#marc barta

Leo’s late to training for the first time in his life.

When his car rolls into the parking space his usual spot is already occupied by Neymar’s shiny new Porsche. On other days Leo maybe would have been mad but right now he’s just too tired to feel anything. He parks a few meters down and continues sitting in his seat until the clock on his dashboard tells him he is now officially fifteen minutes late.

He should probably get out and apologize to Enrique but he doesn’t really want to. La Liga starts again next week and the first training session after a big tournament is always the hardest, especially after you’ve lost said big tournament.

Leo sighs deeply and finally opens the door of his car, slipping out into the warm morning. He gets his bag out of the trunk and then slowly makes his way towards the doors of the trainings center.  

His steps are heavy, his shoulder slumped forward. He’s so tired and the prospect of having to start playing soccer again makes him want to turn around and drive back home. Leo has always loved playing soccer, it was his escape, his second reality but now, after that world cup, he, for the first time in his life, feels like he wants to quit.

Leo’s in the corridor leading to their locker room by now. He checks his phone, another five minutes have passed, his teammates should be on the pitch by now. He slings his bag over his shoulder, pushes the door open with a heavy sigh and halts midway through, petrified.

The locker room is not empty like he originally suspected, no, it’s actually crowded. The whole team is there, all dressed in their gears but none of them look like they’re about to get up and join Enrique, who is probably already waiting for them, on the field. They’re waiting for him, all of them.

Something inside of Leo snaps and he tightens his grip around the strap of his bag. Those past few days he has spent the majority of his time sleeping and trying to forget what happened to him in Brazil. At some point he actually got it to stop hurting and now the memory is only a dull throbbing in the back of his skull, that Leo is trying to live with.

But having all of his teammates waiting for him, his friends and also his family, he suddenly starts hurting all over again.

“What are you all doing here?” He asks, wanting to sound angry but ending up sounding broken.

He doesn’t wait for any of them to answer and walks over to his bench, sitting down and letting his bag hit the ground with a thud.

“Are you not happy to see us?”

Geri’s deep voice is so familiar that it eases Leo’s irritation immediately. He bends down and unties his shoes, trying to breathe evenly and calm his racing heart.

“I am.” He says and as soon as those words leave his mouth he knows he’s not lying. “I’m very happy to see you.”

Gerard squats so he can look Leo in the eyes when he glances back up.

“We’re happy to see you too.” The Spaniard says, his face breaking out into one of those dumb grins. “We already thought our captain would miss the first training of the season. We want to kick ass but we can’t do that without you.”

Leo holds Gerard’s crystal blue eyes for a moment and slowly but surely the uneasy feeling that had been pooling in the pit of his stomach starts to fade away.

He’s about to open his mouth and say something along the lines of that he’s not sure if he would be able to lead Barcelona to victory this year but before he has the chance to get anything out, Neymar plops down next to him, almost sitting down on his lap.

He’s not wearing his gear but normal clothes instead, Leo can see the outlines of a corset through his thin t-shirt and suddenly he feels bad for not asking Ney how he was when he called him after the final. Leo had been too wrapped up in his own problems to realize that he was not the only one hurting.

“Ney.” He breathes and reaches up to affectionately brush a hand through his hair. “How are you, how’s your back?”

Neymar purrs and nuzzles against his hand a bit.

“I’m good, I’m good, still walking.” He says. “I made you mate.”

Leo looks down, surprise written all over his face and hears a low laugh rumble through his teams.

“Did you now?” He mumbles and takes the cup from Neymar, smiling gratefully.

He brings it to his lips, takes a long sip and sighs when the familiar taste spreads through his mouth.

“Everytime we tried talking to you, you said you were tired.” Neymar babbles on. “So we decided to make you mate.”

“We?”

“Luis helped. He knows the way you like it best.”

Leo’s eyes search for Luis and find him standing next to Geri.

“You always get grumpy when you don’t drink mate.” He comments and walks over to where Leo is sitting, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good.” The Argentinian says and drinks again.

He can feel his body slowly coming back to life, his mind clearing, his tiredness fading. He’s amazed how easily his teammates can make him feel better, lifting a weight of his shoulder that had been crushing him since the final whistle blew in the Maracanã stadium. It’s then that Leo realizes that they know how he’s feeling. Neymar, Luis, Geri, Dani and Masche, who had suffered alongside him. He’s not alone in this and somehow that makes everything so much better.

“That’s a lie. That you’re good, I mean.” Geri chirps playfully. “But that’s okay; we will nurse you back to being confident.”

He ruffles Leo’s hair gently and then the smaller man gets up and wraps his arms around Geri’s giant frame. They hug tightly and when Leo mumbles a soft “thank you” into the giant’s chest, Geri pats his head awkwardly.

“There, there.” He says before separating Leo from him again. “You will be okay, go hug Ney now, he has been longing to hug you since he got injured.”

Leo doesn’t even comment on that, just twists around and walks over to Neymar who happily takes him into his arms.

“Thank you.” He says again and Neymar squeezes him so hard he has trouble breathing for a moment.

“You’re still the best in the world.” The Brazilian says and then. “Ouch, be careful with my back.”

Leo shifts his arms upwards but doesn’t let go off his friend until their whole team crowds around them, joining in on their hug. Soon everybody is chatting like they normally do, the only thing different is that Leo is being passed around the locker room, talking to everybody who had patiently waited for him. 

Dani covers his face in little encouraging kisses, he hugs Cesc tightly and lets the Spaniard tell him a few horrible jokes before Iniesta comes to steal him away. Puyol invites him for dinner and then squeezes his shoulder tightly, Masche and him have a short but meaningful conversation and when he reaches Marc Barta the young player starts showing him a compilation of Leo’s best goals.

“You’re the king.” He says when it finishes.