“Neymar?”
“Isabelle, it's your dad.”
Rubbing her eyes, Isabelle examines her surroundings. “Where am I?”
“In my hotel room. You've been out for the whole afternoon.”
“How did I get here?”
“Neymar brought you back.”
Neymar... Isabelle shoots up, looking at her father with frantic eyes. “Where is he?! Is he here?”
Her father sighs. “He left the moment he delivered you home. What's wrong with you two? He looked pretty upset.”
So this is not a dream after all. Nothing is back to normal: her mother is still dead, her best friend is slipping away from her slowly. It is all her fault. “I want to go home.”
“Isabelle, you'll have to stay with me for a while.”
“Why? Why can't I just go back?!”
“Are you sure you can face the house after what happened?”
Isabelle bites her lower lip. The truth is, she is scared, scared that her mother's spirit will haunt her forever. “Just let me crash alone while I sort things out.”
Her father nods, getting up to leave. “I'll be back in an hour.”
When the door clicks shut behind him, Isabelle immediately bursts into uncontrollable sobs. Her world is crumbling below her, and her grasp is slowly slipping. Soon, she will become mad, unable to think, unable to control herself. Why does she have to screw up everything? Why do bad things have to happen to her? Maybe she deserves it. All she can do now is lie down and look at the world fall apart.
Maybe she can turn things around. Reaching into her purse beside her, she grabs her phone, fingers fumbling to dial Neymar's number. Pick up the phone, pick up the phone. But he doesn't answer. Isabelle tries the second, even the third time, but Neymar still doesn't pick up. She throws down her phone in frustration, tears flooding her eyes. Nothing will ever be the same again. Neymar is her best friend, the best in the world. She can't bear to lose him now.
Silence on Neymar's end continues for the next few days, and Isabelle is miserable. She doesn't bother getting up early for his practices; if he doesn't answer her calls, he won't want to see her. This is the longest he has been angry with her, and her heart feels heavier and heavier every single day. This is even worse than the time she learned he was moving to Barcelona, much worse. She wonders if they will ever reconcile, if they will ever resume the friendship they had. Meanwhile, Isabelle continues to watch his interviews, and every single FIFA match he is in. He knows she is watching, he always does.
Two months pass as quick as the weather. FIFA is over, and Neymar will be going back soon. Isabelle has learned to cope with her sadness she doesn't even notice it anymore. She sits in front of the television, watching as Neymar engages in another tearful interview. She is now living in another apartment, close to the old neighborhood she used to live in. Besides doing well at the university, she is juggling two jobs at once to keep up with the bills. Her week is so hectic she hardly has time to sleep. The only time she can rest and be herself is on Sunday, when both workplaces are closed for the day. At least she can stay at home and rest today.
The doorbell rings, and Isabelle rushes to the door, mind ready to see Alex in the doorway. Maybe she forgot something over at his house again. “Okay, just give me what I forgot and leave the building before the guards find you without a visitor's pass.”
“Isabelle.”
“Neymar?”
He stands there, tall and muscular, just like how she last seen him. A small grin hangs on his face. “May I come in?”
Isabelle hesitates. “Sure, why not?”
The door shuts behind them. Neymar looks around Isabelle's studio, taking in the art hanging from the walls. “Your new place is swell.”
She doesn't reply immediately. “Thanks.” Isabelle looks at him, a million questions flying in her head. “How's your back?”
“It's fine, I still can't play yet.”
“Not even for Barca's next match?”
“Nah, I'll be able to a week or two after that.”
“I'm sorry.”
“What for? Though I do kinda miss the ball.”
Isabelle sighs and decides to cut to the chase. “Look, Neymar, what did you come here for?”
“You don't want me here? I can leave if you want.”
“No! That's not what I meant!”
“I'm kidding.”
“I hate you.”
Neymar laughs. “I came to see you one last time before I leave tomorrow. You never show up anymore, I'm worried.”
Isabelle's heart skips a beat. “You're leaving? That soon?”
“Boss wants to get back to work as soon as possible, better to follow his orders. Season's starting, too.”
She crosses her arms, an apologetic look on her face. “Look, about that incident two months ago-”
“You mean the kiss?”
Silence. Isabelle winces a little, shifting her feet back and forth. “I just wanted to say I'm sorry.”
Neymar eyes her. “Why did you do it?”
Best friends don't keep secrets. “I was in love with you. Or at least, I thought I was. Ever since you came back I...” Isabelle trails off. “I don't even know what has gotten into me that afternoon. Things were so bad, I didn't have time to think.” She just might cry again. “I'm sorry, I really am,” she chokes.
“Hey, it's okay,” Neymar replies, patting Isabelle on the head.
“But I thought you didn't want to see me anymore. I thought you hated me.”
“For a short while, but it's no use being angry all the time.” He shrugs.
“Huh, you're just like your dad.”
“I get that a lot.” Neymar smiles. “But do you still love me?”
“I don't know, maybe. I'm not sure.” Isabelle looks away and bites her lip.
“You know I'll always love Bruna, right?”
“I know, but can we still be friends?”
“Are you kidding? Who would want to lose a friend like you?”
Isabelle smiles weakly. “Then can you do me a favor?”
“Hm?”
“Give me a hug, will you?”
“Huh?”
“Come on, just do it. Just as friends.” Isabelle holds out her arms. “Just like when we were kids.”
Neymar laughs, but holds Isabelle in his embrace anyway. Isabelle smiles and buries her nose in his shoulder. This scent, when will she smell it again? “You hug like a girl,” she teases when they break away.
“Hey! I'm a perfect man,” Neymar pleads.
“Prove it.”
“I'll challenge you to an ice cream eating contest.”
“Where?”
“Remember that ice cream stand at the park?”
“Oh you are so on.”
The End
