slut - Alexia Putellas

21.

this hurt.

so let's ignore what we just saw before i regret saying stuff later and find out how things will keep going with those two. we've got exciting chapters coming up.

enjoy. ☕️✍🏼

The following day, Erin returned to Alexia's apartment well past midnight, exhausted from a long day out.

As she closed the front door shut behind her, its faint click echoed in the quiet hallway, emphasizing the unusual stillness that enveloped the place.

The apartment felt unusually quiet. All lights were turned on, a sign that the Ballon D'Or winner had been either restless or preoccupied.

Kicking off her shoes with a sigh of relief, Erin placed them meticulously on the designated sideboard by the entrance.

Padding across the tiled floor, her steps were quiet and deliberate, trying not to disturb anyone who might be asleep. But the more she glanced around, the more her brow furrowed as she scanned the living area and kitchen, finding them eerily vacant. The unease in her grew as she checked the bathroom and even the balcony, but there was no sign of the Ballon D'Or winner.

No sign of Alexia.

And she couldn't help the sense of concern that tugged in her chest.

It wasn't like Alexia to be absent without a trace, especially at this hour. So she started wondering where the captain could be, at least until she noticed the bedroom door slightly ajar, a faint sliver of light escaping through the narrow crack.

"Alexia?" Erin's voice wavered slightly as she softly tapped on the bedroom door. "Are you in there?"

Silence greeted her.

She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering near the frame as she waited for the Ballon D'Or winner to respond or open the door.

"Alexia? You alright?"

She repeated her question, a touch more urgently, but still, no response came. Concern furrowed Erin's brow as she announced decisively, "I'm coming in now. I need to check on you."

Pushing the door open gently, just enough to peer inside, Erin looked into the dimly lit bedroom. The small bedside lamp casted a soft, warm glow, illuminating the edges of the room but leaving the corners shrouded in shadows.

At least the bedside lamp was enough to illuminate Alexia's frame, the one that sat perched on the bed's edge, hunched over with her head bowed. A little ball of fluff was curled up by her feet, Nala's tail giving a weak wag as she glanced at Erin.

Despite yesterdays, well, argument, the therapist's heart suddenly sank at the sight of Alexia sitting on the edge of the bed - the way her shoulders slumped very unusual for the Ballon D'Or winner.

Approaching cautiously, Erin's voice trembled with concern as she noticed the tiny, salty tears glistening on the athlete's cheeks.

"What's wrong?"

Slowly, the brunette turned her tear-streaked face toward Erin, her eyes swollen, red and puffy from crying. There was a vulnerability in her expression that the blonde didn't know existed, and it shook her to the core.

"Alexia?"

For a moment, the midfielder seemed at a loss for words, grabbing with the weight of her emotions before she had gathered enough courage to speak up. She hesitated for a couple of seconds, visibly overwhelmed.

"I'm on my period," she admitted with a soft murmur, her voice fragile and broken.

Blinking in surprise, the confession caught Erin off guard. And she wouldn't deny that she expected Alexia to say something else. She let out a nervous chuckle, trying to ease the tension.