Summary - Ruben can't sleep because of his thoughts on the upcoming season, with Manchester City having already won it all last season.
Enjoy!
Ruben has always been very dedicated to his training. Too dedicated, you thought. But latley you had begun to notice some unusual behavior from him, starting off with his inability to sleep at night.
"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" He said, seeing as you turned around to face him in bed.
"Yes, yes you did. Who were you talking to?" At first you thought he had been talking in his sleep, muttering things like treble and Champions League.
"No one, I'm just thinking out loud."
"Baby, it's 3 a.m."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."
"Well, now that I'm awake..." You yawned. "Tell me what exactly you were thinking about?"
He let you snuggle up against him, your head resting against his naked torso, his skin warm against your cheek.
He inhaled your scent, followed by a deep sigh. "I was just thinking about the upcoming season."
"What about it?" You tilted your head up to meet his gaze.
He shrugged. "We littlery won everything we could possibly win last season. How are we supposed to top that?"
"Win everything you could possibly win again?" You chuckled.
"I know I sounds silly to you, but..."
"Ruben..." Lifting your head you frowned at him. "I never said you were silly." Clearly something was bothering him and he had a hard time telling what it was.
"You're right, I'm sorry." He mumbled
Your hand went to raise his fallen chin. "What's on your mind baby, you can tell me."
He looked to be fighting himself, unsure weather he should tell you what he had been carrying around on his mind, what's caused him not to sleep.
"I'm not sure I'll be able to do it." He said.
"Do what?" You frowned.
"Perfom."
"Perfom where?"
"On the pitch."
"As in, you won't be good enough?"
It broke your heart seeing him nod his head.
"Ruben?"
"I know, I know. I'm being silly. How can I think that when I'm privileged to play for arguably the best football team in the world. Along with the best players and best coach in the world. But I..." His rambling trailed off as Rubens gaze shifted into the distance. His jaw clenched as if he was biting down on the words that he really wanted to utter.
"I threw up this morning after breakfast and the morning before that." He said.
"Ruben." You were lost for words. "Why would you..."
"The first time I think it was because of stress but the second time..." Again his words trailed off as his gaze search for somthing in the distance. The bedroom was dark so you had no idea what he had his eyes fixated upon, all you know is that it was scaring you, he was scaring you.
"Ruben, did you make yourself throw up....on purpose?" Again your heart broke when he nodded his head.
"Baby, why would....?"
His head fell into your lap and you felt his body trembled all over. "I know I'm being silly." He cried, his tears drying with the sheets. "But I just don't know how I'm supposed to give it everything out there on the pitch unless I'm chasing something, a goal. We won everything I could possibly dream of as a child. What now?" He said, the hopelessness in his voice punching a hole in your gut.
"Ruben, you listen to me." It was hard for you, seeing him like this. However, he had always been so strong for you when you needed him the most, perhaps it was your turn to be strong for him. Ruben needed you.
He raised his head as your hand stroked his hair. His eyes were glossy with tears and his expression embarrassed. But he needed not be embarrassed with you. You wanted to tell him that with you, he could be all of him, the beautiful man that he was.
"This season or any season for the matter, you should only focus on being the best version of yourself, no?"
He raised his brow to indicate that he was listening.
"Twelve year old Ruben didn't become the great footballer that he is because he was chasing shiny trophies. No. You became who you are and ended up in the team that you did, because you kept on working on yourself, chasing the best version you could possibly be. Season after season you have done that. Don't let a set of hollow trophies fool you into thinking that that was the endgame. The endgame is whenever you decide to stop, when you decide which ever version yourself should take the final shot. A set of trophies can't decide that Ruben. There is so much more for you to give this season, believe me."
His hands cupped your face, bringing it forwards so that he could meet you lips.
"I love you, have I told you that?"
You smiled. "You might have mentioned it once or twice."
He kissed you again, this time pinning you down against the matress.
"Well, have I told you that your the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes on?"
"Yes, but never at 3 a.m. in the morning when I obviously feel as I look, like shit."
"You don't look like shit you look gorgeous."
"No, I look gorgeous in the morning when you finally let me sleep." You tried to roll over, however, Rubens weight upon your body made it impossible to move an inch. His eyes searched your face. "You sure you want to sleep?"
You bit your lip. "What else do you have in mind?"
You gasped as his lips attached to the crook of your neck, sucking your skin.
"Ruben." You laughed. One moment he was in tears and the other he was wrestling you in bed. This guy had more hormones than a woman experiencing menopause.
"We have to sleep." You giggled.
"We can sleep after." He groaned. His hand slipped under your shirt, pushing your panties to the side. At least Ruben didn't have to question his stamina ahead of the season, you thought. He was ready to rumble at any hour of the day.