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John Stones was dating Leroy Sané.
Not many people knew about this, but that didn’t make it any less true. In the weeks and months before Leroy had been sold, when they hadn’t known if he was going, when John didn’t know if he would be sold as well, they had found each other amongst the uncertainty.
It wasn’t as if they had never spoken before, they were close, always had been close, but there had always been a line that neither were willing to cross. That is, until a random Friday, midsummer, when everyone else had left the grounds already and they were walking to their respective cars, and in a moment of madness, John had pushed Leroy against the passenger door of a random vehicle and kissed him.
The rest was history. Sort of.
It had started as an escape, a way to forget about everything for a short while, but soon they found themselves falling into a routine.
There was something familiar in the way that Leroy would wander around John’s, looking through the fridge to find food, or in the way that after every match, they would find each other first, not leave each other’s side for the rest of the night. It was a comfort, at least, to have someone constantly with you.
When the German had left for Bayern, it had been hard at first, a lot of ups and downs, but they had found their way through it. It had been a year now and going strong, though John did miss having him with him every waking hour of the day.
The times when they could see each other made up for it somewhat.
So John Stones was still at City, had fucking finally made it, signing another five year contract, and Leroy Sané was at Bayern Munich, just under a thousand miles away from him (937.6 to be exact) and they loved each other secretly.
Some bloody cliché story this was.
Some of the lads at City knew, either by working it out themselves or accidentally walking in on something they shouldn’t have. The only person John had specifically told was Kyle, even his family only knew when Leroy had called him once in the middle of dinner.
Now, John loved him, really, he did. He loved his eyes and his smile and the way that he would talk and talk about anything with him. But he wasn’t in love with him.
Being so far apart makes it very difficult to be in love with someone, when you hardly see them and you both have your own lives. If John was in Munich or Leroy was still in Manchester, or they were both anywhere in the world but together, things might be different. One day (not so long away, though he won’t admit it), they’ll retire and maybe they’ll be with each other then. They hadn’t talked about it, didn’t really talk about their relationship much, but that didn’t mean the love wasn’t there, like a current flowing between them, barely noticeable at times but still existing, quietly, unnoticeable unless you knew about it.
Sometimes John saw happy couples on the street, maybe teenagers, inexperienced and enthusiastic, first loves and all that, or adults with a pushchair and a baby in each arm, tired but happy. His heart ached a little more on those days.
Because he wanted something like that, something domestic he can come home to, maybe a dog and a shared house and a few children. Call him chavvy, basic, whatever you like,but he grew up in Barnsley. That was everyone’s aspiration there, no one really made it, one would just leave school at 16 and got married to the first person who asked.
Everyone except John.
Never, in a million years, had he expected to get to where he was today. His family and friends would say they always believed in him, they knew he could do it, but John had always lacked self belief. Even now, 27 years old, he couldn’t quite believe his luck. To be playing for one of the best clubs in the world, and his country-it was something a boy could only dream of.
There were positives and negatives, in his career, and with dating Leroy, but John was happy.
Ruben Dias fancied John Stones.
Not many people knew about this, especially not John or Kyle, but that didn’t make it any less true. He had been too ashamed to admit it, the fact that he liked a man, the fact that said man had a boyfriend. He hated the guilt whenever he heard John talking about Leroy, or when he let his eyes wander for a little too long before remembering himself.
It wasn’t as if he were a homewrecker. He would never do that to either of them, wouldn’t be so selfish as to come between the happy couple. He just thought John was fit, that was all.
And yes, maybe at night he did wonder what it would be like to have him by his side, in his bed, but it was purely physical attraction. The man just had a good body, he couldn’t help but be appreciative of it. And of his smile. And his sense of humour. And how he knew what he was thinking on the pitch without him even having to speak.
So John was in Manchester, with Ruben, who just fancied him, nothing more, and Leroy was in Germany, without John physically, but they were together. It was all getting a bit confusing for Raheem, who was the only one who knew all of the details.
Sometimes Ruben wondered if John liked him back, just a little bit. Like, for instance, when John would always offer him water if he complained of the smallest headache, or when he would laugh at all of his jokes (even the stupid ones), or when his hand would rest for just a little too long, just a little too far down his back to be a friendly hug.
But the fact still remained, Leroy had him, he wasn’t his.
He didn’t hate Sané, not one bit. They had always gotten on well, and that was what made the guilt worse. Ruben saw John nearly every single day of the year, and he only managed to see him every few months. The defender would remind himself of this fact whenever he was jealous, or sad. Usually he would regret it immediately afterwards, but it was true.
John wasn’t his, probably would never be his, but Ruben was (mostly) okay with that.