will wonders ever cease?

People, as you had come to realise, all shared the same contradiction: humans were social creatures, dependent on one another to survive, and yet always eager to dissociate themselves from the group at the first opportunity. To be different. And not only that, but better.

You often wondered why this type of trait was chosen by evolution. What kind of survival value could it possibly offer?

The pitch was a good place for those kinds of thoughts, and, if you were feeling ambitious enough, you could drift into sociological questions too. Did people shape sports, or did sports shape people? Was football influenced by politics, or had football itself become political? You could think of at least five examples where the latter was true.

As it was clear, your mind was absolutely everywhere but on the ball at your feet, and not because the game was easy that you, as one of the defenders, were simply chilling beside Cata in the box. Quite the opposite, actually. Turns out, the discomfort you had experienced on the bus still clung stubbornly to your skin, and what made you feel better when you were mentally tired? Thinking. As controversial as it sounded.

Thinking was, admittedly, becoming a problem. A big one.

Maybe you should learn other ways to keep your mind grounded, preferably ones that don't risk losing your team a match.

It happened at the exact mark of 80 minutes, the big screen was shining bright with the number just as a brunette girl from Sevilla broke through the midfield with great acceleration that you did not remember seeing during analysis, despite having spent days studying her movements.

As both disastrous and splendid things in football , it all happened in the space of mere seconds. The girl's run wasn't catastrophic by any means; she didn't bring anyone down, the team was simply in a bad position, leaving great gaps, one of those gaps being you.

The striker made her run past Patri and Ona, and you read her heading in your direction. You saw it coming, and you also took the time to analyse the rotation of her foot to see whether she was setting up to shoot or not. Your body had learned to speak the language of the game before your brain could fully take in the afferent information and convert it into signals down your spine. Maybe that's why your movement was a bit clumsy, perhaps a bit careless, too.

The girl was faster than the tapes suggested; she was also faster right now than what she had been in the first half. You moved, of course you did, but it wasn't enough because you were a few meters out of place, and that mere gap was all she needed.

The ball went in, and the fans at the stadium all roared in unison. It was always a good sensation for the home team to score; right now, you hated their happiness and how it meant that you had failed.

You stood exactly where you were, your boots glued to the patch of yellowish, dry grass, staring at the empty space on the turf where you were supposed to be. Cata spat on the grass before slamming her gloves into the pitch. But milliseconds later, she was already up, already resetting, clapping her hands for the team, shouting that there was still time to turn the score around. She yelled your name, telling you to do something, but you barely registered her words. Then, her eyes moved, looking right over your shoulder, and you knew someone was approaching.

Around you, the game was reassembling itself (or trying to). Sevilla was still celebrating, taking advantage of a referee who was giving them too much time. Most of your teammates were going back into position. You could hear Pere's voice from the sideline in the tone you'd learned to recognise as controlled disappointment. Well… he was not the only one disappointed.

Then Alexia was beside you.

She hadn't run to get to you; you hadn't even seen her move. She was just suddenly there, appearing in your peripheral vision without any kind of warning. Her voice, when it came, was low, controlled, and (painfully) professional. You hated that tone on her; she was too soft to be throwing such cold words at you.

"Adjust your line," she snapped. She wasn't even looking at you; her lips were curled and her eyebrows drawn together. "You have been sitting way too deep since halftime. I've been shouting at you to get back into position, but it's like you decided to tune me out completely."

You hadn't listened to her; that much was entirely your fault. You had been too busy thinking about football and politics. You felt your cheek turn red in shame.

"She had all that space because you handed it to her on a plate," She continued in the same tone. "You're more disciplined than that. Do better."

Alexia wasn't screaming the words at you, but there was an edge in her voice that just usually wasn't there at all.

Your teammates, watching from a few meters away, would have taken it for nothing more than a captain making a tactical correction, but you were far too familiar with her cadence. You had spent months learning every gradient of it: the version she used in interviews and press conferences, the one in team meetings, the one that came out soft and private in the dark of her room. This was the version she used when her competitive side took over, and she decided that cold efficiency was the best response. It was a version she had never once used on you until now.

You were ready to argue, not against her but with her, because she was right, after all. But Alexia didn't give you a single second to reply; her words kept shooting from her mouth so fast she barely stopped to draw breath.

"You have been half a step behind the entire second half," she cut in, each word carefully enunciated, determined to make sure it landed. "I could see it from midfield. You were a step behind the whole time, and you didn't even bother to adjust!"

"We specifically talked about their number fourteen," she went on, stepping closer to you. "We spent days on the tape. We even said–"

"I know what we said."

"Well, it clearly didn't stick, did it?"

She didn't wait for you to answer. She was already turning her back on you to get back into position.

You could have pointed out that Ona had been slow to close her down as well, that the gap left wasn't entirely on you. But the thought didn't take root. Alexia was right, and looking for someone to share the blame with felt worse than the goal itself.

A few seconds later, you felt a warm hand settle on your shoulder, making you realise just how tight your trapezius muscles had been.

"Just take a deep breath, tía," Cata said, looking at you with a mix of pity and sympathy.

Maybe Alexia's reaction wasn't as private as you had thought. You realised Patri was looking at you too, her eyes darting between you and Alexia. She looked at you with sympathy, and at Alexia with a quiet reprimand, though you knew Patri wouldn't actually say anything to her, not right now at least. You hoped she wouldn't. In the end, Alexia was right.

You nodded at Cata, forced a small smile, reset your position and said nothing else. A sudden surge of bittersweet relief washed over you, and that was the strange thing. It was as though your subconscious had been waiting for this exact moment. A hidden part of you had been waiting for Alexia to finally see you get something wrong.

She had been watching you for months with that kind of attention that felt like belief, and belief, in your experience, had a habit of expiring. She had always looked at you as if searching for the good and finding it; even if you showed her the flawed parts of you, the bad and the ugly, she brushed them aside as if dismissing the sight with a shooing motion of her hand, wanting to see only the best in you.

But now? Now she had seen you fail. And thank god she had. She was mad, disappointed, and you couldn't help but feel like it had taken her long enough. You were glad she had seen it, and hated yourself for feeling that way. You were the reason your team was behind, the reason Cata lost a clean sheet. The reason, you would soon find out, that you lost.

You played the rest of the game with focus and precision. Every ball that came near you was met with a good, clean first touch. You closed down every striker. You had been half a meter too slow once, and your body made sure it wouldn't happen again.

And it didn't happen again, but it didn't matter, because the final whistle blew and the scoreboard was still one-nil. Alexia was already walking toward the tunnel before you even had a chance to look for her. You stood on the pitch a moment longer than necessary, sitting with the bitterness of defeat, letting it rest deep in your bones.

Maybe if you let yourself remember exactly how this felt, you would never make that mistake again.

You watched the tunnel Alexia had just disappeared into. She always waited to walk into the tunnel with you. She didn't this time; she disappeared into the dark without looking back, and you weren't sure if that was meant to sting or not. You weren't sure it mattered.

A hand came down on your shoulder, making you lose your balance slightly. It was Cata again; she stepped beside you, her white gloves tucked beneath her left arm.

"Come on, amiga," she murmured. "Let's go to the locker room. Yeah?"

You nodded, but let her walk ahead. As you finally turned towards the tunnel, a Sevilla player, Laura, approached you. You had played together for a few months back in Manchester; you weren't exactly friends back then, but it was nice to see a familiar face.

"Good game, Y/n," Laura smiled, her cheeks still a deep pink from all the running.

"Yeah… it could be better for us, though," you gave her a sad smile and patted her on the arm. "But you were very good. I bet you gave Kika a good headache."

You left after making empty promises of meeting for coffee once the season schedule allowed. Near the entrance of the tunnel, Patri was leaning against the plastic wall. Her chocolate eyes caught you as you approached; she took a step in to meet you.

"I don't know what Ale said to you back there," Patri started, her eyes everywhere but on you, "but don't read too much into it, okay?"

You tilted your head slightly, your defensive instinct flaring up. You were feeling oddly cornered, though you were careful not to let it show on your face.

"Alexia was right about every word she said," you replied simply.

"That's not what I mean," Patri muttered. "She's impossible after we lose, give her a few hours–"

"She doesn't need a few hours," you interrupted. "She has every right to be angry right now."

Patri tilted her head in return, studying you for a moment. "You are upset," she said, reading right through you. You hated it. "Come here–" she stepped closer, but you took a step back.

"It's okay. I'm okay. I-I just messed it up," you continued before she could speak or move any closer. "It's expected of Alexia to be mad. She's the captain. So if a player switches off and it costs us a goal, she's supposed to call them out, hold people accountable."

Patri sighed and clicked her tongue. "I'm not saying she shouldn't have corrected you. What I am saying is that it sounds like you are treating one mistake as if it rewrites the whole season."

"It did rewrite the whole season, though," you said quietly, furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance. "Now we need to beat Real Madrid if we want any breathing room! If we thought the next game against Valencia would be easy... well, now it's all ruined! We are going to have to--"

"We can lose three consecutive games and still be at the top," Patri said, deadpan. "You and Alexia… you've got this little miss-perfect thing going on. Mistakes happen. It's normal. It's just part of the game. Now take a breath and move on."

"I know it's part of the game. And I'm not Miss Perfect. I never said I was," you said, any ambition of not sounding defensive crumbling right at your feet. "I get stuff wrong all the time. Today it just happened to cost us points."

"Yeah… and that's completely okay. No need to beat yourself up over it," Patri said in a shrug. "You shouldn't be this upset. The loss is not on you. You were good... You are good. Maybe there was a small mistake, but I'm sure it won't happen again."

You stopped, looking at Patri as if she were speaking in an alien language. You gestured around, at the dark tunnel, at the scoreboard still shining, at the way the staff were all quietly packing up the equipment.

"It's clearly not okay," You said, completely ignoring everything else Patri had said. "We lost."

"Losing isn't the end of the world," Patri said softly in the same voice she used on the younger players. Great, now she was going to think you were childish.

"It is for me." You frowned, looking down. "

Patri shook her head, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she clicked her tongue once more. "Tsk, tsk. You and Alexia," she said, stepping toward the locker room door. "Cut from the exact same cloth, huh?"

"We're not–"

"Yes, you are," she cut you off "Awfully competitive. Even worse at forgiving yourselves."

You felt a slight surge of annoyance. "Did you give this whole speech to Alexia, too? Or did you reserve it strictly for me?"

Patri smirked, her hand already reaching for the old door handle. "Oh, I wasn't nearly as gentle with Alexia as I was with you."

She pushed the locker room door and walked inside, leaving you standing alone in the hallway for a minute too long.

You stood outside for a few minutes. Taking some deep breaths. Trying to ignore how it stung when Alexia shouted and when she left the pitch alone. You tried to ignore how you felt like an awful player.

Did you even deserve to be in a club like Barcelona?

Of one thing you were sure: Patri was one good co-captain.

The locker room was quiet; the girls were all unusually careful around one another. The room wasn't completely silent per se. There were still familiar sounds here and there: boots being dropped onto the white, dusty, concrete floor, someone's phone buzzing incessantly against a wooden bench, Maria, one of the staff members, talking on the phone outside. But all the conversations that existed were held in a very low voice.

Pere said what he needed to say, which wasn't much, and left almost immediately after. You thought it was a bit rude of him to leave like that, but deep down you knew it was the right call. It was better to be absent than risk losing his head. The players, or more specifically you, were already beating themselves up enough; no need for external help to do that.

Patri and Alexia were standing near the far corner of the room. They were talking rapidly and in a low tone, their heads bent close together, and their body language was rigid. Alexia stood with her arms crossed, her lips in a slight pout, while Patri was doing most of the talking; she was gesturing a lot, as she always did. You couldn't hear what they were saying, but the sight alone told you everything you needed to know: clearly Patri was finishing the conversation she had started in the tunnel.

Vicky chose that exact moment to start playing an upbeat Beyoncé song from her phone. The music lasted approximately fifteen seconds before both Alexia and Patri turned to her.

"Now it's not the time, Vicky," they said in terrifying synchrony, shooting the kid a look that could terrify anyone.

"Vale, vale," Vicky grimaced, hitting the pause button. "Perdón! It's not like I was throwing confetti around! Chill out! I just wanted to end this funeral mood we're all in."

"Clearly it was a bad choice," Clara muttered at her side, a pout on her face. She looked more sad because of the song's interruption than because of the defeat itself.

You, meanwhile, were sitting in front of the locker with your boots still on. They were too tight, you realised, digging into your foot, and you knew you should loosen up the laces, but you didn't. Maybe you deserved to feel this bit of discomfort.

Before you could let yourself go with your thoughts, Kika stepped right beside you on the bench. She looked down at you, wearing that characteristic mix of kindness and mischief you could only ever find in her face.

"I know you've got some deep emotional issues going on when it comes to affection," Kika said, wrapping her arm around your shoulders into a side hug, "but I'm going to hug you anyway. I think you need it, sim?"

You smiled and didn't push her away, choosing to lean into the hug and welcome the pressure of her arms. You even allowed yourself to rest your head against her side. "Do I look that bad that you thought I needed a pity hug?"

"Pity hug?" Kika gasped dramatically, squeezing your shoulders again. "Excuse you? This is a comforting hug. Preventive maintenance, if you want to call it."

"So… I look like I need preventative maintenance?"

"Yes, you look pretty bad," Kika said without missing a beat. "Mostly because you've been letting me hug you for more than two seconds. That's… deeply concerning."

"Thank you."

"For the hug?" she asked, looking down at you.

"No," you said. "For humbling me."

She rolled her eyes and laughed. You were glad you could make someone laugh today.

You were, although, even happier that the joke had shifted the focus away from your actual feelings. You didn't like that kind of attention on you; you didn't like that Kika had picked up on just how deeply the loss had affected you.

"Patri told me you weren't feeling your best," Kika said. "So I came to rescue you."

"Oh, you're working with a sad footballer in your free time, I see?" you teased her.

"Oh, shut up," Kika smiled. "I'm trying to be nice."

But the playfulness slipped from Kika's face a moment later. You looked up at her, and she (very subtly) tilted her chin towards the other side of the room. Your eyes followed her gaze, landing on Alexia, who was looking right at the two of you.

Alexia's face tightened, her whole jaw locking almost imperceptibly. Then, as if just suddenly realising she had been caught staring, she looked away and forced her attention back to Patri.

Patri, also not subtly at all, raised her eyebrows at Alexia before looking at you and Kika. She tilted her head, as if she was a cat analysing if she could squeeze in a small cardboard box or not, before turning back to Alexia with a terrifying knowing smirk.

Then, as if nothing had happened, the two of them resumed talking.

Kika cleared her throat at your side, a playful smirk on her lips "I don't think Capi liked me hugging her favourite full-back."

You tried to fight the pink tinting your cheeks, but it was a lost battle. "Shut up," you murmured embarrassedly. "Don't go around starting rumours."

Kika leaned in, her voice conspiratorial. "We don't need to start anything; you two give us more than enough evidence on your own."

Alexia chose that moment to step toward the centre of the room, bringing all the attention to her.

Kika stepped to the side and watched Alexia, not with her mischievous expression, but with the expression of someone ready to listen to their captain.

"Alright, let's gather up," Alexia called out. "Let's talk about the game."

Naturally, all the girls stopped what they were doing. Irene put her phone away, Marta and Caro halted their conversation in the far corner of the room, and all the younger kids immediately paid attention to the place Alexia stood.

Whenever a defeat could be traced back to one obvious mistake, something that could be pinned on a single moment or a single player, Alexia had a way of addressing it that made the person not feel bad, or, better yet, a way that kept the person from drowning in guilt. She never pretended it hadn't happened, and she never sugar-coated it either. Alexia just said a few words that made the weight of the mistake get distributed across the team rather than left crushing a single pair of shoulders.

Today, for the first time, you were that player. The one who got it wrong. The one responsible for the awful atmosphere in the locker room.

You kept your eyes on your boots when Alexia started speaking. She went on to talk about the second half, about the adjustments that hadn't come, and about how she could have done something about it from the midfield – because Alexia had a habit of taking responsibility for things that didn't belong to her alone. Maybe you two shared that habit; Alexia just carried it with a lot more grace than you ever managed.

Alexia's voice was even and measured; she spoke with certainty, so as not to let anyone misinterpret her true intent. She was always so, so careful with words. Not with you, though, not when you were alone. Not when you shared a mattress with her.

You listened to her without really absorbing the words; you were only half there, too busy letting the guilt eat you alive.

You should have done better.

You should have done better.

Be better.

By the time the voice in your head had quieted a bit, Alexia had stopped talking, forcing you to look up at her frame.

When you did, you saw her looking around the room: Ona sitting with her head down, Aicha staring blankly at the wall, and the three or four players whose minds were somewhere else entirely.

The attentiveness Alexia had needed from them wasn't there. She rolled her eyes, and despite yourself, your mind insisted on supplying the adjective beautiful to them. She then made the (wise) decision to stop pushing against something the team wasn't ready to receive yet. Maybe the loss was too fresh.

You chuckled to yourself.

You could see her mind turning as she tried to solve this locker room issue. Not knowing how to handle a loss was a problem only a few clubs had to endure. Was Alexia thinking of suggesting mandatory psychological sessions for everyone in the team? It would be a ridiculously Alexia thing to do. But maybe mandatory therapy was not a very smart move. People had to want to talk, right?

Back in the reality of the locker room, Alexia let out a puff of air.

"… Let's just get some rest for tonight," she said, her shoulders dropping slightly. She was tired and didn't want to hide it anymore. "It's clear our heads aren't in the right place. We'll look at the tape tomorrow, when we are rested and feeling like ourselves again."

You nodded automatically, and only then did you realise Alexia was still looking at you. Her eyes stayed on you for a second too long, and that was it.

You looked back at your boots. The room began to loosen after that. People started moving, undressing, the sound of the showers multiplying minute by minute. Patri was having a conversation with Pajor while Vicky peeled off her kit, murmuring about how damp it was and how maddening it was to wash a kit when you hadn't won. You could sympathise with that, but truly, defenders' kit got dirty no matter how the game went. You were well used to being covered in dirt, and grass and other people's sweat,

On a normal day you had a system for changing in the locker room: you found small reasons to delay, waiting until the room had thinned out enough that no one was left – no one except Alexia. It was a system that worked, mostly. Alexia knew about it, and sometimes she stayed, almost to provide cover.

But today Alexia was on the other side of the room, her back turned to you, and you found yourself wondering if the usual arrangement still applied.

You couldn't imagine Alexia wanted to deal with you any longer than necessary, and the last thing you wanted was to give her another reason to be frustrated with you. So you simply picked up your bag and left the locker room quietly, not really wanting to bring attention to yourself or to the reason why you were sneaking out.

The corridor outside was empty, and the one beyond it was too. You followed the signposts along dirty walls towards the bathrooms until the signs stopped making sense altogether, ending up in a part of the stadium that smelled like old paint, a place clearly not designed with visiting teams (or anyone, really) in mind.

You found a single-stall bathroom behind a door that required some physical force to open, then you changed quickly and spent a lot of minutes trying to find your way back. And by a lot, you meant a lot. The stadium was bigger than it had looked from the pitch.

You needed to go back to the locker room, but it felt like you were trapped in the minotaur's labyrinth.

You took one wrong corridor, and then another, and by the time you found the right one, your phone showed four missed messages from the team group chat about the bus. Kika had asked where you were; Vicky had tagged you in the messages saying everyone was just waiting on you. You sighed; you were already calculating how many minutes behind schedule you had pushed everyone.

The locker room was almost empty when you (finally) made it back. The showers had stopped running, and the room was a "clean mess", showing that people had been there moments prior. You thought you wouldn't find anyone still in there – you had only come back to take the water bottle you had left behind, but Alexia was sitting on the bench.

She was already showered and changed; her hair was wet, and her game bag was at her feet. She was looking at her phone, but she looked up the moment you came through the door, and your stomach dropped. The expression on her face was not the one you had been bracing for.

It wasn't cold, nor was it the detached expression she had worn while addressing the team. It looked more like relief, but beneath it you could feel the edge of anger that only came from worrying too much.

She snapped your name. "Where the fuck were you?"

You halted, your mouth parting in a surprise "o". "I went to find somewhere to change–"

She stared at you. "It's been thirty minutes."

"I know, I'm sorry." You crossed to your locker, keeping your voice even. "The stadium is... huge..I took a wrong turn, ended up in the wrong section, and I couldn't find my way back."

"You were wandering around a stadium you don't know," she said. "Alone."

"I wasn't wandering, I just—"

"For thirty minutes."

"Alexia." You turned to face her. I didn't mean to disappear. I just went out to change."

"Without telling anyone?" she pressed. "Without telling me?"

You clenched your hands. "Do I need to ask you for permission for every step I take? I'm fine."

"I know you're fine now", she snapped again. It dawned on you then that she must have been sitting here, staring at the door, waiting for you to come back. No shit she was mad. "But I didn't know that for the last thirty minutes because I didn't know where you were!"

"I'm just saying–" she continued, running a hand through her hair. "--that maybe next time you don't disappear for half an hour in a stadium you've never been to! Just… just tell someone where you're going!"

"I didn't think anyone would notice," you said. You meant it practically, logistically, but the words landed differently than you intended. "It was supposed to be quick."

Alexia let out a humourless laugh. "Well, I noticed," Alexia snapped then, taking a step toward you. "I notice everything when it comes to you, as pathetic as it sounds. Just like I noticed you being very comfortable letting Kika hug you!"

You blinked, completely thrown off by the shift of the conversation. "...what?"

"You had no issues letting her touch you," she said, her voice filled with frustration. "You let her hug you; you even leaned into it, but with me? You put up this entire wall the second we are around other people."

You stared at her, your mouth hanging open. "Alexia, what on earth does Kika hugging me have to do with me taking thirty minutes to change?"

"It has nothing to do with it," she blurted out, her cheeks flushing red.

Alexia looked angry, not just at you, but at herself for letting the words slip out. Alexia was usually the emotionally mature one between the two of you, but it seemed like you had a terrifying talent for reducing her to a jealous, flustered teenager.

"Kika gave me a side hug because I was upset. I was upset because you yelled at me," you said. "And that was it! You know we are just friends. You know I like you."

"Y-You just don't talk to me the way you talk to her!"

"Now you are being ridiculous," you said. "You are the person I've opened up to more than anyone in my whole life, and you know that! I've told you that! Me and Kika are friends–"

"And what are you and I?" Alexia cut in, her eyes burning. "We're not far from that either, are we?"

The words hit you like a slap to the face. Now you were angry, too.

"I don't know, Alexia," you said sarcastically, being as dense as her. "Are we? After everything we've talked about these last few days, do you honestly think we are just friends?"

Alexia looked at you, her neck red. Her bottom lip was out, and you could see she was fighting not to cry.

You took a deep breath. "Ale, I don't understand where this is coming from. I don't understand why you are feeling this way."

"Have you ever considered, just for a second, that you don't have to understand everything? Every feeling?" Alexia practically groaned, running her hand through her face out of pure frustration. "Have you ever thought that feelings can be valid even if you don't understand them?! Yo-you are so frustrating! You analyse everything. Why can't you just feel?"

Her words were a knife to an open wound.

"Not everyone is like you, you know?" she continued. "Not everyone can just… bury things over and over again until they disappear, or push stuff down until they convince themselves it's not there anymore!! Some people suffocate if they don't express how they are feeling."

"I am trying," you said, feeling your own throat tighten. "We talked this morning. You told me I have to decide what I want when it comes to you. We literally just had that conversation; now we're suddenly here having a full-blown fight about feelings? I never say anything about you not expressing how you feel! Why are we having this talk?!"

"Because you are doing it again!" Alexia shot back, her voice cracking a bit, but quickly recomposed herself. "This morning I asked you to figure out what you want, and the very first difficult thing that happens, you disappear? You just lock yourself away, run off and don't tell me! You act like I'm the last person you want to be near when you are upset, and that's not how this is supposed to work! If you were upset about the loss, I could have comforted you! Talked to you! But you disappeared!"

"I didn't want to be near you because I thought you were mad at me!" You stood up from the bench, anger and hurt all flaring up at once. "I-I thought you didn't like me anymore."

Alexia stared at you, looking completely thrown off. "And where the fuck did you get that from!?"

"You always wait for me to walk back into the tunnel! An-and today you didn't!" you blurted out, suddenly feeling ridiculous for being upset about that. "After I messed up the game, I just thought you were furious with me. That I was the reason we lost, and you simply didn't want to be anywhere near me anymore.

Alexia groaned.

"I was upset, okay?" her tone softened, the anger slowly dissolving. "I shouldn't have shouted on the pitch, and I should have waited for you. I was just angry about the match. But of course I wanted to be with you. Or what, do you think I only like you because you are some flawless player?"

"I just thought that… if you saw another flaw, you wouldn't want to be with me anymore."

Alexia sighed, looking at you with both exhaustion and tenderness. "Déu meu, we are both so fucked up in the head," she murmured.

"Well, yeah," you muttered.

There was a moment of silence before Alexia spoke.

"I do notice when you're not there."

You looked at her side and watched her speak.

"I-I was upset you left without telling me. We are always the last ones to leave the locker room, but when I got back from the shower, Vicky told me she had seen you leaving with your bag."

You didn't say anything.

"I admit," she continued softly. "Maybe I blew things out of proportion… You don't have to tell me every step you take. I-I just like this little… ritual of ours, and I was upset. I think I'm a little, mhm, sensitive today."

"Well, I'm sorry I left without saying anything," you said. "It wouldn't have hurt to give you a heads up if I really just wanted to change alone. I know I'd be a bit nervous if you were nowhere to be found and your phone had no signal."

"You would?" she asked quickly, her eyes snapping to yours.

You chose your words very carefully, hoping she would understand the weight behind them.

"Of course, baby."

Alexia looked at you before turning to her lap. "...I was jealous of Kika."

A small laugh escaped your mouth before you could stop it. "I noticed. You don't have to be jealous of Kika, you know."

"I know that," she mumbled, her lips forming a subtle pout as she looked away.

You decided not to push her on it.

"I'm sorry I called you frustrating," Alexia added, playing with her fingers. "You're not."

"You don't have to apologise for telling the truth."

Alexia tilted her head. "I wasn't telling the truth."

"I know I'm frustrating," you said softly. "I know I analyse everything so I don't have to sit with how I feel. I'm sorry that hurts you."

"You don't have to apologise for being who you are," Alexia countered immediately.

"Even when the way I am keeps hurting you?"

Alexia let out a long sigh. "No, it's not like that. We are just different people who deal with things differently. It just takes us a little bit of work to meet in the middle, that's all."

You shrugged. Deep down, you still thought you were annoying and frustrating, but didn't have the energy to argue with her any further.

"Did you really think I wouldn't want to be with you just because of a loss?" Alexia's voice came soft into your ears.

Now that the worst of the emotions had settled, it sounded a little ridiculous when spoken aloud. Even though, yeah, you had feelings exactly like that. "Yes. It cost us three points... and you were angry."

"That had nothing to do with how I feel about you," she said firmly.

You sat there listening. You knew it, of course you did, but hearing it and actually understanding were two things very differently. It was like when people tell you that everyone deserved self-compassion: the idea made perfect sense, but applying that same grace to yourself felt unnatural, not right.

"I know," you murmured.

Alexia studied your face. "Do you, torito?"

Before you could create another (logical) defence, Alexia stood up from the bench and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

"I'm going to the bus, yeah?" she said.

"Okay."

A/n: Come talk to me about the chapter!! I love talking about the character hehe!! I'm sorry for any mistakes; I'm running on 4 hours of sleep <3 Personally, I think their relationship will somehow go smoothly from here? I think they both needed to have this conversation so they can understand they have different ways of seeing relationships and people, etc!!

Unfortunately, I act just like reader <3

But then came the soreness, the ibuprofen, and that rather cryptic phrase she had said in the hotel room, the one you still hadn't quite worked out what to do with.

"You have to decide, torito. Your rules. If they still apply or not."

You sighed, shifting against the brick wall of the stadium park. You hadn't known how to process her words then, and you certainly didn't now. Instead, you had done what you always did and disappeared into your own head. 

The air was cold around you, while the setting sun washed the Sevilla sky in shades of pink and orange. You took a deep breath, but Alexia filled your thoughts the same way the ocean filled the lungs of unsuspecting swimmers – burning from the inside out, starving every cell of oxygen before leaving them to die an agonising death. 

The asphyxiating overthinking was precisely why you had needed thirty minutes to change after the final whistle. You had needed space away from the mistake you had made on the pitch, away from Alexia snapping at you, away from Patri and Kika's gentleness, away from the dangerous voice screaming in your head that Alexia detested you now.

And look where that logic had got you... Getting called out for letting Kika hug you, watching Alexia admit her jealousy with trembling lips before she kissed the top of your head and walked away, leaving you alone.

You wondered if she had done that to process everything that had happened.

"I do notice," her voice echoed in your brain. "When you're not there."

You closed your eyes, but instead of seeing Alexia, you saw the same image behind your eyelids for what felt like the sixteenth or seventeenth time since the final whistle.

The stupid (tiny!) gap you left right in front of the box. The Sevilla girl running. The goal that sealed the defeat.

Now, as you stood in the stadium car park watching a mechanic inspect the underside of the team bus, the scoreboard that no longer existed anywhere except the back of your mind still glowed one-nil. The old voice that you had spent months gradually learning to argue with had found its footing again after the match, and it showed no sign of leaving. 

You don't belong at a club like this. The voice was so calm and certain and fucking annoying. Today just reminded everyone.

You knew it wasn't true. You knew the voice in your head wasn't always right, that you shouldn't trust it, but it didn't matter. The thought had already dug its roots in deep, and it was going to require an exhausting amount of mental energy to pull it back out, perhaps days.

A loud and metallic sound snapped you back to the reality of the car park. You looked up just in time to see the mechanic lift an important-looking piece of metal that you were pretty sure wasn't meant to come out of the engine… but not that you were an expert in buses or anything.

The bus back to Barcelona had broken down right outside of the stadium after everyone had already climbed aboard. The plan had been to head back home right after the game; that was why everyone had packed their bags, but it seemed like a change of plans would be necessary. 

Marta, sitting near the front of the bus, had overheard the driver complaining about something and passed the news to Caro, who leaned across the aisle to tell Esmee. Within about thirty seconds, the information had spread through the entire bus in a broken-telephone manner. Which meant everyone had to haul their (heavy!) belongings back off the bus and out into the cool evening despite having spent ninety minutes running and fighting on the pitch. Unsurprisingly, everyone was tired and not particularly pleased with the situation.

"We broke down?" Ona asked, a childlike pout forming on her face. 

"We broke down," Marta confirmed.

"Yeah, of course we did,"  you muttered under your breath. This occurrence was so fitting for a day like today, almost poetic.

Pere appeared from the front of the bus, phone pressed to his ear, wearing the expression of a man who had already mentally checked out for the day hours ago and was operating on nothing but professional obligation. He held up a hand for quiet, finished his call, and looked over at the team.

"The bus is staying here tonight," he said. "And so are we. They can't fix it until tomorrow morning, so we have to go back to the hotel."

A beat of silence fell over the team.

"So… the hotel here in Sevilla," Vicky asked slowly, processing the news. "The one we just checked out of?"

"Yes."

"And we're staying another night…?" She continued 

"Yes."

"That's good, actually," Cata chimed in. "I forgot my good shoes in the hotel gym..."

"This whole trip is so horrible," Syd sighed. Her headphones were resting around her neck, spilling out a song far too melancholy for this situation.

"Maybe it's your fault," Clara said in a bored voice, her arms crossed over her chest. "Your horoscope was predicting all kinds of bad things, and we still agreed to let you come with us."

"Agree to let me come?!" Sydney shot back, exasperated. "It's not like I can just skip a match because my sun sign happens to be in a terrible position!"

"Yeah, yeah, but–"

"Enough," Alexia's voice cut through the air. "Both of you. Quiet."

They fell instantly quiet, and so did everyone else.

"Oh," Vicky said in a hushed whisper, nudging Kika's side. "Capi's mad.

And so… they waited. And waited.

The mechanic was still beneath the broken-down bus, poking and prodding while everyone waited for ubers. Needless to say, the whole squad was scattered in various forms of shared misery.

Cata was sitting on her travel bag with her headphones in, looking like she very much did not want to be bothered. The younger girls, meanwhile, had clustered around Alexia, the way they always did when something went wrong on a game day.

It was almost endearing from a distance. 

Alexia was visibly grumpy, yet as though drawn by some collective gravitational pull, the kids had gathered around her anyway. Aicha was perched on the low wall beside her, Vicky on her other side, Clara nearby, and Syd hovered just behind.

All of them were talking nonstop and overlapping each other, clearly discussing anything and everything unrelated to football just to distract themselves, or maybe distract Alexia. They didn't like it when she was in one of her so-called moods. 

At one point, Alexia muttered something short and dry, and the girls immediately laughed. Alexia looked faintly pained by how easily she had made them laugh when she was trying so hard to be unavailable and intimidating. 

You watched as she pressed her face briefly into her hands before looking up again. She was, you realised, trying very hard to project the image of a captain who was perfectly fine, the untouchable leader who certainly wasn't eating herself alive over the defeat.

Patri was right; Alexia was extremely competitive, far too hard on herself. 

A few meters away, Kika, Patri and Esmee were leaning against the side of the bus, sharing a bag of salty snacks.

"Look at her," Kika whispered, putting a chip into her mouth and motioning toward Alexia with her chin. "Ale looks like a stressed-out mother duck whose ducklings won't stop misbehaving."

"Do not let her hear you say that," Patri said teasingly. "She's five seconds away from making them run drills around the car park just to get some peace of mind."

Esmee shrugged. "That's totally on her, though. I bet she can't sleep until she's convinced every new blaugrana kid feels welcome… and then they grow attached to her."

"Like leeches," Kika said, watching Vicky shove a phone right in Alexia's face while Clara rested her head on Alexia's shoulder, eating a bag of biscuits and letting crumbs fall all over the captain's shirt.

"Like leeches," Patri agreed. "Very annoying leeches."

"She's miserable," Esmee added as Syd set up her phone to film a tiktok, making sure Alexia was unmistakably right in the middle of the frame. The catalan rolled her eyes, shushing Syd and shooing the phone away.

"Nah," Kika countered. "She's right where she wants to be."

Then their attention shifted to you instead.

Patri held up a hand to wave you over. Urgh, more socialisation, but you went over anyway. 

"Hi," you said drily, though you didn't hesitate to accept the chips Patri offered.

"Still upset?" Esmee asked nonchalantly.

"No," you lied.

Patri chuckled. "Yeah, right. You look like a puppy that's just been kicked out of its home, but of course you aren't upset."

"We'll recover from the loss, amiga!" Kika said cheerfully. "Don't worry about it–"

"I'm not upset about the game," you interrupted. It was a half-truth.

"What are you upset about, then?" Esmee pressed.

"Nothing," you said quickly, instantly regretting opening your mouth.

Patri and Kika shared a smirk "Let me guess," Patri began. "Problems in paradise?"

You glared at her. "There is no problem."

"Oh, but there is a paradise?" Patri teased back.

"This is exactly why I don't talk to you people," you grumbled, taking another chip.

"You are awfully private," Kika said dramatically, rolling her eyes. "That's soo rude! I literally tell people everything."

"That's kind of a problem on its own," Esmee murmured.

"Don't try to defend her," Kika shot back. "You two are way too alike. Why did we only find out you were dating on your three-month anniversary?!"

"Because I wasn't dating any of you," Esmee deadpanned.

Kika nudged Patri. "Can you help me out here?"

Patri chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Chica, you won't get any information out of Y/n or Esmee by asking. You have to observe."

You stood there stone-faced as they continued to analyse your supposed love life as if you weren't standing right in front of them. You took that as a clue to step back from their circle.

Your eyes drifted across the car park back to Alexia. You looked away before she could catch you staring, though deep down, a part of you wanted her to see you. You were used to hiding; it felt safe, but with Alexia, you wanted to be perceived. 

Yet she didn't look up; she turned to her phone instead. 

It is a joy to be hidden and a disaster not to be found.

Her uber notification must have come through, because she checked her phone and tapped the screen (rather aggressively) before looking around the car park. Her warm, honey-coloured eyes found yours.

She stepped away from her ducklings, who were practically breathing down her neck and walked the small distance between you.

"Hey," Alexia murmured, keeping her voice down so only you could hear as she held up her phone to show the app. "You're coming with me, right?"

You looked at the screen, then glanced past her. The kids were already lingering a few steps behind her, pretending they didn't care while obviously waiting for her to decide who was getting in her uber.

They were praying for a spot in the car. Cute. They really did admire Alexia like an older sister. 

"I don't think there's space," you said, gesturing to the situation with a tilt of your chin.

Alexia glanced over her shoulder quickly, assessed the kids, and turned back to you. 

"We'll meet at the hotel then," she said simply.

And that was it.

She turned, and without a single word, the girls simply followed, falling into step behind her in a loose cluster, their voices already rising in volume around her. Aicha said something that made two of them laugh, and even Alexia smiled a bit. She could pretend to be grumpy, but those girls were her ultimate weakness; she could never keep it up for long. 

You looked down at your own phone; your uber was four minutes away.

Another night in the hotel room, you thought. Another night with Alexia… maybe? 

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind. You shouldn't be thinking about this right now.

She seemed alright with you again – she had just told you she would meet you at the hotel, right? But what exactly does "meeting at the hotel" mean? Sharing a room again? Or going to separate rooms? Had the plumbing issue been fixed? Should you be asking to stay with Kika instead? No, better not; Alexia would have an aneurysm… So, maybe Esmee?

Patri couldn't fit in your uber ride, so she stayed behind to catch the next one with Cata and Pina. That left you sandwiched between Kika and Esmee in the backseat for the entire twenty-three-minute drive, during which Kika could not, for the life of her, shut the hell up.

By the time the car finally pulled up outside of the hotel, Kika had told so, soo many terrible jokes, and Esmee had rolled her eyes at every single one of them.

When you walked into the hotel, the first thing you noticed was how much quieter the lobby was compared to that morning. A few of your teammates were visible through the restaurant window: Clara and Aicha at a table near the back, Aitana sitting with Pajor right beside them, having an early dinner from the look of it. 

You continued to walk until you saw her.  

Alexia was sitting in one of the leather armchairs near the check-in desk; her travel bag was at her feet and her phone in her hand. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her pink lips were set in a pout. She looked composed, but tired. You wanted to cover her face in soft kisses, to smooth out the exhaustion on her brow.

Alexia looked up the moment you stepped through the doors. Without saying a word, she stood, picked up her bag, and crossed the lobby toward you.

"Vamos?" she said simply. [let's go]

"I have to check in again," you said, looking at the front desk.

"I've already done it for both of us," she said casually. "Come on."

"Oh, alright… yeah," you said, caught slightly off guard by how seamlessly she had handled it.  "Thank you."

You followed her to the lift, and neither of you acknowledged the fact that she had been sitting in the lobby waiting for you when she could have already been upstairs beneath a scalding shower.

She had waited for you, you thought. 

The lift was empty when it arrived at the lobby. You stepped inside, and Alexia pressed the button. You watched the doors close and stood beside her. The silence between you wasn't uncomfortable; it was just filled with exhaustion. The complete "emotional rollercoaster" of the day had drained you both. 

The floor numbers climbed and seemingly did not stop doing so. You were tired. You wanted to sleep, but your brain was already spiralling, waiting for the conversation about the room assignments to come.

Were you sharing again? Well, it was kind of obvious you were…. Unless she had only checked you both in because it was easier? Should you ask for a key to a separate room? Something in your gut told you Alexia would be upset if you did so. 

Before your thoughts could settle, her hand brushed against yours. She didn't take it; her fingertips simply rested against your knuckles for a second.

You loved her warmth, loved how soft her skin felt against you. An ache settled in your bones; it said you didn't deserve to touch her today; you didn't deserve her softness. Still, you didn't pull away.

When the doors opened on your floor. Alexia withdrew her hand and stepped out first. She walked down the hallway with familiarity, stopping in front of the exact same door from this morning. Alexia didn't make a big deal out of it; she just held the door open for you as if sharing space again was the most natural thing in the world.

You dropped your bag beside the bed and sat on the edge of the soft, queen-size mattress. And then, before your rational mind could even register the room, the walls, the mattress beneath you, or Alexia's proximity, the match began again.

It replayed behind your eyelids over and over. You saw every angle of it, every bad decision you made.

Alexia was standing in the middle of the room. She was never one to sit when she was thinking too much about something, so instead, she began moving around the room back and forth, moving from one wall to the other like a broken pendulum. 

"We were too passive after halftime," she said, her voice tight with frustration. "Don't you think?"

"I was out of position," you said to the floor.

"We just weren't pressing them enough in the second half… we weren't coordinated. Everyone was doing their own thing… I should have stepped up sooner and reorganised us."

"I read the run wrong," you muttered, ignoring her analysis to focus on your flaw. "I saw the forward making her move, and I waited a second too long… I never wait too long; I don't know what happened!"

Alexia kept pacing, making you dizzy. "We gave them too much space; they had their whole wings to themselves! What was I thinking when I told Esmee to focus on the centre?"

You ignored Alexia right back, locked in your own mind loop… Neither of you was listening to the other. Alexia kept pacing and pacing while you hadn't even taken your shoes off yet. 

"Honestly, it's all my fault," you said bitterly  "If I had been better positioned, a bit further to the left, that ball might never have reached Cata."

That finally made Alexia stop pacing. She turned to look down at you. "You can't blame yourself for–"

"I watched it back during the drive here," you said. "I was the only one between her and Cata–"

"Which means nine other players on that pitch – myself included – failed before she ever got that close to the goal." Alexia countered.

"But I am the full-back, Ale." Your voice came out flat. "If they score, that's on me. That's my job. That's what I'm here to do, you know? To defend, or well, try to. The game is on me."

Something softened in Alexia's expression, and suddenly she didn't look like a captain trying to comfort a teammate. She looked like… You weren't quite ready to name what she looked like.

"Tori, I was too hard on you," she said, her voice gentle. "I'm sorry."

"No, Ale, it was a fair point, okay?" you said, deflecting immediately. "You don't have to be sorry for–"

"Don't say I was just doing my job," she interrupted. "My job doesn't mean being rude to you."

You tilted your head, analysing her. "You correct other players too," you pointed out. "You don't tell them you are sorry."

She seemed almost confused by her own actions. "I-I, well, I always corrected them, yes, but I'm not half as harsh with them as I was with you…I'm not apologising for the note," she said slowly. "I'm apologising for how I said it. There's a difference."

You opened your mouth, but then closed it. The room felt awfully quiet. You wanted to scream into its void just to break the tension.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"I know," you muttered. "Me too."

She looked at the ceiling, then looked at the floor, rubbing her neck.

"I'm the defending midfielder," she said, beginning to vent, "If we don't score, if the press falls apart, if we can't hold possession… that's on me. The whole game is on me," she added, parroting your exact words back.

"Great," you deadpanned. "So we were both terrible at our job, huh?"

"Apparently."

"Wonderful," you said. "Really brilliant. Excellent day's work from both of us."

"Remarkable."

You got up from the mattress and walked past her, going to the window and pulling it open. You breathed in the evening air; it was such lovely weather for such a disaster of a day.  When you turned around a few moments later, Alexia still hadn't sat down. Her arms were crossed.

"I had it," she muttered, pacing again. "We could have the game under control; we knew their pattern… I knew their-"

"You can't track every run perfectly for ninety minutes-" you tried to reason.

"I almost always do," she rolled her eyes. 

"Almost is the word of the day," you said. "Honestly, we were all rubbish today. Stop putting it all on yourself."

"Stop being reasonable," she grumbled. "I just want to be annoyed."

"Then be annoyed."

"I am."

She let herself fall to the bed with a sigh. You wandered over and dropped down beside her, both of you staring up at the cream ceiling. 

"So, we both played badly, we're stuck in this hotel for another night because the bus decided to break down, and it has been a genuinely horrible day."

"Yes," you said simply.

"Good," she said, her side pressing slightly against yours. "So glad we agree on one thing."

"...Were we really just arguing about who failed more?" she continued.

"Yes."

Alexia was about to respond when a knock interrupted her.

Before either of you could even process it, the latch clicked, and the door swung open. In mere seconds, the two of you scrambled up, and by the time the door swung open, you were standing very stiffly near the foot of the bed while Alexia had somehow ended up leaning against the small wooden desk as if she had been there all along doing God knows what.

Vicky stood in the doorway, taking in the room with her sharp, brown eyes. 

"Irene sent me," Vicky announced, completely unfazed by the sudden intrusion she just made, "She said if you don't come down to get something to eat now, Capi, the dining room is going to close,e and you'll have to survive on the vending machine–"

Vicky cut herself off as her eyes shifted from Alexia over to you. She blinked once, her face shining with mischief. 

"--and apparently you too, Y/n," Vicky added, her tone dripping with amusement. "I didn't realise you two were sharing a room again. I thought the plumbing issue got fixed?"

You could feel your face burning under her gaze, your defensive instinct coming up all at once. 

Alexia stared at her, her captain's face locked in place. "Does Irene sending you mean you can just walk into people's rooms, Vicky?"

"Well… I knocked," she said innocently. "So that's not on me."

"Oh, you knocked," Alexia said sarcastically. "Does that mean you can just open the door unannounced?" 

"It wasn't locked!" Vicky argued, as if not really understanding what she did was wrong.

"Next time it will be. You can't just walk in."

Vicky's eyes moved around the room again with (very exaggerated) innocence. She took everything in more slowly this time.

She noticed the slightly rumpled duvet and the way both your bags were scattered around. Vicky looked at you, then Alexia, before locking eyes with you, her absolute favourite target. 

"Right," Vicky said, "Sorry. Well, I'm also here because I'm genuinely upset about the match. I need emotional support. I need my captain… por favor…? Or are you too busy with Y/n? Am I interrupting something crucial? Oh! Maybe Y/n need emotional support as well?"

"Go find Patri," Alexia cut in, pointing a finger toward the corridor before you could snap at Vicky. Now."

"Patri's not–"

"Patri is exactly as much a captain as I am right now. I'm off duty," Alexia interrupted. "Go down to have some dinner. Eat real food. Talk to Patri. Close the door behind you."

"What about your dinner?" Vicky pressed, taking one last look between the two of you. "Aren't you guys coming down?"

Alexia held the bridge of her nose. "Go."

Vicky lingered, just long enough to make it clear she was leaving on her own terms before pulling the door shut behind her. Her footsteps retreated down the corridor. 

Then, a moment later, her voice came bright and happy, echoing through the corridor. "Hey Serra, guess who Capi's in her room with–"

You sat very still, already dreading tomorrow morning's breakfast, when the kids would (undoubtedly) ask whether Vicky had really caught the two of you sharing a room again.

"Vicky knows," you said flatly.

"She doesn't know anything," Alexia replied.

You looked at her. "Are you saying that because you believe it, or because you are trying to make me feel better?"

"I want to make you feel better," Alexia deadpanned. 

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Ugh."

"It's okay," Alexia said, trying to offer you a smile. "She won't tell anyone."

You gave her a side eye. "She literally just shouted down the hallway about us to Clara."

"Yeah, but Clara won't say anything."

You groaned again. "Honestly… whatever. Patri knows. Esmee knows. Kika knows. Now Vicky and Serra know…"

"It's not that bad," Alexia countered.

"Do you want them to know about us? Knowing how they are going to tease us?"

Alexia shrugged. "You just have to glare at them, and then they stop. Problem solved."

"I can't glare at people! I get flustered and embarrassed! I'm not half as intimidating as you are." 

"I'll intimidate them for you," she smiled as if life was all unicorns and rainbows.

"Oh, you're so kind," you said, rolling your eyes. 

When Alexia spoke again, her voice had dropped all of its captain's authority.

"You know what… we should cuddle," she said seriously, which did not match her proposition. "It's been way too long of a day for us."

You studied her up and down. She looked soft and tired, and you needed her to want to touch you.

"Mhmm… okay," you agreed. "Come here."

Alexia shifted a little closer until her shoulder brushed yours. She was testing the waters, seeing if it was really okay. Physical intimacy between you was a rare currency when sex wasn't involved, after all.

After a brief moment, Alexia finally curled into your side, tucking her face against your collarbone as though she had been wanting to do it all day. You stayed very still, adjusting to her weight and her warmth. 

"I really didn't mean to snap at you," she said, her voice muffled

"I know," you said, "I'm serious, Ale. You can stop apologising; it's alright."

"It's not, though," she propped herself up on one elbow so she could look at you. "I won't do it again, vale?"

You chuckled. She was cute. "I hope you don't… you sounded a bit intimidating."

Alexia blushed, which was not the response you had expected from a two-time Ballon d'Or winner. You looked up at her, your mind slipping back into its familiar habit of picking every little thing apart. 

You found yourself thinking about the part of you that had been waiting, somewhere deep and private, for her to finally see you fail.

About how the correction on the pitch had landed like something you had been half-expecting ever since you had arrived in Barcelona, ever since you met Alexia. Somewhere in a tired, masochistic corner of your brain, there had almost been a sense of relief. 

Finally, there it is. Here is the flaw that was always bound to surface.

There was something oddly bittersweet when people were mad or upset at you.  Something strangely comforting about disappointing people. How fucked up have you chilhood been for you to feel comfort in that?

It felt safe to know you had made a mistake, because it meant people would stop expecting things from you. They would know you were incompetent, bad and imperfect... except Alexia wasn't looking at you as if you were any of those things right now. She wasn't looking at you like that at all. 

Weird. 

You didn't want to talk to her about it, though.

You kept those messy thoughts to yourself.  Instead, you let yourself stay with her, cuddling, sharing very sweet, absent-minded kisses that barely lasted longer than half a second. But right as you were beginning to melt into her body, to relax, Alexia made a strange face and pulled away.

"Hey, what–" Before you could ask what was wrong, she disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door, murmuring about how she was going to be right back.

You frowned and sat on the bed, listening to the sound of running water. Should you go up and knock on the door? What had happened? You chose to stay put and let Alexia do her thing.

While you waited, your thoughts drifted back to the book you had been reading earlier that week – Madonna in a fur coat – when the water stopped, and the bathroom door opened.

Alexia stepped out, looking, somehow, even more grumpy than when she had gone in. She stood in the doorway and looked at you miserably.

"I got my period," she announced flatly. "I wasn't due for three days. This day needs to end. I'm serious."

You blinked up at her, sitting up a little as you abandoned Sabahattin Ali's universe. "Oh… your peri–"

"I think you're messing with my hormones," she added, crossing her arms. "I haven't been this early in years!"

You pressed your lips together.

"...I'm sorry? I didn't mean to mess with your menstrual cycle."

She pouted at you. "You don't sound sincere at all."

"I'm sorry I don't sound sincere," you said. You couldn't help but think she was rather adorable like this, all pouty. "Do you need anything? Want me to get your bag or–"

"I don't have anything with me, tori. Nada " She gestured helplessly at herself, as if to illustrate the full extent of the situation. "I don't have pads, tampons, nothing! We were supposed to be back in Barcelona by now. I didn't plan for this to happen!"

"Okay, baby, hold on," you said, walking to your own bag. "I'm supposed to have stuff here somewhere, just–" You unzipped your bag and started rummaging through it, searching for a pad, and while on it, you found medicine, one of your little notebooks, the good pen you had been looking for ages, and then, finally, you pulled out the pad. It was a bit creased, but it would do its job.

You walked over and held it out to her.

"I've got a few more if you need them," you said. "They are in the internal left pocket of my bag… and sorry, I don't have any tampons. I can go out for them if you want?"

"No, this is good enough, thank you," she muttered, the pout still holding strong.  "I'm just frustrated! I'm literally thirty-two, I should know by now to always carry tampons with me wherever I go…"

"Ah, come on, don't do that, Ale", you said gently. "It came three days early; you are allowed to be caught off guard, don't stress over it, yeah? Just get whatever you need from my bag. I'm sure the girls can help you out, too."

She nodded. "Thank you, torito." Then she walked back into the bathroom. 

When she came back out, you closed the distance between you without thinking. Your hands settled on her waist, and you felt her go less rigid beneath your touch, the tension in her shoulders releasing one layer at a time. She pressed herself back into you, her head on your shoulder. 

"Feeling a little better?" you asked.

"No, I'm devastated," She pouted into your neck. "And it's all your fault, tori."

"Devastated?" You teased her "That's a big word."

"You are not helping."

"Sorry… let me try again. How is it my fault you got your period?" you said, your voice sweet. "That doesn't make sense, sweetheart."

"You make my body go all wrong," she said.

"I do?"

"Uhum."

Your thumb traced slow circles against her waist as you gently guided the two of you back onto the bed. "You make my mind go all wrong. Guess we're even, then?"

Alexia was quiet for a moment, but then she spoke.  "So… I forgive you, and you forgive me?" she murmured. "For messing each other up?"

"Yes, bebé," you whispered, kissing her cheek.  "I forgive you, and you forgive me. You are such a good martyr," you said fondly. "Has anyone told you that?"

"Only when I'm on my period," she mumbled.

"Hm," you chuckled.

Alexia's breathing had slowed against your shoulder. You were waiting for the request, almost certain she was about to send you out for an emergency trip to buy her whatever she might need. 

"...I'm waiting," you said finally.

"Mhmm… for what?" she murmured.

"For you to send me out for a heat pad. Or ibuprofen. Chocolate. That's usually how this goes. Isn't it?"

She lifted her head enough to look at you; she was a bit tired, her eyelids were heavy. "I don't eat chocolate on weekdays. And I don't usually need heating pads."

You looked at her. "Ah, you don't get cramps?"

"I do sometimes, but they are very, very mild," she said. "I barely feel anything most of the time."

"Oh. That's great."

"Yeah, but I do get light headaches sometimes," she continued. "Barça's doctor told me it's because of low iron, so sometimes I have to take some tablets."

"Poor baby," you murmured, pressing another kiss to her temple.

"I'm waiting too," Alexia said after a moment, nosing at your skin. 

"For what?"

"For you to tell me about your period." She said, then she moved like a clingy cat and pressed her cheek against yours. "I just told you about mine; it's only fair, sí?"

"You think it's that easy to get information out of me, capi?" You smirked, teasingly. 

"No," she said, her hand drifting lazily up and down your side before coming to rest against your hipbone, and then she tucked her face against your chest. "That's why I'm asking nicely. Please. Be nice to me. I'm bleeding. I'm in pain."

"You just told me you're barely cramping."

"Yes," she said with great dignity, "but you said I was a good martyr. So this is me being a good martyr… Por favor? Tell me?"

You exhaled and looked at the ceiling, giving what she wanted. "Fine, Putellas. I get bad periods.

… Crickets. 

"Okay, and…? That's all you're giving me?" 

"Well, yes. That's it. I bleed a lot and have bad cramps. The absolute worst mood you've ever seen, too… I'm not exactly a joy to be around."

"Hmm," she sounded a bit suspicious. "Really? I've never noticed any of it, and we've known each other for what? A year?"

"I think I'm just very good at hiding it," you said proudly, but alexia didn't match your energy. 

Alexia looked up at you and didn't smile. "You say that like it's a good thing."

You blushed. "I thought it was."

"I don't think it is."

"Oh." You didn't really expect that answer.

Was there one thing you did in life right?

"I mean… I've never noticed you getting more sensitive around that time, or more emotional." She tilted her head slightly against your shoulder. 

"I would have thought I'd notice. I should've, shouldn't I?" She furrowed. "I pay attention to you… I even know when Vicky is on hers because she cries at literally everything, and she doesn't even have to tell me."

"Well, I don't get sensitive," you explained. "So that must be the reason why you never noticed. I don't really cry much."

"No?"

"No, I just get a bit angry, impatient. That kind of stuff."

"Angry how?" She asked.

Alexia had apparently decided that tonight was the night she was going to ask every single question she had been collecting for months. 

"Just… well, just angry." You said with a small shrug, searching for the right scientific term and coming up with nothing. "Everything irritates me, and tiny things suddenly feel much more urgent than they actually are. That kind of anger."

Alexia didn't say anything immediately, which meant she was thinking about it properly, turning it over in her head.

"So right now," she said slowly. "With the game, and the broken bus, and all of it… You aren't–"

"I'm not on my period," you clarified with a smile. "Unfortunately, this is just me on my good day."

She hummed. "So if you were on your period–"

"Today would have been exponentially worse," you confirmed. "Yes."

"Hmmm… " She narrowed her eyes slightly. "I'll make a note."

"Please don't."

"I'm your captain," she said teasingly. "I have to know these things for scheduling purposes."

"You don't schedule anything. Ever. That is literally not your job."

"As captain, I have a great deal of influence when it comes to scheduling," she replied proudly.

"Oh," you said flatly. "What do you do? Glare at people until they move training?"

"Do you always have to be this sarcastic?"

"Sorry."

"Anyway… tell me next time when you are due," she said matter-of-factly. "Actually… I have a better idea! We should share a period tracking app!"

"Absolutely not." You shook your head immediately. "Nope."

"But-"

"I will leave this bed right now," you threatened. "At once."

In response, she tightened her arm around your waist, pulling you closer to her. Alexia's breathing was even out against your shoulder again, before her voice cut through the silence. 

"You know what? Since we're in a talking mood…"

"You're in a talking mood," you interrupted her. "I'm definitely not."

"...you haven't talked about your ex since that night," she continued, ignoring you. 

Your stomach turned at that. "You're awfully curious tonight."

"I like getting to know people."

"Funny of you to say that," you said. "I'm pretty sure everyone on the team would tell me they don't remember the last time you played personal quiz with them."

"Okay," she said, without missing a beat. "Maybe I like getting to know you."

You smiled despite yourself, which she definitely felt against your shoulder.

"Oh, are you into me or something?" You teased. "That's so gay of you."

"You're changing the subject," she rolled her eyes, blushing. "Again."

"I'm trying to," you admitted. 

"Don't try." She moved, settling more firmly against your body, as if to make clear she wasn't going anywhere. "Let me propose an exercise, torito. One where you don't overthink every single word before it leaves your mouth."

You pouted. "I don't think my brain works like that."

"You can try."

You sighed in defeat. "I'll tell you about my ex if you tell me about yours."

Alexia chuckled. "That's not how it works. I always talk to you about myself, sí? I've already done my part. You're the one who drops a bomb in my lap every two weeks and then goes completely silent."

You rolled your eyes.

She won.

A/n: Hiii!! I hope you guys liked this chapter! I had lots of fun writing it hehehe; they are just so endearing and fucked up in the head!! I personally love how Ale goes all captain with the kids, and then she melts with Tori.

Come talk with me about it!! Talking about fic really helps me with motivation and ideas, hehe

But then came the soreness, the ibuprofen, and that rather cryptic phrase she had said in the hotel room, the one you still hadn't quite worked out what to do with.

"You have to decide, torito. Your rules. If they still apply or not."

You sighed, shifting against the brick wall of the stadium park. You hadn't known how to process her words then, and you certainly didn't now. Instead, you had done what you always did and disappeared into your own head. 

The air was cold around you, while the setting sun washed the Sevilla sky in shades of pink and orange. You took a deep breath, but Alexia filled your thoughts the same way the ocean filled the lungs of unsuspecting swimmers – burning from the inside out, starving every cell of oxygen before leaving them to die an agonising death. 

The asphyxiating overthinking was precisely why you had needed thirty minutes to change after the final whistle. You had needed space away from the mistake you had made on the pitch, away from Alexia snapping at you, away from Patri and Kika's gentleness, away from the dangerous voice screaming in your head that Alexia detested you now.

And look where that logic had got you... Getting called out for letting Kika hug you, watching Alexia admit her jealousy with trembling lips before she kissed the top of your head and walked away, leaving you alone.

You wondered if she had done that to process everything that had happened.

"I do notice," her voice echoed in your brain. "When you're not there."

You closed your eyes, but instead of seeing Alexia, you saw the same image behind your eyelids for what felt like the sixteenth or seventeenth time since the final whistle.

The stupid (tiny!) gap you left right in front of the box. The Sevilla girl running. The goal that sealed the defeat.

Now, as you stood in the stadium car park watching a mechanic inspect the underside of the team bus, the scoreboard that no longer existed anywhere except the back of your mind still glowed one-nil. The old voice that you had spent months gradually learning to argue with had found its footing again after the match, and it showed no sign of leaving. 

You don't belong at a club like this. The voice was so calm and certain and fucking annoying. Today just reminded everyone.

You knew it wasn't true. You knew the voice in your head wasn't always right, that you shouldn't trust it, but it didn't matter. The thought had already dug its roots in deep, and it was going to require an exhausting amount of mental energy to pull it back out, perhaps days.

A loud and metallic sound snapped you back to the reality of the car park. You looked up just in time to see the mechanic lift an important-looking piece of metal that you were pretty sure wasn't meant to come out of the engine… but not that you were an expert in buses or anything.

The bus back to Barcelona had broken down right outside of the stadium after everyone had already climbed aboard. The plan had been to head back home right after the game; that was why everyone had packed their bags, but it seemed like a change of plans would be necessary. 

Marta, sitting near the front of the bus, had overheard the driver complaining about something and passed the news to Caro, who leaned across the aisle to tell Esmee. Within about thirty seconds, the information had spread through the entire bus in a broken-telephone manner. Which meant everyone had to haul their (heavy!) belongings back off the bus and out into the cool evening despite having spent ninety minutes running and fighting on the pitch. Unsurprisingly, everyone was tired and not particularly pleased with the situation.

"We broke down?" Ona asked, a childlike pout forming on her face. 

"We broke down," Marta confirmed.

"Yeah, of course we did,"  you muttered under your breath. This occurrence was so fitting for a day like today, almost poetic.

Pere appeared from the front of the bus, phone pressed to his ear, wearing the expression of a man who had already mentally checked out for the day hours ago and was operating on nothing but professional obligation. He held up a hand for quiet, finished his call, and looked over at the team.

"The bus is staying here tonight," he said. "And so are we. They can't fix it until tomorrow morning, so we have to go back to the hotel."

A beat of silence fell over the team.

"So… the hotel here in Sevilla," Vicky asked slowly, processing the news. "The one we just checked out of?"

"Yes."

"And we're staying another night…?" She continued 

"Yes."

"That's good, actually," Cata chimed in. "I forgot my good shoes in the hotel gym..."

"This whole trip is so horrible," Syd sighed. Her headphones were resting around her neck, spilling out a song far too melancholy for this situation.

"Maybe it's your fault," Clara said in a bored voice, her arms crossed over her chest. "Your horoscope was predicting all kinds of bad things, and we still agreed to let you come with us."

"Agree to let me come?!" Sydney shot back, exasperated. "It's not like I can just skip a match because my sun sign happens to be in a terrible position!"

"Yeah, yeah, but–"

"Enough," Alexia's voice cut through the air. "Both of you. Quiet."

They fell instantly quiet, and so did everyone else.

"Oh," Vicky said in a hushed whisper, nudging Kika's side. "Capi's mad.

And so… they waited. And waited.

The mechanic was still beneath the broken-down bus, poking and prodding while everyone waited for ubers. Needless to say, the whole squad was scattered in various forms of shared misery.

Cata was sitting on her travel bag with her headphones in, looking like she very much did not want to be bothered. The younger girls, meanwhile, had clustered around Alexia, the way they always did when something went wrong on a game day.

It was almost endearing from a distance. 

Alexia was visibly grumpy, yet as though drawn by some collective gravitational pull, the kids had gathered around her anyway. Aicha was perched on the low wall beside her, Vicky on her other side, Clara nearby, and Syd hovered just behind.

All of them were talking nonstop and overlapping each other, clearly discussing anything and everything unrelated to football just to distract themselves, or maybe distract Alexia. They didn't like it when she was in one of her so-called moods. 

At one point, Alexia muttered something short and dry, and the girls immediately laughed. Alexia looked faintly pained by how easily she had made them laugh when she was trying so hard to be unavailable and intimidating. 

You watched as she pressed her face briefly into her hands before looking up again. She was, you realised, trying very hard to project the image of a captain who was perfectly fine, the untouchable leader who certainly wasn't eating herself alive over the defeat.

Patri was right; Alexia was extremely competitive, far too hard on herself. 

A few meters away, Kika, Patri and Esmee were leaning against the side of the bus, sharing a bag of salty snacks.

"Look at her," Kika whispered, putting a chip into her mouth and motioning toward Alexia with her chin. "Ale looks like a stressed-out mother duck whose ducklings won't stop misbehaving."

"Do not let her hear you say that," Patri said teasingly. "She's five seconds away from making them run drills around the car park just to get some peace of mind."

Esmee shrugged. "That's totally on her, though. I bet she can't sleep until she's convinced every new blaugrana kid feels welcome… and then they grow attached to her."

"Like leeches," Kika said, watching Vicky shove a phone right in Alexia's face while Clara rested her head on Alexia's shoulder, eating a bag of biscuits and letting crumbs fall all over the captain's shirt.

"Like leeches," Patri agreed. "Very annoying leeches."

"She's miserable," Esmee added as Syd set up her phone to film a tiktok, making sure Alexia was unmistakably right in the middle of the frame. The catalan rolled her eyes, shushing Syd and shooing the phone away.

"Nah," Kika countered. "She's right where she wants to be."

Then their attention shifted to you instead.

Patri held up a hand to wave you over. Urgh, more socialisation, but you went over anyway. 

"Hi," you said drily, though you didn't hesitate to accept the chips Patri offered.

"Still upset?" Esmee asked nonchalantly.

"No," you lied.

Patri chuckled. "Yeah, right. You look like a puppy that's just been kicked out of its home, but of course you aren't upset."

"We'll recover from the loss, amiga!" Kika said cheerfully. "Don't worry about it–"

"I'm not upset about the game," you interrupted. It was a half-truth.

"What are you upset about, then?" Esmee pressed.

"Nothing," you said quickly, instantly regretting opening your mouth.

Patri and Kika shared a smirk "Let me guess," Patri began. "Problems in paradise?"

You glared at her. "There is no problem."

"Oh, but there is a paradise?" Patri teased back.

"This is exactly why I don't talk to you people," you grumbled, taking another chip.

"You are awfully private," Kika said dramatically, rolling her eyes. "That's soo rude! I literally tell people everything."

"That's kind of a problem on its own," Esmee murmured.

"Don't try to defend her," Kika shot back. "You two are way too alike. Why did we only find out you were dating on your three-month anniversary?!"

"Because I wasn't dating any of you," Esmee deadpanned.

Kika nudged Patri. "Can you help me out here?"

Patri chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Chica, you won't get any information out of Y/n or Esmee by asking. You have to observe."

You stood there stone-faced as they continued to analyse your supposed love life as if you weren't standing right in front of them. You took that as a clue to step back from their circle.

Your eyes drifted across the car park back to Alexia. You looked away before she could catch you staring, though deep down, a part of you wanted her to see you. You were used to hiding; it felt safe, but with Alexia, you wanted to be perceived. 

Yet she didn't look up; she turned to her phone instead. 

It is a joy to be hidden and a disaster not to be found.

Her uber notification must have come through, because she checked her phone and tapped the screen (rather aggressively) before looking around the car park. Her warm, honey-coloured eyes found yours.

She stepped away from her ducklings, who were practically breathing down her neck and walked the small distance between you.

"Hey," Alexia murmured, keeping her voice down so only you could hear as she held up her phone to show the app. "You're coming with me, right?"

You looked at the screen, then glanced past her. The kids were already lingering a few steps behind her, pretending they didn't care while obviously waiting for her to decide who was getting in her uber.

They were praying for a spot in the car. Cute. They really did admire Alexia like an older sister. 

"I don't think there's space," you said, gesturing to the situation with a tilt of your chin.

Alexia glanced over her shoulder quickly, assessed the kids, and turned back to you. 

"We'll meet at the hotel then," she said simply.

And that was it.

She turned, and without a single word, the girls simply followed, falling into step behind her in a loose cluster, their voices already rising in volume around her. Aicha said something that made two of them laugh, and even Alexia smiled a bit. She could pretend to be grumpy, but those girls were her ultimate weakness; she could never keep it up for long. 

You looked down at your own phone; your uber was four minutes away.

Another night in the hotel room, you thought. Another night with Alexia… maybe? 

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind. You shouldn't be thinking about this right now.

She seemed alright with you again – she had just told you she would meet you at the hotel, right? But what exactly does "meeting at the hotel" mean? Sharing a room again? Or going to separate rooms? Had the plumbing issue been fixed? Should you be asking to stay with Kika instead? No, better not; Alexia would have an aneurysm… So, maybe Esmee?

Patri couldn't fit in your uber ride, so she stayed behind to catch the next one with Cata and Pina. That left you sandwiched between Kika and Esmee in the backseat for the entire twenty-three-minute drive, during which Kika could not, for the life of her, shut the hell up.

By the time the car finally pulled up outside of the hotel, Kika had told so, soo many terrible jokes, and Esmee had rolled her eyes at every single one of them.

When you walked into the hotel, the first thing you noticed was how much quieter the lobby was compared to that morning. A few of your teammates were visible through the restaurant window: Clara and Aicha at a table near the back, Aitana sitting with Pajor right beside them, having an early dinner from the look of it. 

You continued to walk until you saw her.  

Alexia was sitting in one of the leather armchairs near the check-in desk; her travel bag was at her feet and her phone in her hand. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her pink lips were set in a pout. She looked composed, but tired. You wanted to cover her face in soft kisses, to smooth out the exhaustion on her brow.

Alexia looked up the moment you stepped through the doors. Without saying a word, she stood, picked up her bag, and crossed the lobby toward you.

"Vamos?" she said simply. [let's go]

"I have to check in again," you said, looking at the front desk.

"I've already done it for both of us," she said casually. "Come on."

"Oh, alright… yeah," you said, caught slightly off guard by how seamlessly she had handled it.  "Thank you."

You followed her to the lift, and neither of you acknowledged the fact that she had been sitting in the lobby waiting for you when she could have already been upstairs beneath a scalding shower.

She had waited for you, you thought. 

The lift was empty when it arrived at the lobby. You stepped inside, and Alexia pressed the button. You watched the doors close and stood beside her. The silence between you wasn't uncomfortable; it was just filled with exhaustion. The complete "emotional rollercoaster" of the day had drained you both. 

The floor numbers climbed and seemingly did not stop doing so. You were tired. You wanted to sleep, but your brain was already spiralling, waiting for the conversation about the room assignments to come.

Were you sharing again? Well, it was kind of obvious you were…. Unless she had only checked you both in because it was easier? Should you ask for a key to a separate room? Something in your gut told you Alexia would be upset if you did so. 

Before your thoughts could settle, her hand brushed against yours. She didn't take it; her fingertips simply rested against your knuckles for a second.

You loved her warmth, loved how soft her skin felt against you. An ache settled in your bones; it said you didn't deserve to touch her today; you didn't deserve her softness. Still, you didn't pull away.

When the doors opened on your floor. Alexia withdrew her hand and stepped out first. She walked down the hallway with familiarity, stopping in front of the exact same door from this morning. Alexia didn't make a big deal out of it; she just held the door open for you as if sharing space again was the most natural thing in the world.

You dropped your bag beside the bed and sat on the edge of the soft, queen-size mattress. And then, before your rational mind could even register the room, the walls, the mattress beneath you, or Alexia's proximity, the match began again.

It replayed behind your eyelids over and over. You saw every angle of it, every bad decision you made.

Alexia was standing in the middle of the room. She was never one to sit when she was thinking too much about something, so instead, she began moving around the room back and forth, moving from one wall to the other like a broken pendulum. 

"We were too passive after halftime," she said, her voice tight with frustration. "Don't you think?"

"I was out of position," you said to the floor.

"We just weren't pressing them enough in the second half… we weren't coordinated. Everyone was doing their own thing… I should have stepped up sooner and reorganised us."

"I read the run wrong," you muttered, ignoring her analysis to focus on your flaw. "I saw the forward making her move, and I waited a second too long… I never wait too long; I don't know what happened!"

Alexia kept pacing, making you dizzy. "We gave them too much space; they had their whole wings to themselves! What was I thinking when I told Esmee to focus on the centre?"

You ignored Alexia right back, locked in your own mind loop… Neither of you was listening to the other. Alexia kept pacing and pacing while you hadn't even taken your shoes off yet. 

"Honestly, it's all my fault," you said bitterly  "If I had been better positioned, a bit further to the left, that ball might never have reached Cata."

That finally made Alexia stop pacing. She turned to look down at you. "You can't blame yourself for–"

"I watched it back during the drive here," you said. "I was the only one between her and Cata–"

"Which means nine other players on that pitch – myself included – failed before she ever got that close to the goal." Alexia countered.

"But I am the full-back, Ale." Your voice came out flat. "If they score, that's on me. That's my job. That's what I'm here to do, you know? To defend, or well, try to. The game is on me."

Something softened in Alexia's expression, and suddenly she didn't look like a captain trying to comfort a teammate. She looked like… You weren't quite ready to name what she looked like.

"Tori, I was too hard on you," she said, her voice gentle. "I'm sorry."

"No, Ale, it was a fair point, okay?" you said, deflecting immediately. "You don't have to be sorry for–"

"Don't say I was just doing my job," she interrupted. "My job doesn't mean being rude to you."

You tilted your head, analysing her. "You correct other players too," you pointed out. "You don't tell them you are sorry."

She seemed almost confused by her own actions. "I-I, well, I always corrected them, yes, but I'm not half as harsh with them as I was with you…I'm not apologising for the note," she said slowly. "I'm apologising for how I said it. There's a difference."

You opened your mouth, but then closed it. The room felt awfully quiet. You wanted to scream into its void just to break the tension.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"I know," you muttered. "Me too."

She looked at the ceiling, then looked at the floor, rubbing her neck.

"I'm the defending midfielder," she said, beginning to vent, "If we don't score, if the press falls apart, if we can't hold possession… that's on me. The whole game is on me," she added, parroting your exact words back.

"Great," you deadpanned. "So we were both terrible at our job, huh?"

"Apparently."

"Wonderful," you said. "Really brilliant. Excellent day's work from both of us."

"Remarkable."

You got up from the mattress and walked past her, going to the window and pulling it open. You breathed in the evening air; it was such lovely weather for such a disaster of a day.  When you turned around a few moments later, Alexia still hadn't sat down. Her arms were crossed.

"I had it," she muttered, pacing again. "We could have the game under control; we knew their pattern… I knew their-"

"You can't track every run perfectly for ninety minutes-" you tried to reason.

"I almost always do," she rolled her eyes. 

"Almost is the word of the day," you said. "Honestly, we were all rubbish today. Stop putting it all on yourself."

"Stop being reasonable," she grumbled. "I just want to be annoyed."

"Then be annoyed."

"I am."

She let herself fall to the bed with a sigh. You wandered over and dropped down beside her, both of you staring up at the cream ceiling. 

"So, we both played badly, we're stuck in this hotel for another night because the bus decided to break down, and it has been a genuinely horrible day."

"Yes," you said simply.

"Good," she said, her side pressing slightly against yours. "So glad we agree on one thing."

"...Were we really just arguing about who failed more?" she continued.

"Yes."

Alexia was about to respond when a knock interrupted her.

Before either of you could even process it, the latch clicked, and the door swung open. In mere seconds, the two of you scrambled up, and by the time the door swung open, you were standing very stiffly near the foot of the bed while Alexia had somehow ended up leaning against the small wooden desk as if she had been there all along doing God knows what.

Vicky stood in the doorway, taking in the room with her sharp, brown eyes. 

"Irene sent me," Vicky announced, completely unfazed by the sudden intrusion she just made, "She said if you don't come down to get something to eat now, Capi, the dining room is going to close,e and you'll have to survive on the vending machine–"

Vicky cut herself off as her eyes shifted from Alexia over to you. She blinked once, her face shining with mischief. 

"--and apparently you too, Y/n," Vicky added, her tone dripping with amusement. "I didn't realise you two were sharing a room again. I thought the plumbing issue got fixed?"

You could feel your face burning under her gaze, your defensive instinct coming up all at once. 

Alexia stared at her, her captain's face locked in place. "Does Irene sending you mean you can just walk into people's rooms, Vicky?"

"Well… I knocked," she said innocently. "So that's not on me."

"Oh, you knocked," Alexia said sarcastically. "Does that mean you can just open the door unannounced?" 

"It wasn't locked!" Vicky argued, as if not really understanding what she did was wrong.

"Next time it will be. You can't just walk in."

Vicky's eyes moved around the room again with (very exaggerated) innocence. She took everything in more slowly this time.

She noticed the slightly rumpled duvet and the way both your bags were scattered around. Vicky looked at you, then Alexia, before locking eyes with you, her absolute favourite target. 

"Right," Vicky said, "Sorry. Well, I'm also here because I'm genuinely upset about the match. I need emotional support. I need my captain… por favor…? Or are you too busy with Y/n? Am I interrupting something crucial? Oh! Maybe Y/n need emotional support as well?"

"Go find Patri," Alexia cut in, pointing a finger toward the corridor before you could snap at Vicky. Now."

"Patri's not–"

"Patri is exactly as much a captain as I am right now. I'm off duty," Alexia interrupted. "Go down to have some dinner. Eat real food. Talk to Patri. Close the door behind you."

"What about your dinner?" Vicky pressed, taking one last look between the two of you. "Aren't you guys coming down?"

Alexia held the bridge of her nose. "Go."

Vicky lingered, just long enough to make it clear she was leaving on her own terms before pulling the door shut behind her. Her footsteps retreated down the corridor. 

Then, a moment later, her voice came bright and happy, echoing through the corridor. "Hey Serra, guess who Capi's in her room with–"

You sat very still, already dreading tomorrow morning's breakfast, when the kids would (undoubtedly) ask whether Vicky had really caught the two of you sharing a room again.

"Vicky knows," you said flatly.

"She doesn't know anything," Alexia replied.

You looked at her. "Are you saying that because you believe it, or because you are trying to make me feel better?"

"I want to make you feel better," Alexia deadpanned. 

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Ugh."

"It's okay," Alexia said, trying to offer you a smile. "She won't tell anyone."

You gave her a side eye. "She literally just shouted down the hallway about us to Clara."

"Yeah, but Clara won't say anything."

You groaned again. "Honestly… whatever. Patri knows. Esmee knows. Kika knows. Now Vicky and Serra know…"

"It's not that bad," Alexia countered.

"Do you want them to know about us? Knowing how they are going to tease us?"

Alexia shrugged. "You just have to glare at them, and then they stop. Problem solved."

"I can't glare at people! I get flustered and embarrassed! I'm not half as intimidating as you are." 

"I'll intimidate them for you," she smiled as if life was all unicorns and rainbows.

"Oh, you're so kind," you said, rolling your eyes. 

When Alexia spoke again, her voice had dropped all of its captain's authority.

"You know what… we should cuddle," she said seriously, which did not match her proposition. "It's been way too long of a day for us."

You studied her up and down. She looked soft and tired, and you needed her to want to touch you.

"Mhmm… okay," you agreed. "Come here."

Alexia shifted a little closer until her shoulder brushed yours. She was testing the waters, seeing if it was really okay. Physical intimacy between you was a rare currency when sex wasn't involved, after all.

After a brief moment, Alexia finally curled into your side, tucking her face against your collarbone as though she had been wanting to do it all day. You stayed very still, adjusting to her weight and her warmth. 

"I really didn't mean to snap at you," she said, her voice muffled

"I know," you said, "I'm serious, Ale. You can stop apologising; it's alright."

"It's not, though," she propped herself up on one elbow so she could look at you. "I won't do it again, vale?"

You chuckled. She was cute. "I hope you don't… you sounded a bit intimidating."

Alexia blushed, which was not the response you had expected from a two-time Ballon d'Or winner. You looked up at her, your mind slipping back into its familiar habit of picking every little thing apart. 

You found yourself thinking about the part of you that had been waiting, somewhere deep and private, for her to finally see you fail.

About how the correction on the pitch had landed like something you had been half-expecting ever since you had arrived in Barcelona, ever since you met Alexia. Somewhere in a tired, masochistic corner of your brain, there had almost been a sense of relief. 

Finally, there it is. Here is the flaw that was always bound to surface.

There was something oddly bittersweet when people were mad or upset at you.  Something strangely comforting about disappointing people. How fucked up have you chilhood been for you to feel comfort in that?

It felt safe to know you had made a mistake, because it meant people would stop expecting things from you. They would know you were incompetent, bad and imperfect... except Alexia wasn't looking at you as if you were any of those things right now. She wasn't looking at you like that at all. 

Weird. 

You didn't want to talk to her about it, though.

You kept those messy thoughts to yourself.  Instead, you let yourself stay with her, cuddling, sharing very sweet, absent-minded kisses that barely lasted longer than half a second. But right as you were beginning to melt into her body, to relax, Alexia made a strange face and pulled away.

"Hey, what–" Before you could ask what was wrong, she disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door, murmuring about how she was going to be right back.

You frowned and sat on the bed, listening to the sound of running water. Should you go up and knock on the door? What had happened? You chose to stay put and let Alexia do her thing.

While you waited, your thoughts drifted back to the book you had been reading earlier that week – Madonna in a fur coat – when the water stopped, and the bathroom door opened.

Alexia stepped out, looking, somehow, even more grumpy than when she had gone in. She stood in the doorway and looked at you miserably.

"I got my period," she announced flatly. "I wasn't due for three days. This day needs to end. I'm serious."

You blinked up at her, sitting up a little as you abandoned Sabahattin Ali's universe. "Oh… your peri–"

"I think you're messing with my hormones," she added, crossing her arms. "I haven't been this early in years!"

You pressed your lips together.

"...I'm sorry? I didn't mean to mess with your menstrual cycle."

She pouted at you. "You don't sound sincere at all."

"I'm sorry I don't sound sincere," you said. You couldn't help but think she was rather adorable like this, all pouty. "Do you need anything? Want me to get your bag or–"

"I don't have anything with me, tori. Nada " She gestured helplessly at herself, as if to illustrate the full extent of the situation. "I don't have pads, tampons, nothing! We were supposed to be back in Barcelona by now. I didn't plan for this to happen!"

"Okay, baby, hold on," you said, walking to your own bag. "I'm supposed to have stuff here somewhere, just–" You unzipped your bag and started rummaging through it, searching for a pad, and while on it, you found medicine, one of your little notebooks, the good pen you had been looking for ages, and then, finally, you pulled out the pad. It was a bit creased, but it would do its job.

You walked over and held it out to her.

"I've got a few more if you need them," you said. "They are in the internal left pocket of my bag… and sorry, I don't have any tampons. I can go out for them if you want?"

"No, this is good enough, thank you," she muttered, the pout still holding strong.  "I'm just frustrated! I'm literally thirty-two, I should know by now to always carry tampons with me wherever I go…"

"Ah, come on, don't do that, Ale", you said gently. "It came three days early; you are allowed to be caught off guard, don't stress over it, yeah? Just get whatever you need from my bag. I'm sure the girls can help you out, too."

She nodded. "Thank you, torito." Then she walked back into the bathroom. 

When she came back out, you closed the distance between you without thinking. Your hands settled on her waist, and you felt her go less rigid beneath your touch, the tension in her shoulders releasing one layer at a time. She pressed herself back into you, her head on your shoulder. 

"Feeling a little better?" you asked.

"No, I'm devastated," She pouted into your neck. "And it's all your fault, tori."

"Devastated?" You teased her "That's a big word."

"You are not helping."

"Sorry… let me try again. How is it my fault you got your period?" you said, your voice sweet. "That doesn't make sense, sweetheart."

"You make my body go all wrong," she said.

"I do?"

"Uhum."

Your thumb traced slow circles against her waist as you gently guided the two of you back onto the bed. "You make my mind go all wrong. Guess we're even, then?"

Alexia was quiet for a moment, but then she spoke.  "So… I forgive you, and you forgive me?" she murmured. "For messing each other up?"

"Yes, bebé," you whispered, kissing her cheek.  "I forgive you, and you forgive me. You are such a good martyr," you said fondly. "Has anyone told you that?"

"Only when I'm on my period," she mumbled.

"Hm," you chuckled.

Alexia's breathing had slowed against your shoulder. You were waiting for the request, almost certain she was about to send you out for an emergency trip to buy her whatever she might need. 

"...I'm waiting," you said finally.

"Mhmm… for what?" she murmured.

"For you to send me out for a heat pad. Or ibuprofen. Chocolate. That's usually how this goes. Isn't it?"

She lifted her head enough to look at you; she was a bit tired, her eyelids were heavy. "I don't eat chocolate on weekdays. And I don't usually need heating pads."

You looked at her. "Ah, you don't get cramps?"

"I do sometimes, but they are very, very mild," she said. "I barely feel anything most of the time."

"Oh. That's great."

"Yeah, but I do get light headaches sometimes," she continued. "Barça's doctor told me it's because of low iron, so sometimes I have to take some tablets."

"Poor baby," you murmured, pressing another kiss to her temple.

"I'm waiting too," Alexia said after a moment, nosing at your skin. 

"For what?"

"For you to tell me about your period." She said, then she moved like a clingy cat and pressed her cheek against yours. "I just told you about mine; it's only fair, sí?"

"You think it's that easy to get information out of me, capi?" You smirked, teasingly. 

"No," she said, her hand drifting lazily up and down your side before coming to rest against your hipbone, and then she tucked her face against your chest. "That's why I'm asking nicely. Please. Be nice to me. I'm bleeding. I'm in pain."

"You just told me you're barely cramping."

"Yes," she said with great dignity, "but you said I was a good martyr. So this is me being a good martyr… Por favor? Tell me?"

You exhaled and looked at the ceiling, giving what she wanted. "Fine, Putellas. I get bad periods.

… Crickets. 

"Okay, and…? That's all you're giving me?" 

"Well, yes. That's it. I bleed a lot and have bad cramps. The absolute worst mood you've ever seen, too… I'm not exactly a joy to be around."

"Hmm," she sounded a bit suspicious. "Really? I've never noticed any of it, and we've known each other for what? A year?"

"I think I'm just very good at hiding it," you said proudly, but alexia didn't match your energy. 

Alexia looked up at you and didn't smile. "You say that like it's a good thing."

You blushed. "I thought it was."

"I don't think it is."

"Oh." You didn't really expect that answer.

Was there one thing you did in life right?

"I mean… I've never noticed you getting more sensitive around that time, or more emotional." She tilted her head slightly against your shoulder. 

"I would have thought I'd notice. I should've, shouldn't I?" She furrowed. "I pay attention to you… I even know when Vicky is on hers because she cries at literally everything, and she doesn't even have to tell me."

"Well, I don't get sensitive," you explained. "So that must be the reason why you never noticed. I don't really cry much."

"No?"

"No, I just get a bit angry, impatient. That kind of stuff."

"Angry how?" She asked.

Alexia had apparently decided that tonight was the night she was going to ask every single question she had been collecting for months. 

"Just… well, just angry." You said with a small shrug, searching for the right scientific term and coming up with nothing. "Everything irritates me, and tiny things suddenly feel much more urgent than they actually are. That kind of anger."

Alexia didn't say anything immediately, which meant she was thinking about it properly, turning it over in her head.

"So right now," she said slowly. "With the game, and the broken bus, and all of it… You aren't–"

"I'm not on my period," you clarified with a smile. "Unfortunately, this is just me on my good day."

She hummed. "So if you were on your period–"

"Today would have been exponentially worse," you confirmed. "Yes."

"Hmmm… " She narrowed her eyes slightly. "I'll make a note."

"Please don't."

"I'm your captain," she said teasingly. "I have to know these things for scheduling purposes."

"You don't schedule anything. Ever. That is literally not your job."

"As captain, I have a great deal of influence when it comes to scheduling," she replied proudly.

"Oh," you said flatly. "What do you do? Glare at people until they move training?"

"Do you always have to be this sarcastic?"

"Sorry."

"Anyway… tell me next time when you are due," she said matter-of-factly. "Actually… I have a better idea! We should share a period tracking app!"

"Absolutely not." You shook your head immediately. "Nope."

"But-"

"I will leave this bed right now," you threatened. "At once."

In response, she tightened her arm around your waist, pulling you closer to her. Alexia's breathing was even out against your shoulder again, before her voice cut through the silence. 

"You know what? Since we're in a talking mood…"

"You're in a talking mood," you interrupted her. "I'm definitely not."

"...you haven't talked about your ex since that night," she continued, ignoring you. 

Your stomach turned at that. "You're awfully curious tonight."

"I like getting to know people."

"Funny of you to say that," you said. "I'm pretty sure everyone on the team would tell me they don't remember the last time you played personal quiz with them."

"Okay," she said, without missing a beat. "Maybe I like getting to know you."

You smiled despite yourself, which she definitely felt against your shoulder.

"Oh, are you into me or something?" You teased. "That's so gay of you."

"You're changing the subject," she rolled her eyes, blushing. "Again."

"I'm trying to," you admitted. 

"Don't try." She moved, settling more firmly against your body, as if to make clear she wasn't going anywhere. "Let me propose an exercise, torito. One where you don't overthink every single word before it leaves your mouth."

You pouted. "I don't think my brain works like that."

"You can try."

You sighed in defeat. "I'll tell you about my ex if you tell me about yours."

Alexia chuckled. "That's not how it works. I always talk to you about myself, sí? I've already done my part. You're the one who drops a bomb in my lap every two weeks and then goes completely silent."

You rolled your eyes.

She won.

A/n: Hiii!! I hope you guys liked this chapter! I had lots of fun writing it hehehe; they are just so endearing and fucked up in the head!! I personally love how Ale goes all captain with the kids, and then she melts with Tori.

Come talk with me about it!! Talking about fic really helps me with motivation and ideas, hehe