◖SWIM◗ Neymar Jr.

The fall

        Neymar winced as he walked slowly across the corridor, approaching his girlfriend's apartment. His ankle wasn't quite healed fully and the ache returned whenever he stepped in the wrong way but that was to be expected. After the huge disappointment faced in the World Cup, Neymar Junior, considered one of the best football players in the world, was sent home, tails tucked behind his legs. He let out a sigh of relief when he reached the door. He had to take the stairs because the elevator was out of service and his girlfriend lived on the 7th floor.

Neymar didn't tell his girlfriend, Bruna Biancardi, about his return to Brazil. He wanted to surprise her and hopefully have a cute little dinner with her in hopes that it would lighten the depressing thoughts that surrounded him ever since they lost that damned match. He shook his head, as if to physically dislodge whatever dark thoughts trying to enter his mind, and knocked on the door.

There was a shuffle approaching the door and Neymar tightened his grip a little on the bouquet of roses with blooms of carnations in between. He doesn't quite understand the nauseous pull happening in his gut but he shrugged it off, it's not a foreign feeling. It had made frequent appearances after- no not again.

As the door finally opened, the small frame of his girlfriend's body appeared. He could hear the faint sound of stereo playing in the background, steady brazilian love song that he didn't recognize. Bruna's eyes widened as she saw him. A soft smile was painted across his face as he saw her expression.

"Surpresa."

Bruna blinked once, then twice, then her eyelids stuttered for the third time before straining out in a weak voice, "Neymar...? I- When did you come back. "

Neymar chuckled, "Today babe, i wanted to surprise you, and it seems like i did quite a good job."

Bruna's mind seems to be running a million miles per hour. She wasn't expecting him to be at her door at all. She wasn't quite sure she wanted him to be there at that moment.

"Bruna won't you let me in? Or are we standing here all night and stare at each other" Neymar questioned, his smile never leaving his face.

Bruna opened her mouth as if to answer but she was cut off by a voice coming from the inside of her apartment.

"Amore who is at the door?"

As he heard the unknown voice calling his girlfriend 'amore', Neymar's smile was replaced by a look of confusion and as the gears in his head turned, his expression began to darken. He pushed past Bruna, who stumbled a little before righting herself. The bouquet of flowers fell lifelessly on the floor as Neymar briskly walked into the living room connected with the kitchen, with his girlfriend right behind him calling his name. But he didn't stop to acknowledge her calls and stared at the blond man, a good inch taller than him, who was cooking in his girlfriend's kitchen with comfort and ease, as if he has done it numerous times before. His face was starting to get warm with anger and he glared at his girlfriend who has a desperate look on her face, as if she was about to burst into tears.

"Quem diabos é ele?" [Who the fuck is he?]

"Neymar- look- i will explain please listen to me-"

"I said who the fuck is this man Bruna?!" Neymar shouted making Bruna flinch. "Who is this man, cooking in your damned kitchen as if it was his home, calling you love- Who the fuck is he Bruna? What have you been doing behind my back?!"

The man quickly came to stand behind his girlfriend- was she even his girlfriend anymore?

"Look my friend, you need to calm down."

Neymar's eyes blazed with anger, he wanted to destroy something, throw something- anything. His head was pumping with anger and he felt dizzy.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? Friend? I am no friend of yours when you have been whoring around with my fucking girlfriend-" He cut himself off with a dry chuckle. It wasn't funny. None of this was funny but what was he supposed to do? Cry? Never, he had his own dignity to preserve even though his heart hurt like a bitch- as if a strong hand was squeezing it, crumpling it into an unrecognizable mess, smearing a stain of red.

"Neymar- look i've been trying to tell you, but you were going through such a hard time i couldn't sum up the courage to tell you. I didn't want to hurt you when you were in so much pain-"

Neymar dropped down onto the leather couch, and brushed his hand through his hair. The man, his girlfriend's boyfriend -isn't that some kind of fucked up comedy? - standing beside her, awkwardly putting his hand on her shoulder as if to give his support.

"So you took to cheating on me, fucking another man behind my back. You think that would hurt me less? " He stood up abruptly. "I trusted you with every inch of my life Bruna! I gave of all i could give you! I tried my best to shower you with love and care, clear up my schedule to spend time with you, cancel my plans with Davi, endured the coaches'stares of disapproval whenever i cut on practices to spend time with you- I DID EVERYTHING I COULD TO SHOW YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU."

"I am so sorry Neymar, i never meant things to turn out like this. I loved you, i truly did but- i am sorry."

The Brazilian stared at the weeping woman with an unimpressed glare, a long silence dragged on for a minute or two, as if to wait for his heart, that was cracking with every second, to finally break into pieces. A heavy sigh broke out of his mouth as his eyes began to prick with unshed tears.

"If it wasn't clear already Bruna, everything, and when i say everything i mean it. Every. Thing. Ends. Here. I hope you live a happy life and i pray to God above that what you did to me, never happens to you. I don't want to hear from you again. " Neymar walked past the couple, refusing to acknowledge the existence of the other man and stiffly walks towards the door.

"I am so sorry, i am sorry for every-"

"Your sorry will not mend my broken heart Bruna, keep it to yourself." Neymar ignored her soft, laboured gasp and walked out of the apartment. On his way, he felt something squished under his feet and looked down to see the bruised bundle of flowers. His eyes hardened with pain but held his tears in and walked out, leaving the woman who he thought was to be his whole world, the woman who had just, in a matter of minutes destroy the fragile world he had built for himself and her. His chest was aching. It burned and it was suffocating him.

As he walked out of the building, he felt as if all his failures were closing up on him. He hid from them for a short time. Now they have located him and could not wait to choke him to death. The lights in his life clicked off one by one and he was left alone in the dark ocean. His disappointments tormenting him like strong currents in the vast oceans, and he had nothing to grasp onto in order to stay afloat. He was drowning and drowning and his thoughts were taunting him. He didn't know how he got to his home, he didn't know the worried looks that his sister shot at him as he stumbled upstairs to his room with a bottle of vodka in his hand past midnight, he didn't know when he passed out on his bed. He didn't know- he didn't know anything. A bruised petal of red rose, shriveled and darkened under the force, fell from the sole of his right shoe.