Game

　　Title: Prelife

　　Paring: Matthaeus/Klinsmann

　　Rating: PG

　　Warning:none

　　Disclaimer: I know none of them, and I swear it's not true.

　　Summary: Let’s trace back to our prelives…

　　1990 Milano

　　Even before he came into the locker room, Juergen heard Lothar arguing with Walter about some affairs in WWⅡ.

　　Walter was sneering at the stupidity of Goering’s Luftwaffe. Though both countries were notorious, it seemd Walter felt more bold with justice, his poor Lothar, with his awkward Italian, soon fell speechless.

　　“Ciao!” Juergen came in with a big smile on his face.

　　“Ciao!” “Ciao!”

　　“Juergen, help our countryman outta here! He’s kinda cornered by these jerks!” Andy laughed.

　　All laughed.

　　“OK, let’s talk about something else, how about La Dame aux camellias this weekend?” Juergen smiled to Nicola, who slept with “Marguerite” when they came back from the opera.

　　“Oh crap!” cried Walter.

　　“You shrewd German people!” Nicola smiled.

　　All laughed again.

　　Later that night, Lothar’s room

　　“Don’t be that grouchy, look at u, u rigid thing…”

　　Lothar didn’t move, and looked very depressed.

　　“I hate everything in Italy.”

　　“Don’t be such a baby.”

　　Juergen lay on bed and tried to pull Lothar down, this time he failed again.

　　“Lothar?”

　　Lothar didn’t react.

　　“Herr Matthaeus?”

　　Lothar didn’t react.

　　“Shite!”

　　Lothar didn’t react.

　　Juergen felt a little resented. He grabbed the comforter and pretended to be asleep.

　　Later he found Lothar rest his stupid head on his left arm, and murmured something to him.

　　“Say it loud.”

　　“You are not sleeping!”

　　“I say say it loud!”

　　“Do you really think we are sinful?”

　　“Lothar, everyone was born so.”

　　“I mean…Deutschen…”

　　“You know what? You are my sin.” He kissed on his hair.

　　“No Juergen, I'm serious, what do u think if were born like 60 years ago?”

　　“You must be crazy.”

　　“I am really serious.”

　　Lothar sat up, and pulled up Juergen, threw his arms around Juergen’s neck, kissed his path down to his chest.

　　Juergen meditated for a while, then unlocked Lothar’s arms, lay on his lover’s thigh, blinked and said: “If we were born 60 years ago, I am a gallant warrior.”

　　“So you will kill people?”

　　“Don’t be so silly please, I am a soldier.”

　　“Hey, golden bomber, you will be an ace.”

　　“No, I am on the field. Afrika Korps.”

　　Lothar felt a little weird, it’s he who started the random fantasy, but now Juergen seemed enjoying himself more.

　　He dautted Juergen’s hair, sniffed: “Dove?”

　　“I don’t use shampoo, we are accustomed to soap.”

　　“Hey, r u all right?”

　　“Lothar, SERIOUSLY, I am now a soldier, a brilliant soldier of Third Reich.”

　　“Why not invent a pseudonym for you, my hero?”

　　“Jay Goeppingen.”

　　“OK, then I'm your buddy.”

　　“Great, we are in the same panzer division, two gallant soldiers, and we are intimate friends.”

　　“And lovers.” Lothar changed his position, lay beside Juergen, turned off the light.

　　Juergen kept talking, ignoring Lothar’s suggestion.

　　“We distinguished ourselves by performing daring and skilful, soon we are promoted to Generals.”

　　“Keep talking, it sounds more interesting.” Lothar became cheerful.

　　Juergen kept his head on Lothar’s chest, telling his story in a calm tone, totally lost in his fantasy.

　　“We are good generals, we successfully deter the British from following up their success. Our opponents launch lots of offensives with their fresh forces, but we repel them all.”

　　“Great, well done——wait, wait, that's what we did this summer! We won the World Cup! We beat England, and others also…that’s exactly like a war!”

　　Juergen still ignored him, and kept talking.

　　“Our enemies outnumber us in tanks by more than 5 to 2. plus, their tanks are gun-armed, ours are not.”

　　“No big deal, we are daring and skilful, and Germans always win. You see Juergen, a soccer match is just like a war…”

　　“Shut up and listen to me.”

　　“What’s the result then? We lose?”

　　“No, we win, like the WC 4 months ago, you are right, a soccer match is just like a war.”

　　“I love you so much, Juergen. You know? We always stand together and march forward to glory, our lives are indelibly engraved together. No matter we are soldiers or footballers…”

　　“Don’t say that, Lothar, that’s not auspicious.” Juergen sealed his lips with his lips.
　　And for the first time, he reached in his lover.

　　They kissed each other crazily.

　　They felt their souls shared as one.

　　“I love you, Juergen.”

　　“Ditto.”

　　1994 Saanora

　　A week ago, the Bulgarians had astonished everybody by putting out the holders, Germany.

　　Coach Berti and sweeper Lothar bore the most criticism, rebuke, and even curse. There must be one to take all these blames, if only this could more or less comfort the tortured German fans.

　　The conflict between Lothar and Berti finally burst out. It’s obvious that only one of them could stay in the squad.

　　Juergen kept silent.

　　Everyone wanted his opinion, but he didn’t reveal a single word.

　　Night before Press Conference in Frankfurt, Lothar’s room.

　　“What would you say tomorrow?” Lothar, being on fire, looked dolorous and worried.

　　“Let’s switch the topic, OK?”

　　“You don’t think it’s justified to put all the blames on me, do you?” He grasped Juergen’s sleeve, a little desperate.

　　“Lothar, remember the fantasy four years ago?”

　　“What?”

　　Juergen rested his head on Lothar’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, just like four years ago.

　　He continued his fantasy.

　　“We are good, we are really good, daring, skilful…but that is not everything, anyway, we are living in a real world, people are dying everyday, we couldn’t bear the loss any more.”

　　“How could this happen?”

　　“It could happen to everyone, Germany couldn’t win every time, No matter in soccer or something else.We are old, maybe our format are out of fashion...no reason, that's the world in which we are living, cruel, sometimes too cruel.”

　　“Keep talking.” Lothar fell silent, Juergen was right: Germany couldn’t win every time.

　　“Our opponents’ superiority of strength over us has been increased so vast and we have to admit that——we are worn down.”

　　“What? That’s so soon.”

　　“We have to retreat.”

　　“No!”

　　“We do have to retreat, and that’s what our Marshal said.”

　　“No!”

　　“Lothar, don’t behave this silly. Every time a group meet difficulties and defeat, the underlying flaws emerge. And inevitably, someone would fall scapegoat. That’s the very thing what we call sacrifice.”

　　“But…but…we used to be so glorious, we were on top…”

　　“All passed, everything. ” Juergen kissed his lover’s forehead in darkness.

　　Finally, two lines of liquid dropped on Lothar’s arm.

　　“Are you OK? Juergen? ”

　　Juergen was sobbing and shivering like a bird.

　　“Hold me, hold me tight, Lothar.”

　　“What are you talking about?”

　　“Just hold me, hold me tight.”

　　When Lothar woke up the next morning, Juergen had gone, with nothing left.

　　“At this crisis, I definitely back up Berti, we have to pay for some technical errors, and maybe a great operation in our NT is needed. Alea Jacta Est.”

　　Juergen spoke on the press conference, with a confident and dazzling smile on his face.

　　-The end-

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