#neueller

servus, thomas <3

My Idiot

A/N: This is for the Anon who wanted a short Neuller smut. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is just for fun and just a story.

He was an idiot. For the most part I couldn’t stand him. He was clumsy, he didn’t know when to shut-up, and he was constantly almost blowing our cover. Take tonight for instance.

“Manu, we won!” he shouted as he jumped on top of me, knocking us both to the ground.

“Oof,” I grunted as the impact knocked the wind out of me.

“Sorry, are you ok? You usually catch me when I do this,” Thomas noted, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was crushing my spleen.

“I can’t breathe,” I grunted, wrapping my arms around him to try to shift his weight.

“Oh, sorry,” he replied, placing his hands on the ground at either side of my face so he could support his own weight. “Better?”

Before I could respond Mario, Mats, Andre, and Benny all jumped on top of Thomas, causing the younger man to crush me again. I was suddenly aware of something pressing into my hip. “Thomas?” I asked.

“You know I can’t hide what you do to me,” he whispered in my ear before biting my earlobe.

Before I could respond the other guys got up, pulling Thomas and I with them, Mats pulling Thomas away as Mario and Benny kept me where I was.

I avoided him in the locker room and didn’t speak to him on the bus. He had risked everything, and I was pissed about that. He kept up a steady string of chit-chat that I resolutely ignored until I was putting the key card in the hotel room door when he asked, “What did I do Manu? Why are you mad at me?”

“Get inside,” I ordered through gritted teeth, holding the door open for him.

“Manu?” he asked in a tiny voice as I leaned on the now closed door with my back to him.

“Every time I think that this thing we have going is getting easier, you do something like dry-hump me on the pitch, you beautiful moron,” I answered, turning around with a smile on my face.

“I actually believed you were angry at me until you called me a beautiful moron,” he replied, moving in to kiss me hungrily.

“Well, it was either hang onto the anger, or give into lust, so until that door shut, I was very angry with you,” I replied when he moved to my neck.

“And now?” he asked.

“You tell me,” I whispered, nibbling his earlobe gently as I ground my growing hardness against him firmly.

“It seems you have a situation you need help with,” Thomas moaned as I moved my attention to his neck. I gasped as he started to stroke me through my slacks.

“Thomas, we need to move to the bed,” I groaned as he unbuttoned my pants and undid my fly.

“Oh yeah? Why is that?” he asked, toying with the waistband of my boxer-briefs, but annoyingly not getting anywhere near where I needed his hand. He started to slowly undo the buttons on my shirt with his other hand, he lips kissing a trail down the freshly exposed skin.

“Because if I fuck you against the door, it might make more noise than we want,” I replied, mustering all my willpower to lift him up over my shoulder and carry him to the bed.

After depositing him I pulled my shirt off and climbed on top of him. While our tongues were locked in a new battle for supremacy, I started to work on his pesky buttons. I was halfway through when Thomas started running his hands all over me. In my hair, over my chest, across my back, down to my butt, pulling me close to him and grinding his pelvis agonizingly against mine.

“We are still wearing too many clothes,” I groaned as he squeezed my ass.

“What do you think we should do about that?” he asked me as he slipped his hands inside my pants and started to gently brush my hipbones.

“I was thinking you might help me out a little,” I chuckled against his mouth as I finally got his shirt off.

“As you wish,” he replied, wiggling down until he was eyelevel with the area so in need of his attention. He slowly started to peel my pants and underwear off, kissing a trail down the outside of my leg starting at my hip and ending at my calves as he started back up on the inside. By the time he reached the sensitive area where my leg met my pelvis I was at full attention.

“I love how hard you get at just the promise of my touch,” he told me before he enveloped me in his mouth. Before long I was a moaning, quivering mess, running my hands through his hair.

I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer, so I groaned out, “We need to focus on you before I end this party early.”

With one final heroic suck that involved his tongue swirling around my tip he traveled back up my body, bringing my hands down to his fly, knowing how much I liked being the one to undress him. His tongue greedily explored my mouth as I undid his pants and peeled them off of his slender body. He shivered when the air hit his exposed flesh, but recovered quickly when I wrapped my hand around his penis and started to pump.

When I knew he was getting close I disengaged from his mouth and whispered in his ear, “Turn over so I can see that gorgeous ass of yours.”

As he complied I reached over and pulled out the lube I had hidden earlier from the drawer in the bedside table. Kissing his neck gently, I put a small amount of the lube on my finger and spread it around his entrance. He whimpered as I slipped in a finger to see if he was ready for me.

We both groaned as I slid my cock in slowly, filling Thomas to the hilt. I paused a moment to allow him to get used to my size. When he started to squirm against me I began to pump, slowly at first, but gaining speed as we both neared the finish line. I reached around and started to pump Thomas in time to my thrusts. Within seconds he groaned my name as he climaxed and I was right behind him, pumping a couple of extra times before going limp and pulling out.

“If that is how I am rewarded I might dry-hump you on the pitch more often,” Thomas chuckled as cuddled up to me once we had made it under the covers.

He may be an idiot, who didn’t know when to shut his mouth, and would almost definitely be the one to accidently reveal our relationship to the entire world, but he was mine and didn’t care about anything but him.

“I love you too, you idiot,” I replied, kissing his temple with a chuckle.

The Prank War

A/N: This is for the anon who wanted a one-shot about Neuer and Müller. I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Thomas Müller, Manuel Neuer or anything else you recognize. This is just a story.

It started ambiguously enough with a fake spider. No big deal, but when Thomas Müller inadvertently started the biggest prank war that the German National Team had seen in recent years, I found myself battling my best friend.

Normally I know better than to start a prank war with Thomas. He and Poldi are the two biggest pranksters on the team and no one on the team has ever been able to best both of them. But Thomas crossed a line and I knew immediately that I had to try to get him back.

This story starts on the team bus after a match. It had been a tough match and most of us were exhausted. Thomas is always the exception to the rule, no matter how tiring the match had been he is always very energetic afterwards. It was sometimes difficult to be his seat mate, but no one else would sit next to the kid and I feel loyal toward him. He may be an annoying idiot sometimes, but he was my annoying idiot.

I fell asleep as soon as the bus started moving. I woke up not far from the hotel because something was tickling my cheek. I brushed it away without opening my eyes, and was drifting off again when I felt it again. I opened my eyes and let out a shriek that woke up the entire bus as I shoved a tarantula off of my shoulder. I was looking for where it had landed so I could step on it when Thomas burst out laughing next to me.

“Thomas, what did you do to Manu?” Mesut asked groggily from the front.

“I put a fake spider on his shoulder. I didn’t expect it to work quite so well. I have never heard a grown man scream like that,” Thomas noted with a laugh.

“Thomas, he told you last week that he is afraid of spiders. Apologize to him,” Mesut sighed.

“I am sorry I went out as soon as you told me that you are afraid of spiders to buy a fake spider to scare you with. It was childish and I probably won’t do it ever again,” Thomas replied.

“Wow, you suck at apologies, Thomas,” Poldi chuckled from behind us.

“Manu knows I didn’t mean it. Right Manu?” Thomas asked me.

“No, Poldi is right, you don’t know how to apologize. I will accept your apology on the condition that you admit what you did was mean,” I replied.

“Fine, whatever, it was mean, sorry. Can we move on already?” Thomas asked as we pulled up to the hotel.

“Yeah, sure,” I agreed reluctantly as we started to get off the bus.

“Hey, Manu, wait up, I can’t get my bag down, can you help me?” Poldi asked as Thomas and I stood up.

“Yeah, no problem. I will see you in the room, Thomas,” I told my seat mate.

“Ok, but if you don’t hurry I am going to pick the best bed,” Thomas replied, punching me lightly on the shoulder.

“Thomas,” I called before he could walk away.

“Yes?” Thomas asked.

“Leave the spider with me,” I told him holding my hand out.

“What spider?” he asked innocently. I just raised an eyebrow at him, so he sighed and pulled the spider out of his back pocket. As he put it into my hand he said, “You are no fun tonight, Manu.”

“I’ll see you in the room,” I dismissed him, putting the spider into my bag. By the time I turned back to Poldi we were the last two on the bus and his bag was slung over his shoulder. “Oh,” I started. “You got it?”

“It was never stuck. I just wanted to propose something to you. Thomas pranks you more than anyone else on the team, and you for the most part just take it. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get him back?” Poldi asked.

“That is not exactly a proposal,” I noted.

“I want to help you get Thomas back,” Poldi replied.

“I don’t know, Poldi. Very few people have pranked Thomas and gotten away with it. It always turns into a huge prank war, and that is Thomas’ forte. No one beats Thomas at a prank war. They may get in a good prank or two, but no one else wins the war. Do you remember the superglue in the shampoo? Or the shaving cream thing? This could get ugly so fast. Plus he is my best friend,” I pointed out.

“Yes, all best friends run out to buy fake spiders to scare their best friends. My mistake. That is why we can win this. You are his best friend, you room with him, and he will never see it coming. What do you say? I have the perfect way to get him back, if you want to hear it,” Poldi offered.

“Ok, hypothetically, what would I have to do?” I asked.

“All you have to do is wait for Thomas to go to sleep,” Poldi started.

**

‘I can’t believe I am doing this,’ I thought two hours later. I was not worried about him waking up, once Thomas is out you could back a truck through his bedroom wall and he wouldn’t even stir. I was worried about what this would mean for our friendship. I have been the butt of many of Thomas’ jokes, but I have never once retaliated. Mostly because he was my best friend, but also because he was very loyal. He may pick on me occasionally, but he always had my back when it counted. Whenever I need Thomas he was there.

I had just made up my mind, and was putting the razor back into my bag, when I saw the spider sitting on top. Suddenly I was seeing red, how dare Thomas violate our friendship with my worst fear and not even apologize. Before I knew it, the prank was done, I was putting the razor away in my bag and I was getting into bed.

**

I woke the next morning to yelling coming from the bathroom. I was groggy and had forgotten what I had done as I dragged myself to the bathroom to figure out what all the commotion was. “Thomas, what is-” I started to ask, but burst out laughing when I saw his face.

“But… eyebrows… face… my… what… gone… who… no… how…,” he fumbled, at a loss for words, which just made me laugh harder. “Will you stop laughing? This is not funny. Someone robbed me of my eyebrows last night.”

“I suppose I can give you your spider back now,” I replied, laughing so hard I needed to lean against the doorframe to keep from falling over.

“You did this?” he asked, and for just a second he looked so hurt that I regretted shaving his eyebrows in the middle of the night. But that quickly disappeared and was replaced by a look so fierce that it scared me just a little bit. “I hope you are prepared for what you have started, Neuer,” he told me, closing the door to the bathroom in my face.

As soon as word got around the team what was happening, lines were drawn, sides were chosen and no one was safe. Andre got black hair dye in his shampoo, Poldi got pepper spray in his deodorant, Özil’s underwear was swapped out for a ladies thong, someone replaced Basti’s clothes with a dress, Erik got Nair in his hair gel, someone put itching powder in Toni’s kit, and someone sewed Boateng’s pant legs shut. There seemed to be an unwritten rule that the only thing off limits was something that would intentionally injure someone. We were still a team, and we knew we needed each other, but our playing started to suffer.

It might have gone on this way forever, had it not been for Jogi getting caught in the crossfire. We were all walking back to the locker rooms, and when Jogi turned the doorknob he got a bucket of ice water dumped on his head.

It was pretty tame as far as some of the pranks had gone, but it was the last straw as far as Löw was concerned.

“Neuer and Müller, follow me right now. Everyone else, get changed and go home. There is nothing to see here,” he spoke through gritted teeth, storming off down the hall.

He stopped in front of one of the small conference rooms and opened the door. “Inside,” he ordered, holding the door open.

Thomas and I complied and Löw continued, “I don’t care what is broken, or how it got that way, but you are not getting out of this room until you fix it.” He then slammed the door and locked it, sealing us inside.

“I can’t believe you were going to ice bucket me,” Thomas grumbled.

“That wasn’t me, it must have been Poldi. He brought up yesterday how you never did complete your challenge earlier this year. I can’t believe you sewed Jerome’s pant legs together,” I told him.

“I didn’t technically do that one myself, I hired a seamstress to do it. I can’t believe you put Nair in Erik’s hair gel,” he replied.

“That was Basti, I thought that one was very mean, but definitely a great introduction for Erik to the great German NT prank war. He looks so weird bald,” I commented.

“I can’t believe you shaved my eyebrows,” Thomas spoke with no inflection.

“I am finding it hard to believe I did it myself,” I responded.

“Why did you do it? You have never participated in the silly pranks before. Why start now?” he asked me.

“It was Poldi’s idea. I almost backed out at the last minute, but as I was putting the razor away I saw that stupid spider sitting on top of my bag and it was like I was possessed. You always seem to pick on me more than the others and then use our friendship as the reason why I can’t retaliate. You always do that. Why do you do that? Why did you scare me like that?” I asked.

“Maybe I like to pull your pigtails,” he replied.

“That doesn’t make sense, Thomas,” I told him.

“It is like when you are in fifth grade, you pick on the girl you like to get her attention. Maybe that is what I am doing now,” he trailed off.

“Thomas?” I asked.

“Oh, hell, Manu, I guess I just have to show you,” he replied, and suddenly his hands were holding my face and his lips were crushing themselves to mine.

For a second I froze, but then I felt something swell up inside of me. This was Thomas, my Thomas, and everything clicked into focus. I loved him, and clearly he loved me too, why else would he risk everything on this kiss. And suddenly I was kissing him back, feeding his passion with my own, feeling something inside of me relax into the certainty of us. I was pulling him as close to me as I could, one hand fisted in his hair, the other tight around his waist. As I moved to kiss his neck I said, “I motion for a truce in this prank war.”

“I will give you anything you want as long as you never stop kissing my neck,” he replied breathlessly.

“I can live with those terms,” I replied with a chuckle as he pulled my face back to his and our lips met again.

We were interrupted a few minutes later, when Löw knocked on the door saying, “It is awfully quiet in there, please let me know you haven’t killed each other.”

“We are good Jogi. And you can let us out. I officially declare the prank war over,” Thomas called, leaning in to peck me on the lips one more time before the door opened. “We will finish this later,” he whispered in my ear, causing me to shiver in anticipation.

“Your place or mine?” I asked as the door opened and we emerged into the real world again.

*

"Kevin..." la voce di Marius ora gli arrivava più chiaramente, sempre sofferente e flebile.

"Non muoverti. Ora cerco di alzarmi e vedere gli altri...Stai tranquillo, Spinne, ce la caveremo" rispose il difensore, riuscendo chissà come ad alzarsi e ad uscire dal sedile.

Quando si mise in piedi barcollò per la nausea, che però passò quasi subito, sostituita da un senso di disperazione.

Intorno a loro era silenzio, un silenzio fermo, irreale.

Un mugolio raggiunse il suo orecchio da qualche parte davanti a sè.

"Okay. Marius devi restare sveglio, d'accordo? Se ti addormenti non ti svegli più. Vuoi tornare a casa?"

"Sì..." rispose tossendo e mugugnando di dolore.

"Bene, allora resta sveglio. Mut, mein Freund, halte durch!"

Cominciò a farsi strada tra bagagli rovinati giù dai vani sopra le loro teste, cercando di non farsi male.

"Qualcuno mi sente?!" esclamò ad un certo punto, insofferente a quella devastazione.

"K...Kevin..." biascicò la voce a tratti gorgogliante di Howedes. Großkreutz lo raggiunse subito, sembrava stare bene. Poi abbassò lo sguardo sulle gambe e inorridì.

"Kev, sono messo male vero?" chiese il ragazzo senza guardare in basso, stringendo i denti per il dolore.

"No idiota, te la caverai benissimo! Ora cerca di calmarti, respira con calma e io vado a cercare qualcuno che ti aiuti. Capito?"

Il poveretto aveva praticamente le ginocchia spappolate, era impossibile spostarlo senza provocargli un dolore indicibile.

Kevin si tirò su e riprese il giro. Non dovette fare molta strada per trovare un paio di valige appoggiate in equilibrio precario su un sedile. Sotto, si intravedeva un braccio scuro.

Si avvicinò a grandi passi e con attenzione tolse la valigia più in alto.

Un volto giovanissimo e quasi irriconoscibile lo accolse, facendogli venire la nausea.

Nonostante tutto dovette trattenersi e chissà come riconobbe il ragazzo seduto lì.

"Matt...ehi, mi senti? Se non puoi parlare muovi la testa o le mani..."

Gli arrivò un calcio, nemmeno troppo debole.

"Okay, le gambe, va benissimo. Allora, ora ti tolgo questa di dosso. Se va bene dammi un colpetto, piano però!" e cercò di sorridere.

Il colpetto arrivò.

Kevin prese la valigia e lentamente la tolse di dosso al compagno di reparto e quello tossì, sputando sangue sul sedile di fronte.

"Ehi...calmati...non agitarti, che è peggio. Vado a cercare aiuto Matt, tieni duro okay?" e lo lasciò.

Ora cominciava a sentire chiaramente lamenti e richieste di aiuto e si guardò intorno.

L'aereo era caduto e a giudicare dallo spiffero insistente proveniente da dietro la pesante tenda blu in fondo alla business class, aveva un qualche tipo di squarcio.

Per la successiva ora aiutò come potè i suoi compagni.

Quando si sedette di nuovo accanto a Marius, il resoconto si formò nella sua mente pressochè istantaneo.

Manuel e Thomas stavano bene, qualche contusione. Il portiere aveva anche una bruciatura sul braccio che non riusciva a spiegarsi, anche se al momento era irrilevante come se l'era procurata.

Ben Howedes aveva le ginocchia spappolate e sicuramente altre fratture agli arti inferiori, muoverlo era escluso.

Marc, seduto accanto a Ben, non era messo molto meglio. Fratture alle gambe e un brutto taglio sulla fronte, che Kevin aveva tamponato meglio che poteva con una maglietta stracciata che aveva recuperato da una valigia.

Kramer, seduto accanto a Ginter, sembrava stare bene, almeno esteriormente. Si era riservato di controllare meglio più tardi.

Syhre e Schurrle non se l'erano cavata male, qualche livido e poco altro, forse perchè al momento dello schianto avevano addosso una coperta e le gambe distese.

Stolze, Mustafi, Brandt, Stark e Lohkemper avevano piccole escoriazioni e più che altro erano terrorizzati.

Di quelli che aveva visto lui, quello messo peggio era sicuramente Erik Durm. Quando lo aveva trovato, semi sepolto da qualcosa che non seppe identificare, era freddo.

Lo chiamò più e più volte, e quando il giovane aprì gli occhi e gli fece segno che lo riconosceva e che stava bene, Kevin lo abbracciò e pianse sulla sua spalla.

Pianse la tensione, la paura, il dolore e lo spavento.

Quando smise, si accorse che l'amico digrignava i denti e si teneva un braccio.

"Erik, è un brutto taglio, sembra profondo. Dobbiamo trovarti subito qualcosa per il dolore e mettere dei punti. Rischi un'infezione" gli aveva detto e quello aveva annuito.

L'aveva aiutato a mettersi seduto e lo aveva coperto con un lungo panno blu trovato nel vano sopra le loro teste.

Mancano all'appello alcuni dei loro compagni e tutto lo staff tecnico della squadra.

"Kev...chi manca?" chiese Marius, respirando lentamente.

"Bastian, Lukas, Julian, Toni, Mario, Marco e Leon...e non so dove cercarli...non so come comportarmi...non so che fare...non so..." e non riuscì a parlare, assalito da un attacco di panico.

"Kevin, calmati! Concentrati su qualcosa!" esclamò il portierino, riconoscendo i sintomi del panico "Concentrati su di me Kev! Coraggio!" e allungò la mano a stringere quella del difensore. La strinse forte e non staccò lo sguardo da quello di Kevin nemmeno per un momento.

"Kevin...guarda me...respira...calma...respira..." ma vedendo che l'altro non ci riusciva e girava la testa ricorse ad un metodo drastico.

Lo baciò.

*

Volavano da poco meno di venti minuti, quando sentirono la voce del capitano.

"Buongiorno, qui è il comandante che vi parla. A causa di avverse condizioni meteo la tratta classica non è praticabile, perciò dovremo virare verso Mosca. Inoltre per evitare i confini ucraini e quelli cechi, come sapete interessanti da scontri armati, la nostra direzione sarà verso l'Austria via Bielorussia, Polonia e Slovacchia. Da lì, risaliremo verso Monaco di Baviera e poi Francoforte. Il volo, quindi, durerà all'incirca sei ore. La torre di controllo ci ha autorizzato a modificare il piano di volo, e verremo seguiti dalle torri di controllo di tutti i paesi che sorvoleremo. Sono spiacente di dover allungare la tratta. ma sembra che sulla nostra tratta precendente sia prevista alta instabilità. Tutti i voli per la penisola iberica sono sospesi fino a nuovo ordine, così come i voli per Berlino e per la Danimarca.

Se durante il volo le condizioni cambiassero, non esiterò a riprendere la rotta consueta. Grazie per la pazienza e l'attenzione e vi auguro buon volo!"

Una serie di no di disapprovazione salirono dalla squadra, che non vedeva l'ora di riabbracciare amici e parenti a Francoforte.

Alcuni, come Ginter e Durm, avvisarono a casa del cambio di programma, così che con il passaparola fossero tutti avvisati.

Dopo quell'annuncio, visto che avrebbero dovuto passare tre ulteriori ore, i ragazzi decisero di calmarsi un po' e riposarsi.

Alcuni si addormentarono, altri misero le cuffie, altri ancora tirarono fuori un mazzo di carte.

Una ventina di minuti dopo, il silenzio era calato sul velivolo, che procedeva tranquillo sulla rotta individuata sul confine tra Bielorussia e Polonia.

*

"Uhm...che ore sono?" chiese Marc Kempf al suo vicino di posto, Benni Howedes, tirandosi su e stiracchiandosi.

"Ben svegliato Olli! Hai dormito un paio d'ore, russando!" e ridacchiò quando il ragazzo arrossì e si accigliò.

"Benni, dai! Lo sai che ho le adenoidi!!" sbottò Marc, mettendo il muso.

Benedikt Howedes alzò la mano e andò a scompigliare la zazzera mora di Kempf.

"Ehi...dai non prendertela, scherzavo!"

"Ben, non puoi continuare a giocare così coi miei sentimenti. Prima mi dici una cosa, poi ti comporti come se non contassi nulla. Non ho più diciannove anni, che puoi prendermi e mollarmi come ti pare. O sei serio, o dimmelo subito che mi metto l'anima in pace!" lo rimbeccò il giovane.

Quelle parole lasciarono Benni con l'amaro in bocca, mentre guardava Marc alzarsi dal suo posto e andare a sedersi vicino a Leon, che giocava sull'IPad e gli fece posto accanto a sé, ben attento a non svegliare il mister che dormiva lì vicino.

"Ben, ancora con 'sta storia?"

"Che vuoi dire Erik?"

"Ancora lo tieni sulle spine? Digli che sei etero e basta...non giocare con lui, è una cosa meschina"

"E tu centri perchè?"

"Perché si da il caso che io stia in camera con Stolze e che Stolze sia il migliore amico di Kempf e quindi il suo consigliere-spalla su cui piangere. Non puoi capire quante volte li ho sentiti parlare al telefono, oppure Marc che si rifugiava in camera nostra dopo che avevate litigato. E' fastidioso sentirlo piangere perchè cotto di te e tu lo tratti come una pezza"

"Piange? Seriamente?"

Drum annuì serio e si sedette al posto di Kempf.

"Sai qual è il problema Erik?"

"Dimmi"

"E' che non sono etero...ma non sono gay. Insomma, apprezzo anche gli uomini, ma non sono gay. Ho paura di ferirlo se mi lascio andare. Non voglio fargli male...capisci?"

"Più di quanto credi, amico mio. Però dovresti parlarne con lui. Io l'ho fatto e ora siamo amici"

"E' il ragazzino?" chiese, Erik scosse la testa.

"Non ti dirò chi è, sogna! Comunque, davvero, parla con Olli, non è più un bambino. Capirà, tranquillo!" rispose infine Durm, battendo sulla spalla dell'amico e tornandosene al suo posto.

Benedikt restò per un po' sul sedile da solo, a riflettere.

*

Quasi all'improvviso furono tutti scossi da un movimento sussultorio assolutamente non previsto.

"Che succede?" gridò Niklas, svegliato di soprassalto spaventato, stringendosi a Julian Brandt.

"State calmi, vado a chiedere io. Voi restate seduti e allacciatevi le cinture!" esclamò il mister, alzandosi e andando di corsa verso le hostess e poi la cabina di pilotaggio.

Torno qualche minuto dopo.

"Ragazzi va tutto bene, è solo un po' di turbolenza. Niente di preoccupante. Il comandante chiede a tutti di sedersi ai propri posti e mettersi la cintura. Dai coraggio, durerà poco vedrete" e sorrise, cercando di nascondere il nervosismo.

L'aereo cominciò a scuotersi, ma sembrava che fosse solo un po' di turbolenza.

Poi, accadde.

*

Quando aprì gli occhi, era tutto finito.

Il senso di stordimento ancora lo coglieva come nausea, anzi era nausea, tanto che gli venne da vomitare.

Non osava quasi guardarsi intorno, per paura di quello che avrebbe trovato.

Sentiva però, e sentiva rumori, suoni ovattati. Si toccò le orecchie e poi si guardo le mani. Sangue.

"Kevin..." sussurrò una voce esitante accanto a lui.

Großkreutz voltò lentamente la testa e per poco non svenne. Il suo compagno di camera Marius Gersbeck aveva praticamente mezza faccia rossa di sangue.

"Marius...ti senti tutto?"

"Sì...credo di sì. Mi fa male la testa. Kevin, cos'è successo?" chiese pigolando.

L'interpellato non rispose. La maggior parte dei suoi compagni era svenuta, ma lui no.

Lui aveva visto.

Lui sapeva.

*

"I passeggeri del volo LH2024 sono pregati di presentarsi al Gate 12. Imbarco immediato!"

La voce risuonò per tutto l'aeroporto, prima in russo, poi in inglese e in tedesco.

"Ragazzi è il nostro volo, andiamo!" esclamò Joachim Low, prendendo la propria borsa e la lista dei partenti con quel volo, in modo da controllare che ci fossero tutti i ragazzi e gli accompagnatori.

Mentre attraversavano l'aeroporto, incrociarono la squadra dell'Argentina, nuovamente battuta, stavolta in semifinale, e arrivata quarta, dopo Russia e Olanda.

"Manuel, vai a fermare Thomas, prima che scateni un caso internazionale e ci faccia perdere il volo!" sbottò il mister, e Neuer tornò indietro a recuperare il suo ragazzo, intento a fare il verso ad alcuni argentini, che rispondevano a gestacci e parolacce in spagnolo.

"Andiamo dritti al gate, non ci fermiamo, altrimenti perdiamo davvero il volo!" borbottò ancora Low, sbuffando quando notò la squadra per metà in fila ordinata e per metà in ordine sparso e berciante.

Giunti al gate, si misero tuttavia in fila per due, seguendo l'assegnazione delle camere nell'albergo.

Prima salirono tutti i ragazzi dello staff tecnico, i medici e i giornalisti al seguito, che andarono ad occupare i posti in coda.

Poi venne il turno dei ragazzi.

"Quindi i posti sono:

Schweinsteiger Podolski

Neuer Müller

Syhre Schürrle

Gersbeck Großkreutz

Ginter Kramer

Höwedes Kempf

Draxler Kroos

Reus Götze

Stolze Durm

Brandt Stark

Mustafi Lohkemper

Goretzka con me. Bene, andiamo! Piano non spingete! Non avete tre anni!!" gracchiò Low, mentre i ragazzi lo superavano, lasciando il piccolo Leon in fondo.

Una volta saliti tutti a bordo, le hostess li contarono e, appurato che i conti tornavano, chiusero il portello, pronti a prepararsi a decollare.

*

"Lukas..."

"Uhm?"

"Stanotte...ecco, ci ho pensato..."

"Non dirmi che non sei più convinto di sposarmi..."

"No no di quello sono convintissimo...ma tremo al pensiero di quello che potrebbero dire su di noi..."

"Meine Schatz, ormai lo sanno tutti che stiamo insieme, che cosa dovrebbero dire?"

Bastian scosse la testa, non sapendo realmente cosa volesse dire.

"Basti, ascoltami. Ci saranno giorni belli, giorni brutti e giorni di merda. Ma io e te staremo insieme. Io ci sarò sempre per te, in qualsiasi modo e momento. Non ti dirò non aver paura. Piuttosto, stringiti a me e affrontiamo tutto quello che verrà insieme, fianco a fianco. Ti amo Bastian, non lo nasconderò mai più" e lo baciò di slancio, facendo schioccare le labbra su quelle dolci del fidanzato.

Nel mentre, l'aereo, un Airbus 320, prese velocità e decollò senza problemi dalla pista 5 dell'aeroporto internazionale di San Pietroburgo, diretto a Francoforte. L'arrivo era previsto nel giro di tre ore.