Sempre

[Nineteen]

.:Chapter Nineteen:.

♚ Neymar's POV ♚

Yesterday, Lena, Rafa and I finished watching White House Down and went on to watch a couple more movies before Lena decided it was best to go home. After all, the clock was quickly ticking towards midnight and we had a lot of errands to do the next morning.

Now that the 'next morning' has arrived, all I want to do is lay in bed all day, my warm duvet wrapping me in a cocoon and the soft pillows supporting my head gently with their irresistible... comfyness...

Is that even a word?

As if on cue, my stomach grumbled loudly, pleading me to go and eat something. Well, there was no way I could stay in bed now.

Sighing, I threw the sheets off myself and just laid there for a bit, trying to get used to the sudden change in temperature. An itch on my stomach caught my attention and, irritated, my hands darted to scratch it, but something was in the way. Looking down, I saw the back brace tightly wrapped around my torso.

A frown overtook my features as I laid my head back down onto the comfort of the pillows. If it wasn't enough that World Cup fever was still going strong, that thing would constantly remind me of the events that unfolded. Zuñiga was let off with a yellow card since the ordeal was out of his hands and, although I bear no grudge towards him, I wished that the ref had given him a red or his coach had suspended him. I wanted him to feel my pain. This was my first World Cup and it went downhill. I knew everything was too good to be true. Who knows if I'll be there during the next World Cup. Maybe this was my only chance.

I shook my head to rid myself of those thoughts; they just made everything worse.

A clattering downstairs distracted me enough to leap out of bed. Hushed whispers followed and I grabbed the closest object to me to use as a weapon. If there was a criminal in here, I had to be prepared.

Tiptoeing down the stairs, I tightened my grip around the iron (yes, iron. I could swing it at them and potentially scar them with the plug) and braced myself.

"Hello? Anyone here?" I called out, although I'm not entirely sure why. I mean, it's not like the person's actually going to reply like "Hello! Yes! It's me! I am here to harm you!"

For some reason, I thought of Oaken from Frozen, and I chuckled at the mere thought of an Austrian Spa owner coming to rob me.

"He's coming downstairs. Shh!" I heard someone whisper ferociously. As soon as the last word left the intruder's lips, scurrying and shuffling noises could be heard coming from the kitchen.

When I walked into the kitchen, however, there was no one in sight. Peaking round the marble island in the centre of the room, my eyes weren't met with anything out of the ordinary. If it wasn't for the whispers, I wouldn't even notice that someone else was in my house.

That's when my nose was met with a wonderful scent, which seemed to be coming from the dining room. The smell was captivating and my stomach rumbled in agreement. Setting the iron down onto the counter top, I pushed past the door that connected the two rooms.

In front of me was a large oak table, full of pancakes, waffles, fruits, eggs and all sorts of things. It reminded me of the time when Rafa tried to make me breakfast so that I'd let her see the Dos Santos brothers. I let out a small chortle at the memory, breaking off a piece of the warm waffle and popping it in my mouth.

A resounding bang caught my attention. I looked around cautiously, momentarily forgetting that there could be a murderer in the house. It sounded like the noise had come from underneath the table - the very table I was standing next to. I took a giant step backwards because, you know, if they were going to grab my ankles and potentially try to kill me, it would be a harder task now.