M. Zubimendi

Slowly, then all at once - Zubi fanfic

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Link to previous chapter

Moving on from Carlo was easier than I thought. May be because it was just 6 months of dating and how bitter the end was.

And, Martín was of huge help. We continued to text and leave voice notes for each other. I met him a couple of times at a brewery near his place. We talked endlessly. Topics never seem to be on shortage. Sometimes we talked about something as deep as the fear of losing our parents as we got older. Sometimes it was as pointless as the flavours of ice cream.

A couple of days before the Premier League season started, he took me to meet Merino and his wife Lola. We met at their house for dinner. His place was quite closer to Martín’s. It felt like a double date except that it wasn’t. It was one married couple, their friend and the friend’s friend.

But the way they talked made me feel like I was Martín’s wife.

“We really loved Greece. Oh you both should go”

“When these boys go play football, do you want to go shopping?”

“Does he talk about football a lot at home? Mikel certainly does”

Was Martín noticing all this? It didn’t look like he did. Or was I overthinking? Or were they under the impression that we were dating? How did Martín introduce me to them?

To clarify things without sounding like a fool, I tried to casually drop some facts.

“How did you guys meet? I asked.

“Oh through a friend. Liked her the moment she said hi” Mikel said, making Lola blush.

“That’s so cute! I would love to have a meet-cute story for myself too” I said and immediately felt Martín’s eyes darting towards me.

“Really? What’s your ideal story?” he teased.

“Um… you know, like in the movies. Catching each other’s eyes in a crowded room. Reaching for the same book at a bookstore. Those kinda stuff”

“Yeah that’s a lot of movies” Mikel said, making everyone laugh.

“You know you already have your own cute story” Lola said as she chewed her food. “Didn’t you and Martín grow up together?”

“Yeah we did” Martín said, smiling.

“There you go. Now you just gotta make it work” she said. The table fell silent. Martín looked at me and I looked at him. Merino looked at Lola and Lola was oblivious.

“Baby, they are friends” Mikel said.

She looked confused for a little while and closed her eyes like she regretted saying anything.

“I’m so sorry. I thought… Mikel said… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed”

Mikel said what?

“That’s fine. Forget about it” Martín and I repeated one after the other.

The table was quiet for some time. To be honest, it made me quite uncomfortable. Little Martín, like my dad called him, was someone I grew up with. He was younger than me. And I have never thought about him that way. Well, I had checked him out a couple of times. I would be lying if I said I didn’t. He was really handsome and so nice to me.

But, actually dating him? Kissing him? Having sex with him… ah alright I gotta stop imagining stuff.

“So the match this weekend” Mikel started. A voluntary change in topic. “United. A big club. You gotta toughen up, Zubi. It’s their home too”

“There. It started. Football again” Lola said, smiling at me. I smiled back.

“Are you going to the game? If so, you can tag along with me” she said.

“Uh…” I didn’t think about it. I wasn’t really planning on spending money to buy tickets. I knew it would be expensive and I wasn’t really an Arsenal fan.

But I caught Martín looking at with his puppy eyes. It looked like he wanted me there.

“I don’t know” I said. “I would like to. But I have got work. I can’t travel to Manchester now.”

“You can come for the next match. It’s in London” Mikel said. It was weird that Mikel and Lola were convincing me to go to the game but no word came out of Martín. It pissed me off.

“I’ll think about it” I said. Martín went back to quietly eating his meal and responding if asked any question. After dinner, Lola and I shared a glass of wine while Martín was taking a walk with Mikel in their backyard.

“I’m sorry about earlier” Lola said. “I assumed you were a couple. Mikel said Zubi was bringing a girl. So I thought you were his girl but turns out I was just wrong”

Everything she said was making me blush. His girl?

“I just got out of a break up” I blurted out of pressure to say something. But it was a bad move. It just made her more sorry. So I assured her that she said nothing wrong and it was common to assume it. “And it isn’t so bad to be mistaken for Martín’s girlfriend”

Woah. Where did that come from? I felt like I was overcompensating. So I shut up immediately and left their place a couple of minutes later.

Martín and I walked over to his place so he drive me home. He insisted.

Most of our walk was quiet with just crickets making it a bit lively.

“Will you come to the game?” he asked finally.

“Do you want me to? You didn’t say anything back there and I didn’t think you would want that”

“Why wouldn’t I want that? I lo- I would love to see you at the stadium. It would feel calm to see a familiar face”

“Ah good luck with that. It would depend on the kind of ticket I get. I might not get the one near the pitch. Those are so expensive”

“Mila, you need not get tickets” he said. “I would get them for you. There are designated family seats. And we can usually see our family from the ground”

“What? Designated seats?”

“Yeah. For players’ parents or partners. My parents are hardly visiting. So I’ll reserve mine for you. Whenever you need”

“Oh my god! That’s awesome. I forgot I knew a player from the club” I said, making him laugh. I noticed how his eyes became small and how his cheeks formed lines as he laughed. It was a good look on him.

“What should I wear?”

“Anything you like”

“Oh I’ll wear something red. To match your jersey. What do you say?” I was excited to plan my outfit.

“Sure. If you want a jersey, you can get mine”

I stopped at my tracks. “Then that’s perfect. I can borrow your jersey”

“In fact, you can keep it” he said.

When we reached his place, we quickly grabbed the classic red Arsenal jersey with Zubimendi 36 at the back.

Next couple of days went with no trace. I decided to go to a pub in North London to watch the opening match of Arsenal. I planned to wear Martín’s jersey. It looked really good on me so I took some pictures of myself and sent the best one to Martín

Me: (picture) “All the best for today’s game! I’m excited to watch you play.”

I reached the pub in time to get a table for myself. I saw a big bunch of Arsenal fans in the pub, already chanting in excitement. Someone noticed my jersey and asked if I was “following Zubimendi from Real Sociedad?”

I said yes to avoid further questions.

“What a lad! I watched him in Euro finals. Shame we lost but he came on and changed the game for Spain” he said. “Gotta love Mikel for bringing him in. Would have hated to lose him to fucking Liverpool”

I nodded, feeling so proud of Martín. My phone lit up with his name.

Martín Z: “Thanks. You look really good in my jersey”

I read the message for about 5 times. It made me blush every time.

The game was a really nervous experience for me. I had not voluntarily watched a single Arsenal game before that. But that day, I felt like if Arsenal lost, I would hit depression. There was quite a lot of energy and emotions in the pub, with people chanting songs and yelling strategies. I didn’t want to see them sad. I didn’t want Martín to be sad. It was his debut in Premier League and it had to go well for him.

Arsenal won that game. I let my breath out and went home happily.

On the way, I texted Martín.

Me: Congrats on winning! And you looked amazing in that white jersey. When can I borrow that? :)

Martín’s message came through few minutes later.

Martín Z: Thanks again! It was a tough match.

Martin Z: I’ll drop the jersey at your place anytime you want, if you promise to send me a picture every time you wear it.

Me: Looks like it comes with quite some conditions

Martín Z: 😉

With a smile on my face, I went to sleep. I couldn’t wait for the next weekend to come. If a local pub could reverberate with so much energy, I wondered how a stadium with 60000 people would feel like. The last match I had watched in a stadium was in Reale Arena when Martín started out. My parents and I made a trip out of it. I don’t remember so much from it except that my dad yelled “Zubi Zubi Zubi” throughout the game even after Martín was substituted.

The next week couldn’t have gone any slower. Work was slow and I was feeling restless the entire time. But in the middle of the week, I received a post from Martín. It was the white jersey with a note “Remember the condition”.

Finally, the weekend came. And I was ready a few hours earlier than I should have been. I didn’t know when I should reach the stadium. I texted Lola. She said she wouldn’t be going that day but told me to reach at least an hour before the game so I could avoid the peak crowd and watch the warm up.

I reached 2 hours earlier, grabbed some snack and was settled. I couldn’t believe how premium the hospitality section looked. But I didn’t want to sit in the lounge any longer than needed. I went out and grabbed a seat with the beat view. I saw Martín on the ground warming up. He looked happy, laughing with others. I sent him a picture of myself with the stadium backdrop and a video zooming on him hopping like a bunny.

He texted me few minutes before the game.

Martín Z: Pretty :) I’ll catch a glimpse of you before the game.

The game started with North London forever chant. Martin was looking straight at the family lounge section. I didn’t know if he saw me.

It was one of the best matches I had watched. Arsenal won 5-0. As much as I liked the family lounge for its privacy and privileges, I longed to be among the crowd and yell the chants. I had to tell Martín that I would attend other games from the stand instead.

As soon as the game ended and the players went back to their dressing rooms, I got a text from Martín telling me to stay in the lounge for some more time. I walked around, saying hello to people I didn’t know and had some lobsters for dinner.

As I finished my food, I saw Martín walk in. He might have come right after shower. His hair was a soaking mess and his t-shirt was clinging on to his body.

I hugged him briefly.

“Congrats! Two wins in a row”

He smiled broadly. “Did you enjoy?”

“I did. But I’m planning on watching from the stand next time. Family lounge doesn’t radiate the energy I want”

“So there is a next time?”

“Of course. Whenever possible”

He nodded. There was some awkward silence.

I realised that as we started being a bit flirty with each other on texts, I’m unable to talk to him like before. I forgot how I used to talk to him before this phase.

“I’ll take my leave then” I said.

“Yeah. Sure. Yeah” he said reaching for another hug. This time a little longer, a little tighter. A tiny rub on my back.

Chapter 4

Link to the previous chapter

Martín’s move to Arsenal did not turn out as I thought it would be. I assumed he would get busier and wouldn’t have time to hang out, like I told his parents during our last dinner.

But probably to prove me wrong, Martín was calling me about twice a week and texting me every other day. Initially I assumed he was still feeling lonely and it would get better when his practice and games started. And I was surprised when it continued during his pre-season matches as well.

Martín: Reached Singapore

Me: Good to know. How are you feeling?

Martín: Excited. This city is so beautiful. I think you would love it.

Me: I’ll make sure I’ll visit someday

He would text me if he found something nice in a store.

Martín: (picture) do you like this bracelet?

Me: It’s so pretty. Why?

Martín: I’ll buy this for you. A souvenir.

Me: Are you mad? It looks so expensive. Souvenirs are not supposed to be expensive. It has to be a keychain or a pendant from street shops.

Martín: I don’t see any shop like that where I stay :(

Me: Then you don’t have to buy anything. You are not obligated to.

He typed for a couple of minutes but didn’t send anything. So I went on about my day and then found this message from him later.

Martín: I know but I want to

Conversation flowed like this. Or he would call after a bad day but talk about everything apart from the match.

Most of the time he just let me talk and he quietly listened. I didn’t know how it helped him but I just couldn’t decline his call or hang up on him unless he wanted that.

So I talked to him about my work, the new hobbies I picked up, the time I missed my flight because I read the date wrong, the time I cried for 2 days straight after reading Kite Runner and more. I used my commute time to listen to his short voice notes just giving me briefs about the food he tried that day or a gift he had got for his mom and to send my lengthy voice notes.

Some days my work was too hectic that we just texted and our responses were hours apart.

Martín: I saw a really cute dog when I went for a run this morning

2 hours later

Me: Oh nice! You have a picture? What breed?

1 hour later

Martín: A pug. So small. Made me smile.

30 minutes later

Me: Are you gonna bring Lea to London anytime?

Martín: May be. But she needs someone with her constantly. So it might not be the best idea. I miss her though

2 hours later

Me: I can take care of her some time if you would like. Can’t promise all days. Sorry

3 hours later

Martín: No that’s alright. Home is the best place for her right now

It should have been a 5 minute conversation but to be very honest, it made me feel good when after a hectic run of meetings, I see his name flashing up from my screen.

Slowly, I could see he was getting busier. His texts were less frequent. But he made sure to send voice notes every day just keeping me informed. I didn’t ask for it. We didn’t have a deal. But he sent them and I liked listening to them.

One thing that took a major hit with all this was my relationship with Carlo. He noticed that I was a bit more engaged with my phone these days. And I knew he wouldn’t understand the type of friendship I shared with Martín. To be fair to him, even I didn’t understand it enough to explain that to him. I was close to Martín when we were kids but we grew apart as we got older, especially with Martín joining the academy and focusing on football.

So it was hard to explain how we couldn’t stop texting each other all of a sudden, why I feel soft corner for him or why I want him to be happy. I knew a conversation was awaiting its moment. It wasn’t easy to skip it given that Carlo had basically moved in with me.

He lost his job two months back and had been spending a lot of time at my place so he wouldn’t feel anything that remotely resembled sadness. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to process it. He set camp on the couch and watched Instagram reels all day long. Earlier he used to clean the kitchen or go grocery shopping in between. But gradually, he started adding more mess than order.

He wanted me to sit next to him whenever I wasn’t working so we could watch some brain-rotting youtube videos and spend our evening talking about it. I knew he was sad and so I tried giving him time and optimism but most of the times it turned into an argument, somehow. My house and in extension, life, turned gloomy day by day.

But recently, I gave up on him and started spending my time after work baking, cooking Spanish food or listening to Spanish songs. It added more colour to my life. And of course I shared all these with Martín as pictures or videos. It felt nice to do something I liked and share it with someone who appreciated. And obviously, this change in my pace must have alerted Carlo of something I wasn’t sharing with him. A new found friendship which made me content.

A fight broke out again eventually. This time more serious. Because he accused me of cheating on him. Because he looked into my phone without permission.

“Who’s Martin?” he asked as I was watering my plants I had carefully organised on my window sill.

“Who?” It genuinely took me by surprise. The only Martin I knew was Martín Zubimendi. But Carlo didn’t know him.

“The dude you have been texting all day”

“He is my friend. Close to my family. How do you know him?”

“Close to you?” he asked, ignoring my question.

I stayed silent. I knew it would get worse irrespective of what I said.

“Your messages seem to suggest you were close”

“You went through my phone?” Anger flared through my nerves.

“Shouldn’t I? If you don’t have anything to hide, why are you worried?”

“Because it’s breach of privacy, Carlo”

“You draw a line there but you cheating on me is fine?”

“Shut the hell up” I yelled. “You can’t go through my stuff, take up my apartment, make a mess, drain my energy and on top of that, accuse me of cheating. I lost my will over past few weeks. I’m tired of cooking for you, cleaning for you, cheering you up, and failing. I’m tired of having to work for both of us. I know you for just 6 months. But I already feel like I have grown old and I’m tired of this relationship. Martín is majorly why I haven’t lost my mind right now.”

Words poured out. Words I had locked up inside of me, never to say out loud. But I subconsciously decided not to take any more of atrocity from Carlo. I wanted to live my life. I wanted a nice evening with wine and paella. Not cold pizza. I wanted to watch an old Spanish movie or read a classic. Not watch two hours of someone explaining a conspiracy.

Carlo was so taken aback by my change in tone. I grabbed the chance to keep going.

“I have had enough of you, Carlo. Please leave. This is done. I don’t deserve this. Grow up and learn how to deal with setbacks. Don’t hurt the people around you using your failure as an excuse. Pack and leave right now. I need my time back” I said firmly. Eyes started tearing up.

He refused to leave. He told me to calm down. It made me more angry. I told him I would call the police. And he left.

Once he left, I vacuumed the couch, ordered in tapas, poured myself some red wine and watched Viridiana as I went to sleep.

When I woke up the next day. I had few messages from Martín. None from Carlo. I felt relieved. I didn’t want to deal with him. It was Sunday. I had the entire day to myself. But I also felt empty. I wanted to talk to someone. I called my mom to tell her about Carlo. But I didn’t want to show her how upset I was. She already felt sorry I had to face that and cursed Carlo with some delicious words which made me laugh. And then I cried to her. Tears poured out.

“I miss you” I said. And I heard her cry too.

I didn’t know when I went to sleep again but the doorbell woke me up. It was about 6 PM. I was extremely hungry. I hardly had a proper meal the entire day. Groggily I open the door to see Martín standing outside, with a takeaway cover.

“Want some Paella?” he smiled. I pushed myself onto him and hugged him so tightly and let my eyes dry out. He held me patiently and rested his cheek over my head. I felt warm and safe. I didn’t want to let go.

But we were standing in the hallway, so I invited him inside.

“You sit. I’ll set the plates”

“You don’t have to” I said.

Without listening, he swiftly set the plates, poured some wine for himself and settled down next to me on the couch.

“Your apartment is so beautiful” he said as we ate.

I mumbled a thanks. “Are you straight from practice?”

He nodded.

“How did you know my place?”

He paused and looked at me. “Your mom called.”

She might have told him about the breakup too.

As if he read my mind, he added, “you don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t have to” and pulled a tiny jewel box from his pocket.

I gasped and said “I said you are not obligated to”

“But I said I wanted to” he smiled.

It was a delicate floral crystal necklace with a teardrop charm. It was gorgeous.

“Put it on me” I said, turned my back to him and pulled my hair to the front, exposing the back of my neck to him.

As soon as he put the pendant around my neck, I ran to look at myself in the mirror. It felt silly but I also felt nice.

“Martín, this is gorgeous. Thank you” I said as I walked back to the couch.

“You look really beautiful”

“How much is it?”

“Not your concern”

“Is it expensive?”

“No”

He was so nice to me. I was feeling so emotional. I put my head on his shoulder and settled cozily. I wanted to kiss him. For all the warmth and hope he had been giving me. I wanted to show him how much I appreciated it.

I lifted my head to look at him. Our faces were so close to each other. I could smell his shampoo. And his breath fell on my skin.

I placed a kiss on his cheek.