Just Friends - Neymar Jr

50

I interrupted by getting up and hugging him around his neck as he buried his head into the crook of mine. I felt his body tremble, "Amelia man, why? If it worked, I... I don't even know what I would've fucking done. Why didn't you come to me?"

I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from crying again, "I don't know Neymar. I felt sad and alone and I just. I just couldn't deal with it anymore. It was the night coach came to the house. I know he was trying to help, trying to get them to let me play but it fucked my life up and I can never forgive him for it. He baited me out to my parents, they never knew I played football. The beatings that night were so bad, I still get nightmares now. Dad was crazy drunk and mãe was high out of her mind to do anything about it."

"You could've sneaked out, I would've protected you. I'll always protect you, even if you hate me and we're complete enemies, I'll always fucking protect you man," his voice cracked, making tears finally run down my own cheeks.

"It weren't just that. Afterwards he searched my room, stripped it completely. Bashed up my wardrobe and shit, found them football boots that I stole and were three sizes too big for me, remember them? He found your clothes and the clothes I bought to play in. He went mental. I walked in and just found my room teared to pieces. Bits of wood everywhere, my drawers emptied out, there was no room to walk without stepping on something. I remember crying still from his hits but seeing that made me cry harder, I had nowhere to go to escape him and-"

"But you did! You could've come and seen me! I could've helped!"

"You're like 5'10 now, at seventeen you were a midget. You wouldn't of been able to take my dad so stop acting like you could've. It's done, it's in the past now. I can't change how I reacted," I sighed, taking my hands off his neck but he kept me from moving by tightening his grip around my waist.

"I'm not angry at you for that. I just can't believe I'm only finding out about it now and I wish I could've done something," he said.
"It's not your fault Neymar," I knew he would be blaming himself which is exactly why I never told him.
"But if I had paid more attention or if I-"
"Neymar, it's not your fault."

We stood in a comfortable silence for a while, me leaning on his chest as he kept his arms wrapped around me.

"How much did you drink today linda?" he asked, pulling out the hug, causing me to sit on the end of the bed now.
"Only like two shots, I'm fine," I shrugged.
He sighed, leaning back on the headboard.
"What?" I asked, confused.
He rolled his eyes, "Nothing."
"I'm so done with your 'nothing' shit. If you have a problem, say it so we can fix it or don't bring it up at all."

"I don't have a problem, I just-" He let out a breath and held the bridge of his nose as I gestures for him to go on, "I know we talk but like, you only ever seem to properly have a conversation with me once you've drank and then you barely remember it the next day. I wondered why you were finally opening up but of course I was just being stupid. Why do you have to be drunk to talk to me?"

"Bro it was two shots," I laughed, "I'm not drunk, how much of a lightweight do you think I am?"
"That's not the point Amelia. Why don't you want to talk to me sober?" he stressed as I sat there, beyond confused.

"Are we speaking the same language? I had two shots," I held up two fingers, "I can walk and talk, I'm not going crazy and acting dumb am I?"

"You are! If you could think straight then you'd know that I was right and you do only talk to me when your drunk and need somebody. You're done with my 'nothing shit', well I'm done with your entitled shit. I told you I'll always be there but your just using it to your advantage and using me when you feel like it and it's not fair. I want us to be normal again. I want to tell you how I feel without you forgetting it the next morning," his head was in his hands as I sat there dumbfounded. How did we go from my suicide attempt to me not talking to him?

"I'm using you? You're the one that fucking used me by letting me look after you and feel sorry for you when you had your injury, when the whole time you were out fucking another bitch. You play with my feelings all the fucking time and I can't deal with it! We can't just be normal again, it will never be as it was because you messed it up. Call me entitled for not getting back with the guy that cheated on me, I don't care," I rolled my eyes, getting up to leave.

"What so you're just gonna run away as you always do? Then probably end up calling me at 3am to pick you up?" he sneered at me.

"Run away? Bitch, you don't scare me. And no, don't worry I'll call Frisco to pick me up," I smiled at him as his jaw clenched.

"You're just as bad as me then!"
"How? We aren't dating, this isn't cheating. I can do what I want. Remember you asked why I didn't open up to you? Replay this whole situation in your head right now. I told you about my suicide attempt, or was willing to, until you started an argument midway through about you not getting enough fucking attention? I didn't even get to finish the story. You're such a self-centred prick," I put my coat on and reached for the door.

"And you're not?"
"I can be self-centred since I am actually the shit. I don't even know what you are but you certainly aren't the Neymar I used to know," I closed the door before he could answer and took a deep breath before heading down the corridor.

I didn't know where I was going, what I was doing. But it would be okay. I probably wouldn't even remember this argument in a few months so what's the big deal? We always end up getting dragged back together so it'll be fine. Won't it?