More than Friends (Neymar Jr. Fanfic)

Chapter 12: One Kiss Two Kiss Red Bliss True Bliss

By halftime the room was silent.

By halftime Marianna had tears that wanted to escape, the only thing holding it back was the sliver of hope she was grasping onto.

By halftime we were all doomed.

It's crazy how a family gathering, a time of happiness and joy can turn into a funeral within 45 minutes. This family gathering sure as hell sounded like one. And what was that funeral for? It was Brazil's funeral, it was the people in the stands dressed up in yellow and green booing their own team. I stared at the television screen, bold white letters were practically imprinted on the inside of my eyelids when it was too much to look at.

I hate to say I expected a loss, but not one this bad.

4-0 in the first half. I knew this wasn't the end.

Was I being over-dramatic?

Hell no.

In fact, I was completely calm compared to the snot-faced Brazilians in the crowd. The only person who looked like they were about to explode was Neymar sitting all the way on the other side of the couch, arms crossed over his chest.

I was more terrified of the dead silence than the fact that he was angry. Who knew what he was thinking right now? When he painstakingly sat up from the couch and waddled away, I could only assume for the moment that he wanted to be alone.

But leaving an enraged, crippled, self-conscious Futebol star in a room by himself was not my best bet, so I sat up and followed him inside his room (with the glorious cold-stares from Adrianno of course).

"You're not going to sit here and cry all day are you?" I asked closing the door behind me and leaning on the adjacent wall.

"I have a broken back, Rosa. The most I can do is eat, sleep and shit." He fell back against the bed with ease and crushed a pillow on his face.

"You forgot piss of Adrianno but alright." I sighed.

"He'll get over it."

"Will he?"

"He's not as bitter as you are," he said peeking from under the pillows. I raised an eyebrow in protest.

"I'm not bitter!"

"You nearly beat me to death with a cricket bat."

"My original plan was to set you on fire and dance over your ashes, you know. You should be a little more grateful Juninho."

"You have a dark side you know that?" He smirked.

"I'm not an angel. I can have as a dark aside as I damn well please." I identified all the pictures on the wall, some I remembered, but it was an image of a mass of blonde curls on a little boy smiling from ear to ear. It didn't take rocket science to figure out that was his son; as a matter of fact despite popular belief, I could see the similarities. Same cheesy grin, long face, crinkles at the eyes when they smile. I don't know what was crazier; knowing Neymar had a child or still believing he was one.

"You're right, I should be more grateful Rosa."

I didn't know how it happened, much less why. As a matter of fact I was almost sure it would take some serious steroids for him to move off the bed that quickly. All I know is that withing 4.8 seconds, I was kissing Neymar.

You know that moment when something happens, and it takes a few moments for your mind to process that shit just went down? And after your brain picked up what reality was putting down, your heart just stops functioning?

Now imagine that ten times worse.

Because that's exactly what my reaction was.

Maybe it was my lack of a love life in the past 21 years, or I spent too much time gluing my eyes to American soap operas, but what the hell was I supposed to do when the guy I was in love with for 10 years kisses me?