everything is fine.

6-Bruna

i jolted awake. more night sweats, more panting, more kicking. but this time, i heard a knock down the hall. i moved my room downstairs not too long ago, it was either this or get one of those ugly loud stair chair things. hell no. another knock shakes me out of my day dreams. i hobble out of my bed, clutching my back as i make it to the door. slowly, i open the door.

him.

the air practically evaporated out of my lungs. out of anger, out of hate, out of remorse, out of... out of something that felt so wrong, yet so god damn right.

"hi." same voice. same scent. 

"its 2 in the morning, why are you here?"

"i dont know." wrong answer. "i just know i need to be here."

"you dont know anything."

"bru-"

"you dont. look at me, neymar. fucking look at me." my words burn with anger, yet i have no energy to yell. i barely have the energy to fucking stand and yet he has me out of bed.

"i know. im sorry." he says, eyes fixed on the ground.

"oh i know you're sorry. prancing out in your billion dollar suits, partying like a dumbass, drinking your weight. sorry." i rant, anger evident in my voice as words pour out of my mouth. i dont even think about what i say, it just comes out. i dont have the fucking energy to think. 

i lean against my doorway, my breaths coming out more labored. he must notice, becuase he clutches my elbow and slips his arm around my waist. i flinch away from his touch, too much of my effort is going into keeping myself standing, though. so, i let him guide me to the couch. 

"im sorry." he whispers in my ear as i let him guide me.

i lay down on the couch, still resentful of him.

"you probably have a bitch, too. someone to parade around for entertainment and approving nods from shitty fans and even shittier friends."

when he doesnt respond to my rant, simply averting his gaze and letting out a sigh, i consider murdering him right where he stands.

"fuck you. you fuck me over and replace me with some begging whore."

"bruna."

"dont say my name."

neymar:

funny i said those exact words to the woman she just learned about, but already hates just a day ago. i wish i had the heart to lie to her. i wish i had the heart to yell back at her, to hate amila, to regret bruna. but i dont. i dont have the heart to feel anything for amila. i dont even lust for her. shes as good as my goddamn hand. i dont have the heart to regret bruna. i dont have the heart to not miss her smell, or her touch, or her voice, or that gorgeous smile. i did something horrible to her, something irreversible. i'll fix it. not tonight, but i'll fix it.

bruna:

"why the hell are you here, da silva?"

"because i need to be."

"not an answer."

"its as much of an answer as i can give you." i grumble.

"what do you want?"

he sighs, "just... just let me sleep next to you."

"no way in hell you're infecting my bed."

"chair next to your bed."

"whatever, deal."

i'd be a liar if i said i was reluctant to let him stay. i'd be a liar if i said i didn't miss him. well, maybe not him, but, its the little things. i miss his laugh, his stupid jokes, his smell, his teasing- alright, maybe i do miss him as a whole just a little.

"thank you."

"shut up."

progress is progress.

everything is fine.