Can u write more oneshots of João Félix? Like fluff? Or angst to fluff? (U choose, i trust u)
I reaallyyy luv ur writing!
✮ Media Dilemma - João Felix
SY: fake dating isn’t supposed to last, not when he was..until he falls for u
A/N: no bcus i love that u like my writing ilysm 🥹 & also the reason this took so long is bcus i was brainstorming an idea for AGES but it’s finally here now enjoy it anon!
Warnings: cursing & slight angst (probably no pt2..)
as apart of chelsea fc’s pr management team, you had a series of heavy events to monitor, programme and promote.
like any other day, you step into your office at the crack of dawn, with stacks of documents and folders in your grasp.
it was only 8:20am, yet you had been crazed with due assignments and upcoming project designs for the january transfer market appeal.
you heave the piles of files onto a table, the wood straining at the sudden weight. you make your way to your desk, coffee in hand and briskly turn your computer on.
as it buzzes alive, dozens of emails had already flooded your inbox. all asking a different million questions and desperate for answers. but there was one particular tab that caught your eye—bold lettering and flagged.
she wasn’t the ideal manager you’d want—always keeping a hawk-eye on any work you did, praying for a flaw she could argue with you about. she craved validation from her boss; enough said.
you hesitantly clicked onto it, afraid of a concern she would be warning you about. the subject line read: “urgent meeting - pr strategy”
you sigh with a ton of relief. it wasn’t unusual. crisis management was something you consider yourself to be an expertise in. it all came with the job, usually conversing with professional athletes, social media scandals and strategies for the relentless press.
you swiftly took your notebook into your arms and made your way over to the meeting room. inside, a handful of people were seated, but the most prominent figure who stood out to you was none other than joão felix.
your steps faltered. joão wasn’t a name you handled directly, easy to say it wasn’t your issue—he had a team for that. although, you had been roped into campaigns featuring him before.
“y/n, thanks for coming,” your manager said, motioning you to take a seat.
joão’s eyes flickered up to you, studying you briefly before glancing back at his phone.
“of course,” your voice uneasy, sliding into a chair, “what’s this about?”
his agent, jorge mendes, took your attention by clearing his throat. “joão’s been facing a little.. heat in the media lately. there’s been speculation about his focus, attitude and well, commitment to the club.”
“speculation,” joão scoffed, “it’s nonsense.”
“whether it’s true or not it doesn’t matter,” jorge continued. “the headlines stick. and quite frankly, it doesn’t put either chelsea or joão in a good light.”
“so,” he said at last, “cher and i have agreed that a fresh narrative for him could help. something to humanise him, non-football related.”
you found yourself tensed, your shoulders up high and pulse heightened. why was he telling you this? you felt out of place, as though they had called in the wrong person, “im sorry, but that involves me.. how?”
your manager leaned forward, lowering her voice as if telling you a secret. “we both know you’ve had some experience working with joão before.”
she pushed her glasses further up her nose and continued, “you understand the media, i mean of course your the best in the department. and your not a public figure—perfect for making this believable.”
“making what believable?” you inquire.
“a relationship,” jorge said bluntly.
joão had stopped scrolling on his phone, immediately straightening up in his seat. “you can’t be serious.”
“im afraid we are.” cher spoke firmly. “this isn’t optional joão. the club is backing this plan.”
you stared at them, trying to process what they were saying. “let me get this straight.. you want me to date him?”
you almost laughed, dismissing the idea already. it was a stupid idea, the furthest from being professional.
“almost,” she said simply. “a media stunt. an act.”
“im sorry?” you blink bewildered. “an act? like pretending to be his girlfriend? that’s ridiculous.”
you finally laughed thinking this was some joke. surely, it was. you’re not even an actress so how is this supposed to work?
“we’re serious y/n.” cher called out, crossing her arms.
you turn around to the rest of the room, hoping to find some frailty in their words. however, mendes only nodded approvingly at you, confirming the situation.
meanwhile, joão is sat with his mouth slightly open, also insanely baffled. atleast you had the courage to speak.
you dryly cough yourself out from laughing, pursing your lips. “but ma’am, i work in pr. not acting. i don’t see how this would even-”
“you don’t need to work y/l/n,” jorge now interrupted. “it’s simple. you’ll attend events together, be seen out in public, and attract the media’s attention.”
“it’s nothing crazy, just a minor distraction.” he finished, folding his hands.
the room fell silent, eerie and tense. you were sure your face had turned pale at the pure shock. joão groaned, rubbing his temples.
“is there not anybody else for this?” you say quietly. “someone who’s better at this than me?”
though by the sedates expression, you already began to feel hopeless—almost accepting defeat.
“the whole point is that your not a celebrity,” your manager argued. “it’ll feel authentic. and joão’s image needs that right now.”
you crossed your arms, trying to mask such vulnerability you felt.
“what do you think about this?” you turned to joão, who, by the looks, had no issue with it at all.
he shrugged, eventually leaning into the cushions. “does it matter? it’s not like i have a choice.”
the dismissive tone grated on you. “wow, thanks for the enthusiasm. real convincing.”
“don’t worry amor, i’ll make you look good.” he smirked now, his hands rested on the back of his head.
you rolled your eyes in disgust, already regretting every decision that led you here.
“can we count on you y/n?” cher said at last. her tone was solid, making it evident that it wasn’t really a question.
“fine. yes, yes you can.” you sighed defeated. “only because this will help the club though.”
“brilliant!” jorge clapped his hands. “we’ll start tomorrow! joão will pick you up at around 7am before training. the press will be notified—casually of course.”
“thanks,” you mumbled something as a lie. “can’t wait.”
the morning arrived faster than you wanted. you barely had time to process just what went on prior, let alone mentally prepare.
you turned to face your mirror, the reflection showing a woman far less confident than the one you usually presented at work.
being at the centre of attention wasn’t a daily thing for you—you were more hidden at the back doing the digital work. never in the media.
but oh, how that was going to change.
by the time you made it outside, joão was already waiting outside and leaning against his car.
his sunglasses were perched on his face, looking effortlessly casual as if this wasn’t the most absurd situation you’d ever been roped into.
with a deep breath, you grabbed your purse and stepped out the door. joão noticed you immediately, leaning over to push open the passenger door.
“morning,” he greeted, tone neutral.
“morning.” you replied, climbing in. he shut the door as you entered, walking around to climb into the drivers seat.
the cologne is his car was strong, as though he’d applied it directly to the furniture. you fought the urge to wrinkle your nose—how was he so put together at 7am?
the drive was quiet at first, the hum of the engine the only sound. the back suv cruised through central london; the air suffocatingly silent.
you glanced out of the tinted window, as though the city lights might offer an escape.
joão cleared the lump in his throat, breaking the silence. “so, coffee?”
“sounds good,” you mumble back
“so,” you started, desperate to break the tension. “do we, like, plan anything? or are we just winging this whole fake relationship thing?”
joão shrugged, setting his cup down. “what’s there to plan? show up, smile for the cameras and act like we don’t hate this. easy.”
you blinked at him. “that’s your strategy?”
“it works for me,” he faintly smirked, “your the best in the PR department i heard, no? isn’t your job making stuff look good even when it’s not?”
you frowned, biting back a retort. he was making this much more difficult than it needed to be.
“you could atleast pretend to care. this is your reputation we’re dealing with.” you said.
he raised an eyebrow, picking his cup up. “i don’t need to pretend to care. that’s your job isn’t it?”
you huffed, leaning back into the chair. “unbelievable.”
joão took a few swigs of his coffee, his expression unreadable as always. for a moment, you wondered if this whole indirect act was just that.
but if it was, he was playing it annoyingly well.
“relax,” he finally exhaled, his tone softer now. “it’s not that serious, we’ll get through it like natural.”
“well that’s easy for you to say.” you roll your eyes.
“precisely,” he grinned, tipping his cup towards you in a mock toast.
you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to laugh or throw your coffee at him. probably both.
a few minutes passed by, one of awkward silence and stolen glances every so often.
you were scrolling lazily on your phone, as joão gave you a light tap. you internally groaned, what did he want now?
“what?” you muster up, glaring at him.
“don’t turn around,” he muttered. his usual relaxed posture stiffened, just barely, but enough for you to catch it.
of course, that only made you more curious. “why not?”
“just don’t,” he said through gritted teeth. he set his coffee down, tapping the wooden table lightly.
“they’re here. camera’s.”
your stomach sank. this is exactly why you needed to mentally prepare—for this.
“what do we do?” you whispered, voice shaky. “joão i don’t know what to do.”
“relax amor,” he grinned, “your overthinking it. they’ll be gone soon.”
“im not overthinking!” you snapped whilst trying to keep your voice low. his sarcasm was the last thing you needed right now.
“im underprepared! what if they ask me questions? or i say the wrong thing? or-”
“hey. breathe.” joão cut you off.
you tried, but your hands fidgeted nervously in your lap, your drowning thoughts only multiplying by the second.
“just breathe alright? nothings gonna happen.” his tone as sharp, as if he was …
joão sighed, reaching across for your hand. his fingers wrapped around yours, his grin warm and somewhat comforting. unlike the nonchalant wall he’d put up since the start.
the gesture caught you off guard, the blood rushing to your cheeks. it stopped the frantic tapping of your foot and calmed the restless engere surging though your veins.
“just look at me,” he said, still arrogantly. “don’t focus on them, just focus on this.”
you stared at him, for once a small ounce of sympathy shining through. though when he met your eyes, that sympathy had disappeared.
“see? your fine. now smile a little, because you look like you could punch me right now.” he half laughed.
you smiled faintly, not really in the same mindset. subconsciously, you flick your head over outside. the cameras were still there, clicking away like vultures curling prey.
“i can’t do this,” you panic and stood up. “i need to leave.”
joão tilted his head, considering. “alright. but the cars blocked, we’ll have to walk.”
“what?” you exasperate again. “walk where?”
“to stamford bridge, where else?” he now joked, his fingers still laced over your own.
the moment you stepped outside, the cameras were on you. from behind, left, right, in-front—everywhere.
flashes lit up against the grey morning sky, the occasional chatter and murmured questions followed you as you hurried past.
“just keep walking,” he enforced, weaving through the swarms of people hoarding you both.
you couldn’t help but feel utterly useless. defenceless. but most of all, pathetic. a guy you had shamed and claimed to dislike, now helping you even though it never seemed he would.
you were supposed to take control. that’s what they asked of you. not him.
as you two made it to the cobham training centre, the noise began to fade and replaced with your synchronised footsteps.
you hesitantly glanced behind, realising they hadn’t followed you as far as you feared. the sweltering weight from your chest had lifted, as the tension was visibly easing from your shoulders.
“see?” joão gave you a small smile. “not so bad.”
you nod, still a little shaken up. joão turned to glance your way, noticing your stiff expression.
“you did well, y/n,” he remarked. “not bad for your first encounter.”
first encounter. how you were going to cope with several more you never knew.
“thanks.” you said weakly. “that was… awful.”
“yeah, it usually is,” he shrugged again. you halted at the entrance of the building, his hand slipping away from yours.
“well, this is it.” he gestured to the door just a few steps away.
the next day daunted over you, your mind still foggy after that dreadful event from yesterday. sure it was more than twenty-four hours ago, but that’s the impact it had on you.
mental note: prepare for the unexpected.
it was currently 11:56am, a usual brisk morning. you were sat at the kitchen table, halfway through your second cup of tea and still in your pyjamas.
you flicked lazily over your phone, noticing your media feed(s) had been flooded of you and joão.
instagram, twitter, facebook, tiktok. every app.
your followers had increased drastically, almost reaching 500k and the worst part of it was is that you left your inbox open.
you sigh, quickly turning mentions and messages off, and account on private on every app you had. maybe there was more to think about than just his & the clubs image.
the doorbell rang and you grew confused.
you weren’t expecting anybody. heck, nobody had even informed you about another fake pr setup—hence why you woke up so late.
you shuffle over to your door, looking through the peephole and you knew exactly who it was.
the doorknob rattled under your touch as you opened it cautiously, trying to mask your confusion. “joão?”
he stood there, leaning casually against the door frame. he was still dressed with his football under-garments, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.
“hey,” he spoke with his usual confidence. “wait- why are you dressed like that?” he nodded at your pyjamas, furrowing his brows.
“what do you mean ‘like that’? im comfy.” you scold.
“well, get dressed, im taking you out for lunch.” he replied. another one of these days? in a row?
you gulped, your brain stuttered for a second. “lunch? why did i not know about this?”
“you didn’t..? oh well- i just assumed you did.”
“no! who told you? jorge? cher?” you fold your arms.
he hummed, not expecting this level of defiance . “someone like that. i think it was your own manager, actually.”
little did you know, it wasn’t cher or jorge.
you stay silent, waiting for words to form on your tongue. somehow, joão took this as an invitation and welcomed himself into your apartment; leaving you stood at the door.
“sure just welcome yourself in! no big deal.” you mutter under your breath sarcastically, clicking the door shut.
he scanned over your place, clearing unaffected by the awkwardness you were feeling. his eyes landed on a portrait of you and your mom, which he smiled at.
“so,” joão sat down on your couch. “how’s everything going? besides.. this.”
so already welcoming himself into your apartment, showing up randomly, and now starting idle talk with you about yourself. sure, because that’s normal.
you pushed your conflicted thoughts away, seeing as though he actually wanted to talk.
“i don’t know,” you admitted, “this whole thing is just.. strange y’know?”
joão titled his head, watching you with a slightly more thoughtful expression than he had before. “yeah i get it. it’s messy and all over the place.”
he laughed, chewing on his lip. “but honestly, it’s not as bad as you think.”
you gawked, unsure if he was being serious or this was just another performance he was getting into character for the press. yet, his eyes softened, just a little.
(*) = a lunch in the park for his fake pr, but he softens to her this time but is still nonchalant.
joão strangely walked you up to your door, keeping his arm around your shoulder.
it was an unfamiliar, albeit, nice feeling to feel the warmth of his skin on your body but you didn’t want to admit it.
“you do know nobody can see us now right?” you inquired, raising your eyebrows. “you don’t have to pity hold me y’know.”
“it’s not pity,” he acted offended, slowly taking his arm down to his side. “just making sure. you never know who’s lingering.”
“hm, i guess.” you shrug and begin to unlock your door. it opened, and you briefly stepped inside whilst turning back round to joão.
“so um.. i guess ill see you? whenever that is.” you offer a chuckle and give him a teasing kiss on his cheek.
joão’s face inflamed red, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
the next few days ran smoothly, almost naturally.
the relentless anxiety surging through your mind was no longer there. the constant headache from dreading the occasion was no longer there.
now, you were more excited, rather than pained for spending a few hours with joão. it was clear to say he grew on you unexpectedly.
you took a trip to his first football match, proudly displaying the no.14 on your back and promoting it across your social media. and also took a few casual appearances to the public, like, ..
eleven days after your first sighting with him, the time came to attend the much anticipated charity ceremony.
it was going to be promoted throughout chelsea’s media, broadcasted amongst all local and national channels.
the charity event begun, throngs of journalists scattered along the rims of the red carpet. joão stepped out first, offering his hand out to you to mirror his action.
“for you mi amorè.” joão grinned. his hands travelled down to your lower back, holding you ever so lightly.
you took to the carpet, walking along inside.
the place was immaculate, with marble flooring, golden railings and trims along every crevice of wall and decoration, highlighting its wealth.
you had spent hours perfecting everything tonight—your dress, hair, makeup. trying your best to look somewhat put together.
this was your first ever glamorous event, and you were sure that everyone else in this room could tell.
a little on edge, your fingers gripped tighter around your clutch bag. a passing waiter offered you both a glass of champagne and you gratefully took it; chugged it down as quickly as possible.
joão declined the offer, watching you swallow the alcohol down in less than five seconds. “woah, woah, take it easy y/n.”
“how much are you gonna drink tonight huh?” he smirked playfully. “don’t fall drunk on me tonight”
you give him a lopsided smile, feeling the urge to try and distract yourself from the nerves brewing in your stomach.
“do you know where the buffet is? im starving,” you said slowly, scanning the room.
joão handed you a plate, also taking one for himself. the buffet was dazzled with tables full of exquisite foods of all different cultural dishes.
“here, try these,” he placed a ray of assortment appetisers onto your plate. “i think you’ll like them. cher told me you liked italian food.”
italian food? and.. cher? since when was he so casual with your manager?
you brushed it off nonetheless, figuring he was still in character. he hoisted a few samples onto his plate too and then a loud shrill scream bursted through your ears.
you jump and turn around, huffing when it was only cher and jorge approaching.
“there’s our favourite couple!” cher squealed, pulling you both down by your necks. she squeezed you both tightly, deflating your air supply.
“how’s it going pombinhos?” jorge added.
“não nos chame assim,” (don’t call us that) joão rolled his eyes with a curved smile. despite his unreflective words, he still managed to crack up laugh.
“you both clean up very nicely, i have to say!” cher exclaimed. “i guess we chose the right partner for you joão.” she gave him a snarky wink.
“i guess you did,” he turned to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. something in his eyes sparkled differently the way he looked at you then.
it wasn’t like anything you’d see before in him. joão eased up to you as the days went by, but nothing could quite reach the purity hiding behind his eyes tonight.
“oh you definitely play it too well!” she pushed you both lightly, causing you two to stir away from eachothers gaze.
“yeah well, how’s the press taking it? everything as planned?” you say at last; they both give you an approving nod.
“as smooth as we hoped! it’s doing wonders for you boy, and of course, the club. it shouldn’t be too much longer now.” jorge replies cheerily.
“what won’t be too much longer?” joão nervously gulps, although keeping a straight face.
“the relationship. you didn’t think we’d hold you both hostage forever did you?” they both erupt into laughter as you try force a laugh.
you felt somewhat saddened by her words, though a part of you had been wondering when it was going to end.
joão looked taken aback too, a small grimace pulling through. when you glanced up at him however, his dementor shifted and suddenly you couldn’t read him again.
“anyway,” jorge boomed, “we best get going, the events gonna start soon and we have important roles to fill.”
cher nodded in agreement, resting a hand on your shoulder.
“we’ll try to catch up with you guys later, maybe come to an agreement on how to finalise things without leaking it to the press. ciao, you two.” she added and they both left you alone once again.
joão let out a shaky breath, turning his attention back to you. “so,” he runs a hand through his hair. “we should probably get to our seats then?”
you sighed, “yeah we probably should.”
after such hassle with journalists and other prestigious individuals swarming you with idle conversation, you finally made it to your table.
the curtains had opened on the main stage, a stark blue hue shining onto the floor and signalling its beginning.
you were seated with a few of his teammates, enzo fernandez, rena veiga and his girlfriend.
so far, the evening had been going well enough. joão was reclaiming a positive light for himself whilst you were playing the supportive role—what you had been hired for.
in contrast to how you felt days ago, your relationship hasn’t felt so fake, so forced. not tonight.
it didn’t feel as though it was just a pr stunt, a task to complete or a job role to fulfill. it felt real.
real with the genuine smiles you passed each-others way, the warm and comforting touches he etched onto your skin like you really had something there—that wasn’t pretend.
“hey y/n,” it was enzo who began, “how are you putting up with him huh? most girls have kicked him to the curb within a couple days.”
“enzo, bro,” joão groaned, giving him a side eye. “do you ever stop?”
rena laughed, resting his chin on his hand.
“so, how long have you guys been together?” rena’s girlfriend asked, her gaze bouncing between the two of you.
joão shot up, beating you to it. “not long.. but it’s been different.”
rena raised a brow. “different how?”
“well she’s not really the type i’d willingly hunt for… a girl hidden behind her spreadsheets and computer.” joão gave you a brief smirk.
something tensed in his body, you could sense it. he felt more stiff, more distant to how he was only a couple minutes ago.
“oh really?” enzo grinned, enjoying the teasing. “how so? i hope you treat her better than the others man. i know how much you can be a pain in the ass.”
joão laughed lightly, as it sounded forced. “nah, she loves me really.” he pulled you closer to him. “you don’t mind when i tease you, do you babe?”
“of course not.” you summon a smile but it didn’t reach your eyes. your voice was small, barely cutting through the noise of the room.
“she’s chill,” he continued. “she doesn’t take things too seriously, which you know, is an advantage on my part. she’s more of a behind the scenes type of girl.”
“behind the scenes?” rena’s girlfriend questioned, shooting you a sympathetic look.
they all turn their attention to you, waiting for your answer. you swallow hard, trying to form words.
“yeah i work in pr.. so i’m not really used to this.” you awkwardly laugh.
“i had to pretty much drag her out tonight,” joão persistently commented. every word felt like a sharp sting to your skin, like slicing deeper into an already wounded cut.
“it’s not exactly your natural habit is it love?” he now turned to you. the table broke into a continuous laughter, but heat rose up to your cheeks.
you stared down at your plate, wishing you could just shrink into nothingness. was that all you were to him? acting as if he’s doing you a favour.
unbeknownst, what you really didn’t see—what nobody saw— was the turmoil hiding behind his words.
since the commentary from cher and jorge, he’d been dwelling on their lingering words. the relationship was to end soon.
it was inevitable, that was what you both agreed. it was never meant to last, but he hadn’t expected to become so attached; especially not in such a short time.
the thought of letting you go, walking out of his life like nothing ever happened, terrified him.
and so he pushed. he needed some stability. he hoped that if he could distance himself now, say contradictory things to how he felt, then the pain would ease.
“gosh joão, such a charmer,” enzo and rena erupt into laughter. “leave the poor girl alone.”
he laughed hollowly. “what? it’s only the truth.”
“i prefer my girls to be low maintenance, and i found the perfect example.” he hummed, kissing your temple.
“im sure she’s a hard worker, the pr role is no joke.” rena’s girlfriend added, trying to lighten up the mood.
“oh yeah, no doubt. but for things like this,” he gestured around to the gala. “definitely not her forte. i mean, tonight, i had to help pick out her outfit and how to dress.”
“joão,” you muttered under your breath, trying to get him to stop. “please.”
but he brushed it off. “i don’t mind it though. you gotta help the vulnerable sometimes right? but she’s learning.. from the best.”
“i mean look at her—she turned out gorgeous.”
the table laughed again, but this time the sound felt cruel and dehumanising. every snicker felt like a punch to the gut, and you realised he wasn’t just teasing you.
he was putting you on display.
the speeches began onstage, a soft murmur spreading across the room as the host introduced the first speaker. but you couldn’t register it.
the ache in your chest was consuming, and the holden back tears were building up at the brims of your eyes.
the joão you thought you gotten to know the one who had been sweet and supportive, even in small, fleeting moments—never really existed.
next to you now, was the cold, nonchalant joão you’d met at the start. the one who didn’t care.
“i need to step out,” you abruptly said, pushing your chair out. you couldn’t sit there any longer.
joão finally turned to you, “what’s wrong?”
“nothing,” you replied, not meeting his eyes. “i just… need some air.”
you stood up before anyone could stop you, weaving your way through the crowded ballroom towards the exit.
joão watched you go, his heart sinking. he stood up too, glancing back at the table with a strained smile. “she’s probably just overwhelmed by it all..”
yeah, he was trying to make himself feel better, but he was making you feel worse.
“you sure about that?” rena asked, skeptical.
“mhm,” joão excused himself quickly, finding himself already jogging up to follow your steps.
practically sprinting now, he spotted you just ahead, slipping out through through the back door.
his mind was half present, the irregular beating of his heart drowning out his hearing senses. he didn’t mean to hurt you—not like that. and he didn’t know how to protect himself from the inevitable heartbreak of losing you so quickly.
“wait! baby don’t go!” he shouted louder than intended. he pushed through the door with immense force, seeing you not so far ahead.
luckily for you, your hotel accommodation was less than a two minute walk so it was easier to get there by running.
the clicks of your heels were forceful, every step heavier than the last. his muffled shouts continued down along the alleyway, only making your heart twist more.
you never grew slower, yet joão’s footsteps were becoming louder and louder by the second.
finally, you reached the base of the hotel’s stairs but before you could dart up the steps, joão took a tight grasp onto your arm.
“please,” he urged, almost like a beg. “just talk to me y/n. im not leaving until you do.”
you turned sharply to face him with your chest rising and falling frantically. the light from the hotel’s doorway shone onto his skin—slight sweat beads and a craving to confess unspoken words.
“what do you want joão? to embarrass me again?” you snapped.
his jaw tightened, and this time he looked genuinely hurt. “thats not what i meant to do.”
“not what you meant?” you laugh bitterly, “then please enlighten me joão. because it sure sounded like you meant every single word.”
you tried to pull away, taking a step back up the stairs. you didn’t wait for his reply, the words on your tongue bubbling out.
“i didn’t ask for this, i didn’t want any of it. but i tried—i tried—to make this work. for chelsea, fuck, even for you! and for what? to get humiliated?”
he visibly flinched, physically struck. “i didn’t mean to hurt you, to do anything to make you feel-”
joão’s voice cracked, and ever since your first day together, did you finally see him display emotion.
“what was it then, huh? to make a joke out of me because i finally took up the ridiculous offer to help you?” you spit, visibly mad.
out of nowhere, the pathways lit up with unexpected flashes behind you both, and that could only mean one thing.
“” (*) = they see the paparazzi and his grip loosens on her so she uses the chance to run away from him.
“y/n, wait!” he followed you, his footsteps echoing behind yours in the quiet hallway as you reached your door.
you turned, your back to the door, glaring at him as you fumbled with your key card. “what else do you want me to do, joão? stick around so you can keep playing this game?”
his breath hitched as he stopped just short of you, his face pale and drawn. “i—” he faltered, his lips parting uselessly. the words he wanted to say—needed to say—sat heavy in his throat, but they wouldn’t come.
“what?” you challenged, your voice breaking despite yourself. “use your words, joão.”
“i don’t...” his voice trailed off as his shoulders sagged. joão looked at you with a desperation that made your chest ache, but it wasn’t enough.
you shook your head, stepping into your room. “(*)”
“maybe i do care,” he shot back. “did you ever think of that?”
the sincerity in his voice stunned you into silence, your mind not quite racing up to speed with your heartbeat. joão’s usual bravado stripped away.
unlike earlier, his words didn’t matter to you now.
“this is over,” you said steady, pulling the key from your purse. “im done pretending. i’ll talk to cher in the morning.”
“y/n, don’t do this.. will you jus-”
“no joão! everything is a game, a gamble, to you. the deal is off. i hope your reputation really takes off.”
joão opened his mouth to protest, but his tongue was numb.
you tear the beaded chain from your wrist, throwing is as his chest. “and you can have this piece of shit back.”
joão stood still, the moment flashing beyond his eyes. you slammed the door shut behind you, the echo reverberating in the quiet hallway.
you pressed your back against the door, sinking to the floor as your composure crumbled. hot floods of tears graced your cheeks as you buried your face into your hands.
the mix of emotions all crumbling down on you at once.
on the other side of the door, joão stood frozen, his hand rested against the wood. he closed his eyes, exhaling slowly before letting his fingertips glide down the doors surface.
joão thought about knocking again, though would it fix anything? would you even want to try amend things?
the voices in his head were directing him to knock, to say something—anything, but the sound of your muffled sobs stopped him.
he wanted to tell you the truth. that he wasn’t pretending. but the words stayed stuck in his throat.
instead, he slid down the the hallway floor, with his head leaning against the frame. joão sighed heavily, knowing that he’d fucked up hugely tonight.
he didn’t want to leave; hanging onto the possibility that you might eventually open the door for him again.
all he could do was wish.
as time passed, the space between you two felt impossibly wide yet still too thin. your sobs never curated, his guilt never faded.
so there, separated by a single door, the two of you stayed. for however long it was, it didn’t phase the pair of you.
neither of you spoke, neither of you left.
[ps: this was so insanely long and may of took like 20 years from my LIFE and also got carried away but yeeah]
