Marco Reus and Mesut Özil (Part 2)

Mariyam got up and walked towards where Marco had disappeared to. "I'm going to go check on him, make yourself at home," she told Mesut as she disappeared around the corner. Seeing Marco pacing in the living room, she leaned on the door, waiting for him to speak or notice her. After a few more seconds, Marco's blond head tilted upwards and their eyes locked.

"Why did you come check on me?" Marco asked, going to sit on one of the couches. Mariyam pushed herself off the wall and took a seat next to Marco on her couch.

"Because I care about you, Marco, you're one of my best friends," Mariyam replied, rubbing his back soothingly as she did so.

"But that's the problem, Mariyam," Marco huffed, standing bolt upright and continuing his pacing pattern across Mariyam's living room.

"What's the problem? I can't have more than one best friend?" Mariyam snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked up at the Dortmund superstar with a hard gaze.

"That's not what I meant, Mariyam."

"Then what did you mean, Marco? Enlighten me," Mariyam sarcastically rolled her eyes for good measure.

"It's just that . . . we . . . me and Mesut . . . we're . . . it's kind of hard to explain," Marco rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to piece together an answer for an impatient Mariyam.

"Just spit it out, Marco," Mariyam demanded.

"Okay. Mesut and I, we're both guys, right?"

"I'm pretty sure you both are, yes," Mariyam joked.

"Well, see guys get kind of territorial when it comes to something they like. When there's another guy trying to steal whatever the other guy had, the other guy gets angry and territorial," Marco explained.

"It still doesn't make sense to me. You're both adults, you both play for Germany and you guys worked so cohesively on the field before, I don't know why you guys suddenly can't get along. What is this thing that you guys are fighting over, because we need to resolve it before it gets way out of hand," Mariyam responded, getting up off the couch. Marco's throat tightened slightly after Mariyam's words. "You both have plenty of money, I'm sure you guys can afford to buy another one of whatever you guys are fighting over."

"It's not that easy, Mariyam, because there's only one copy of what we're fighting over," Marco sighed.

"Then make another copy."

"Human cloning is illegal."

"So you're fighting over a human? A girl I'm assuming?" Mariyam asked, the pit of her stomach dropping as she slowly figured out what exactly the two of them were fighting over, and she didn't like it.

"Yeah. She's the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world. She doesn't acknowledge her beauty a lot, though, which is a shame because she could light up the sky with her beautiful smile," Marco continued on as he inched closer and closer to Mariyam. Mariyam could almost see the distinct hairs on Marco's face, he hadn't shaved this morning.

"And does this girl . . . does she know all about this?" Mariyam gaped as Marco continued to close the space in between the two of them.

"No, but she will . . . soon," Marco stated before connecting his and Mariyam's lips. Mariyam gasped into the kiss, gripping Marco's shirt tightly as she tried to find her thoughts again. Realizing where she was and more importantly what she was doing, Mariyam pulled away from the kiss. Taking quick breaths, due to her lack of ability to breathe for the last few seconds, Mariyam refused to meet Marco's eyes. Her eyes however did meet the hurt look Mesut shot her as he stepped away from the entrance to the living room. He turned and walked away, causing Mariyam to shoot a look at Marco.

"Marco . . . I . . . just give me a minute," Mariyam sighed, running after Mesut. "Mesut, wait!" she shouted, grabbing onto his arm as he reached for his car keys he had left on the dining room table. "Mesut, please listen to me," Mariyam pleaded. Mesut refused to meet her eyes and tried to grab his keys from Mariyam's hand. "Mesut, please."

"I'm not mad," he assured her, his gaze softening at her broken expression.

"You're not? Then why are you leaving?" Mariyam questioned, still holding tightly onto Mesut's car keys, the grooves in the metal making indents on her palm.

"I'm invading your and Marco's lives now. I hope that you guys have a happy life together and I don't want to get in between you guys any more than I already have," Mesut spoke softly, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen out of Mariyam's eye with his thumb.

"You're not getting in the way of anything, Mesut. Please, just stay," Mariyam pleaded once more.

"Mariyam," Mesut whispered, rubbing his thumb soothingly across her cheek as he cupped her cheek with one hand. Mariyam grabbed onto it and held Mesut's hand to her cheek. "I have no place here anymore. Marco's a great guy and he'll take care of you better than I ever would have been able to," Mesut paused, looking up as Marco walked into the kitchen, a few feet from Mesut and Mariyam's tender moment. Crossing his arms, he leaned on the counter top, looking at the ground.

Mariyam ignored Marco and kept her undivided attention on Mesut. Grabbing her hand in his own larger one, Mesut gently pulled the keys out of Mariyam's grasp. She didn't even budge. "Just know that if you ever need me, I'll be here for you," Mesut told Mariyam, pecking her cheek. Nodding to Marco on his way out, Mesut stopped as he reached the front door. Mariyam hadn't moved from her spot but Marco glanced up at his national team teammate. "Take good care of her, Reus. She's the most wonderful person to ever grace the world with her presence, don't screw it up," Mesut stated.

"I know," Marco nodded. Mesut cast one last glance at Mariyam before he opened the front door and walked out to his car in the dreary French air. Watching the lights of his car disappear around the bend, Mariyam's head snapped so that she was looking directly at Marco.

"I hope you're happy with yourself, Reus," she said coldly, before bolting upstairs. Marco sighed but didn't follow her as she sprinted up the stairs of her home. Never before had she ever felt so . . . empty. Barging through her bedroom door, Mariyam quickly slammed it shut behind her, locking it as she slid down the wood.

Her butt finally coming into contact with the ground, Mariyam's tears welled up once more in her eyes. Except, this time there was no Mesut to wipe them away. "How pathetic am I?" Mariyam spat, standing up and wiping away her tears fiercely. Jumping onto her big, empty, bed, Mariyam stared up at the ceiling as tears trailed down the side of her face. This time she didn't wipe them away and neither did Mesut, who was gone. Mariyam just lay there and cried silently, her thoughts trailing to a certain German.

A.N. Hey guys, I wrote Part 2 after a few people expressed interest in a Part 2. Should I do a Part 3? And who are you voting for, Mesut or Marco?