𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝.

Chapter 14 - Who and Why

Neymar POV

"Hey," Bruna greeted me with a kiss, which I gladly melted into. For God's sake, I needed to move on from both Leo and Kylian — and hey, Bruna was actually pretty amazing for a girlfriend. She managed everything so well, and she somehow made time for me despite her regular films and shootings and everything. "How's everything? You look exhausted. Was training alright? Oh, let me make tea—"

I silenced her by cutting her off. 

"It's fine, my love. I'll be okay after a shower and a bit of rest." I chuckled, hugging her quickly and tossing my bag down on the sofa. I hummed a little tune from Você Partiu Meu Coração while going up the stairs and grabbing a pair of grey sweatpants before swinging into the bathroom. I made sure the water heating was on so that I could think. 

The truth was, I wasn't simply just tired. I was mad. I was very, very, extremely mad at Kylian. He thought that our little kiss under the stars meant nothing and we were just friends and we were doing fine just like before. But then what was that milkshake 'date' for, then? What were all those hugs and shy smiles and laughs for? Honestly, this man... 

I let the water turn from a light cool trickle into a hot fall above my head, the force crashing against my back. I only showered in hot water if I needed to seriously rethink my life. Which was now, for example. 

Why was he shunning me at training? I gave him a smile, I gave him everything... but the guy decided we needed to pretend nothing happened even though something major did. I mean... dude. Come on. At least he could have talked to me in secret or something, but no, he chose to completely shut me out and act like we were friends — actually, he pretty much acted like we were strangers. 

Man, he doesn't know how much I hate that. 

But I like him, so maybe I'll go a little nicer on him. 

Just him. 

I wrapped the towel around my waist as I stepped out of the shower, running my fingers through my dripping hair. Opening the door, I instinctively grabbed my phone to check for any messages or calls from Kylian... or Leo. 

And, unfortunately, Leo had apparently called me three times. And here he was calling me once more. 

"Hey..." His shy voice rung through the iPhone, and it was all I could do to not grin like an idiot. God, I missed his voice. I just wanted to pull him into the biggest hug possible, laugh, kiss him in a thousand different places. "How are you?" 

"Oh, me? I'm — I'm good," I stammered out, still disbelieving that Leo had called me. Him. I didn't feel like telling him about Kylian. Maybe Leo wouldn't be the best person to tell. I remember when I could tell him about anything, though, and he would listen intently, tell me what to do, give me a hug and a kiss and go about his day. "What about you?"

"I'm really happy. I also heard you won your last match. Against Marseille. Um — well done. PSG must be really proud of you." The ever-so-slightly muffled voice that still had the same beautiful loving tone pretty much was music to my ears. Literally. Not just because of the congratulations, but because he noticed when nobody else did. 

"Thanks. Barca's doing great too..." I trailed off. No, Barcelona was not doing great. At all. Barca was losing every single match they played in, and even the players were mostly off sick or making up some kind of shitty excuse. 

"No... I think it misses you, Ney." He chuckled, and my eyes widened. He just called me Ney. Again. And he laughed... to me! My amazing gorgeous talented Leo laughed and called me Ney! It had been so long since I heard such a great sound. I suppose it was my fault that I had distanced us... and it was kind of Gerard's phone that brought us together again.

Now he was calling me again, and I definitely wasn't complaining. At all.

"So..." I began nervously, not knowing what to say.

"So..." I could hear his awkwardness through the metal, and then he suddenly spoke up once again, the words I would have once felt easy to say without the pounding ache in my heart as if I was perhaps doing something supposedly... illegal. "I really, really miss you, Ney. Is it possible if we... you know, see each other?" His voice was noticeably quieter towards the end as he finished off, so nervous and hopeful and heartbreaking I couldn't bring myself to say no... but I couldn't bring myself to say yes either. I was too scared. 

"Um..." I started, and I heard him sigh, that miserable noise. Oh, Leo. Fine. I'll say yes. "Yes," I said confidently. "When?"

"You will? You will? Um... in two weeks?" His smile was practically tangible, and I could tell he was grinning from the sound of his words, like his lips were curved upwards hopefully. "I can't go to France, so can you come to Spain?"

"Why... why can't you go to France?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, Anto's pregnant! That's why, I've got to stay and take care of the baby so I can't be away for long, you know?" He replied cheerfully, his heart sailing high while I think mine just plummeted to the bottom of the sea. Antonela was pregnant? 

"With your... with your child? I mean, did you have the baby with her?" I asked nervously, discomfort coiling around my chest and strangling me so much I felt like choking.

"I... yeah," he trailed off. He knew how I felt. He knew I missed him. And worst of all, he knew I wanted him to leave Antonela and love me and be with me instead. "Look, we don't have to—"

"But Leo, I want to. I want to see you. Bye! Got to go. Text you later!" I ended the call, my furious fake smile dissolving into a frown. Now this just made everything a million times harder and more complicated. 

"Ney! Are you done?" Bruna's voice reverberated through the walls of our house and I called back before entering the dining room. "Oh, good. You know, Messi's wife? Antonela? She's having a—"

"She's pregnant, I know. I just called Leo."

"You... you called Leo? Was everything okay?" She asked, her arms sliding around my neck, and her eyes concerned. Too concerned and too soft, for my liking. 

"Yep."

"Good." She kissed me sweetly, just a chaste one. 

Oh, this horrible sweet curse-blessing of a man was actually going to be the death of me.

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i'm not going to say any names here, but can you stop making fun of my nationality? like if you're not latina you don't get to say whatever the fuck you want about latina culture and just put in your two cents by not judging what people are and why their nationality matters. so what if I wear a fucking dress to a fucking fancy dinner WHY THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MATTER TO Y'ALL YOU'RE NOT EVEN THE ONE WEARING THE FUCKING CLOTHES.

sorry you all. 

for all of you who aren't, thanks so much for your support. I feel like I'm not getting as many reads nowadays, but thanks for whoever's reading it.

@bitchyouadopted ilysm thanks for your support on my feed. fingers crossed you read this.

toodleoo, carmen <3