𝟟.
"You're not from around here, are you?"
After about 15 minutes of joking around and laughing, Pablo finally concludes. "Nope. Moved here a week ago, actually." I answer. "Oh, from where?" He asks. "Y/O/P." I reply. "From Y/O/P?" He repeats, somewhat fascinated, and I just nod.
"What did you come all the way from Y/O/P for?" He questions. "Sports journalism paid a lot more than investigative journalism." I shrug. "Especially since crimes have been steadily declining." I add. It was better for the world, but not my job unfortunately.
"You know, I never really understood why you journalists and reporters always do whatever you do." He sighs, ordering another drink. "What do you mean?" I ask, kinda knowing what he meant by that statement.
"Well mostly just those reporters..." He corrects. "You know, like it's as if they profit off of our problems." He explains. Truer words could not have said. "Well duh." I sigh, ordering a lighter drink now. "Why else would they constantly create problems for others?" I then add.
"And your so-called fans aren't any better." I then add. "Bitches always keep the fire alive until it literally consumes everything, destroying it." I roll my eyes. "And lord knows where their loyalties truly lie." He agrees.
"It's as if they're interested in knowing my struggles and burdens, rather than my performances or skills." He adds. "I'm sorry." I apologize genuinely now. "What are you apologizing for?" He asks, confused. "I just gave them another beneficial reason to attack you now, didn't I?" I sigh.
"Your reaction was completely understandable, Y/N." He says. "Infact, it would've been concerning if that wouldn't have been your reaction." He then scoffs. "Look-" I quickly cut him off, mildly annoyed to be interrupt like that when I was having a moment.
"I don't apologize too frequently, and even when I do, I hardly ever mean it." I explain. "Just accept it." I request. "Where you about to ask me something before the entire... You know?" He then nods, changing the topic.
"Oh no, I was just there to stop my friend, actually." I answer. "The question seemed too personal to belong on the stadium, especially after an incredibly hard match which you guys did not win." I add. "Glad someone gets it." He smiles genuinely.
"Wait, if you knew she was going to ask me that, why didn't you stop her earlier?" He then asks. "I tried, didn't really work." I reply, and he just nods. "It's not really her fault though..." I quickly add. "Moving here was pretty much one of the very few opportunities she got to prove herself." I defend.
"And though the entire interview completely backfired, it still got her a huge raise." I shrug. "Even if it cost me my career." I then murmur under my breath. "Besides, you should know... None of the questions we ask are actually from us." I inform.
"Our firms and bosses make us ask them. Well, at least at beginner level." I add. "It's kinda like how you have to listen to your coach every single time about who to pass the ball or, or when to score and when to not, when you're still a beginner." I explain.
"I might know a thing or two about that." He chuckles wryly. "I still hate all those reporters though." He quickly conforms. "Like, maybe it's not entirely all of their faults, but I hate being so heated up all the time." He scoffs.
"Playing football is not just a hobby, or a job... It's my passion." He says. "It's everything to me. The only time I genuinely feel alive." A fire of passion lights up in his deep brown eyes as he speaks about his love for football. It certainly was very evident.
"And whenever I don't succeed at winning a game... I just feel like a massive failure." He sighs. "Like I've let everyone down." He adds. "And that shit just doesn't sit right with me." He finishes. "Guess I can't really blame you for spiraling then." I comment.
"Yes, I'm a sore-loser. You can say it." He admits, smiling softly, making me chuckle. "If it makes you feel better, I personally feel that losing does not exist." I place my hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "You either win, or you learn." I smile, making him think about it.
The soft curve on his lips indicated that he probably liked my intake on life. "By the way... Do people--" He starts saying something, but was immediately cut off by the familiar yell of a very upset Amanda Osbourne. Busted-
"Y/N L/N, what the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
