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"what are you crying for?" he reached out to grab her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.
she felt idiotic, especially because she was crying, so she pulled out of his grip and made her way to her car.
"stop, luara," neymar tutted, closing the car door before she could even get in, "what the fuck are you crying for? tell me."
"i'm not crying, neymar, get the fuck off." she sniffled, trying to sound as angry as she could, even though her voice broke.
neymar rolled his eyes, spinning her around, "why are you crying? how much have you drunk in the space of half an hour?"
she glanced up at him, but looked away just as quick ashamedly, "i've only done like three shots, not much."
"then why are you crying? how many times do i have to fucking ask you?" he grabbed onto her chin, lifting her head up to look at him, "tell me."
"you've just upset me." she snapped, glaring at him, "dancing with her, who do you think you are?"
he scoffed in disbelief, "oh, don't give me that, luara. you were the one letting some parisian stick his you-know-what against your ass."
"i was trying to get you off my mind." she leant back against her car, moving her hair over her shoulder. she felt even more idiotic saying that out loud, and she hated that she'd gone to someone else to get him off her mind.
"okay then, i was trying to get you off my mind." he placed his hands on his hips, shrugging his shoulders, glancing around briefly, catching sight of distant flashes. great.
she opened her mouth to reply, but closed it quickly. she wiped the tears underneath her eyes, furrowing her brows at neymar and turning her head to look in the direction he was looking. paparazzi, that's always good right now.
"that's not fair–"
"no, luara," he cut her off frustratedly, "what's not fair– is the fact that you're getting upset and angry that i've done the exact same thing you've just done."
she blinked slowly, gaze rolling down to their shoes. she was embarrassed. hearing him say that made her realize how stupid she actually was, and how unfair she was being. however, being luara, she didn't want to admit that she was in the wrong, so she kept quiet.
"how do you think i feel, huh? when you're pressed up against someone that isn't me? that's not fair." he ran a hand through his hair, "you can't get upset when you've done it too– you're a fucking bitchy hypocrite."
"i'm going back to brazil." she said quickly, turning around and opening her car door.
"of course, you go. you go be with your bitchy friend and be bitchy together, hm?" he nodded sarcastically, holding the door open as she got inside.
her bottom lip quivered as she put her bag in the passenger seat. before she put her seatbelt on, she wiped underneath her eyes again, "why do we even bother, neymar?"
he chuckled, "you're so fucking dramatic, luara– go to brazil, for fuck's sake."
she reached out for the car door, "i don't want to see you again."
he paused, clenching his jaw at her words and holding the car door wider open, "why not?"
"it's better when we're apart, i don't wanna fucking see you again, so get off." she hissed, slamming the door shut and driving off as fast as she could, eyes blurred with tears, but she blinked them away.
he stood back, watching her drive off. he didn't expect her to react like that, and the reality of it set in. he wasn't going to be as foolish as her and start crying, so he blinked tears away, and sucked on his teeth. even though he didn't want to be idiotic like her, he still walked back into the club.
