to take her in, finding that he wouldn’t mind caring for her especially when Benni would leave and he’d be all on his own again.

Of course, Benni had immediately agreed that some company would do him some good. And it had been him who gave their new cat her name. From that day on, little Storm had a new home. And Mats?

Mats didn’t mind sharing it with her.)