Neymar x reader- boundless pontential -

chapter 2

Y/n sat right in front Neymar jr.

Now that's a sentence right there. Y/n- average seventeen year old y/n, was sitting right across from Neymar jr.

He leaned back, eyes still transfixed on her form. He's been staring at her for ten- no, about thirty seconds. She wished she could be more daring, that she'd actualy look up and make eye contact.

Neymar already ordered Alesia- his personal assistant, to prepare a few things in the next hall over. She was a tall woman with the most strict expression she'd ever seen. If professionalism had a human form, y/n wouldn't doubt it'd look like her.

"Humour me" he said after a while.

Y/n wasn't sure she heard him right: "What?".

He leaned a bit forward, eyes finally making contact. "I asked you to humour me".

"How am I supposed to do that?".

Giving her a small shrug, he started listing things off. "You can ask me something- consider it an honour. Or how about dancing, that's what you do, right?".

"You're expecting me to dance here" it was meant to sound light-hearted, but came out cold instead. He didn't take it that way though, grinning childishly. "I can always appreciate a good show" he quipped.

"I'll go with the former option".

"A question? Then go ahead, I'll answer three".

Y/n grew silent. She looked through her mind for anything interesting. "You're a famous guy. I'm sure you've been asked every question on the planet".

"You'd be suprised" Neymar's eyes twinkled. "Some people manage to catch me off-guard".

"I don't know if I'm one of those people".

"Try".

Gulping down a mountain of anxiety, y/n thought about it genuinely. She cast away any feelings to impress aside. When y/n asks something it's out of curiosity, this should be no different.

"How does it feel like to lose?" she asked softly.

His face morphed into something unrecognisable. As if she had peeled a layer of confidence off and was gazing at the underneath.

Maybe this was the real Neymar jr?

Y/n didn't know him long enough to know if a real him existed. Maybe he was constantly real, maybe he didn't have any hidden sides. Unlikely, a voice in her chided. Everyone has hidden sides.

"Awful" he said. She wasn't expecting a straight answer, much less something so raw.

"Every time I've been injured, every loss I've faced. They were all awful in their own way. It was either the dissapointment on my teammates faces or the anger I felt towards myself. Losing is awful".

He closed his eyes, face smoothing over. "The worst is when you tried your hardest. Because it meant that your best wasn't good enough. That despite all your efforts you still failed". A short breath left through his nose: "It's soul crushing".

Those words resonated with y/n. It was all she feared, most of what she could think about. This wasn't some small thing, she was competing big-time, everyone would be watching. Her family, her friends, the world.

What if they're the first ones out?
What if any of them gets injured, or the stress becomes too much to bear?

A gentle hum thrummed beneath her seat, shaking her from those thoughts. Neymar shifted his head to the window and sighed wistfully: "Time for take-off" he mumbled. Y/n bunched her fists into the plush seats, eyes screwed shut. Think about croissants, y/n, or a really hot man. An extremely attractive man. Or woman, whichever is more distracting.