You know today was one of the most important matches of the Bundesliga for your best friend Julian and usually, you'd be in the stands, supporting him and cheering the loudest. However today, for obvious reasons, you were unable to so you put on your jersey and sat cross legged on the sofa, your entire mind concentrated on the game.
Unfortunately they lost and you could see through the camera how devastated Julian seemed. You waited a good half hour before ringing him, knowing he'd have to have sat through the team talk and gotten dressed and all that by now. You were a little peeved when he rejected your phone call but shrugged it off soon after. If he wanted to talk, he could always ring you back. Leaving the TV on, you grabbed your laptop and got back to your work, the background noise helping you focus more on what you were doing.
You got lost in your work easily but were disrupted by the buzz of your apartment doorbell. You got up to check the camera and saw the bright blonde hair of Julian so you let him in and unlocked your door, before you leant on the kitchen counter, waiting for him.
He entered your apartment and silently trudged past you to your sofa, where he lay on his stomach, his head in one of the cushions. You closed the door quietly behind him and went to sit next to him, your hand going to his hair as you messed with it, trying to get him to relax and calm down.
Eventually he turned over into his back and you tutted when you saw his red eyes and the tear tracks on his face. "Jul, you played the best you could. I'm so proud of you no matter what, you know that."
He nodded and avoided your eyes, as you sat forwards on your knees and reached out to his face, wiping the stray tears from his face before he pulled you into a tight hug. You hugged him back as you were sort of pulled onto his lap and his head dug into your neck.
You stayed there for a while, just holding him until he pulled away again. "Go shower, I'll make you dinner." He nodded, seeming to be in a better mood before he wandered off to the bathroom. You went to the kitchen to quickly heat up some noodles from your Chinese yesterday for yourself and you made him some macaroni. You'd been waiting for him to get out of your en-suite for the longest time so you decided to go and check on him. You quietly opened your bedroom door and spotted Julian stood next to your bedside table, only in jogging bottoms. In his hands, he was holding your picture frame, with a photo of you two when you were younger, around seven or eight years old. You were squinting at the camera and his arm was wrapped around you, giving the camera a cheeky smile.
"You got so much uglier lad," you said as he turned to see you leaning on the doorframe. He chuckled and put it back down, a sad smile on his face, that you quickly clocked. "Hey, hey what's up?"
He shook his head and just lay in your bed silently. "I was shit today, I get that. I just want to go back to that time you know, no pressure to perform. Just me and you, you know.
You smiled softly and gently lay on top of him, using your elbows to prop you up as you looked him directly in the eyes. "Hey, it's always going to be me and you. Like always."
He smiled and pulled you into his chest, his fingers going through your hair as he was lost in thought. He didn't even realise your breathing evened out until he'd finally strung the words he wanted to say together. He'd finally plucked up the courage to tell you how he truly felt but looked down and saw you asleep, safe and secure in his arms. He sighed gently before leaving a lingering kiss on your forehead and carefully lifting you into your bed, before he went to the kitchen, his gaze on you before he quietly shut the door.
