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Jobe looked sheepishly at the two men across from him.
What a crazy coincidence it had been that on their first day of their annual ‘offseason brothers trip’ they had stumbled off of the boat they had rented for the day, right into the arms of one of New Castle’s most recognisable strikers.
Jude had instantly greeted the other player as if they were old friends – even though Jobe wasn’t sure if they had ever even met - and only a few minutes later the two terminal extroverts had cooked up a plan to spend the evening on the boat that Nick Woltemade had chartered with about a busload of his friends.
The group had surprised Jobe with how easy going and funny they were. Not that he had expected them to be complete assholes or anything. But… well… In his years of playing professional football – and, admittedly, being the brother of one Jude Bellingham – he had been around enough absolute nutcases on chartered yachts to be weary.
However, Woltemade’s friends could not have been further from that. Without skipping a beat, they had immediately adopted him and Jude, including them in silly party games, telling them stories about the various adventures the group seemed to have gone on together and rambling about their own ventures - fashion, social media, music, the list went on. They were all genuinely nice, funny and interesting and Jobe hoped that he’d stay in contact with at least a few of them.
And yet, as he sat alone on the softly cushioned bench that his brother had abandoned to find a bathroom, he felt awkward and a little out of place. Almost everyone had gone to bed already. He figured that he and Jude would probably also head to their hotel as soon as his brother got back, but – with the ultimate yapper that Jude was - who knew when that was going to be?
So here he was. Alone. Well, almost.
Across from him, a guy who he had barely gotten the chance to talk to all evening, but who had introduced himself as Silas, sat curled up in a jacket that was far too big for him. He looked like he might fall asleep sitting up and yet, Jobe doubted that he was going to muster up the strength to move any time soon. Quietly, he couldn’t help but wonder whether Nick – who looked at Silas as if he had personally hung the stars in the sky - would end up carrying him inside.
The thought made him smile. “So how long have you two been together?” he asked softly, finally breaking the silence that had settled around them.
He hadn’t even really thought about the question before the words had left his mouth. To him, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to ask.
Unfortunately for him, however, his brother had chosen that exact moment to return and well… he didn’t seem to quite share his assessment of the situation.
“What the fuck, Jobe?” the older hissed. “Did they tell you that they are together?”
Jobe rolled his eyes. “They told me that they live together in New Castle,” he said indignantly. “That Silas moved there with Nick when he got signed. He…“, he nodded towards Silas. “-is wearing Nick’s jacket and the one time I talked to them today, they were bickering about which one of them is better at taking care of their house plants.” He gave his brother an unimpressed look. “So, no, I did not ask them whether they were together. I did not feel like I had to.”
He didn’t know whether he should feel exasperated or sorry for his brother. It wasn’t like he had much of a reference point. He didn’t really have any queer friends, even less so ones that were also professional football players. So, yeah, he didn’t really have a way of telling whether his brother’s extreme anxiety was ‘normal’ compared to others in his situation… though Jobe seriously doubted it.
He knew that it wasn’t his brother’s fault. He and Jude had grown up in locker rooms of youth academies, which… weren’t usually known to be the most accepting places in the world. And while he got to have at least a bit of a life outside of football, his brother had been too obviously talented to be afforded that chance.
It had always been obvious that there was something special about Jude. From the moment he had put down the daisy chains and picked up a ball instead, his insane talent had been obvious. Jude had always been the best in every team he’d joined. Always surrounded by coaches, scouts, managers and admirers - never true friends. Just people who wanted a piece of the incredible story that had started unfolding when he had still been so young.
When Jude had moved to Germany at 17 for a record sum, the only people at his ‘farewell party’ had been family members, teammates and Birmingham City staff. They had hugged him, congratulated him… hell, they had even retired his jersey. However, not one person had seemed sad to see him go. Everyone had simply been far too excited. It had taken years until Jobe had begun to understand what that must have felt like for his brother.
And yeah, his quick rise to stardom in Dortmund that saw him become captain when he was still a teenager with a subsequent nine figure move to fucking Real Madrid, probably didn’t make it any easier to feel settled and trust that people truly cared for him and his wellbeing…
Woltemade had clearly led a different life. He seemed to have a solid group of friends who treated him like the most normal guy in the world, teasing him for his lack of dance skills, arguing with him on whether pineapple belonged on a pizza and not letting him get away with a bad joke. He was grounded in a way Jude had probably never been.
Plus, he had Silas. Silas, who was part of the group, who he had apparently known for like 10 years, who had been by his side for everything - from his first game as a pro, to his time on loan at a third division club and then the DFB cup, his national team debut and the big move to the premier league.
Woltemade probably never had to question Silas’ intentions or wondered what his friends might think if he told them that he had a boyfriend - because they probably all knew, since the beginning. Jobe sighed and silently hoped that his brother could one day feel as at home as Woltemade clearly felt with his friends and his partner.
But for now, they were as far from that as they could have possibly been.
Jude groaned as he sat back down. “How many fucking times do I have to tell you that you never ask or even worse assume - you absolute donut.” He turned to give the two men across from them – who, to Jude’s credit, did look a bit dumbfounded – an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him…”
Oh… Oh, fuck no! “What’s wrong with me?!” Jobe immediately protested. “I’m the sane one here, thank you very much. You need to get over yourself, bro.” he shook his head. “If Silas was a girl and I would have asked the same question, you would not be on my ass like this.”
Jude flashed him an angry glare, but Jobe was not about to let him get away with this bullshit yet again. “I get that you’re scared or whatever, but you have to stop projecting this hard! You’re causing a fucking scene where it could have just been wonderfully normal.”
“I am causing a scene?!” By now, Jude looked downright furious. “Why can’t you just act like any other dense fucking football player, huh?!” For a moment, Jobe thought his brother might actually punch him in the face… but then he just slumped into his seat and let out an exasperated groan.
“Sometimes I think that a little bit of homophobia would not be the worst thing in the world for you,” his words were so quiet that Jobe was barely able to hear them.
And yet, as soon as he did, he let out a sharp laugh. “Well,” he cackled. “Unfortunately for me, you had taken the entire supply of it in mum’s womb and internalised it. So, by the time I got there, there was none left for me.”
Jude buried his face in his hands. “You’re so fucking weird.”
“Well,” Jobe scoffed. “At least I am not… you know…”
Jude started blankly at him. “Wow.”
Across from him, Woltemade shifted uncomfortable and Silas mumbled something that must have been German. Jobe groaned. “You know that I didn’t mean it like that,” he hissed.
He turned to the other two. “Just to be clear: I could not give less of a shit that my dear brother likes suck dick.” He looked at his brother and really, really hoped that he could tell that he was trying to be sincere. “Seriously,” he said softly. “Go ahead.” He shrugged. “I am all for you sucking dick and getting your back blown out or whatever.”
Okay, those might have been the wrong words. While Jude didn’t look angry anymore, he did look a little green and kind of like he wanted to die. Jobe was completely out of his depth. “There is no shame in liking any of that.”
He swallowed and looked to the floor. “My only issue is… you know… the fact that the dick you suck is well, married.”
Next to him, Jude made a sound somewhere between a dying seal and a choking seagull, while Silas gasped and Woltemade spat out the beer he had been sipping.
“I do not suck married dick!” Jude weakly tried to defend himself.
And Jobe did truly feel sorry for him. But he also really, really needed to talk about it. He needed his brother to know that he deserved better, that there was a Silas out there for him – one that – judging from Jude’s track record - was probably far taller and far more built and a lot more similar to a Viking… but a Silas like that just had to exist. Jobe needed his brother to know that he didn’t have to settle for being the shameful side piece in a presumably failing marriage.
“Oh yeah?” he asked provocatively, which… he realised too late was probably not the best approach. But the sight of Norway’s superstar sprawled out on his brother’s bed ahead of the quarter final game had been all that he’d been thinking about for weeks.
It had been pretty late, and Jobe had simply wanted to bring Jude some of his favourite protein bars as well as wish him good luck. Usually, his brother was grateful for the distraction. He had always been antsy when alone ahead of big games. Jobe couldn’t count the number of times that his brother had called him, and they had spent an eternity on the phone, talking about anything and everything, just so that Jude could forget all of the relentless pressure that always seemed to press down on him, even if only for a few blissful hours.
Normally, he would have gladly invited Jobe inside for a round of FIFA or to watch an episode or two of some bullshit reality TV show. That night however, Jude had barely opened the door far enough for Jobe to see his brother looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights.
And Jobe wasn’t an idiot. He had spent enough time living and travelling with his teammates to know exactly what was going on.
At first, he had almost felt excited. Jude didn’t ever talk about dating or sex or anything of the sort. And honestly? Jobe hadn’t been entirely sure whether he had just not wanted to share that part of his life or… well… whether there was just nothing to tell.
So, seeing his brother clearly trying to hide the fact that there was someone in his room, had almost made him giddy. But then he had chanced a glance past him and… well, there had been no mistaking that massive frame and flash of blonde hair…
His stomach had immediately turned on its head. However, before he could say anything, Jude had thanked him and shut the door in his face.
They hadn’t talked about it since. Not until this very moment.
“So, what did you do in Miami then?” Jobe hissed at him now. “Did you reminisce the good old times when his dick wasn’t married yet?”
Jude had turned a bright shade of red and hid his head in his hands again. “We just talked,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his own palms. “We didn’t… I didn’t…” He looked up and immediately back at the floor when he seemed to remember that there were other people present.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “I…”
But Woltemade interrupted him. “You suck dick?” He looked completely fascinated.
And despite everything, Jude laughed. “That’s all that you got from that?”
“Well, for the record,” Woltemade sat up a little straighter and glanced at Silas. “I am also very concerned about the being married part…” He scratched his ear sheepishly. “But… I don’t know… For some fucked up reason, I am way more used to footballers sleeping with married people than to footballers you know…”
“Sucking dick,” Jobe said vehemently. “What the fuck is up with you people that you can’t even utter the words? I feel like we need some kind of exposure therapy.”
He decided to take it as a good sign that the rest of the group laughed at that.
It was Silas, who spoke next. And, well, he definitely did not look all that tired anymore. “Just to make sure I understood correctly…” he began and his eyes darted back and forth between the two brothers. “You suck dick. But not just any dick… You suck Erling fucking Haaland’s dick?!”
Jobe hadn’t thought it was possible for Jude to blush even more. “Not… not like… recently…” he mumbled. “Definitely not since he got married. It’s… it’s not like that now.”
Jobe rolled his eyes and turned to Silas. “Basically, they were a thing but not a thing in Dortmund and my dear brother has been pining after this man ever since.”
Jude groaned. “I… It’s not… He doesn’t…” But in that exact moment his phone – that had been laying face up on the table in front of him – lit up with an incoming call from ‘E💜’ and the whole round erupted.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?!” Jobe half-shouted, while Silas’ looked like his eyes might pop out of his head and Woltemade was gesticulating so wildly that it was half a miracle that he hadn’t broken someone’s nose yet.
Jude ignored them all in favour of stepping off of the boat to take the call in a hushed tone that definitely wasn’t convincing anyone of his ‘there’s nothing going on’-story.
After a while, Jobe sighed. They’d have to continue that argument when Jude would return… but maybe his brother was simply beyond saving and would never stop being stupid about this man.
“So?” he said instead and turned to the other two once more. “How long have you been together?”
They both laughed and Nick pulled Silas into his side while he proudly said: “Four years in March.”