Different Now (Sergio Ramos) **SLOW UPDATES**

chapter twenty-five

a/n: this whole chapter will be from Marina's point of view. :)
enjoy.
11 parts left. ❤️

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It was getting harder and harder each day.
I didn't mind living with Iker whatsoever, but after everything happening, I haven't even kept up with my job. I've been so caught up with stupid Sergio and his life, forgetting all about my own. Regardless of this matter, I was notified that La Liga have apparently taken my "absence" as vacation (for more than 5 months? Totally.). I had no idea, and I needed to get back on track. As soon as I felt the need to get organized, my phone vibrates in my lap. I sigh, twirling my pen between my index and middle finger, in desperation. All I longed for was a break. Which I obviously wasn't going to get anytime soon.

I pick the phone up, the screen lighting up to show:

Neymar - 9:32am
Need to talk. You free anytime soon?

I tilted my head to the side in annoyance, a crack shortly following. Why he felt the need to text me after not bothering to talk to me for so long? That I don't know.
I dropped my head in disappointment, knowing that I'll never get the time to do my work in time.
I slowly type back the words:

Sure. Free @ 12. Meet me at the park, I
guess.

And I suddenly felt an empty feeling of regret and despair. I hadn't realized that this man probably still feels something for me, and/or wants revenge towards Sergio from past events..
I haven't heard from Sergio, Marc, Iker or anyone in the past few hours of waking up. Iker, a surprise since I live in his home, is as humble as ever, but seems to be avoiding me. I offered to take care of his son, Martin but his wife claimed it was okay.
My eyes slowly turn back to clock, revealing that it was 11:35. I bursted out of bed, rushing towards the closet, getting ready to see a man who could potentially hurt me emotionally again.

-

My back rested against the wall, anxiously waiting for the arrival of the infamous Barca player, Neymar. As my arms were crossed, my head remained low, eyes on my black flats.

I just simply wanted to know what he wanted from me. He already got his ass kicked once, and I wouldn't mind seeing him getting it kicked again, considering what a creep he can be (or is). He claimed to be desperately in love with me and how he would do anything for me; Claiming Sergio couldn't do the same.
Suddenly, a black BMW convertible pulls up next to the curb next to me, as kids were yelling in glee and joy behind me.
The windows were tinted black, then suddenly the passenger door bursts open only to reveal a golden tanned Brazilian, Neymar.
The convertible was parked on the curb where the trees overshadowed it, causing me to not to be able to see the other side of the car.
He smirks, sliding down his Rayban sunglasses to see who stood in front of him. Yet, behind him, the driver door was slammed shut, causing me to latch my eyes onto the tall slim man. Neymar leaned against the convertible, his smirk glued onto his grimacing face.
My eyes widen and my hands begin sweating as the (driver) man comes out of the shadows, only to see it was the glamorous Spaniard, Marc Bartra.
My heart sinks, and my head stoops low once again, in attempt to hope and pray the green eyed man didn't see me; Which is a dumb wish since I'm pretty sure he did.
I can't bare myself to look up.
My head, heart and body ache of pain of all the bullshit I've had to endure these past several days.

"Marina, we can see you." A thick accent says, as I slowly look up to the eyes of Neymar. His face remained highly close to mine as my breathing became heavier. His sunglasses stayed low, and the green eyed man stood behind him, a blank expression on his face.
"Hello, Neymar." I softly say, my eyes took their time to look into the Brazilian's eyes. He smiled, slowly raising his body up straight. He turns to the Spaniard, who stood up there silent.