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thesunisatangerine · 6 months ago

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playing for keeps – chapter three

alexia putellas x barçakeeper!childhoodfriend!reader

warnings: coarse language, light angst

(a/n in the tags) [chapters: one, two, three]

word count: 8.8k

[1]

Just before you turned thirteen your body, finally, began to change.

While Alexia’d gone ahead of you a year prior—with her limbs now lanky and sinewy, and her muscles stretched close to the newly grown bones—you were left behind. She’d grown taller, yes; not by much but the two-inch difference (two and a half, as Alexia was always inclined to remind you) felt like a foot to you. So the change was welcome when it finally started, and more importantly, it happened to coincide with something that completely altered the trajectory of your life.

During the spring after your birthday, your father got a promotion at work. To celebrate this milestone, he took you and your mother for a trip around Europe. And as a gift for your hard work and for getting into La Masia with Alexia just a few months before, your parents surprised you with tickets to at least one game in the country, or area, you were visiting.

In Gelsenkirchen, Germany, you found your destiny.

Or at least that was how you liked to look at it.

Before seeing the match between Schalke 04 against Stuttgart, the idea of keeping never entered your mind; you’d played forward your whole life, and you thought that would be the position you’d play in professionally. But as you saw Manuel Neuer controlling the outcome of the game with his hands, a spark ignited within you—this overwhelming surge—and right there and then, you were enlightened to the art of keeping. That spark returned home with you and, playing into the hands of fate, your journey to keeping began.

[2]

The crescendo of the cicadas’ song was this close to lulling you to sleep. It didn’t help that Alexia’d curled herself up beside you in your bed, her head on your lap while her math notebook laid forgotten at the foot of the bed, and her eyes already closed. It was a rare occurrence for the both of you and even more so for Alexia to ‘slack off’—if you were to put it as Alexia had—but this afternoon was a particularly hot one. Summer had practically bled into spring, and even someone like Alexia clearly wasn’t immune to its soporific effect.

The numbers from the homework you were working on began to blur when you heard a knock downstairs. Out of curiosity or just surprise, you snapped awake. And so did Alexia, apparently.

“You expecting someone?” Alexia yawned, stretching out her long limbs before settling over to her other side. The movement made a lock of hair fall to her cheek which you brushed away with the back of your finger.

“No, it’s probably Mamá’s.” You hummed in answer, relaxing down on your pillow to finally chase that nap that continued to tempt you.

But then came your mother’s voice, “Guille! Hello, my boy! How are you?”

Alexia let out a startled yelp when you jumped out of the bed, now fully awake, tripping on the rug as you rushed into the closet.

“What the hell? What are you doing?!” Alexia hissed with annoyance but you were too busy trying to get changed to address it.

You snatched the closest pair of shorts and jersey shirt, and began to shed the ones you had on before you slipped the fresh ones on in quick succession.

As you did, you began to explain, “I completely forgot! I was supposed to meet up with Guille today!”

When your head popped out of your shirt, you found a deep crease between Alexia’s brows. She was sitting in the middle of your bed, cross-legged, looking very much like a disgruntled cat woken from a nap with the way her hair stuck out in odd places.

She looked adorable.

You bit your tongue before you could say it.

Crossing her arms, Alexia retorted, “Why? It’s Saturday.”

The tone she used made it seem that today being a Saturday was a valid enough reason for you to not go.

“And it is because it’s Saturday—and no training, Alexia—that I can go with him.”

At that, her frown only seemed to deepen. You had half a mind to tease her but you knew that’d probably just piss her off even more, although if you were being honest, you didn’t understand just why this seemed to bother Alexia so much. So instead of teasing, you tried a placating tone, “You could come with if you want?”

Alexia opened her mouth, “I—”

Your mother’s shout cut through the air.

“Honey? Guille is here for you!”

You sent Alexia one last apologetic glance.

“I’m really sorry! Please stay for dinner! I’ll be quick!”

And with a quick hug goodbye, you rushed out of your room and practically flew down the stairs. At the bottom, you found Guille leaning against the bannister, hands in his short pockets, with a small rucksack on his back who, upon seeing you, gave you a bright smile.

“Hey! You look—” He began but then suddenly, his eyes darkened and the quirk of his lips turned upside down, his tone flattening, “Oh. You’re here.”

In the same second you noticed Alexia beside you, Alexia’d slung an arm over your shoulders.

“Lovely to see you as always, Guille. And I could say the same about you.” Alexia deadpanned, flashing Guille a smile full of teeth, her eyes void of any warmth as she stared at him down her nose. Then she turned to you, her face lighting up as she asked with a little too much excitement, “So, are we going or not?”

“Wait, she’s coming with us?” Guille blurted out, but before you could even answer, Alexia left your side and ran down the steps.

“Of course, Guille! Come on, keep up!” Alexia exclaimed on her way out of the door, tapping Guille’s stomach as she did—not without force apparently with the way Guille expelled air out harshly.

When you got to him, you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

He let out a strained, “Yes.”

You gave Guille an apologetic look, grabbing your ball bag.

“I’m really sorry for the last minute change. I’ll make it up to you.”

Still clutching his stomach, he said, “Don’t worry about it.”

The three of you got to the field near your place—which you were glad to find empty—without any more incidents. You were faced with another problem as it was only after you’d begun warming up that you realized that in your haste to leave, you forgot to bring water with you. When you told Alexia, she offered to go to the nearest corner store to buy some.

You stretched as you waited for Alexia’s return when Guille suddenly said behind you.

“Here.”

Turning, you found him holding a paper parcel bag. You considered his outstretched hand with curiosity before you met his eyes, taking the bag from him slowly. “What’s this?”

“Just a little something to get you started,” he answered, scratching the back of his head. “You said you wanted to keep, so I thought you’d need them.”

Peering into the bag, you gasped at what you found inside.

A new pair of keeper gloves.

“Guille, you didn’t have to!”

He shrugged, smiling, “Yeah, but I wanted to anyway.”

“Thank you! Come here, you big baby!” You laughed, throwing your arms around him. Unlike Alexia, Guille was only taller than you by mere centimeters so it was relatively easy to ruffle his hair as you pulled away.

“Mess up my hair again and I won’t teach you anything,” He threatened with a faux glare as he swept his fingers through his curling locks in an attempt to tame them.

You rolled your eyes, grinning at him. “Okay, Antonio Banderas. So, what are the basics?”

He imitated you, rolling his eyes before he shook his head slightly, his smile never leaving his lips. Then he pointed to a spot by the goal line. “Put your gloves on and stand right there.”

You did, noting the way your new gloves fit perfectly over your hands and fingers. It felt different—stuffy—and you could already feel your palms beginning to sweat from the trapped heat. When you stood where Guille pointed, he walked around you all the while he instructed you to correct your posture: he told you keep your feet shoulder-width apart, to bend your legs slightly so that your chest was just past your knees, and to hold your palms facing out.

“The main thing to worry about starting out is your stance. It will take time to get the balance right but once you get it down, you’re set.”

“Is this alright?”

Guille took a step back and he gripped his chin as he hummed. After a moment of scrutiny, he nudged you back suddenly. It wasn’t quite forceful but it made you tumble down on your rear all the same.

You smiled at him sheepishly, getting up. “I guess that’s a no?”

“Yep. It looks like you keep your weight on your heels too much.” He crouched down at your feet, drawing a square over the front half of your foot. “Keep your weight spread out around here and you should—”

Guille scrambled back suddenly, yelping as a football went flying past where he was just a second ago and into the net. Turning to the direction where the ball came from with your mouth agape, you found Alexia there with water bottles clasped to her chest, an eyebrow raised, while one corner of her mouth was set in a bemused droop, another ball rolling beneath her left foot.

“What the hell was that for, asshole?!” Guille shouted as he stormed his way over to Alexia. He was in front of her now, looking up at her with flame in his eyes but Alexia remained unfazed. She put the water bottles down before she settled her hands on her hips, cocking her head slightly to the side.

“I’m sorry, Guille. I didn’t see you.” Alexia said flatly, “And aren’t you supposed to be playing keeper?”

“Really. You didn’t see me? Besides—”

“Ale, I asked Guille to teach me.” You huffed, running in between them and separating them with your arms before things got out of hand—again.

This wasn’t the first time this… row between them happened. In fact, you noticed it’s been occurring more frequently lately. For all their similarities—the main one being their short tempers—the two never got on well together for reasons you never really understood and the only thread that tied them together was you.

They weren’t always like this though; they were nice with each other the first time they’d met. Guille transferred to your school not long after you’d joined Sabadell, and if you and Alexia were inseparable there, it was always you and Guille at school. And when an opportunity arose for your two favorite persons to meet, you took it. It went well; they were friendly with each other. You only noticed things had changed after you and Guille’s school team started playing against Alexia’s so you were never sure when this all started, and by that point, the friction between them was too great to smoothen out which both saddened and disappointed you.

And it wasn’t like you never tried to get to the bottom of it. You’d asked them what happened, they both gave similar answers. By that, you meant completely avoiding answering.

Guille’d assured you, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re friends? Don’t worry.”

While Alexia’d said with a confused frown, “What do you mean? Nothing happened.”

And when you pestered her, asked her if the reason was because she liked Guille as a joke, she looked at you without reply, and when next practice came, she made a nuisance of herself enough to let you know the answer to your question and more.

And here you were again, with them acting like this–always at each other’s throats.

At your answer, Alexia looked at you, confused. “Why would you ask him to teach you how to keep?”

Your gaze lanced away as you bit your lip.

Maybe you should’ve told her after all…

Mustering up the courage to meet her eye again, you replied, low and serious. “I want to start playing keeper, Alexia.”

Alexia blinked, and then she crossed her arms before she eyed Guille who was scowling at her in return. She looked at you again.

“Have you told Alejandro about this?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” A pause. “What did he say?”

“I’ll still start as a forward. But he said he’ll put in some extra technical sessions for me starting next week which was why I asked Guille to help me get started. Alejandro said if I get good enough, he’ll see if I can start as keeper for the team.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over you three.

You caught Guille’s eyes darting from you to Alexia and back again from the corner of your eyes but you remained focused on Alexia’s face. At a glance, Alexia might seem calm—impassive with the way all of her features remained flat. But her eyelids drooped just so they hid more than half of her pupils, how her lower lip was slightly concealed beneath the upper one; she was pissed and even worse, she was hurt. And knowing that you’d hurt her was enough to compel you to reach out and touch her arm, apologetic.

Alexia regarded you for a moment longer. Another word of apology was on the tip of your tongue when she finally sighed, the corner of her lips tilting up to a half-smile as she spoke softly. “Okay. How can I help?”

You couldn’t help yourself. You threw your arms around her and it felt like a weight was lifted from your chest upon hearing the chuckle she let out.

The next couple of hours were spent with the three of you working together: Guille by the goal who continuously gave you notes and instructions, while Alexia—upon Guille’s signal—would send some shots to the net so you could try and stop them. The first… fifty or so shots went right past you—going easy was never exactly Alexia’s strong suit—but the more you focused on getting the timing right and reading the language of Alexia’s body to anticipate the direction of the ball, you ended the session with a few decent saves.

It was a rough start but you were satisfied with it.

You’d left to use the restroom but upon coming back, the two of them were bickering once more.

Oh, no. What was it now?

You heard more of their words the closer you got, but you didn’t have to move too close with the way they were shouting.

“Come on, dude! Please, don’t tell me you’re still pissed off about that? It was a fair match!”

“How was that fair, Alexia? The two of you playing together is never fair! You’re both in La Masia for crying out loud! And even more importantly, she was supposed to be on my team! That was the original plan, but you went ahead and took her away!”

“What made you think I took her away?” Alexia crossed her arms, scoffing. “Let’s face it. She likes to play with me more than you.”

“You don’t know that!”

That was the moment Alexia spotted you and before you could even get a word in, she said, “Why don’t we just ask her who she’d rather play with?”

Two sets of intense eyes looked your way and without meaning to, you gulped, taking a step back.

“So? Who would you rather play with: me or her?” Guille asked, eyes wide and pleading.

Suddenly feeling like you were backed into a corner, you stammered in your panic, “Umm, I—”

[3]

Alexia stayed over for dinner that night. That was normal; what was unusual was she left you alone to do the dishes. You had a feeling where she might be, especially since she’d been mostly quiet throughout the whole evening.

After you put away the last dish in the cupboard, and when your arms were finally free from suds, you took a peek into the living room. She wasn’t there—a confirmation of her whereabouts.

Putting on your flip flops, you headed out of the back door.

The light from the living room casted a faint glow that dissipated the darkness around the garden when you opened the door that led out to it, aiding you just enough to see Alexia on the swing, sitting still with her back hunched forward. Once you were just a few paces behind her, you saw the contours of her headset, but even with them on, there was no way she didn’t know you were there—the fact that your shadow stretched to reach her before you did was a dead give away. Yet still, she made no move to acknowledge your presence.

Okay. That was fair.

“Ale,” you said softly.

She gave you a glance before she went back to looking down at her clasped hands.

“Alexia, come on.”

Still no response. You fiddled with your thumbs as the moment dragged on.

You sighed, sitting down on your heels next to her.

“I should’ve told you about the keeper thing,” you muttered. “I wanted to get a feel for it first, to get a bit better at it before I told you. But I didn’t consider how that would make you feel… and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel that I didn’t want or need you by my side, Alexia. I wanted you to think I was good enough for this.”

Finally, Alexia turned to you, taking her headset off, the movement barely above a whisper. And softly, she spoke, “What made you think that I’ll think you’re not good enough for anything?”

“I don’t know.” You admitted, pulling at the grass in front of you. Your mother would probably see the hole you’d made on the lawn and berate you for it in the morning but you needed something to keep your hands busy. “I just wanted to go through this without too many expectations. And it’s not like I don’t want to keep our dynamic going. I love playing forward with you, Alexia, but I think keeping is my calling, just like midfield is to you.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I completely understand. You didn’t want any added pressure. I’m not going to hold that against you.”

“Thank you,” you smiled at her. Then, “So, tell me why are you sulking?”

“I’m not sulking!” Alexia huffed with indignation. Then she looked away again, working her lower lip between her teeth.

You put a hand on her knee. “Alexia, what is it?”

“I…” Alexia sighed, brushing the bridge of her nose with her thumb. You gave her another moment. She heaved another breath before she began.

“That thing you said… Did you really mean it when you said you’d rather play with him than me?”

Oh. So that was what this was about.

“Of course not. We both know it’s always going to be you, Alexia.”

“Then why did you tell him that?”

“I feel like if I didn’t, I’d lose him as a friend.”

“And you’re not worried about losing me?” Alexia cried out, her tone inflected while her eyes reflected her hurt.

You blinked at her.

There were moments—just like now—where you’d feel a sudden urge to shake Alexia. For all her sharpness and unmatched awareness, she sometimes failed to see even the most obvious of things. Couldn’t she see that you loved her and that you’d follow her to the edge of the earth if she asked you to?

At the absurdity of her question, you really couldn’t help but laugh. You stood up and shuffled behind her before you threw your arms around Alexia’s neck, draping yourself over her broad back, which made the swing move forward. The dampness of her hair felt cool against your cheek, the scent of your shampoo that clung to them filled your senses as you chuckled into her ear.

“Why are you laughing? I’m serious!”

“Because, Alexia, do you hear yourself? I love you, you idiot!” You giggled again. “I know our friendship isn’t that shallow that I’d lose you over this. Or am I wrong?”

Alexia turned her head and you saw a hint of a smile on her lips. “No, I suppose not.”

A pleasant silence blanketed you both. And then Alexia hummed.

“But if there was something that could break us, what do you think it would be?”

You stopped to ponder, twirling a lock of Alexia’s hair with your finger, noting her hair was nearly dry now. When your mind drew blank, you replied nonchalantly, “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Good.” Alexia leaned away so she could give you a lopsided smile—an earnest one. “Because me neither.”

[4]

“—you okay?”

You blinked and turned to Alexia. “Hmm?”

She glanced at you for a moment before she turned back to what she was doing, sleeves rolled up as she scrubbed a plate in the soapy water in the sink.

“I said, are you okay? Is there something wrong? You’ve been out of it since practice.” When a moment of silence lapsed, Alexia added, “And don’t think I didn’t notice you on your swing the past few days, too, because I did.”

You looked out the window and watched how the rain sluiced down the glass pane. In the darkness behind the window, you saw glimpses of soaked, curly locks and heard the hasty confession all over again.

You sighed, blinking the memory away.

“Guille asked me out.”

The sound of glass shattering and metal clanging made you jump, and you watched as a casserole pot twirled like a top on the hard, kitchen floor, while fragments of a broken plate skittered out to different directions.

“Oh, shit!” Alexia cursed, looking down at the mess, while a voice called out from the living room.

“Alexia, is everything alright in there?'' Came Eli’s voice. A few seconds later, Jaume’s head popped into the kitchen. He glanced at you then his eyes settled on Alexia who was crouched down, looking up guiltily at her father.

“Are you okay, girls?”

“Yes, Papá. I just… dropped some stuff.” Alexia said. You crouched down, too, about to pick up a fragment when Jaume spoke.

“Don’t pick that up, love, you might cut yourself. I’ll do it.”

Jaume shooed the two of you to a corner he deemed safe and the both of you watched as he picked up the pieces, throwing them in the bin by the back door. Afterwards, he gave Alexia a kiss on her temple, and you a hug and a ruffle to your hair, as he retired for the evening, leaving the two of you again in your own company. Alexia went back to the sink to finish up whatever was left, and you returned to your place on the counter beside her.

The silence that intruded was cut short by Alexia when she cleared her throat, “So… what did you say?”

“I haven’t said anything, yet,” you sighed again, looking back out the window, the questions coming back full force. In the eight years you’d known Guille, how long had he harbored those feelings for you? When did it happen? What did you do to make him feel that way?

“Do you like him?” Alexia’s question brought you back to the present.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want him?”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” You laughed slightly, glancing back at Alexia who shrugged her shoulders in answer.

“No, I don’t think so. Desire is a drive, like it makes you want to act. Attraction is just… I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s a weaker feeling. And they complement each other but they’re not the same.”

“And you know this how exactly?” You asked her teasingly, a brow raised.

Alexia averted her eyes, and shrugged your question off with a laugh.

In the moment of silence that followed, you traced Alexia’s profile, and your gaze ended at the elegant curve of the bow of her lips. She looked so pretty casted in the candescent glow of the kitchen light that it made your chest ache just by looking at her. You dropped your eyes to your feet as your mind ran faster than before this entire conversation happened.

Clutching your arms tightly across your chest, you muttered, “I don’t know what I want.”

[5]

Maybe hoping it would all turn out fine was a bit naive because naturally, Guille didn’t take your rejection well. It was your fault really for expecting otherwise but nevertheless, the inevitable discomfort of disappointment settled like lead in your gut.

The thing was, you were ready to give Guille the space he needed to accept your boundaries—friends, or nothing at all—and to heal. But accusing Alexia of making you turn against him? Now, that was something you couldn’t let pass.

He knew he’d crossed a line, too, with the way he kept avoiding you. At first, the silence didn’t bother you; he was hurt, after all. But when the apology never came, you understood that you’d be going through your last year of high school without your closest friend there by your side.

A fortnight passed without any word from him so it surprised you when he showed up at the local meetup that the three of you used to go to. He refused to meet your eyes but he had no problem leveling with the glares Alexia kept giving him. And when you ended up in Alexia’s team, the only sign of his distaste about it was the way his lips flattened to a line. He looked like he was about to say something, but with a slight shake of his head, he turned around and made his way to his teammates.

With one last look at Guille’s retreating back, you tuned back in your team’s conversation.

“—doesn’t need to play keeper. We need her more in the offensive.” Alexia said evenly but when you met her eyes, there was a clear question in them.

You gave her a slight nod to let her know you were okay.

She nodded back.

“How will that work? She’s the better keeper.” And then Marco added, “No offense, Julia.”

Julia only shrugged carelessly, a gesture of nonchalance.

“Julia is perfectly fine and besides, with you, Benji, and Carmen, our backline is already strong. The four of you together lessens our chance of conceding.” Alexia paused, looking over her shoulder to the other team before she faced you all again, continuing, “Our priority is the offensive. What good is a strong backline if we can’t counterattack? That’s why I’m suggesting she play as forward in the meantime, while Martina and I will play as interiors. Does that make sense?”

A collective nodding occurred.

“So just to clarify, we’re playing three–two–one?” Benji asked.

Alexia hummed, nodding her head. “Mostly. If we find the space and some opportunities, we can easily do three–one–two.”

“No pressure on us defenders, right?” Carmen said with a laugh, if not with a hint of nerve.

Everyone laughed but at the end of it, Alexia placed a hand on Carmen’s shoulder. “No pressure because you guys, as I said, are very strong. You got this.”

Carmen smiled at Alexia at that, nodding before she finally moved to her spot. As you and Alexia moved towards the middle of the pitch, Guille was introduced to your line of sight, and a weight pressed in your gut. Disappointment? Perhaps. Or maybe you just actually missed talking and hanging out with him.

Alexia’s teasing tone pulled away your attention from Guille. “I hope you haven’t forgotten how to play forward from all the keeping you’ve been doing.”

“Four years of keeping against the five years of playing forward? You need to brush up on your math ‘cause I think you’ve forgotten how to count.” You said dryly, giving her a look so dirty that had her throwing her head back in laughter.

Alexia leveled you with an unimpressed look but her tone remained playful. “You are such a bitch sometimes. You know that, right?”

“Thank you. I do try, you know. It’s my only defense against your smart-mouth.”

“Stop denying you don’t like my teasing.” Alexia waggled her brows as she smirked. The way she looked just then—with both hands on her hips, the ball beneath her left boot—your throat dried, heart racing; a sensation that’d familiarized itself to you during its recurrent visits over the past few weeks. Your mind blanked out, clear as the white of Alexia’s shirt, and when no words came to you to retort back, you shook your head and just laughed. By the time the game started—or maybe it was because it started—the feeling finally went away, replaced by the adrenaline that shot through your veins the moment Alexia kicked the ball to you.

It proved to be a tight game. The main strategy of the opposition seemed to be to mark and shut you and Alexia down whenever the ball so much turned your way. Alexia was right to trust your backline: any counterattack from the other team was dealt with immediately, and Julia only needed to save a handful of shots that passed through your defense, which she handled well.

At last, your team finally made a breakthrough.

Alexia cut a diagonal through the box, taking two of the defenders as she did, freeing up the space just behind her. You knew what she was doing so you faked a sidestep, turning quickly to lose your marker, before you sprinted in towards the middle of the box. And as you anticipated, Alexia sent the ball back to you with a flick of her heel. Now, if you could just—

The ground tilted, and there was a moment where the whole world suspended. It lasted for less than a breath before everything—the sensations and sounds—came rushing back in.

You slammed to the ground.

Air was squeezed out of your lungs from the impact, while your skull and teeth rattled within the confines of your skin; the taste of green, earth, and copper spread on your tongue. Muffled shouts and grunts filtered past the ringing in your ear but when you cupped a hand over your tender ribs, your resulting groan was all you could hear.

When you finally came to, Alexia’s face was over you, the doubled image of her finally merging into one. Her wide, hazel eyes looked on you with worry and you felt the warmth of her fingers as they grazed over your face: from your temples down to your cheeks which she took in a gentle cradle.

“Alexia?” You let out another groan as you turned on your back while Alexia helped you.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

There was a tension that constricted around the front part of your head, but you could feel the blood pulsing most on the side that collided with the ground. “My head… it hurts.”

“Okay, okay. Just lay down for now, I’ll get you…”

You seemed to have passed out after that because one moment you were lying on the fields, and the next you were beside Alexia on her living room couch. You had a vague recollection of being carried on Alexia’s back, but the feel of the strong plane of her shoulder against your cheek remained there, warm and comforting.

And only then, after Eli gave you ice for your head, did you see the bruise that bloomed deep in the skin of Alexia’s jaw, just below her left cheek, and the scuffed knuckles of her right hand which were splotched with deep reds and purples.

You took her hand onto your lap, gently running over the ice for your head over her knuckles, while you looked at Eli sitting on the opposite couch with Jaume beside her. Eli’s face burnt redder than you’d ever seen before, while Jaume held onto her hand, circling his thumb over the top of it in an attempt to calm her down.

Alexia remained quiet the whole time, eyes casted down as she took her mother’s reprimanding words. There was the unmistakable shine of shame in them, her guilt, but also an unwavering quality that stood for what she did. At the end of it, Eli and Jaume hugged the both of you before letting you retreat into Alexia’s room as you waited for your parents to arrive.

Instead of getting on her bed with you, Alexia plopped down on the floor just by the foot of the bed, her back against the wooden bedframe. You regarded the back of her head, her neck curved downwards, and you suddenly felt the need to be close to her so you shuffled off her sheets, and got down beside her.

“Thank you, but your mother was right, you know? You shouldn’t have done it, Alexia.” You mumbled, unfurling her fingers to rest on your knee so you could access more of her knuckles that way. Gently, you placed ice over it, but she still hissed in pain. “You shouldn’t have punched him.”

“Why not? He deserved it.” Alexia said evenly as she stared at the far corner of the room. “And before you start defending him, you didn’t see what I saw—what the rest of us saw. He didn’t even touch the ball—it was all feet. He meant to trip you up.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest at her words—at how her action showed just how much you meant to her—but the discomfort in your gut marred the surge of your affection for her.

You took a deep breath, sighed it out, and it tasted like disappointment.

“Alexia, I appreciate the gesture, I do. But you can’t just hurt people just because they did something to me.”

Alexia puffed her chest and proclaimed, “I can.”

“Stop that nonsense, Alexia. I mean it.” Firmer now, you said, and there was a hint of desperation in the intonation of your words. There was an urgent need to make Alexia understand the gravity of what she did, what future implications it held if what Eli and you told her didn’t sink in now. “Actions like this can jeopardize you, Alexia, and all the things you worked hard for. Do you understand that? What will Alejandro say when he sees you all bruised up next practice? And if I get tackled dirty during a game and I get hurt, would you risk a red card, or suspension, for behaving like this?”

Alexia became silent, the muscle in her jaw working, and when she turned to you with her mouth open and you spotted a defiant crease in her brows, you were quick to stop her.

“If the answer to that question isn’t no, Ale, I don’t want to hear it.” The sound of teeth clattering filled the air. She casted her gaze aside again, her cheeks growing a shade deeper. “Look at me, Alexia.”

When she kept her eyes glued to the floor, you dropped the ice pack to take her face in your hands. She flinched from the coldness of your fingers but as you looked into her eyes, rimmed with redness and framed by drooping eyelids, you found exhaustion and the shine of apology. You brushed away a matted lock of hair from the tail end of her brow.

“You have a good heart, Alexia, but you have to promise me. Please don’t do something like this again. Ever.”

Alexia looked into your eyes, deeply as if in contemplation, and then she closed them. A moment later, she sighed, sagging into your touch as if a weight had left her shoulders, before she opened them again.

“I promise.”

This time, you believed her.

Smiling softly at her, you whispered, while you placed a light kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.”

Settling into the moment, you rested your head against Alexia’s shoulder, her bruised hand in yours. In the brief silence before your father arrived to pick you up, Alexia spoke in an earnest tone that made your stomach flutter.

“I know you can handle yourself, but that won’t stop me from having your back.”

At her words, your heart felt like it would burst your chest open. And you should’ve known that this was where you’d end up—with her, it seemed inevitable anyway—because the years of you’d known Alexia flashed quickly before your eyes, and the memory stopped to this person beside you, haloed golden by the warm glow of her bedside lamp, and you were hit with a realization that took what little breath you had away.

You liked Alexia.

And, even more importantly, you want her.

[6]

When you got on the field in a Barça jersey for the first time after your return, you didn’t expect to be welcomed like you did. Jona subbed you on after the first half and as you left the tunnel, you heard the crowd chanting your name. The cheers made you feel excited, accepted and seen, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t pressure you at all.

It was originally intended for you to come on during the last twenty minutes, but seeing as Caro, Patri, and Alexia gave the team a comfortable enough lead, Jona decided to sub you on ahead of schedule. You didn’t see much action on your end though, something that you didn’t mind at all—a quiet defensive-third was the best kind. The midfielders kept the midline high to sustain pressure in the offensive-third, while the defenders maintained such a tight backline that any loose through-balls sent to the opposing runners were called offside. Of course, there were a handful of times when you needed to get out of your box to ping the ball back into the offensive, but other than that, it was quiet. When the match ended, you were satisfied that Barça had another clean sheet and four goals to add to the season tally.

For the celebration, you moved with your teammates around Estadi Johan Cruyff, and during the procession, you spied your parents, Eli, and Alba who was talking to a raven-haired woman you’d never seen before, clapping and cheering. Warmth filled you upon seeing your family in the stands again—such a scene was a luxury when you were in the States because plane tickets weren’t exactly cheap—and when you felt the familiar weight of Alexia’s arm slung over your shoulders, the fabric of her captain armband against the skin of your neck, it felt like a perfect homecoming.

Well, almost.

After you’d showered and changed to your casuals, most of the crowd had gone while some lounged about, one of which was the raven-haired woman Alba was talking to. When Alexia took her hand, you knew instantly, and your heart—damn your heart—dropped.

“This is Diana,” Alexia said after the both of them made their way to you. And if it wasn’t their intertwined hands that revealed what they were to each other, their gaze—saccharine when they met—made it all the more clear the nature of their relationship long before Alexia said the words, “my girlfriend.”

Diana beamed up at Alexia, her cheeks deepening in color before she regarded you again, sticking her hand out towards you to shake. Preceding the intention, you took her hand and when you did, Diana placed her other hand over yours, clasping your hand between her warm palms.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you. Alexia’s talked so much about you.”

She did? Your eyes flitted to Alexia but when she shied away from that, you focused back on Diana’s face. She was stunning: with her high cheekbones carved to elegance, her brows following the perfect line of her temple, her full lips painted with a terracotta shade made deeper by the bronze of her skin, while her loose, straight, raven hair framed her face in such a way that accentuated the sharpness of her jaws. Her eyes were dark but still light enough to see the outline of her pupils, and they had an amiable shape that reflected her warm nature. And for some reason, her light brown eyes looked really familiar—

“Ah! My favorite cousin made it, after all! Although I’m not sure it was me you went to the game for!” Tori’s playful voice resonated in the near-barren corridor. Diana’s eyes flicked somewhere behind you—to Tori, you supposed.

“Don’t be like that, Tori, of course I came to see you, too!”

“Lies!”

Diana shook her head, laughing, as she took Tori in her arms. “Come here, you!”

In response, Tori said something in Portuguese that made Diana laugh. When they broke apart, Diana said, “Forget you? Never. Especially when I owe you one.”

“Owe her what?” Alexia asked with her brows creased with curiosity.

Diana took Alexia’s hand and squeezed it, looking up at Alexia with a gentle expression. “For giving us the chance to meet.”

“Damn right!” Tori exclaimed, putting both hands on her hips, as she grinned so wide that her dimple showed. Tori must’ve seen your confusion because she leaned in to whisper, “I brought Diana as my plus one for last year’s Ballon D’Or ceremony.”

You allowed your mouth to drop open before you smiled, letting out a small laugh that made your chest ache. “Ah, I see.”

“She kept complaining about going but now, aren’t you grateful I took you away from your precinct, Detective Beauregard?” Tori teased.

“She’s never going to let us live this down, will she?” Diana muttered dryly to Alexia but it was deliberately loud enough for all of you to hear. In response, Alexia threw her head back laughing.

“You’re a detective? That’s amazing!” You said, impressed.

“Please, Tori’s exaggerating. I work in forensics. DNA analyst is the correct title.” Diana threw Tori a dirty look to which the other woman raised her shoulders in response. “It’s a whole different world compared to yours so—and please don’t let this get to your head, Tori—I am grateful I was able to step into it.”

Her eyes, still locked with Alexia’s, grew all the more soft.

“Get a room, you guys,” Tori said with a mock sound of disgust, and then she continued to mutter, “And to think that you’ve only been going out for four months… I don’t even want to think about how it will be like in another three months.”

At that, Alexia raised a brow and then, “Want to do some extra laps tomorrow?”

You and Tori knew Alexia was joking, but Tori being Tori, she spluttered, “That would be a hard no, Captain. I’ll just—Have a great night!”

With that, she ran away, arms flailing behind her in an exaggerated manner as she hastily made her exit. The sight drew laughter from the three of you.

“We’re having dinner at Mamá’s, want to come over?” Alexia asked.

You shook your head, flashing a look at Diana, before you told Alexia,“Not tonight. I’m just about to head over to my parents’ as well.”

“Alright. But Alba’s going to ask about you, you know? I think she wants to hang out with you.”

You laughed. “Tell her to text me. She’ll know what that means.”

“Is that something I should know about?” Alexia smirked.

Flatly, you retorted, “If it’s something that concerns you, I’d be telling you by now, right?”

“You see what I have to deal with?” Alexia told Diana, almost whining.

Inching backwards, you said as dry as you could manage, “I’ll take that as my queue to leave, Alexia might start crying. She’s a crybaby, you know?”

“Hey! I’m not—”

“No need to be embarrassed about it, Alexia. Be proud!”

Diana only laughed, saying, “Alright, kids, I think that’s enough for tonight.”

Nodding, you grinned at Alexia while she mouthed the word ‘bitch’ to you. In kind, you mouthed ‘smartmouth’ back. With a shake of her head and a smile, she gave you one last hug, and after a pleasant goodnight from Diana, the three of you parted ways.

You sent them a look over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the watch around Alexia’s left wrist. It glinted as they walked together down the corridor, hand in hand, looking as in love as any new couple would.

The sight made you smile, but it felt heavy, and as if the universe wanted to rub salt to the wound, you found Patri outside the locker room when you turned around with a look akin to pity in her eyes.

[7]

The next day, Guille stopped by at your place. He’d given you notice a few days prior but even still, the moment you saw him behind the door, you squealed like you were ten again from your excitement. After you hugged him tight—he made a choking noise when you did to tease you—you held him at arm’s length to see what changes the last few months had done to him.

He looked different. Gone were the long, dark curls; now sheared close to his scalp that left only about an inch of length, his hair retained their luscious shine, their color still as dark as night.

His scar—the one just by the tail end of his left brow—that used to see little light from the obstruction of his hair, now stood apparent and without meaning to, the day he got it came back to you: the bruised knuckles, ice-cold fingers, and the warm blush of a lamplight.

And your chest ached a little.

Leading the conversation to the living room, the two of you ended up ordering takeaways—mostly for Guille’s benefit because you weren’t about to subject him to your football diet—and as you ate, the two of you caught up.

Guille was close to finishing his dissertation—the biomechanics of concussion in sport and its neurocognitive implications—and he was both excited and fearful about what would come next. He then talked about his girlfriend, Iris, smittenly if you might add. She was actually with him in the city, but his mother insisted she steal Iris for the day for some quality bonding, and you laughed at the repertoire of stories he’d relayed in great detail about his mother’s teasing of their relationship.

“When am I going to meet Iris?” You asked with a teasing tone.

He rolled his eyes, “Well, since you’re actually staying in Barcelona this time, we can arrange that.”

A pause, and then, “Is Alexia staying here, too, or are you here by yourself?”

“No, it’s just me here.”

“Oh. I thought the two of you’d be rooming again like—” Probably seeing your change in demeanor, Guille cleared his throat as he ate his pasta a bit too eagerly. “Speaking of, how is she?”

The question was casual but you knew it was anything but.

“She’s doing good, if not a little stressed. Our first Champions League game is just around the corner after all and it’s against Chelsea, so.” You shrugged to complete your thought. You knew what he was asking but you’d rather not talk about that.

His eyes could burn a hole on the side of your head by the way he stared at you in the silence that followed. Then he sighed deeply.

“She still doesn’t know.”

Tension filled every inch of your body and you shrank tight as a coiled spring. You stood up as you felt a sudden urge to get away from him, taking the used plates on the coffee table as a pretense to move from the couch to the sink.

“What’s it to you if she doesn’t know, Guille?” You asked flatly, rolling up your sleeves after you turned the tap on.

“I just want you to be happy. Is that so wrong?”

“And who says I’m not?” Your tone was flat and when you glanced at him over your shoulder, Guille only gave you a pointed look.

Then he said softly, “She could make you happier and you know it.”

And there it was again, that look in his eyes that you just couldn’t stand. Gritting your teeth, you gripped the edge of the sink and your voice quaked when you spoke. “Please stop talking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” you tried to find the words but when they evaded you, you huffed and threw your hands up in the air. “Why are you making it sound like I have a chance?”

“Because you do! You’re the one who’s not giving Alexia a chance by not telling her.”

“Give me one good reason why I should.”

“She loves you.”

A pause.

“That’s bullshit.” You shook your head, letting out a small, disbelieving laugh. As much as your heart wanted that to be true, you knew otherwise.

“It’s really fucking not.” Guille countered.

“If she did, she wouldn’t have said what she did.”

“People say stupid shit when they’re drunk.”

“That can go the other way, too. Alcohol has a way of loosening what’s been bottled.”

“Oh, come on!” Guille scoffed. “You’ve known her since you were eight. You’ve been through thick and thin together! Do you really think she wanted you to leave?”

With the reminder, the memory sprung up on you and you could hear Alexia’s voice, grating and wrenching your heart raw again when you heard the words from her lips. You whirled around to face him, eyes burning.

“You weren’t there when she told me, Guille!” You breathed out sharply and then you continued, in a lower tone filled with resignation, you whispered as you buried your face in your palms. “You didn’t hear the way she said it. You didn’t—”

You choked on your words.

After all this time, it was still too painful.

Darkness filled your vision but the tears escaped nonetheless, branding tracks down your cheeks. You heard the rustling of clothes followed by soft footsteps. Before you knew it, Guille’s arms wrapped around your shoulders and his familiar, comforting scent made you sink into the embrace.

“You’re right. I wasn’t there. But if you could forgive me for being an asshole and what I did to you, why can’t you do the same with her?”

You didn’t say anything after that, only clutched at his shirt a little tighter.

Guille kept quiet, too.

The both of you knew just the reason why.

[8]

“Did you see the news?” Jona asked as he kept the door open for you to an empty meeting room, closing it as soon as you’d gone in.

Sitting down on one of the cushioned chairs, you said, “I did.”

You saw it this morning and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t faze you.

Jona nodded, taking the chair across the table from you. He put his clasped hands on the wooden surface and the way he tapped an erratic rhythm with his thumbs didn’t help your nerves.

“Lyon paid a hefty transfer fee for her and that makes me worried. I don’t know what Bompastor is planning to do with her but her transfer to the European league will be a concern for the club.” With a pensive crease appearing between his brows, he continued. “You probably know why I asked you to come in.”

“You want me to tell you what I know about her.”

He nodded, leaning forward as if to emphasize his point. “She’s a lethal forward and you’re the only one in the club who’s ever played with her. In fact, you two seemed very close during your time in Angel City.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back into your chair, frowning slightly. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

Jona blinked at you.

Then slowly, “Surely you must’ve trained closely together considering she’s a forward and you’re a keeper? Unless training was vastly different in Angel City, then I’m sorry for the assumption.”

“O–Oh, I thought you were implying—” You shook your head, uncrossing your arms as you waved the rest of your sentence away. “Never mind. But yes, that’s right.”

Jona gave you another questioning look before speaking again.

“She’s going to be a big problem. And that’s why I’m going to change things up a bit. I want to put you in the starting lineup as soon as possible—put as many games with our current team under your belt. We’ll most likely face Lyon in the Quarters and that’s unfortunate but what is great is that you’re here: the best counter to what Lyon acquired. If we could eliminate Lyon early, we have a higher chance of winning this year’s Champions League. The question is, are you ready for it?”

“That’s what I’m here for, Jona.” You said seriously, ignoring the pressure that pressed in the periphery of your mind.

“Use me.”

#ap11 #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #my writing #a/n: i'm just gonna drop this here lol #im really sorry for the very very very late update #had no time lately and after losing the first draft for this (8k words down the drain) my motivation kind of just fell off the cliff #but ive been rewriting this on the go for the past month or so so please forgive me for more grammar and spelling mistakes than usual #also im kinda jetlagged and sick atm so im planning to get to your messages as soon as i get my bearings back <3 #i hope youre all doing well and thank you for reading <3

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thesunisatangerine · 11 months ago

Text

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part eleven

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, mentions of death, scars

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 11.4k

Early Tuesday morning, you opened the door to Alexia who–to your surprise, but not really–had on a pair of training shorts, a plain jersey under an unzipped hoodie, a New Era cap on, her hair left down while a pair of sunglasses completed her look. And just like the other time she came to visit, she had you in her arms the moment she was close enough, pulling you into her for a kiss on your temple and then your lips.

“Hello, you.” You said as you pecked her cheek, smelling the familiar sharpness of sunscreen on her skin. Then you held her at arm’s length so you could look at her better before you asked, “Did you just come from training? I thought you won’t be back until Saturday?”

Alexia chuckled, clearly amused, raising her brows at you for your shameless display at checking her out. But who could blame you, really, with her looking so damn good in a training jersey. She replied, “No, I’m actually–”

She halted, tilting her head to the side to look over you, and then she switched to English when she spoke again, taking her sunglasses off to place them on top of her cap as she grinned, “Hola, chiquita, you ready?”

When you looked over your shoulder you saw Elisa framed by the archway and the open door that led to the backfield, standing in her favourite Alexia jersey and Barça shorts, cheeks tinted red while her forehead shone with sweat, a football between her hands.

“Hi, Alexia!” Elisa’s hand fluttered in an eager wave, her grin a brilliant beam, before she began to take off her sneakers and zoomed right up the stairs, shouting over her shoulders. “I’m ready! Lemme just grab my stuff!”

Ah, now it made sense.

You wondered why Elisa couldn’t sit still last night and even during the day, she practically buzzed with excitement. Initially, you associated the surge in energy from the promise of another day spent with Alexia, but now you understood that whatever the two of them had planned involved football and that was the reason why Elisa’s enthusiasm for today had increased twofold.

As if Alexia was your mirror, you found her reflecting your expression when you turned back to her; she had an appraising gaze fixed on Elisa accompanied by an amused smile, and your heart filled with the urge to kiss her so you did. You kept your arms loose around her neck when you parted so you could look into those eyes you found yourself missing every minute that you were apart.

“When did you guys plan this?” You asked as you toyed with the ends of her hair.

“When we were at the Barça store. Elisa asked me for some tips and I offered to train her for the day.” Alexia hummed, fiddling with the hoops of your jeans. Then the inner corners of her brows quirked up, bashful when she asked, “I hope that’s okay?”

Touched by her thoughtfulness, you traced the line of her brow as you spoke, “More than okay as long as it’s alright with you. And I should be thanking you.”

“It is, don’t worry. I get to spend time with the both of you and play football at the same time. Win-win.” Alexia said in a matter-of-fact tone and flashed you a radiant half-smile, and it made your chest and cheeks warm, obviously charmed by her, and the lightness in her eyes made those words all the more earnest to you. So you cupped her cheek and pressed a soft kiss against her jaw in gratitude.

Then you whispered, “Thank you.”

Alexia pulled up at a deserted football pitch, the morning still early enough that the dew had not entirely dissipated from the grass when you got out of the car. The sound of the doors closing echoed from the emptiness of the space, Alexia’s call over the roof of the car sounding louder than it actually was.

“Chiquita, I’m gonna need your help unloading the equipment at the back.”

Elisa stuck a thumbs up into the air as an answer.

As you made up your mind that you’d just watch them do their thing, you tinkered with your camera around your neck, following them to the trunk but after Alexia popped it open, the sight both surprised and amused you. When Alexia said equipment, you’d envisioned a bag of balls, several cones, and the like but what you hadn’t considered–when in fact you really should’ve–was Alexia’s disposition for coming prepared, the scene in front of you a testament against your blatant underestimation of her ability. You watched them haul bags upon bags from the trunk–ranging from pop-up goals, agility poles and ladders, rebound boards, and other football paraphernalia–and as you spied the growing pile of things by the side of the car, you snapped a photo before laughter escaped your lips.

Two pairs of eyes darted your way with equal confusion, stopping their busy hands for a moment. You pointed at the pile, “Do you always keep these back here?”

“Why, of course, darling. All the time.” Despite the dryness of her tone, the term of endearment set your cheeks aflame. Then Alexia raised her brows at Elisa, “Elisa, could you please tell your mom to stop being mean and help us?”

“Yeah, Mom, stop laughing at us and come help, please.” Elisa giggled, gladly playing along before she eventually returned back to her task.

You scoffed with no real sting to it, grabbing the water bottle rack and slinging a bag over your shoulder as you whined, “I can’t believe you’re ganging up on me.”

At that, Alexia only scrunched her nose at you, smiling, before she closed the trunk–all the equipment were out finally!–then the three of you began lugging everything to the empty field, happy to follow their lead. After setting down the things you took where Alexia and Elisa were, you went to the sidelines, unfolding the chairs Alexia brought along. When you turned back to the scene, Elisa was already doing some stretches–as per Alexia’s instructions probably–while Alexia set up and, once done, she joined Elisa to warm up as well. But before she started, she waved you over as she called out, “Come join us!”

The desire to join them wasn’t lost to you but so was the weight of your omission to Alexia about what happened while you were gone–what would you say when you pass out from exertion if you joined them?–so you gave her a dismissive wave, lifting your camera as an excuse. Relief filled you when, with a shrug of her shoulders as if to say it was your loss, Alexia patted Elisa’s back before she pointed to the opposite goal line, taking off in a jog right after, their strides in time with each other. You put your camera over your eye and took a photo of them, but even though you busied your hands with the lever and buttons of your camera, your mind remained occupied with another matter.

The past few days were spent in a state of bliss; the ease by which you and Alexia had slipped back into each other’s lives was more than a surprise to you, pleasant in its own right but it was beginning to dim the longer you kept your story to yourself. It wasn’t a deliberate omission. You just hadn’t found the right time to breach the topic because, after all, how could one easily part with such a fact to a lover when even you dare not step to that precipice and stare into that void? But you knew you at least owe Alexia that much; to enlighten her about what she was truly signing up for.

Today.

You promised yourself you were going to talk to her about it today.

Returning back to yourself, you regarded the scene before you, took photos, and shouted encouragement every now and then. It continued on for a couple more hours: Alexia, who had occupied the role of the trainer, stood a vigilant watch over her novitiate, guiding Elisa with instructions you couldn’t quite hear but the complementing gestures she made gave you a semblance of what they were, as she exclaimed and clapped her hands to compliment and motivate; and Elisa followed with apt diligence, serious and attentive to every line, every move. By the time their feet had stopped disturbing the grass, the sun neared its highest peak, its warmth and the promise of a good day had already invited more than a handful of people to occupy other parts of the field.

After they’d finished cooling down, you watched Elisa run off to the restrooms while Alexia trudged her way over to you, bags of equipment on her which she deposited on another growing pile on the sideline, taking a water bottle in hand. She brushed her hand over the nape of your neck for a second before she dropped to the chair next to you with an audible huff, and you patted her knee in response to her apparent exhaustion while she drank from her bottle, just a little out of breath.

“Damn. Sorry, I forgot to bring the umbrella.” Alexia said as she shielded her eyes to look at you, one eye squinted from the harsh light. She softly grazed a knuckle over your cheek, “Did you put sunblock on?”

You replied in the affirmative as you leaned into her touch, and Alexia nodded in approval before she took her hand away, taking another sip of water. In the silence that followed, you thought, ‘Should I tell her now?’

“Alexia, I–”

Alexia’s lips crinkled around a mouthful of water, raising her brows at you before she jutted her chin forward. Confused, you looked to where she indicated and found Elisa surrounded by a group of kids, some of them taller and looked to be slightly older, who now occupied the once empty space that Elisa and Alexia had just been training on and in a blink of an eye, a small game of football had commenced. Shouts and laughter filled the air as they continued, passing, tackling, shooting; Elisa flew untethered along with her peers, face free from any worries and filled with glee.

The two of you were a fair distance away from the youngsters that they hadn’t noticed nor recognised that Alexia watched over them with a proud–if not a bit sombre–countenance for the sight, probably, to her, was a validation–proof–of how far women had cemented their place in football compared to when she was of their age. These kids, boys and girls alike, now had their own paragons of light to follow, the names and numbers of their guiding stars shining bold on their backs–the names of women… Alexia’s including. You regarded the woman next to you, chest welling up at the soft gaze you saw there aimed towards the children, a thought clear in your mind that you longed to speak, ‘This is the fruit of your labour, what you and the others had fought–and still fighting–for.’

Alexia’s eyes flitted to meet yours as if magnetised by your volition, the colour of them almost green against the backdrop of the field.

“If Elisa was given the chance to play for Barçelona’s youth team, what would you do?”

You blinked as the question caught you off guard. There was no doubt what you would do but the abruptness by which it was brought up made you squint your eyes at her. Why would she bring that up unless she knew something? Unless she was about to do or already had done something? But as you regarded her with a careful eye, you found nothing in her features that betrayed answers to your questions, her face a blank canvas–perhaps a bit too neutral.

“Alexia, did you do something?”

Alexia shrugged, pulling the corners of her mouth down for good measure before it settled to a smile, then she answered in the negative, “Nothing. It was a question. Purely hypothetical.”

Her answer did little to convince you but you answered in truth anyway. “Move here, of course.”

At that, Alexia only hummed but a light twinkled in her eye–one not dissimilar to the one you found in them the night you met–a light that told you she knew something you didn’t. She brushed her thumb over her chin before she tore her gaze away, focusing her attention back to the match in front of her. And before you could question her further, excited screams filled the air and, when Alexia stood right after, you knew she’d been found.

You stood aside as the kids flocked towards Alexia and you captured the scene with a smile while Alexia conversed with the kids, bumping their fists and posing with them when they asked for a photo. You felt a presence beside you and, upon turning your head, saw Elisa with a look of admiration on her face, a mirrored expression among the children there. It went on for a bit and another game of football commenced but now with Alexia in the mix, but half an hour later, you were all packed up with everything back in Alexia’s trunk, and the three of you were off.

On the way back after lunch, Elisa and Alexia chatted, discussing things about football with equal enthusiasm. The sound of their amusement filled the car, and with the day ending on such a high note, you felt compelled not to say anything about what you planned to tell Alexia as you didn’t have the heart to bring it down.

And as you laughed at one of Alexia’s dry jokes, you resigned your promise.

Tomorrow.

You would talk to her about it tomorrow.

Unlike the day before, Alexia came by early–early enough that Elisa was still asleep while you, yourself, only woke up just about half an hour ago–but that was no surprise. It was rare for Alexia to sleep in; the rigorous conditioning her body had borne throughout the years made her circadian rhythm almost permanent, something that you’d teased her about from your time before–something that you teased her about just then.

“I don’t hear you complaining about it.” She muttered against your ear and, though you couldn’t see it for she had her front pressed against your back with her hands gentle on your hips as you made two sets of coffee, you could practically hear the pout in her voice.

“I’m not! It’s actually kinda cute.” You laughed before you added, “You’re cute.”

“I’m really not,” Alexia practically whined, hiding her face in the crook of your neck and the feel of her there tickled you, so you tried to angle yourself away but she clung to you as you felt her laugh against your skin.

“Alexia! You’re going to make me spill the coffee!”

When the both of you finally made it to the couch with no drop of coffee spilt, you tucked in by Alexia’s side, her arm over your shoulder as the both of you revelled in each other’s company, sipping at your beverage, you broached the news to her.

“Your brother’s coming here?” She asked with surprise and with both brows raised.

At how she posed the question, you couldn’t help but giggle. “I love the way you made it sound like he’s not the one who owns this house. But yes, later today, probably around evening or earlier, depending on when he’ll finish his meeting in Madrid this morning.”

Alexia blew a puff of air, a bit petulant, as she muttered low–although still deliberately loud enough for you to hear, “It’s kinda easy to forget when he’s never here.”

The both of you broke out laughing. Then a pensive look took over her demeanour, her fingers fiddled with the ends of her hair, something that you noticed she did whenever she felt at peace or whenever she was worrying about something. You had a feeling it was the latter with the way her brows were slightly creased in the middle, but the question that left her lips, which was spoken in a soft tongue, confirmed your inkling to be true.

“What’s he like?”

Ah.

Seeing Alexia unsure about herself was a rare occurrence, even more than seeing her vulnerable which was saying a lot. So you laid a hand on the nape of her neck, chest warming when she leaned back to seek more of your touch, and you ran your thumb over the skin just below her ear to keep her at ease.

“He’s… my best friend and the best brother I could ever ask for. He’s funny; likes to tease me a lot, but he’s protective.” At the mention of the word, Alexia’s frown deepened before you could even finish what you wanted to say, “And trust me when I tell you, he’ll definitely like you.”

But your reassurance seemed to have gone out the other ear for the movement of her finger didn’t cease and her eyes remained clouded with something akin to worry. You allowed her another moment more with her thoughts before you booped her nose and watched as her eyes fluttered, the light of her presence returning in them as she regarded you. And so, with light amusement, you said in the hopes that Alexia would finally listen, “Just give him the same attitude you gave me a minute ago, you’ll get along really well.”

At that, Alexia let out a small chuckle and, as it trailed off, the smile that graced her lips lingered; what you said hadn’t fully expelled the doubt from her eyes but the fact it was lessened made you feel better.

Alexia sighed after another lapse in silence. “I just want to make a good impression, you know? And thank him.”

“Thank him for what?”

She shifted so her face was angled more to you and held a gentle finger on your chin to keep you looking into her eyes, soft and earnest.

“For intertwining your fate with mine,” she said, each syllable spoken with the gentlest of air.

Your heart stuttered at her confession, the gravity of it heavier with Alexia’s belief in fate, and words eluded you so you could do nothing but take her hand to reveal her palm, and kissed her there.

Then after another brief pause, Alexia asked, “Does he know about us?”

“I think so. I haven’t told him anything directly but I think he’s put two and two together.” You pushed the memory of how your heart monitor betrayed you back from the forefront of your mind, but your cheeks heated up anyway. As you massaged the spot between Alexia’s brows with your thumb in the hopes of soothing her frown away, you added, “Please, don’t worry about it too much. He’s Derek; as long as I’m happy, he’s happy.”

“And are you? Happy?” The vulnerability that you found in her eyes made you ache, not unpleasant, just a sense of fullness that longed to break free. You pressed a kiss on her temple, then to the corner of her lips.

“More than I could ever put into words. You make me so happy, Alexia. You really do.”

Later that day, just around late afternoon after spending most of the day training–you, of course, only a spectator–the three of you found yourselves walking along the beach after a late lunch. It was a bit further on when, as you conversed with each other, an exclamation made you stop and look over your shoulders.

“Oh, my god.”

Standing a few paces behind you was a young man, tall in frame, cheeks still round with traces of his youth, the stubble along his jaw and chin a direct contrast, making it known to you that he’d probably just recently entered his early twenties. The first thing you noted was the camera that dangled from his neck–you recognised the model, vintage–and you barely schooled your features from showing your surprise; he was a photographer not only for leisure but if he was, well, that was one expensive camera for a hobbyist.

Habit made you step aside–you’d been out in public with Alexia a handful of times now to know how this would go–but as you did, the young man’s eyes followed you, intent, and that confounded you.

“I’m sorry, did I interrupt you?” His brown eyes flitted between you, Alexia, then Elisa, his small smile apologetic as the paleness of his cheeks turned rosy.

Alexia waved a careless hand in the air as she spoke in English, “No, you’re okay.”

“How can we help you?” You asked, smiling at him politely.

The man stepped forward as he patted the pouch of his shirt, then he dug his hands into his jean pockets, then you watched him procure a marker, his hands shaking as he handed it to you.

“I can’t believe it’s you. I wish I had your book with me but I don’t–I, I’m sorry, can I get a photo and your signature?”

You couldn’t prevent the surprise from showing on your face even if you had the time to try. Your eyes drifted to Alexia, and the question that was clear in your mind that you knew Alexia could probably read on your face. What was happening?

The action of yourself nodding preceded the intention and you watched, still in a state of confusion, as the man handed his phone over to Alexia so she could take a photo of you both. As you posed and looked at Alexia behind the camera, you found a familiar light in her eyes and from the slight upturn of her brows, you knew Alexia was more than slightly amused at the role reversal. When Alexia began to count down, you smiled at the person taking the photo more than for the image itself, and once done, she handed the lad his phone back.

You signed the back of a used plane ticket–the only paper of decent quality, as per his words, that he could find on his person that could house your signature–and after handing it back to him, you said, smiling, “I’m sorry if I looked more than a little confused. This doesn’t happen often, I only ever get asked for photos at events, and it’s usually the other way around!”

“No, please, don’t be sorry. I–I just truly admire your photojournalistic work,” he stuttered as he tucked the plane ticket in his shirt pocket. “I read your book about your most recent conflict coverage and that photoset… It chilled me to the bone the first time I saw it. I’m sorry you had to see that in person.”

Images tore their way out from the shadows of your mind, their teeth bare and gnashing: vacant eyes from where souls were ripped away, crooked fingers accusatory, and the stench–

You shut your eyes as a malignant chill crept over you, crawling under your skin that left your muscles weak, and even beneath the Barcelona summer sun, you trembled. And the memories flooded back: Elisa with her mother, the shots, and now the scars on your body burnt anew. You took a deep breath and took careful note of where you were: there was a baby crying a few paces away, a large wave just arrived home to the shore, there was a call of a seagull overhead, someone with coffee walked past you, and… there was the familiar warmth and weight of Alexia’s hand on your back.

The moment you opened your eyes, the man was looking at you with concern and regret while, when you turned your head to the side, Alexia and Elisa were obviously distressed.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

You held a hand up before the man could hurt himself. “It’s alright. They come back to me sometimes without being reminded so you don’t need to apologise. And thank you for your concern.”

More than willing to change the topic, you jutted your chin at his camera, “Are you a photojournalist, too?”

“That’s the plan. I’m only working freelance at the moment and I’m not really sure which branch to pursue. I can hear conflict photojournalism calling to me, though.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. In his answer, you sensed a ‘but’ so you asked as much.

He casted his eyes down for a moment before he regarded you again, gaze wary. “But… I’m scared I won’t be able to handle seeing those things in person. And I’m scared of being hurt, of being killed. Just like what you saw and what… what happened to you. I don’t know if I could survive it.”

From the corner of your eyes, you could see and feel the weight of Alexia’s stare–a burning question that branded you–and you clenched your fist as guilt flooded your veins. Foolish! You should’ve told her yesterday. She deserved more than hearing about it like this. But no matter what was done was done–the moment had passed–and the only thing you could do now was to tell her after this.

Despite your inner turmoil, you focused on the man, and smiled at him softly for you understood what he was going through, the same place you once stood before you answered the call of that very wind.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a difficult choice to make. The camera cannot shield you from the danger and the violence and, well, death, but it can bear witness, and can show the world what’s happening. You have your whole life ahead of you, you don’t need to jump in just yet. And if you hear that call again a bit later and find yourself ready, then, why not?”

At that, the young man’s demeanour brightened. Then his brows scrunched up, now seemingly worried, his question spoken with a light, enquiring air, “You mentioned in your book that this was the closest you’d ever come to dying, do you think you’ll ever get back into conflict photography?”

With the uncouth way it was posed, the question made you flinch with its directness. You had half a mind to reprimand but you recognised this–the journalistic instinct to question, to uncover, even if certain situations shouldn’t warrant such intrusions–so you let it pass because as was the case for every learned skill, interviewing demanded the same amount of practice to develop. He was young, he still had so much to learn and time, as was the case for everything, would be his teacher.

A shuffling sound drew your attention to Elisa who was standing close to Alexia, clutching your lover’s hand with both of hers in a firm grip, her wide eyes fixed on you upon hearing what the man said, a sombre question reflected in her eyes, ‘Are you going to leave me, too?’

Although the call was very much there–the need to be the echo chamber for those who’d lost their voice still strong in your soul–you found yourself now tethered: to love and responsibility, so you shook your head, more so for Elisa’s sake than the man’s.

“It’s selfish, I know, but I have so much more to lose now. But, as I said, the call will always be there and I can’t control what the future brings, so who knows, really?” You shrugged, smiling at the man.

Satisfied, the man retreated but not before you gave him a business card for you and Derek’s firm; with a little bit of guidance and experience, he had potential to do good–although you did warn him that a spot for him wasn’t guaranteed, but he still accepted it gratefully. Once the man finally left, Elisa approached you, her shirt bunched up at the hem from the firm grip of her fists, eyes wide as she gazed up at you.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

You cupped her cheek and brushed a thumb under a glassy eye–Elisa was upset.“I’m alright, honey. How are you feeling?”

Elisa’s chin quivered and a tear ran down her cheek, and when she spoke, her words were whispered in haste. “Are you going to leave? Please, don’t, I don’t want you to get hurt again, I don’t want you to die. I–”

Oh, Elisa.

Immediately you took her into your arms in the hopes that you could ease her distress and when she clutched at your shirt as her tears soaked through the fabric, your heart began to ache and your eyes burnt as well.

“I’m not leaving, ladybug. I’m not. I won’t leave you behind, I promise.”

The ride to the house was a silent affair; even the short walk that led up to Alexia’s car was suffused with silence. After getting in the car and putting her seatbelt on Elisa immediately dozed off–from the emotional toll on top of the physical strain she’d endured during the day–and it was relieving. Alexia on the other hand…

Ever since she’d heard the words from Ben–the photojournalist–she completely receded and everything she did, seemed to you, were performed on autopilot; her every movement mechanical, stiff. Her face remained stoic: her brows formed a flat line, the light in her eyes so ineffably dim made it known to you she was somewhere far away; the way that her hands shook as she gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles told you which plane Alexia had found herself in–a hellscape.

It hurt seeing Alexia like this and you felt like you had to say something but you bit your tongue and instead, you placed a gentle hand on her right knee and applied just enough pressure to hopefully pull her back from her thoughts. It seemed to work for when she glanced at you, her mask of passivity cracked with the way her gaze softened, her lips now pressed into a thin line, almost quivering. The moment only lasted seconds but it left a profound mark in your heart, made all the more indelible when Alexia took your hand in hers–even with the heat from Barcelona’s summer evening, you felt her palm cold as ice–and intertwined your fingers in a firm grip while the other remained to steer the car until you reached the house.

By the time you arrived, the last vestiges of the sun tinged the skies in its sombre purple and pink, the tangerine glow from within the house a stark contrast to the growing darkness. When Alexia parked the car, the front door opened and more of that warm light spilled out and a shadow stretched long in its wake, and at the end of it, the familiar, large frame of Derek.

While Elisa immediately jumped out of the car to greet her uncle, Alexia’s hands remained on the wheel despite the lack of engine, now gripping for a different reason, her eyes trained on the imposing figure of your brother. To be fair, who wouldn’t? With the top of his head nearly grazing the doorframe and the width of his shoulders, just by looking at his stature alone, most wouldn’t even consider the words ‘soft’ and ‘sentimental’ to describe him. So the reflection of anxiety in her eyes was not new to you, but this was different because this was Alexia.

You placed a hand over one of hers on the wheel, coaxing her attention by squeezing her hand. “Alexia?”

She looked at you, blinked. Then a strained, “Yeah?”

“You’re going to be fine.”

Alexia looked at Derek again before she whispered through her teeth, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. Hey,” you brushed your thumb over her cheek before you tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, Alexia’s eyes flicked back to you. Then you took her hand, pressed your lips on the back of it. “Alexia, breathe. You can do this, and I’ll be right here with you.”

True to your words, the moment Alexia gathered the courage to walk up the porch, Derek’s face broke into a grin that thawed the ever-present ice in his demeanour, enveloping Alexia in a hug. Despite Alexia’s tall frame, she looked almost like a child next to Derek, needing to crane her neck to look up when it was usually the other way around with you, as they chatted.

Then Derek finally took note of Alexia’s demeanour now that she was past Derek’s defences, and he voiced with concern, “Are you okay, Alexia? You look a bit pale. Do you need to stay over?”

The reminder almost made Alexia a ghostly apparition by how much more her colour drained out from her. She pressed her lips in a thin line, dug her hands into her short pockets, while the muscles in her back coiled so much that you could see the planes of her muscles through her jersey. She replied tersely, “I’m alright and no, I’d rather not disturb you.”

At what she said, you knew what you needed to do. You went to Derek and said in a voice enough for only him to hear.

“Derek, could you help Elisa start packing her things? I need to do something.”

“Okay.” A question was clear in his eyes but like the many times he did before, he didn’t press you for any information, only nodded, squeezed your shoulder, before he went back inside but not before he enveloped Alexia in a farewell hug and told her to get some rest. Then you walked back to where Alexia stood, still as tense as you left her, and you pulled at her arm gently, coaxing her towards her car–to the passenger seat.

“Alexia, give me your keys.”

Alexia looked at you, still pale but her eyes now held confusion, and maybe a hint of defiance, in them. “Why?”

“I’m not about to let you drive home by yourself like this.”

“No. I’m well capable of–”

You fixed her with a stern eye. “Give me your keys. Now.”

Alexia regarded you with a wary eye but she sighed, finally relenting, and dropped her keys in your open palm. She sat in the passenger seat, an elbow up against the window and chin propped up on her knuckles, quiet apart from the occasional direction to the way to her apartment. The silence was heavy, but you found yourself not entirely too bothered by it for it gave you a chance to gather your own thoughts–to try and find the words to explain–but you couldn’t help but take furtive glances at Alexia, who was looking more and more dejected by the minute as the streetlights casted shadows on her face and made her demeanour excessively morose, the sheen in her eyes prominent in darkness.

You arrived and Alexia let you in, dropping her keys in a little dish on a cabinet by the door, the air still and silent apart from the clink of metal against porcelain and the soft breath of clothes rustling as the two of you padded into Alexia’s apartment. Briefly, you allowed your eyes to explore the space but as you entered the living room, your palms began to sweat as the nerves began to set in.

Alexia was hiding behind her stoicism again, sitting on the couch seeming as calm as ever, fixing you with a look that betrayed the placidness of her demeanour. You sat too, opting for the space by Alexia’s side as opposed to the lone loveseat as you knew that the nature of what you were about to reveal required the lost distance between your bodies; for her sake and yours.

For a long moment, you couldn’t speak; you opened your mouth a number of times but you stopped short for fear that the words would fail you. Alexia waited patiently and only when she took your hand in the space between hers did you find the courage to begin, placing your other hand over hers; she was with you, you were with her.

And so, you told her.

From the night you left, when you were about to tell her what you were going to get yourself into, to your arrival and the conflict you needed to cover. About being caught in the middle of fire, about the nature by which you met Elisa. And then, finally, you told her about what happened to you: the shots, the hospital, and your recovery. You watched, as this enfolded, the way Alexia became increasingly tense, she’d taken your hand in a grip at one point, and you felt the warmth in her hand dissipate into cold sweat, could feel the way she trembled. By the end of it, Alexia looked paler than you’d ever seen her before, wide eyes red and glassy; fragile in all sense of the word.

The silence that followed was like a fog, heavy and suffocating, and the words that bounced against the walls made the fog even thicker that your chest began to ache.

“When were you planning to tell me?” Came the even question.

“Yesterday, but I changed my mind. I should’ve just told you.”

Another pause, her demeanour remained the same. And then, “How bad was it?”

You considered lying; considered telling her that it wasn’t that bad to appease her, to protect her from that knowledge but there was a plea that shone in her eyes that stopped you. So, with a shaky breath, you whispered, “I… they said that my heart stopped. Twice.”

Alexia inhaled sharply and you winced when her next words were spoken in a broken tongue, a lone tear running down her cheek.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Alexia whispered.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

“You nearly died!” Alexia shouted as she stood up suddenly, eyes wide and frantic, while she threw her hands in the air before she dug her fingers into her hair. She must’ve realised how loud her voice was because she spoke her next words in a lower tone but it was restrained all the same, tight and thin as a string on the brink of breaking.

“There was no other way I’d take it! What if I’d lost you and I didn’t even know?” Then her eyes widened even further, realisation clear in them, and then her breath caught, words coming out in a sob. “No, I did lose you, didn’t I? Your heart stopped! Your heart–”

Alexia’s knees buckled beneath her and you barely caught her in time. The weight of her against you brought the both of you down to the ground, the softness of the rug doing little to lessen the fall, and it left you cradling Alexia’s head in your arms, her ear against your chest, as you tried, to no avail, to ease her pain.

Alexia had always seemed like an immovable mountain to most people, strong and collected in the face of adversities, especially so to her supporters who’d only ever truly seen her display an air of vulnerability a handful of times, so to witness her so broken like this–prone and weak on her knees, spine contorting in an anguished arch under the heaviness that you put in her chest, the weight too much for her to bear–and knowing that it was you who caused her to feel this much misery… Oh, how the pain seared through you like a burning lance!

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You whispered this litany of lamentations against her ear, your voice thick with tears. But, in your mind, you were apologising for more than that; for all the mistakes you’d made, for leaving, for almost leaving into that endless night.

Alexia twisted your shirt in a grip, the fabric now soaked with her tears, gnashing her teeth in a fierce display of guilt. “And I wasn’t even there for you. Fuck, I wasn’t even there. I–”

“You cannot blame yourself for this, darling. I won’t let you.” You said, voice firm despite the gentleness of it. And you proceeded, “And you think you weren’t there but you were, Alexia. You saved me.”

It was the truth that Alexia needed–that you needed her–to hear. She was your light in that darkness: in that sleep and the haze that came after it, and even more so now than ever. You tightened your grip around her, kissed the top of her head, and brushed her tears away.

“You were there, Alexia, always. You just didn’t know it.”

You were drying your hair with a towel on the bed when Alexia entered the bedroom, hair still dripping from her shower that left dark spots around the collar of her grey shirt, the skin around her eyes remained rosy but now faint, her short shorts barely appearing beneath the hem of her shirt, and–

“Is that…?”

Alexia followed your gaze and looked down at the string around her left ankle, the silver of the charm glinting in the low light. “Yes.”

“You kept it…” You whispered as emotions caught in your throat.

“Of course, I did. It…” Alexia bit her lip, casted her gaze to the side for a moment, before she met your eyes again, eyes so openly sincere you longed to kiss her right then. “It makes me feel more at ease while playing. It makes me feel safe.”

At that, you grazed your thumb over the string around your wrist. “I know the feeling.”

A silence fell over you as Alexia stood just a few paces away from the foot of her bed, feet shifting beneath her as she gnawed on her lower lip. She looked so small like that, so young and unsure. So you shifted your weight, and made space for her as you said softly, “Ale, come here. Let me dry your hair.”

That seemed to be what Alexia was waiting for because she finally shuffled forward, and sat down between your legs with her back turned to you. Gently, you began to dry her hair, loving the way she craned her neck back as you did so. Once it was only damp enough now, you ran your fingers through her hair, carefully untangling the knots between the strands, before you moved your hand lower, to the nape of her neck first then to her shoulders, putting just enough pressure there with the intent to release the tension in her muscles.

Alexia sighed deeply, tilting her head sideways so you could move your hands more freely. And a moment after, she turned and looked up at you, eyes lidded and shining with vulnerability and… something else that you couldn’t quite decipher but your heart ached all the same from the depth of it, and then slowly, she rose, and then the warmth of her breath caressed your cheek, her lips on yours. The kiss was tender and sweet in its lightness and before you knew it, you were eased down to the bed, her warmth washing over you as if her body was the sun and you were the earth being graced by her light.

You cupped her cheek, feeling the line of her jaw, savouring her lips when a wetness burnt against the skin below your eye, tasted salt on your tongue, and felt the stutter in Alexia’s breath. Soon, Alexia broke the kiss entirely, sinking into the crook of your neck where she wept silently, and you could do nothing but wrap your arms around her frame to shelter her, to assure her that you were still here and that, truly, the worst had passed. You held her there until sweet repose, at last, eased her into a place without pain and you waited for sleep to come, while regarding her countenance and relishing the soft caress of her breath on your skin, when not a moment later, you joined Alexia in slumber; your heart finally beating in time with hers.

It was still dark when you woke several hours later with a comforting warmth pressed against your back and the weight of Alexia’s arms around your waist, her breath warm against the nape of your neck. You shifted closer to the source of your comfort and placed your hand over hers. From the way her hold on you tightened, you knew she was awake.

“Can I confess something?” Alexia whispered, voice raw.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath.

“I waited for you.” A pause. “Until I saw you at the Olympics, I was still waiting for you. I knew the odds of you coming back to me were against me, but I hoped you’d come back.”

“Thank you for waiting.” You murmured.

“Thank you for coming back.” Alexia choked out, arms tightening around your waist. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

You needed to see her, so you peeled her hands from your waist, turned, and wrapped your arms around her waist.

“I’m here, Alexia. I’m right here with you.” You caressed her cheek, wiping the tear in the corner of her eyes before you whispered against her lips, “If I have to spend my whole life thanking you, so be it.”

Saying goodbye was a difficult affair for everyone–well, except for Derek, of course. Despite Alexia’s offer to drop you, Derek, and Elisa to the airport, you declined, reminding Alexia she needed rest for tomorrow, chuckling lightly at the pout she gave you when you said it, which made you inclined to kiss it away.

(You ignored Derek’s smirk; you spied him over Alexia’s shoulder looking all too smug for his own good.)

And Elisa, after spending the past few days in Alexia’s company, clung to her waist, lips quivering and eyes glassy with unshed tears, while Alexia tried to appease her. It seemed that Alexia’s celebrity factor had diminished for Elisa and now it dimmed to a newfound word: a friend. You smiled as you watched them chat for a bit longer, before Elisa went inside the car.

When it was your turn to hug Alexia, you sank into her arms, and she in yours, as your heart already longed for her at the thought that in a few minutes, you two would be parted again. It was difficult but you managed to pull away, kissing Alexia on her cheek, then her lips.

It was your last kiss but as your Uber took you away and as Alexia’s figure shrank in the rearview mirror from the growing distance, this kiss, you felt, held the promise of a future; of something more.

And that, to you, was everything.

You took the call immediately after you saw Alexia’s name on your screen.

“Alexia, what did you do?”

It was currently late October, over two months since the last time you’d seen her in person, but the both of you–and occasionally Elisa would join the both of you if she was able to catch you after her practice–remained in contact be it through messages, calls, or video calls. So to say that you missed her was more than an understatement and you found that the calls that used to relieve you of your longing for her–although they still very much did–now only served to deepen the growing cavern in your heart that resembled the woman who it belonged to; it was no longer enough, you wanted Alexia.

But that was not to be the topic of your conversation right now.

Alexia’s chuckle met your ears, brows crunching up in amusement. She was in a loose shirt, half of her face glazed over in a low, warm glow. “Is this about Elisa’s trial?”

“Please, Alexia, if you had something to do with Elisa getting scouted, tell me now.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Alexia said, even and light with laughter, but she enunciated the words with an air of seriousness. “I didn’t do anything. Although I admit I did a little digging that day I went to La Masia when you guys were here, remember? I heard Jona say her name in passing and when I checked the list, Elisa’s name was one of the best candidates. Your daughter has talent and a promising dedication to the club, the scout saw that.”

And as her word sank in–as you believed in your bones that Alexia was speaking truthfully–you let out a sigh, sagging into your open palm.

“Okay, I believe you. I’m sorry, babe… I just had to make sure.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Alexia waved a dismissive hand, and then, “So, what happened?”

“Well, I picked Elisa up today and her coach handed me a brochure and started talking about Elisa’s eligibility for a trial to get into Barça’s youth team.”

“And how did Elisa take it?”

“She’s unusually calm about all of it and that’s exactly the reason why I wanted to call you.” You sighed, “I’m worried she believes she didn’t get in because she did well and that she got in because of her connection to you.”

A pause and you watched as a pensive look passed over Alexia’s face. “Do you mind if I talk to her?”

“No, not at all. I think that’s a good idea. Hold on.”

You muted the call and then padded your way to Elisa’s bedroom, then knocked on her door.

“Ladybug, Alexia is on the phone.”

A moment later the door opened slightly, and Elisa looked through the tiny gap, her brow scrunched up in confusion before she widened the gap enough that she could step out.

“Alexia?”

You tucked a strand behind her ear. “Yes, honey. She wants to talk to you, only if you want to.”

Elisa gnawed her bottom lip, casted her gaze down for a moment, before she finally nodded. You gave her your phone, watched her close the door, before you made your way down to the kitchen to check on the food you were cooking. It was nearly half an hour later that Elisa joined you, phone in hand, eyes only just a bit raw, which she handed to you after giving you a hug. And when she pulled back, the smile she gave you was small but radiant, and you felt relief as you let her slip back into her room but not before you reminded her that the food was nearly ready.

“I don’t know what you said to her, but she looks better. Thank you”

“She just needed a little pep talk.” Alexia smiled at you, soft, “And anytime, my love.”

Two months later, Elisa’s club topped their respective league, won a major regional and national tournament, and Elisa… Elisa passed the trial.

Elisa was going to Barcelona.

‘Come over when you’re done for the day?’

The message was sent about an hour ago. You ran your fingers through your still damp hair, wiping your clammy palms on the fabric of your jeans, as you sent, ‘I’m coming up.’

Two days after Elisa received the news from Barça, you flew by yourself to Barcelona to sort out some paperworks. Derek already offered for the both of you to remain at his place–insisted even, so you wouldn’t get stressed out, which was sweet of him–and you accepted, but you promised you’d find someplace else after you and Elisa settled into your new routine. Alexia knew about all of this, of course, her schedule was filled today so she wasn’t able to be with you. Well… until now.

Now faced with Alexia’s apartment door, to say that you were nervous would be an understatement; you hadn’t seen your lover in the flesh for months, how could your heart not be in danger of leaping out of your chest at the promise of seeing her again soon?

You knocked on the door and only seconds passed between the moment you saw a shadow through the peephole and the door being flung open, and before you could fully comprehend what was happening, you were being pulled inside by the collar of your cardigan and slammed against the door as warm lips pressed on yours, hungry and full of ardour.

You moaned at the heat of Alexia’s tongue searing the skin of your lower lip, her teeth napping and pulling, before her tongue swept over the same spot, to soothe and salve and sear all over again. Standing on your toes, you wrapped your arms around her neck while you pushed your chest up, seeking her warmth, and you loved the way Alexia’s arms tightened their hold around your waist, pressing you further into the firmness of her body. Then her hands ventured downwards, setting your skin afire in their wake, and you gasped into her mouth the moment she took your ass in her grip and squeezed, the pleasure turning your blood into an entity of potent desire.

To your surprise, Alexia suddenly pulled away from the kiss and she ripped her hands away from your body, planting them instead on the door to hold her weight. And you had never hated distance more than the mere centimetres that separated your bodies just then.

Alexia looked down at you with lidded eyes, pupils blown so wide that the hazel in them were covered in black, while her breath came out stuttered.

“Wait–I’m sorry, I know we’re taking it slow but I just missed you so much and I–”

You let out a sound that was between a moan and a groan as you pulled the collar of her hoodie down, swallowing her next words in a deep kiss. Your hand crept under the fabric of her hoodie, her stomach deliciously taught beneath your fingers and you didn’t fight the urge to drag your nails over her smooth skin to make your intentions clear–an action that made her swear against your lips. You took her lower lip between your teeth and pulled slightly, the sound she made–obscene in every sense of the word–and the curse she let out sent scorching heat straight to your core; nothing turned you on more than the proof of Alexia’s ever-present composure slipping.

It mattered not how the both of you arrived at the bed; one second you were pressed up against the door, the next you were surrounded by soft sheets with Alexia on top of you, nipping and licking along the column of your neck, while the room filled with pants and gasps that came from either of you. She pressed her knee against the juncture of your thighs and the pressure made you keen Alexia’s name in a wanton cry, which Alexia responded to with an approving hum that you felt on your lips.

Her teasing continued on until the fabric of your underwear clung to you like a second skin from the slickness of your core but when you felt her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, you surged up and gently pushed Alexia to the side, laying her down on the bed with a deep kiss while you moved to straddle her stomach.

Then you leant back after a moment to look at her, and the sight you beheld took the breath from you.

There, she lied: with her light brown hair fanned out wildly on the sheets, a stark contrast against the lightness of the linen; her skin glowed from the incandescent light from her lamp; her hazel eyes beautifully dark and lidded with need; her cheeks graced with a rosy tint of the same shade as her supple lips which were slightly parted; the strong column of her neck, her broad shoulders, her large but gentle hands… there, while she lied and gazed at you, you basked in the radiance of her earthly beauty–her character even more resplendent in nature. And there, your chest crowded with emotions–lust, desire, wonder, amity–but a resonant call from your heart encompassed the immensity of this singular truth.

You loved Alexia.

Oh, how you loved her so.

With reverent hands and eyes that bore the zeal of your affection, you kept your gaze on hers while you dragged your fingers over her clothed ribs down to the firmness of her stomach, admiring the way the strength in them yielded into a softness so inherently familiar, adoring the way her lips parted further, the way her brows rose ever so slightly as the depth in her eyes seemed to stretch into a vastness that called to you.

She was beautiful.

So, so beautiful.

All of her exalted you to no end: the sound that she made when you kissed the valley between her breasts after you’d helped her undress; the feel of her skin on your tongue, from her collarbone, to her rib, to her hip, and her thigh; the taste–finally, again–of her need, her pleasure, and her ecstasy. Everything that she was revived you; she stoked the embers of your mortal flame into a star that shone for her, and only her. Every breath, every word, every look… these were the things that–in their divine simplicity–endeared her even more to you; the divine simplicity of her state of being was more than enough to move you, to make you fall deeper into your love for her.

As she came undone beneath your touch, the echoes of your heart longed to be heard, filling your throat with the words of a confession. But instead you whispered, in a cadence similar to that of a litany, that she was beautiful.

Soon after she came back to herself, she sat up and in a second, Alexia had you in her tender and appraising arms as you remained on her bare lap, kissing along your jaw as her large hands roamed over your still clothed body, her touch both gentle and fervid. But when she grazed the hem of your shirt again, you stilled.

Alexia pulled away, eyes lidded but concern reflected brighter in the darkness of her eyes.

“What is it, darling?” She asked as she brushed a strand behind your ear, gaze intent, searching your countenance for an answer.

Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest. You opened your mouth a few times as you tried to find the right words to say, and then finally, you admitted quietly, “My body… it–I’m not like how you remembered.”

“Darling, your body will always be beautiful. You don’t need to hide yourself from me.” Alexia took one of your hands and pressed a kiss on your knuckles, earnest in the way she spoke and looked at you. Your heart ached.

“I know, it’s just… I don’t think I’m ready,” you trailed off, “And I’m worried you’re not, too.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Alexia squeezed your hand, encouraging.“I’m ready when you are.”

Unbidden, the image of Alexia in anguish after you told her about what you went through flashed through your mind and the same vulnerability–that thinly veiled fear–you’d seen then, you could see now reflected in her eyes. It was one thing to hear the words of injury, and it was another to see the physical proof of it; if the words had profoundly affected her so, how much more would bearing witness to the tangible mark of your narrow escape from death would cause her?

“Alexia…”

You began to sigh, ready to offer a rejection, but Alexia cupped your cheeks into her palms, making you look into her eyes. Then she whispered, “Please, let me see you. I want to… I want you.”

There was much desire and tenderness in her voice, and you found yourself calming down knowing that you could trust Alexia with this. So you nodded.

Alexia smiled at you softly before she whispered, “Thank you. Just let me know when you want to stop.”

You nodded again and then, Alexia’s lips were back on yours, sweet and light as her hands returned to your waist. She was gentle, murmuring words of reassurance on your temple, your jaw, your collarbone, as she eased your cardigan off your shoulders. She placed one light kiss on the column of your neck before she laid you down on the sheets, her hair cascading over you like a silk curtain.

Alexia journeyed down your body, placing butterfly kisses over your clothed sternum, her breath breaching the thin barrier between your skin and heated your blood into a gentle simmer. Then she stopped, her lips on your stomach, and when you looked down at your body she was gazing up at you with imploring eyes, fingers playing at the button of your jeans, a question clear in her eyes.

Your lips parted at the sight of Alexia’s lips made red from kissing, her blown pupils dark with ardour, her brows tilted up in silent affection. Your heart, for all of its beating, was tranquil under the weight of Alexia’s hands and eyes, and so, you nodded.

Alexia gave you a smile and then she kissed your navel as her fingers unbuttoned your jeans, taking it off slowly. Then her hands skimmed over the newly exposed skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps and heat in their wake, and you gasped when you felt her lips ghosting above your core over the fabric of your underwear. You anticipated more, canting your hips upwards, but Alexia had already moved away by then, a gentle squeeze on your thigh, you perceived, was her form of apology.

And then her fingers were drawing circles on the exposed skin of your navel, just below the hem of your shirt, as she bent down, capturing your lips in hers, before she rested her forehead against yours.

“Are you ready? Just say the word and I’ll stop.” Alexia whispered on your lips.

You inched away so you could cup Alexia’s face in your palm, grazing your thumb over her cheek, as you replied with absolute certainty. “I’m ready. I trust you, Alexia.”

She caught your hand in hers as you began to take it back, pressing her cheek into your palm as she said, “Thank you.”

Slowly, Alexia began to take your shirt off and, once it was tossed aside, you waited with bated breath for her reaction upon seeing your scars. Would she turn away just as you tended to do sometimes whenever you saw yourself in the mirror? Would she touch you still–would you sicken her? You probably would, wouldn’t you? You–

A choking sound tore you away from your spiralling thoughts, your vision focusing on Alexia’s face contorting. A part of you screamed, ‘Look how you’ve appalled her!’, but clarity came over you and you recognised then that it was pain that marred her face. Alexia’s lips quivered as she took you in, eyes drifting around the more prominent scars on the right side of your torso–one on the top of your shoulder, on the skin just below your ribcage, and finally, the one just beside your breast–and her brows creased, and when she met your gaze, her eyes had reddened and now held in them, along with the desire–albeit now dimmer from the intensity of the other emotions on her face–a mixture of relief, regret, and agony.

Then she gathered you in her arms as she leant down, her arms wounding their way around your ribs, her nose brushing against your collarbone, her fingers delicate in the way they splayed on the skin of your shoulder blades, while the strength of her body draped over you and the softness of her breasts–her warmth–offered, even without words, shelter and healing. And you basked in it, arching your back to further feel the press of Alexia’s body, wrapping your arms around her neck and in response, Alexia’s hold on you tightened as she whispered your name in a tone fit for a rhapsody.

Alexia lifted her head and looked into your eyes. You wiped the trail of a tear that ran down her cheek, tucked a loose hair behind her ear, traced the line of her brow, and then the bow of her lips which trembled at your touch.

“You’re here and you’re mine.” She stated softly although the intonation in the end made her sound unsure, as if she didn’t–or couldn’t–believe that the both of you were there together, skin on skin, flesh against flesh, breathing the same air in the same moment in time; alive.

“I’m with you and I’m yours, Alexia.” You whispered with conviction. “Take me.”

As you said this, you reached behind you to grab one of her hands so you could kiss her knuckles, watching her as she watched you, before you took her first two fingers into your mouth. You relished the way her lips parted with a gasp while you guided her fingers down to your core, pushing the fabric of your soaked underwear aside so you could press Alexia’s wet fingers against you, sighing when you finally felt her there while Alexia moaned out her desire.

And so, she took you. With one last fervid kiss on your lips that took your breath away, Alexia ventured downwards, brushing her thumb over your clit as she did, while she nipped on the expanse of skin you offered her. And then her lips were on you and you were lost–and found again.

She moved with an air of divinity; with each touch from her supple lips, you felt as though you were closer to grace; and with each swipe of her tongue and thrust of her fingers, you could feel a warm radiance washing over you, simultaneously stripping the strength away from your bones and restoring you to a wholeness you never knew you could feel.

You gathered enough strength to open your eyes to peer down your body and when you did, the sight that greeted you nearly pushed you over the edge. There between your legs, Alexia was looking at you with lidded eyes as she worked on you, catching a glimpse of her tongue every now and then, and the sheen of wetness on her lips and chin. And her eyes… Oh, her eyes had the power to unravel you with one look.

The need to feel her close rose in you as you felt your peak creeping closer. You had meant to say, ‘Come here’, but the words were lost on the way to your mouth and what came out was Alexia’s name. But Alexia understood enough it seemed for she–without so much as losing the pace of her fingers–moved up your body and kissed you, your wetness fresh on her lips and chin, your taste heavy on her tongue.

She kissed your cheek, then your temple, and then you felt her warm breath on your ear. Then she whispered low and dark as sin, “You look so beautiful like this… feel so good. Love the way you’re so wet for me.”

“Ale… Alexia…” You moaned at her words, dragging your nails over her back as you found yourself losing purchase; the edge of euphoria, you could feel, only just a breath away.

“That’s it. Come for me, darling. Let me feel you come.”

The heat of it all–Alexia’s words and the warmth of her breath, that hot friction from her fingers, and her safe, sheltering weight on you–finally lit the fuse and ecstasy set every nerve in your body afire, and a sense of fullness filled your chest–a state of grace–that called to the woman before you.

And so, you didn’t stop the words.

You sighed against her ear, “I love you.”

Alexia tensed but she didn’t stop until you’d finished, until your cheek was pressed against the sheets, eyes closed from the sheer pleasure that she blessed you with. When she dragged out her fingers from you, you whimpered.

And then you felt her palm on your temple, wiped the sweat away there, before she eased your head away from the pillow as she whispered your name. You opened your eyes to her doting countenance, her brows graced by a hopeful tilt.

“Do you mean it? Truly?” Alexia asked softly.

You felt no fear when you replied in the same soft cadence. “I do.”

Her breath stuttered, her next words were so light you barely caught them. “Say it again. Please.”

You smoothed her hair, traced the tail of her brow, before you looked deeply into her eyes.

“I love you, Alexia.”

Her face broke into a small, reverent smile that bore all the warmth in the world before she caught your lips in a kiss so tender you nearly cried.

Then you parted, but Alexia’s forehead remained against yours.

And with tears in her eyes, she whispered.

“I love you, too.”

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n:#to the anon/s in my inbox who’s been so sweet–thank you for your kind messages and words of motivation #i very much appreciate you and im sorry for my lateness but i hope that this makes up for it.#happy holidays everyone and take care of yourselves #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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