people.

Daniël steals a quick kiss. Anthony jokes about it in a good-natured way. Then he spends a few

words on how traffic is murderous, even at this time of the day, but that at least the sun is

shining.“Specially ordered for you.”

Steve smiles his gratitude. “Thank you.”

Anthony weaves smoothly in and out of the traffic, humming along with the radio. Steve has to

admit he actually enjoys the relatively short drive.

“Nice to see a bit of the world again?” Daniël asks, caressing the back of Steve’s hand with his

thumb.

“Yeah.” And it is.

“We’re here,” Anthony says. “We got yer home.”

Steve does the polite thing and asks their friend in, but the man refuses. “Nah, I bet you guys

could do with a moment for yerselves. I’ll just make sure yer safely in and I’m on my way. Oh, and

Dan, we made a few deals with the gentlemen of the press, so at least yer two should be left in peace

for the weekend. After that all bets are off, I’m afraid.”

With the help of Daniël Steve manages to get out of the car with reasonably ease. They ignore

the lonely photographer who snaps a few shots and is gone again, and walk to the door of what will be

their apartment for the time being, though strictly speaking it’s still Steve’s place.

Then, suddenly:“I don’t have the key.”

“But I have.” Daniël places it in Steve’s hand. And Steve tries not to wonder what this simple

gesture means.

His hand doesn’t shake when he opens the front door. He doesn’t cry when he walks from room

to room. Whatever this was before, after he closed the door behind him and said “See you in two days”

to Daniël, it no longer is.

Make no mistake about it, he’s happy to be back after so many weeks and he smiles when he

sees his belongings, exactly because they are his and as such, he cares about their history and their

practical and aesthetic value. He notices how everything has been cleaned and tidied and, even without

opening any cupboard or the fridge, he knows there’s plenty of food and something nice to drink as

well. His bed has been freshly made. There are flowers on the table. He is grateful for those gestures

of friendship. But whatever home means to him, it is standing right next to him, looking him intently

in the face. The apartment is just a place to stay. Things are things, nothing more. He only needs to

pack some very personal items, like photos of his mother and grandmother, part of his CD and DVD

collection, books and gifts from friends, in particular from Daniël, and he’s ready to go again.

“Daniël?” He places his crutches carefully against a chair and wraps his arms around the other

man. “Promise me something?”

“Anything”

“Find a real home for us.”

“Just say where you want to live and I’ll follow you. I can work anywhere. If no club wants me,

I’ll simply do something else.” Daniël kisses him. “What about you sit down, I’ll make a cup of

coffee, perhaps a few sandwiches and we’ll talk about it?”

They’re sitting as close together as possible while still being able to drink their coffee and eat

their sandwiches. For a while, they don’t say anything. There’s just the joy, slowly seeping in, of being

there, together, on that couch, touching, drinking coffee.

“You want to leave Kinbridge?” Daniël begins.

“Someday, perhaps. The club’s hinting at wanting to sell you during the next transfer window?

You’re thinking about finding another club?” He’s not even surprised how calm his voice sounds.

Or Daniël’s voice, when he answers, “Not that I know of. I’m happy to stay for a while longer.

I promised Degaré to start training after the weekend, to see if I can fight my way back. Who knows,

he might give me a chance with the first team as substitute. If that doesn’t work out, I’ll look around.

Lots of clubs won’t touch me with a ten foot pole, despite all the public declarations. Good chance my

market value has gone down a few million, and not because I’m a bit out of practice. On the other

hand, that makes me perhaps interesting for some less wealthy clubs, if I insist on playing football. I

only know I’m not going anywhere without you.”

He leans his head against Steve’s. “First I’m going to find a place for the two of us. And of

course, we have to decide a date for the wedding. ”

“Perhaps we could rent for a while. At least until we know if you stay here for the next season.

It doesn’t have to be anything big or fancy.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to deal with the media attention, or we can never go anywhere without

being pestered. I’m not going back into hiding, but I also want you to feel safe and free to go wherever

you want to go.” Daniël bites his lower lip in a nervous gesture. “I don’t want to be too afraid to leave

you alone for even half an hour, or to let you go out of the house without me. I didn’t want to think

about it, back at the hospital, but I’m afraid. Not for me, I don’t care what they sing about me in the

stands, but I can’t live with the thought that someone might even say something hateful against you,

let alone the rest.”

“If we lie on the couch I can hold you in my arms,” Steve says. “Like before ...”

It’s a bit narrow, they remember that all too well, but love doesn’t need a lot of space.

“Being discreet to the point of making ourselves invisible didn’t help. I guess some people will

be nasty for a while. But how long will it take before they’ll find something more interesting to make

a fuss about? Weeks? Months?”

Daniël looks at Steve, kisses him. “Why are you so calm?”

Steve kisses Daniël back. “I’m not, it just takes a while for me to understand how goddamn

scared I am. But somehow I don’t care. Perhaps I will tomorrow, or next week, but not today. I got out

of hospital alive. I’m holding my boy in my arms. We’re talking about our future. I can live with a bit

of fear.”

Saying the words somehow makes their significance clear. It’s not just a matter of being able

to go anywhere as a couple or to openly share an apartment, and not needing a girlfriend as prevention

against certain questions. It all goes far beyond that. They have entered the world of the grown-ups,

the adults; willing to sign a contract with the promise to take care of each other in sickness and health.

They’re a couple, setting up a household, instead of pretending it’s actually fun to sneak in and out of

each other’s homes, or to arrive at the training grounds in separate cars. They no longer hide behind

the childish lies about their love being a private matter.

He regrets the possible consequences for Daniël’s career, but doesn’t feel guilty about it. If

Daniël had chosen to ignore Degaré’s phone call and stay away from the hospital, he would have

accepted that and not laid any blame. But his lover has made a clear choice as an adult, as a man, and

he isn’t going to cheapen that by guilt. He had tried that, with the best of intentions, and he wasn’t

exactly proud of the outcome.

“So nice, having you here. Not having to warn the nurses. Not being distur –” Before Daniël

can finish his sentence the ringtone he uses for his mother’s mobile sounds. “I told her you’d come

home today.”

Steve listens to him talking in fast Dutch. Nodding and humming and sounding so full of joy it

makes his heart leap in his chest.

“Here, she wants to talk to you too.” Daniël pushes the phone against Steve’s ear.

“Just saying hi. You must be so happy to be home again. I said to Daniël he should take good

care of you and not let you do anything.” She talks for a few minutes more and Steve nods and tries to