Sempre

[Thirteen]

.:Chapter Thirteen:.

♛Milena's POV♛

Brazil drew against Mexico.

That was okay, right? I mean, they didn't lose. It would've been worse if they had lost. Mexico really do have a brilliant goalie; he saved every single one of Brazil's attacks time and time again. The game was really foul-ey though; there were so many fouls by both teams.

My eyes found a small figure making his way off the pitch. His head was drooped, like a little flower that needed sunlight. Neymar's sunlight was victory. Not only Neymar, but everyone's sunlight was victory. How can you live without at least one success, no matter how big or small?

I made my way outside of the stadium - the Fortaleza. It was beautiful. I guess every stadium is beautiful though, inside and out. It contains memories, of wins and losses, of broken records and new records, of happiness and tears.

I sent a quick text to Neymar.

To: Brazilian King

I'm waiting outside. You played great today.

I was positive he was going to deny it. He's so modest, and it's ironic because people assume he's a cocky asshole when he's far from that. His photoshoots just fuel the idea though; that smirk plastered across his face as he shows off his abs and body, especially in the Lupo shoots, my goodness.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, alerting me of a message. I fumbled around for a bit as crowds of people walked past me, some elated and others... not so much. It was great news for the Mexicans, who had managed to tame Brazil - the hosts of this year's World Cup. But for the Brazilians? One phrase will be uttered: they could've done better.

From: Brazilian King

ok.

He was annoyed; I could practically feel it radiating from that message. I didn't know how to make him feel better. I hadn't even known him for long. I tried to think of possible ways to cheer him up.

Give him a hug? Yeah, but then what?

Joke around? He probably won't be in the mood.

Take him out for something to eat? What if he's not hungry?

I sighed. This was going to be hard. I kept imagining possible scenarios that could go down, each idea getting more and more futile as I went along. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't notice a familiar silhouette making its way towards me in the deserted area.

"Hey." Neymar said monotonously, void of any emotion.

"You ready to go?" I asked gently. Of course he was ready to go, that's why he was standing there. Why did I have to say that?

"Well, yeah." He walked around the car and was about to open the door to the driver's side when I stopped him.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm opening a door..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say.

I smacked my forehead. "I mean why are you opening the driver's door?"

"Because I'm driving..." He looked at me as if I was crazy. I suppose from his point of view, I did look a little insane. Asking him what he was doing as he was doing it, yeah, I'd be wary of me too.

"No you're not. I am." I argued, speed walking to where he was standing and grabbing the door handle, giving him a defiant look.

"Sorry mulher, but you're wrong. I'm driving us home." He straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest. To anyone else, he'd look quite frightening with his hard look and strong posture, but to me, it made me even more determined to drive.