Chapter Text
From the moment when Hugo first met Loki, he knew Loki was the one. They were younger then — Loki was only thirteen, and Hugo had just turned fourteen — but Hugo didn’t need to be any older to know that Loki was special. Hugo saw Loki run and play soccer for the first time, and it was like he was seeing light after being blind his entire life.
And Hugo didn’t understand the gravity of it at that moment, but that set the course of the rest of his life. He wasn’t open about it in the beginning, but meeting Loki was his own miracle. It felt like Loki’s talent was his own secret, something to keep close and eventually share with the world and say, Yes, that’s him. Yes, I found him. Yes, I know him. Yes, I’m his number two.
Yes, he’s mine.
And best of all, Loki actually liked him. He listened to him talk, asked for his input, supported him, and stayed by his side. Hugo had never had somebody like that before. Hugo felt inexplicitably bound to him, as if there was a red string attached to them that had pulled them together. Hugo was never a believer in a higher power, but meeting Loki made him believe in destiny. What else would have brought them together? Hugo was destined to meet Loki. It was his life’s purpose, and Hugo would serve it.
Hugo believed in destiny, and he believed that his was Loki.
Loki himself was remarkable. His god-like speed made it clear he was born to be a super star. Hugo didn’t hide his admiration, and Loki seemed to revel in it. It only fueled Loki more, which then made Hugo more desperate to keep up with him. Loki was a god, and Hugo worshipped him like one. Hugo knew they would be by each other's side forever. Who could understand one like the other could?
The U20 World Cup had arrived, and Hugo promised Loki that they would win it. They were off to a great start, although the first two teams they played weren’t that good. Hugo remembered Loki telling him about the Japanese team from Blue Lock, and he watched film to know who they were. In the end, though, France was able to beat them, so Hugo didn’t care much for them.
And Hugo felt good. He felt like he was on top of the world really, because they had won. Loki had said that they were good, and then Hugo crushed them, especially the one that drew Loki’s attention the most. Isagi Yoichi. He was the one who insulted Loki, Hugo remembered, and now he had lost, and Hugo had won. And Loki had won, too, although that was to be expected, because when did Loki not come out on top? And as long as he stayed by his side, Hugo would come out on top too.
He was walking through the locker room, after he thought everybody had left, when he heard voices. A voice. And Hugo knew that voice from anywhere. He was going to walk to them, to greet them, but then he heard his voice, and for some reason, he found himself hiding behind a wall, his breaths quiet, and keeping as still as possible.
“Hugo played very well, yes,” Loki said. Hugo glowed inside with pride.
“Yeah, exactly!” Hugo thinks that voice was Charles.
Loki sighed. “But that’s not the point. I think that you’re a very skilled player, Charles.”
Charles was silent. Hugo was unsure where the conversation was going. Loki was first, the best, and Hugo was his number two. That was always it. So why was Loki making things complicated?
“Hugo could—“
“Stop talking about Hugo.” Hugo flinched. Loki’s tone turned sharp, almost, but the words cut deeper. Hugo tightened his fingers around his thumb. “I don’t want Hugo as my number two, Charles. I want you.”
Oh.
Hugo felt his whole world tilt on its axis. His stomach ached. Inside, a dark pit formed in his chest, clawing at his lungs, sinking into his body, all with the realization that Loki didn’t want him. At all. He didn’t want him to be his second, to be his partner. He wanted Charles. He thought Charles was better. Hugo could throw up. He felt like he was going to.
He ran to the bathroom, trying not to make too much noise as he shut himself inside a stall and immediately kneeled, hunched over the toilet and squeezed his eyes shut. He hawked, trying to get the feeling out of him. He coughed, and he felt something slip out of his throat and onto his tongue, then out of his mouth. He coughed again, and the feeling came again. He opened his eyes, looking down at the toilet.
In the water, resting gently on the surface of the water, were several pink, pale, flower petals. It took Hugo to process what that meant. He had coughed up…flower petals?
Oh shit.
Flower petals. His mind instantly flashed to Loki, and he felt the pit inside of him grow. He coughed again, and more petals fell from his lips. Hugo could cry. He was half expecting Loki to have come to the bathroom by now, maybe hearing him and wanting to check in. Then Hugo remembered. Loki didn’t care. Hugo coughed again.
He leaned back against the door of the stall, and he had a sense of hopelessness he hadn’t felt since meeting Loki. He felt like his entire world had withered away, leaving him with the ashes. Loki didn’t want him, and now Hugo was coughing up petals, and no way was he telling anybody. Hugo quickly got up and flushed the toilet, leaving the bathroom and the locker room quickly, returning to his hotel room.
Hugo knew what it meant. He knew eventually, the sickness would only get worse, and soon, Hugo’s soccer career would be over, and he would be on the verge of death. He knew there was no cure; he couldn’t help that Loki did not reciprocate his feelings. It hurt, but Hugo couldn’t change it. Hugo coughed, and he let the petals trickle onto his desk over which he was leaning.
Hugo showered Loki with love, not bothering to hide his affection. It didn’t occur to him that maybe Loki never treated him the same way because he didn’t feel the same way. Apparently, Charles was better, and Loki didn’t want Hugo at all, and he didn’t care enough to even let Hugo know.
Hugo went to sleep that night, dreaming of a universe where he and Loki were together, on top of the world. They were celebrating their win of the World Cup together, and Hugo held Loki in his arms, and Hugo could feel him. Feel Loki’s skin, Loki’s clothing, rubbing against him. Loki smiled at him, eyes squinted shut and teeth shining bright, and Hugo knew that he had his entire world in his arms. Then Hugo awoke, and suddenly, and was forced back into the harsh reality, and between his arms, Loki wasn’t there. Instead, there was just a pile of flower petals laying on his sheets.
—
Hugo went to practice, and everything was fine. He would just avoid Loki to the best of his abilities, but because that would seem off, and would do his best to put on a smile and pretend everything was okay. As long as he did that, Hugo was sure that he wouldn’t cough up a petal, and if he did, he could hide it quickly. Hugo knew that the disease typically took a couple weeks to spread to the point where it hindered his physical capabilities, so for now, Hugo was fine.
Hugo saw Charles, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. He knew Charles. He liked Charles. Sure, he was annoying at times, but he was a good player, and he was funny, too. Hugo usually tolerated his presence enough to the point that he had gotten used to it. Hugo knew he couldn’t blame Loki for wanting him more. Charles was juggling a soccer ball in the locker room while Hugo stared. A teammate yelled at Charles to take it outside, and he grinned and continued to hit the ball. Hugo stared.
A hand appeared on Hugo’s shoulder, and by the weight of it, Hugo instantly knew it was Loki. “You okay, Hugo?” he asked.
Hugo almost melted, until he remembered. He didn’t know what hurt more — the fact that Loki was doing all of that and still liked Charles more, or the possibility that Loki didn’t mean it at all.
“Fine,” Hugo replied. Loki looked as if he didn’t believe him, but he let it go anyway. Hugo wondered if it was because he didn’t want to argue, or because he simply didn’t care enough. Hugo hated how he was now questioning everything Loki did, what it meant, whether or not Loki was faking it. Hugo wished he had never heard the conversation in the first place. At least then he could live in blissful ignorance.
Hugo coughed. He quickly brought his hand to his mouth and let the petals drop into his palm, then he squeezed his fingers tight around it. Loki looked at him questioningly. Hugo shook his head, and Loki began to walk out to the field, expecting Hugo to follow him. He did, but not after throwing the petals into the garbage.
Practice was just like any other day. They trained hard, like they always did, but it was with less urgency, since they didn’t have any reason to have to try very hard against Nigeria. They ran through drills like normal, going over positioning and plays.
Hugo could feel his lungs straining. He tried to resist the urge to cough at all, and when he did, the petals were blown away by the wind. But still, the constant running and exercise, the exercise he was so used to, felt tolling. He could still keep up, still play how he did before, but it felt harder to keep it up than it should have. Hugo knew why. But there was nothing he could do about it, so the only thing he could do was get used to it. Hugo paused, breathing in, deeply, then out, slowly.
During a water break, Hugo sat on the bench, panting heavily. He was sweating. Loki approached him, standing tall above him while Hugo was sitting down. He looked up.
Loki crossed his arms, looking down at Hugo. He seemed to not be tired at all, no visible sweat and a relatively relaxed expression, besides his worry about the situation at hand. “What’s going on? Did something happen?” His voice was firm, but not sharp. If anything, it was softer than usual, concern seeping into his tone.
Hugo took a sip of his water. He looked toward the ground, spreading his legs and resting his elbows upon his knees. His breath was hot, heavy from practice. “I’m fine.”
Loki kneeled in front of him, his eye level slightly below Hugo’s. “You’re not.”
“I’m playing just fine, aren’t I?” Hugo’s eyes wandered from the field up to Loki’s. They were face to face.
“You could be playing better.”
Hugo wiped his sweat away, rolling his eyes. “It’s just practice, Loki.”
Loki scoffed. “And it’s just the World Cup.”
“That’s not the same. We won last match, and we’re going to win next match, so what’s the issue?” Hugo stared intently at Loki.
“Your playing is off.”
Hugo swallowed. “It’s fine.”
“It needs to be better than ‘fine,’” Loki told him. “You know that.”
“And it will be when it needs to be.” Hugo was lying, and he knew Loki suspected he was too. Hugo’s playing wasn’t going to get better. He probably was going to be playing at his peak for one last match, and then after that, it was going to get far worse. Hugo didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to spend time playing soccer with Loki while he still could.
And it wasn’t like Loki knew why he wasn’t playing well, or why Hugo was lying, but he could always tell when Hugo was dishonest. In all the years they knew each other, they never figured out how to lie to each other.
Loki spoke. “Hugo, I don’t—“ But he was cut off by their coach yelling that the water break was up, and it was time to get back to playing.
Loki sighed, standing up. “Fine, just— You can talk to me, okay?” He looked like he desperately wanted to say more, but he didn’t. He shot Hugo one lasting look before he walked away. Hugo watched him go. He coughed, and discarded the petals onto the field. Then he followed him, like he always did.
The rest of practice continued just the same as the first half of practice, but this time, Hugo was more aware of Loki constantly watching him. It didn’t distract him to the point where he played worse, but it made him curious. Why was Loki watching? What did he have to say?
Loki’s gaze followed him even as practice ended and they all entered the locker room. Hugo was weary from exhaustion, the practice taking a toll on him. With all of the people around him, though, he was careful to restrain from coughing. He wasn’t sure how well he would be able to hide his disease with everybody surrounding him, and Loki’s eyes glued to his every motion.
Hugo sat down on the bench against the lockers, taking a few deep breaths to regain some energy. He leaned back, heaving. After a few seconds, he sat up and began to take off his cleats. Once he was changed and ready, he picked up his bag and moved to leave. He was stopped by a voice, the same one that he had heard for forever, the same one he had heard the day before in that same place, the same voice that held his heart together just to shatter it.
“Hugo, let’s go out. To the diner,” Loki said, swinging his bag onto his shoulder.
Hugo rubbed the back of his neck. He racked through excuses in his mind. He knew if he said yes, he would be more hurt than healed. Because Loki didn’t like him. “Uh, I can’t. I got plans. An appointment. Sorry.”
Loki visibly deflated. He looked confused, almost, that Hugo had said no. Hugo hadn’t said no to Loki before. His eyes were wide, shocked, golden, but dimmed from the disappointment. “Oh. Okay.” He fidgeted with the strap of his bag.
Hugo bit his lip. Shit. He was really stupid. He sighed. “You know what, it’s fine. I can cancel the appointment.” Loki’s face lit up. His eyes were shining, bright, radiant. Hugo let an easy smile find its way onto his face. “I’ll drive, alright?”
Loki smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
And then, somehow, Hugo found himself in the car with Loki, and it almost felt like everything was normal. Loki was sitting in the passenger seat, leaning back against the chair, so casual and calm without a care in the world, right next to him. His head was turned to look out the window, lightly humming along to the music through the radio. He looked peaceful.
As if he could tell he was watching him, Loki turned to meet Hugo’s gaze. Loki tilted his head, eyes asking, Everything okay?
Hugo’s eyes said back, Of course. He shifted his focus back to driving, but he could still feel Loki’s gaze on him. Hugo tightened his grip on the steering wheel to keep from reaching out toward Loki, like his hands longed to do.
“I like this song,” Loki said.
Hugo couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah?” He made a mental note to add it to his playlists.
“Yeah.” And Loki smiled back at him, and he felt the space brighten.
They approached the destination. Hugo parked, and the two of them stepped out of the car. Entering the diner, Hugo held the door open, and followed Loki inside. The space wasn’t that crowded, with only a few tables occupied. Hugo and Loki sat at the back corner, like they always did back when they were in France.
“Are you going to tell me what was going on during practice, or are you going to pretend nothing happened?” Loki asked once they were settled down. He was leaning back, his arms crossed over his chest.
Hugo scoffed. “It was nothing.”
“So the second option.”
Hugo leaned forward, resting his forearms against the table. “I was just tired.”
Loki raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Loki, I’m sure. Can we talk about something else?”
Loki sighed. “If that’s what you want.”
“We’re playing Nigeria next, but they’re not very good either,” Hugo commented.
“So, what? You’re just going to do everything?” Loki questioned.
Hugo rested his chin on his hands and smiled. “If that’s what you want.”
Loki opened his mouth to say something, but the waiter came over and interrupted. They had been there before, when they first arrived in Japan, and they were pleased to find out the waiters spoke in English.
Loki ordered something simple, the same thing he got last time they were there. Hugo ordered the same thing as Loki. The waiter takes their order with a kind nod and longer than needed look at Hugo, which makes him wonder if she can tell. If she knows about perhaps who he is, or perhaps that there’s a tension within him and flowers in his lungs. She leaves without any more fuss. Loki watches her leave, then turns back to him.
“Hugo.” Loki paused, as if considering his words. His eyes darted across Hugo’s face, observing and taking in his features, his posture, his tenseness. Loki swallowed, and Hugo watched as his throat moved slowly and deeply. Loki opened his mouth to speak, and his words seemed shaky, almost, in a way that Hugo had never heard him. “You know I care about you.”
Hugo felt a sickness within his stomach, and he knew it wasn't because of his disease. “Yeah,” Hugo tried to keep his voice steady.
“I just…You’ve seemed off lately. And I know you’re going to deny it, but I know something’s wrong, because I know you. And I feel like you’re forgetting how well I know you,” Loki told him.
Hugo didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if he was supposed to say anything at all.
“You don’t need to talk if you don’t want to, or respond. I just want you to know you can talk to me,” Loki seemed helpless almost, and the sickness spread throughout Hugo’s entire body. This was his Loki, and he was in pain, and it was because of him. And then Hugo remembered that he was in pain too, and it was because of Loki. He wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“Okay.”
And that was that. Loki studied him for a moment longer before quickly changing the topic. His features and expression shifted quickly, as if their previous conversation had never existed at all.
Loki’s shine in his eyes was glowing, albeit a bit dimmer than it usually was, but glowing nonetheless. And that spark made Hugo happier too, and he let Loki steer the conversation in whichever direction he was heading, following him like always. Hugo felt the urge to reach across the table and grab Loki’s hand, to hold onto it. He didn’t know why, nor where the urge came from. He stuck his hands between his knees, interacting his fingers with each other to keep from moving them without thinking.
Their food came, and Loki and Hugo began to eat. Loki asked him questions; casual ones with no harm, like ‘What book are you reading right now?’ or ‘What team are you looking forward to playing in the U20 World Cup?’ and it was easy, because it was Loki. Hugo settled in, the tension leaving his body, but not completely. He still could feel the petals in his chest, threatening to rise out of his throat.
It wasn’t until Hugo had dropped Loki off that he coughed up a petal. It was bigger, this time, and it hurt. There were drops of blood on his hand when he spit, and the petal was darker, too. It didn’t make sense. That progression wasn’t supposed to happen until a week, at least a few days. But it had only been one day since he coughed up the first petal.
Hugo’s breathing was shallow. Too shallow. He downed a glass of water, hoping it might do something, but it didn’t. It was fine, though. He could still breath, he could still move, he could still play soccer. So it didn’t matter. He just had to ignore it until he couldn’t anymore.
He had a feeling that he had less time than he thought.
—
As the days continued on, Hugo tried to get further away from Loki, to separate himself and hope to lose affection, but he couldn’t. He gravitated toward Loki. No matter how hard he tried, he always stayed by Loki, went to him, played with him. How could he not? He was still Loki, even if he wasn’t his Loki.
Loki was merciless. Hugo tried, but Loki kept on making those hopeful eyes, and honestly, how was Hugo supposed to say no to that? It was cruel, really, to expect Hugo to do such a thing. Loki kept on taking. His dignity, his time, and even his health, and the worst part? Hugo would let him. He wanted to let him. He wanted to be had by Loki, and he would let himself for as long as Loki wanted, because it was Loki.
A few days had gone by, and his disease was progressing far faster than it should have. He couldn’t afford to miss practice, not when their game was so soon (not that they couldn’t win without him). He needed to be there, with Loki. But he couldn’t. That morning, he could barely get out of bed, much less play soccer. He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling, and he knew. Today was the day. And the thought felt heavy, but it felt freeing, too. It was the day he would escape the agony that he loved so much.
He left his room an hour after he had awoken. He felt empty. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what he could do. Surely not anything physical, as to not put any more strain on his body than already was. Besides, if he really didn’t care, he would be at soccer practice at the moment, not sulking around his apartment.
Briefly, Hugo thought about it. Going to practice. And then he pictured himself falling behind his teammates, choking on flower petals and blood and having everybody on his team know, and from there, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out who it was for. He wondered if everybody already knew that Loki never intended to make Hugo his number two, that it was always Charles, and they never cared to tell him; they just let Hugo go on and on about his dreams and devotion and philosophy, all revolving around Loki, who, as it turned out, didn’t even want him.
Hugo did everything for Loki, and Loki didn’t want him. Perhaps his own obsession and worshipping of Loki had made him blind to Loki’s true feelings. He treated him like a god, and it didn’t cross his mind that maybe his feelings were human, and he didn’t actually care about who worshipped him at all.
Hugo just lied on his couch. He accepted his fate, his destiny, to die at the hands of his Loki, and there was nothing he could do to hide from it. Hugo knew this about destiny. He could try and run, but it would eventually catch up. So what was the point in wasting his energy?
The coughing came in fits, many at a time, then, sometimes, none at all. He leaned over the side of the couch to let the petals fall into a bowl. Their size was more than double what they had been on the first day, in that locker room bathroom.
Hugo leaned his head back on the arm rest of the couch. As he breathed, he could feel the fluttering in his chest. Love can kill, and Hugo was about to find out how, first hand. Hugo wondered if how he felt for Loki could really be defined as love. Then he almost hit himself in the head.
Of course it could. Hugo loved Loki in all possible ways. He loved him with every ounce of his being, so much so that it had become second nature to love him. He couldn’t even call it love; it was more than that. It was all consuming, and sometimes, Hugo felt as if it was magic. He thought it was what helped them dominate on the field, ruining others’ careers and lives just by their skill on the ball.
But now, the only life it was ruining was his. Maybe this was his karma, then. For being too reckless. With his talent, and with Loki’s. Perhaps he had been too harsh on that Japanese number 11. But there was nothing Hugo could do to change it now.
And so, when he found himself coughing again, unable to stop, the bowl flipping over as he fell off the couch and onto the floor, groping for something to ground himself, he didn’t run, or try to change it. He accepted it.
Hugo believed in destiny, and he knew that this was his.
He coughed into his hands, and when he looked at them, they were stained with blood, a few petals lying in the red liquid that was seeping into his palms. The petals almost blended in with the blood. His mouth was filled with the taste of iron. He licked his lips, then wiped them with the back of his hand, blood trickling down his wrist, and some onto the floor.
Hugo crawled away from the couch. He didn’t see the point in trying to call emergency services. The only way he could possibly survive was by getting rid of the flowers surgically, but that came with the reality of never feeling for Loki again, and that hurt him more than the thought of death. He crawled off the carpet and rested by the coffee tables, on his knees, and leaning his temple against the side of the table.
He was so in his head, the ringing in his ears so loud, he almost didn’t hear the three, distinct knocks on his apartment door. But of course, he did hear them, and every bone in his body froze. Only one person ever knocked on his door, and certainly only one who knocked like that.
The three knocks sounded again, but Hugo wasn’t exactly in a position to go answer the door. When there was no answer, he heard Loki calling, “Hugo? Hugo! Please, open up! It’s me!”
Hugo felt his heart physically clench. He almost did — stand up, go to the door, and collapse into Loki’s arm. Hugo could’ve cried at the thought.
The door clicked, and the handle turned. Loki had a key. He had forgotten that he had given it to him. Of course he gave it to him, but Loki hardly ever used it, since whenever he entered Hugo’s apartment it was either with him, or his knocks were answered before he had time to hit his knuckles against the door more than twice.
Loki, in all his beauty, glory, and grace, stood in the doorway. His eyes scanned the room. Then he saw Hugo, on the ground. His eyes widened, and Hugo watched the spark dim away. Loki looked horrified. Must be because of all that blood. Honestly, it looked worse than it was.
“Hugo,” Loki breathed. “What…what happened?” Right. He couldn’t see the petals.
Hugo gave a weak smile, and picked his head off from against the table. “‘M fine. You should go.”
“No,” Loki said, like Hugo had deeply offended him personally. Hugo loved him so much, it was hard to even capture in words. Hugo coughed, hard, and it hurt like hell. Hugo could’ve sworn he could see tears forming in Loki’s eyes, but for what reason, Hugo didn’t know. Loki was concerned, and Hugo was about to die.
And then, in the blink of an eye, Loki was running over to him, putting his arms around him, and suddenly the deep pain in Hugo’s chest didn’t matter anymore. It was a nice place to die, in Loki’s arms. If that was how he had to go, he wouldn’t mind it at all. “Loki,” Hugo groaned. That was all that mattered. He was there. The petals were coming up again, and Hugo coughed. That one hurt even more — he didn’t want to put any distance between him and Loki, but against his will, he doubled over and clutched his chest. Hugo desperately tried to cover up the flower petals, hitting them away and holding them tightly in his hands.
“Hugo?” Loki’s voice was panicked. Hugo had never seen or heard Loki panicked before. Loki was always calm, reasonable. There was usually no reason to panic. Hugo felt ashamed that he was the reason for Loki’s distress. “Hugo, what’s wrong? Tell me.”
Hugo choked on a sob. He coughed again, into his hand, then again and again and again. His lungs felt like they were being suffocated. Loki’s arms tightened around Hugo’s back.
“Please,” Loki said. Hugo’s heart cracked even more. “Talk to me.”
“You,” Hugo croaked.
“What?”
“You don’t—“ A cough cut off his words. “You don’t like me,” Hugo choked. It was pathetic to say out loud. “You don’t want me,” he whispered, quieter.
Loki’s hands wavered against Hugo’s back. “Why would you say that?” He sounded offended, almost, that Hugo would dare say such a thing. “How does that— What are you talking about?” And now Loki was confused, gripping one of Hugo’s arms.
Hugo leaned against Loki so that his temple was pressing against Loki’s shoulder. He opened his fist and faced his palm to the ground, letting all the flower petals trickle onto the floor. Hugo coughed, and more flower petals fell. “You…and Charles.”
“What about Charles?”
“You want him as your number two,” Hugo practically whimpered. “You don’t want me.”
“Hugo—“
But Hugo coughed, and this time, it sounded more like a choke. He felt his lungs tighten, and a mass of blood came pooling from his lips. He suddenly found it very hard to breathe. He heaved, grabbing onto Loki, trying to say something, anything, but he couldn’t. A full flower fell out of his mouth, and he couldn’t hide it. Loki saw. But Hugo didn't have enough time to see his reaction, he was going to die. Hugo fell, his body giving out, and he laid in the pile of blood and flowers. His hand opened, and more petals fell.
“Hugo,” Loki was holding him, ever so gently, like he was a glass object he couldn’t afford to break. “Of course I want you,” he said, but Hugo was too far gone to hear it. “I always have.”