breaking {marc bartra}

Bartra

I go to open my door, rubbing my eyes. Marc is on the doorstep, smile on his face.

We had seen each a lot since that night two months ago, and I have to admit I kinda like him. He's not cocky like people always say, and he's sweeter than I thought he would be.

"Yes?" I ask, "May I help you?" He rolls his eyes, "May I come in?" I tap my chin, "Hmmm, let me think about that.." I mumble, staring up at the blue sky. I squeak in surprise when he picks me up and carries me back into my house, closing the door behind him.

He sits me down, and kisses my forehead before walking away, towards my kitchen. "What are you doing?" I call after him. No answer. I sigh and with a roll of my eyes I follow him.

He's sitting at the counter when I walk in, and a black gift bag sits in front of him. "What's this?" I mumble, feeling unsure about the fact that he's buying me things. "Just open it." He urges, smile on his face. "Marc.. I don't want you-" "I didn't buy it," He interrupts, "Open it!"

I open the bag and stick my hand in it, and feel a soft fabric. I look up at him, and he motions for me to continue. I pull out a Barça jersey, with his name printed on the back. I faintly smile, "You want me to have this?" He nods, "Keep going." I pull out a pair of warm ups with the Barça crest, along with a sweatshirt. "Are you sure Marc?" I ask, looking up at him, "I mean, the press is already all over us.. More specifically me.. They showed up at the studio yesterday. Are you sure you want to broadcast this message to the whole world?" I ask, looking up at him. He smiles, "Of course I am, I want them all to know that you're mine now." I raise my eyebrows, "Oh really? We haven't even been on a real date yet!" He raises his eyebrows, showing that he disagrees, "Well how about this. I take you come to my game, and then I take you on a "real" date." He offers with a smile, "That way we both get what we want." I shrug, "Why not? What time is the game?" He glances at his watch, "Eight. It's just now nine. We have time." He says softly.

I had learned to give up on going out anywhere with Marc because the press shows up every time. When we see each other, the visits usually consist of talking and cuddling on my couch. I walk over to him, and he wraps his arms around my hips, and I lay my head on his shoulder.