#fcbarca

The sun was shining, it was a beautiful (albeit a bit cold) day in Barcelona, you were playing for one of the best women’s football teams in the world, and everything was perfect.

Well, it should have been. You knew that. Really, there was no reason for you to be anything but happy. When friends and family back home asked you how you were getting on, you told them about the gorgeous scenery, the weather, and how much fun you were having. It wasn’t all a lie, the scenery really was incredible, and the weather was nicer than it was in England, at the very least. 

But, if you were being honest? Things were really fucking hard. 

You were trying to learn Spanish, really, you were, but languages had never been your thing. Everyone had told you before you left that “it’ll be easy, once you’re surrounded by it!”. Bullshit. You went through the day understanding single words and phrases here and there, but for the most part, it was like your brain just shut off when people started talking. 

The language issue, of course, didn’t exactly help your social situation. You’d always found it hard to make friends, even in your native language. Trying to do it in a whole other language felt like an impossible task. The team tried to be welcoming, of course, but most of the time your brain was too exhausted from trying to keep up with the language for you to socialise. The other international players helped a little and would translate things for you sometimes, but you were the newest recruit and everyone else’s Spanish was miles better than yours. You could tell that the other players were making an effort to speak Spanish, some even learning Catalan, and you didn’t want to be the stereotypical English speaking person who couldn’t be bothered to speak the language of the country they were in. So, when everyone would burst out laughing at something Aitana said, you laughed along, hoping no one would catch on to the fact that you hadn’t understood it. 

You had hoped to become friends with Lucy and Keira, thinking that it would be nice to have at least a couple other English players to talk to, but they seemed so settled in their lives here that you felt like you were intruding. Lucy spent a lot of time with the Spanish girls and seemed to talk Spanish, or at least a mix of Spanish and English, most of the time, and Keira did the same. Even when you had the opportunity to talk to them, your social anxiety would flare up, and you’d find yourself overthinking and debating what to say for so long that by the time you’d decided, the moment had passed. 

So, you kept to yourself, mostly. You spent a lot of time observing your teammates, their interactions with one another. Trying to figure out how you could interact with them, then losing the courage to do so. 

Your teammates felt bad, they could tell that you hadn’t settled in and that you were the outsider of the group, but with so much training and all of the games the team had, it was all too easy to forget about everything outside of football.

That’s how, on that beautiful day in Barcelona, after a particularly tough training session, you found yourself crying in an empty changing room. You’d waited until everyone went home, stalling and saying you wanted to run a few more laps. Once the changing room was empty, you collapsed on a bench, staring into space, not even aware of the tears beginning to stream down your face. You were so tired of having to try so hard all the time, and if you were honest, you were really lonely. 

The door to the changing room bangs open, making you jump, and you look up to see Lucy standing there carrying a box of towels. The look of surprise on her face quickly changes to one of concern when she realises you’re crying, as you quickly try to wipe away your tears, white-hot embarrassment flooding your body.

“Woah, y/n, are you okay? What’s wrong, do you need me to get someone?” Lucy asks, putting the box on the bench closest to her. She stays by the door, looking like she’s not sure whether to come closer and comfort you or to leave to get help.

“Um, no, it’s okay, I’m okay,” you say, sniffing a little and laughing awkwardly. “I’m fine, seriously. Don’t worry about it.”

The brunette raises an eyebrow as she comes closer and lets the door swing shut. “Yeah, right, pull the other one. Clearly something’s not okay, or else you wouldn’t be sat here, crying, alone.”

“Yeah, I guess you got me there,” you smile weakly. “But really, it’s okay. It’s nothing.”

“If it’s upsetting you, it’s not nothing,” she says firmly, sitting down next to you. “What’s going on?”

You shrug, not wanting to burden her with your problems and not sure where to start. “It’s just a lot, sometimes, y’know?”

She nods sympathetically. “The language?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I’m trying, I really am, but it’s just so hard, and I don’t know, maybe I’m not trying hard enough, but I am trying, really-”

“Hey,” she interrupts you, placing a hand on your back. “It’s okay. It is hard. Everyone can see that you’re trying.”

“Really?” you say, doubt clouding your mind. “Because I feel like I understand way less than everyone thinks I do. Most of the time I’m just copying other people’s reactions, or nodding along.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I did that at first, too. It gets easier after a while, I promise.”

“I’m not sure it will. I don’t-”, you start, breaking off as you struggle to figure out what you wanted to say. “I don’t know how to do a lot of social stuff. Talking to people. I can’t even handle it in English most of the time, to be honest. I feel like even without the language problem, there’s the me problem.”

She lets out a laugh at that, but it’s not a mean one. “What do you mean, a you problem?”

“The me problem,” you explain. “I feel like I’m like, an alien or something. I don’t know how to behave, how to be a real human like the rest of you.” 

At that, she puts a hand on your shoulder, turning you to be facing her. “Y/n,” she says, a serious look on her face. “You’re a real human.”

“No, I know that I’m a real human,” you roll your eyes, letting out a small giggle. Lucy smiles, glad to have made you laugh. “I just don’t feel like it sometimes. I don’t know how to interact with people. Like, what do people talk about? What do people do when they’re hanging out? It was fine with my friends back home, because we’ve known each other forever, they know what I’m like and I know what they’re like. But here, it’s all so… different.”

Lucy stands, holding out a hand to you. When you take it she pulls you up, a determined look on her face. “Right, well, it sounds like we have to get you feeling more comfortable here. So, you’re going to come back to my place, we’re going to play something on the Playstation or watch something on TV, and tonight a couple of the girls are coming over. But only a couple, and I’ll tell them that we’re having an English night, no speaking Spanish allowed, alright?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, I don’t want to be a bother-” you start, but she quickly cuts you off.

“Nonsense!” she says, swinging an arm around your shoulder. “We look out for each other on this team. You’re a part of the team, y/n. So we’ll look out for you too. Got it?”

You nod, feeling nervous but excited, even hopeful.