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mediumgayitalian · 2 months

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“Did you wash your face?”

“Yes.”

“Brush your teeth?”

“Yes.”

“Brush your hair?”

“…Yes.”

As soon as he says it, he coughs. A freckled hand moves to itch at his throat, rub at slowly puffing eyes.

“You, William Andrew,” Lee says, grinning, “are a liar.”

Will scowls. “Am not!”

The effect of his glare is significantly undermined by the redness of his eyes and the cough that interrupts him mid-sentence. Shaking his head, Lee leans into his bunk and scoops his brother up, heading to the Big House. He slides his hand in tangled, curly hair as Will rests his head on his shoulder, still breathing heavily.

“I can feel the knots in your hair, doofus.”

Will curls up tighter in his hold, muffling another cough in his elbow. “Nuh-uh.” He sniffles. “Hey, Lee, am I dying?”

Lee snorts. “No, you’re not dying.” He ducks into the back entrance of the infirmary, flicking on the lights and setting Will on the counter of the nurse’s station.

Will’s brow furrows. “Then what?”

With his swollen tongue, it sounds more like ‘den wah’. Lee picks up the pace — he’s pretty sure, based on what he knows, that the reaction will go away on its own, but a little Benadryl can’t hurt.

“You’re having an allergic reaction.”

He finally finds the stash of Benadryl — who sorted the mortal meds cupboard by colour again — and grabs one of the little measuring cups. Will sees the medicine and immediately starts whining, trying to climb off the counter.

After a minute of wrangling, he manages to keep Will put with one leg over both of his, chin hooked around his shoulder to hinder any escape attempts so he can pour the medicine with both hands. (He pours one teaspoon, even though Will is eight and should be having two. He’s too small for two. It worries him, a little bit — but there is nothing in his vitals to indicate anything’s wrong, so he must just be a late bloomer. Or maybe he and Michael are just destined to remain under five feet for eternity.)

“I’m not drinking it I’m not drinking it I’m not drinking it ew ew ew ew ew —”

“Yes you are —”

“No! Gross! It’s disgusting!”

“You’ve never even had it before!”

Will looks at the tiny little cup like there are worms writhing in it. (He would probably be more willing to eat it if it was worms. Last summer he ate an ant before Lee could stop him. No one told him demigod life would involve wrangling dangerously impulsive children, and he would like a refund, please, thanks.) “I can tell.” He clamps his mouth shut, turning away. “I am not drinking it.”

“It will help you,” Lee says exasperatedly. Was he this difficult as a child? He needs to call his mother. “I can literally see you scratching your throat, you little snot.”

He shoves his hands under his thighs. “No.”

“…It’s bubblegum flavoured.”

Will turns slowly to look at him, evaluating the little cup with suspicion.

“Bubblegum?”

Lee shakes it enticingly. “Bubblegum.”

After a long, tense moment, Will nods once.

“Fine.” He accepts the little cup, bringing it up close to his face to inspect with one squinting eye. “But if it’s disgusting I’m spitting it out.”

He brings the little cup to his lips for the most delicate, most minuscule of sips, more of a dip of the tongue than anything. Lee rolls his eyes. A second later, a pleased look slots on his face, and he downs the rest of the medicine in one large gulp.

Immediately, some of the swelling reduces, and he stops breathing so laboriously.

“There you go,” Lee murmurs, smoothing back his hair. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Gods, you’re stubborn.”

He’s smiling as he says it, leaning down to press a kiss to Will’s freckled forehead. He slumps into it, sighing, arms winding their way around Lee’s neck almost shyly. Understanding the gesture for the plea that it is, Lee scoops him up again, wincing as he elbows his ribs in an effort to get comfortable, and starts putting the medicine away one-handed (by alphabet, the correct way to sort.)

“You sleepy?” he asks softly, feeling Will grow heavier against him. He crosses his fingers — Apollo kids don’t often suffer side effects of medication, but he’s hoping the drowsiness’ll kick in. It’ll be nice if Will actually, like, sleeps through the night. For once.

“Mhm.”

Smiling wider, he flicks off the lights and steps out into the late evening. Cicada song swells in the mid-spring mugginess, owls hooting somewhere in the darkness. The curfew harpies’ chittering grows nearer and nearer. Lee waves to some of his friends as he sees them puttering outside their cabins, running through the last of their nightly routines, and finally ducks into Cabin Seven.

“He out?” Diana asks, hushed, setting aside her guitar to walk over.

Lee hums. “Almost. Had to give him some Benadryl, so he’s sleepy.” His smile turns sly. “He lied to me about brushing his hair and broke out in hives.”

“Of course he’s allergic.” She leans forward, shaking her head, and presses a gentle kiss to his temple. He doesn’t stir. “Goodnight, sweetpea.”

The rest of his siblings call out their own soft goodnights as Lee walks over to Will’s bunk, covered in stickers and bracketed by Michael and Leanna, and sets him on the mattress. It takes him several minutes to pry himself out of his grip.

“Love you,” he whispers. He brushes his knuckle across his cheek. “Night, kiddo.”

———

The next morning, Will sleeps in for hours. The rest of them rise as usual with the sun, but he’s snoring, drooling onto his Star Wars pillowcase. The cabin is filled with muffled snickers and snapping cameras.

“I am going to have so much ammo on him by the time he’s thirteen and embarrassed by everything,” Michael says gleefully. “So, so much ammo.”

Lee grins at him. “Make sure I get a copy.”

The walk to breakfast is almost strange — the twelve of them again, no baby brother. Melody, complaining about the Hermes girl who is not picking up on any of her hints, pauses mid-sentence to ask if she can swear. Cass laughs out loud and allows it. Quickly, breakfast becomes a competition of who can swear the most or the most colourfully, free now that there are no little ears (as if Michael hasn’t supplied Will with a vast vocabulary already).

By the time Will stumbles into the pavilion, rubbing sleepy eyes, breakfast is almost over.

“Well, hello, lazy bones,” Lee teases, getting up to grab him a plate. Will trails slightly behind him, fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt.

“‘M not lazy,” he grouches, accepting the heaping plate Lee hands to him, “you drugged me.”

They walk to the brazier near the Apollo table, taking in the sweet smell as Will scrapes off a hefty chunk of olive bread. Lee waits for him to close his eyes and finish mouthing a quick prayer before guiding him, still sleepy, to the bench.

“I didn’t drug you. You took the medicine yourself.”

“Um, no way! Unless a patient is educated about the risks, benefits, and alternatives about a treatment, they do not have informed consent.” He nods resolutely, evidently proud of himself for remembering the spiel. “Ergo, you drugged me.”

Lee has the sudden, overwhelming urge to burst into tears. Will is — he’s just so bright, and so little. Eight years old and chattering off about informed consent, intently watching Michael in the infirmary, taking notes in his little blue notebook and wrapping bandages on burns with his tongue poking out between lost teeth. When Lee was eight years old, he was chasing his friends around at recess, chattering to anyone who would listen about Pokémon.

He had felt it, when the glowing gold lyre appeared above Will’s head: this child will do great things. They’d all felt it. Cass had gone stiff, eyes flashing green and face creasing in horror, before remembering herself and the big blue eyes watching her, scared, and plastering a smile on her face. ‘Great things’ is never a good thing for a demigod to do. A demigod destined for great things is a demigod doomed.

With every straining molecule, he wants to turn to the heavens and scream, no! You will not have him! You will not use him! He is not yours to toy with, to use until you’re bored! I will not allow it! By my dying breath I will not allow it!

Instead, he swallows around the lump in his throat and says, “What kind of dork says the word ‘ergo’,” and laughs when Will sticks out his tongue. He reminds his baby brother to chew with his mouth closed and keep his elbows off the table, lest his mama kick his ass, and forces himself to focus on the way he leans into Lee’s side as he eats; to memorize the wideness of his unburdened smile.

———

“I’m allergic to lying?!”

“Seems like it,” Lee confirms, closing one eye to line up a shot. He breathes in, holds, then exhales, letting the arrow loose. It hits the bullseye, but not quite as centred as he’d like it to be. Shoot. He sets down his bow, and Will runs off, scooping up the volley and running back with them.

(Gods, Lee loves having a little brother.)

“That’s not a real allergy,” he huffs, placing an arrow in Lee’s waiting hand. “The ten most common allergy types are foods, animals, pollen, mold, dust mites, medications, latex, insect stings, cockroaches, and perfumes or household chemicals. Other allergens are rare but not impossible, but all are a result of physical stimuli. An allergy to a concept or person is a figure of speech.”

Lee squints at him. “Do you know what ‘stimuli’ means?”

“No.”

“It means a thing that evokes a specific reaction. Where’d you read that?”

“‘The Flu, The Plague, and the Common Cold — How We Are Shaped By Reacting’ by Phyllis Ledger.”

“Huh.”

He lines up another arrow — closer to the centre, this time. Good enough.

They don’t learn a lot about paediatric care at camp, or really anything outside of first aid and emergency services, but he’s pretty sure that normal eight-year-olds don’t read and memorize medical textbooks in their spare time. Is he supposed to nurture that? He has no idea how to nurture that.

It’s kinda funny, though. Cute.

“How can I be allergic to lying if that’s impossible?”

“Is sewing a severed arm back on a person using magical nectar and singing songs possible?”

Will pauses, considering. “Okay. I guess so.” He waits, letting Lee focus to make another shot. “I still think it’s stupid. Are you allergic to lying?”

“Nope.”

“Is Cass?”

“Negative.”

“Michael?”

Lee scoffs. “If Michael was allergic to lying, he would be dead.”

“Is anyone else allergic to lying?”

“Nope.” This time, the arrow lands in the dead centre — finally. “Just you, kiddo.”

He’s heard, of course, of children of Apollo afflicted with such an inconvenience before. Their dad is the god of truth, after all. It’s bound to happen.

Will frowns. “What are the parameters?”

Lee glances curiously at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, what is lying? Am I allergic to lying, or not telling the truth? They’re different, you know.” He fidgets with the last arrow of the volley, picking at the tail. “Am I gonna get hives if I say something that’s not true, even if I think it’s true? What if I say something that’s a lie but everyone believes it’s true, like when people believed smoking was good for you?” He gasps, looking at Lee with wide, worried eyes. “Oh my gods, am I allowed to be sarcastic?”

Lee tries his very best to hold back his laughter. He is obviously unsuccessful, because Will scowls, shoving him as hard as he can and throwing off his last shot.

“It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” Lee snickers, jogging down the range to gather his arrows. He slides them into the quiver, tossing it and his bow onto the equipment deck. “You’re very adorable when you’re mad. You get all —” he pokes Will’s dimpled cheeks, grinning when it makes him smile — “pouty and red. Like Tinkerbell.”

“You’re mean. You’re a horrible mean big brother and I want Beckendorf to adopt me instead.”

“I’ll let him know,” Lee says drily. “C’mon, kid. There’re cabin inspections tonight; I know you got Lego everywhere. Time to clean up. I swear, if we get Castor again I’m gonna —”

“Oh, I didn’t see you guys! I hope I’m not interrupting your practice.”

Lee stumbles. “— lose it.” He trails off weakly “Hey, Carter.”

The son of Athena smiles widely, dark eyes twinkling. His front tooth is just slightly crooked, and Lee finds himself staring at it.

“Hi, Lee.”

Lee wonders, briefly, if he has suddenly developed tachycardia. It certainly feels like it. He remembers something Will had rattled off during lunch yesterday — hummingbirds don’t actually hum, they just beat their wings thousands of times per minute, often in sync with their heart. Lee feels a strange kinship with the little birds right about now.

Will clears his throat loudly.

Carter startles. “Oh! Oh, hi, Will, I’m sorry. Didn’t see you there.”

Will squints suspiciously. “Uh-huh.”

“I was just hoping to use the archery range, if you’re done with it.” He tucks a lock behind his ear. “Or, um. We can share, if you want.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Lee rushes to assure, “I actually just finished, so I’m all — it! It’s all yours!” He clears his throat, sure his face is flaming. “Uh, take it away! Shoot straight!”

Mortified, he clamps his hands on Will’s shoulders and practically shoves him forward, rushing away as fast as is socially acceptable.

“Okay,” Carter calls out behind him, audibly confused. “See you around, Lee.”

Lee makes some sort of horrible, crackling chucking sound. “Right-o!”

Just bury him. Really.

“Smooth,” Will mutters, the second they’re out of earshot. Then he pauses, delighted. “Hey! I can still be sarcastic!”

Lee flicks him on the forehead, scowling. “Shut up.”

———

“— it just seems so vague, right? I mean, say I look at the sky and say, the sky is green. That’s obviously not true. But what if I think it’s true? Or what if I think blue is green, and green is blue? Am I being truthful? Is truth defined by my belief, or by whoever I’m speaking to? Or some arbitrary, so-called objective standard? And what if —”

“Will,” Lee begs, hands pressed to his rapidly-pulsating temples, “for the love of Zeus, please settle down.”

“I can’t,” he says dramatically. He gets another couple jumps on his (FRESHLY MADE) bed before Lee gets fed up an wallops him with a pillow, sending him tumbling with a shriek. “Child abuse! I’m telling Chiron!” He makes a pleased noise. “Hey, I can still exaggerate! I wonder if acting is considered lying —”

“I am going to lose my mind.”

“— and what about, like, withholding the truth? Like, for example, if you asked me, hey, Will, did I make a big embarrassing fool out of myself in front of Carter this morning, and I do not say yeah, totally, I was embarrassed for you —”

“That’s it.”

Lee pounces on him, murderous, digging his fingers into his brother’s sides as he shrieks with laughter, pinning down his arms so he can’t writhe away.

“Mercy! Mercy! I’m sorry, I’m —”

“You’re literally lying right now!” Lee says in disbelief. “I can see your eyes reddening!”

Luckily, the reaction isn’t so severe this time. Maybe it’s a smaller lie, leaning more into teasing than anything, or maybe even the universe can’t be so cruel when faced with Will’s giggles. Either way, Lee tickles him until he’s begging for mercy for real, gasping as he darts away.

“You’re such a brat,” Lee says fondly, catching his breath.

Will sticks out his tongue. “Nuh uh.”

“Get over here, doofus. It’s nine o’clock. You were supposed to be in bed a half-hour ago, I’ll tell you a story.”

Predictably, that gets him quiet, clambering over the mussed sheets and shoving himself into Lee’s side, leg sprawled over his knees and chin digging into his chest. Big blue eyes turn to him with attention, wider than the sea and skies, sparkling, clear with open trust. The lump surfaces in Lee’s throat again, and he brings his hands up to smooth down Will’s hair, distracting himself by untangling the many knots.

“One day,” he begins, voice a little wobbly, “there was a boy.”

“In a galaxy far far away?”

“No. Shut up.”

Will pouts. Lee kisses him on the forehead.

“There was a regular boy on regular Earth. And he was small and clumsy, because his brain was too big for his body and threw him off balance.”

“That’s called a Chiari malformation.”

“William Andrew.”

“Sorry.”

“Gods. Anyways. The boy.” He clears his throat. “The boy was the most curious boy to ever exist. He would observe things, with his big eyes, for hours, trying to figure out how everything in the whole world worked. He’d memorized how every creature in the pond worked together when he was four years old. By the time he was five he could speak frog, and dance with the fireflies.”

Will giggles. “A boy can’t speak frog, that’s ridiculous. Can the frog speak back?”

“Shhh. Listening ears. One day, when the boy was eight, he got very bored by his house, even with the pretty pond. The frogs were too busy to play with him and the fireflies had flown off to work, so he decided to go on an adventure.”

“A quest?”

“Yes, exactly. A quest for knowledge. He decided he would learn every piece of information possible so that one day he could bring it back to his village and share it with everybody. Do you know what happened?”

“What?”

“He was successful. He spent many years travelling and observing and running from monsters to get all the information he could. And when he came back to the village, the people saw that he was kind and intelligent but very naive, so they sucked out all the knowledge from his head to use for themselves and he died. The end.”

“What? No!” Will pushes himself upright, unfortunately putting his entire weight on Lee’s spleen, jaw dropped in outrage. “That’s a horrible story! You can’t end the story like that!”

“My story,” Lee wheezes. “I can end it however I want.”

“Tell it better!”

“Fine, fine. Get off my organs.”

When Will is settled again, curled in the crook of Lee’s arm and glaring at him suspiciously, Lee continues.

“The villagers didn’t kill the boy. You’re right. But they weren’t very careful with them, either. The boy wanted very much to help, so much that it was sometimes all he could think about. And the villagers didn’t mean to, but they treated the boy like he was a knowledge machine — taking and taking and taking, forgetting to give back, to check on him. One day, the boy was so drained of knowledge that he collapsed.”

“Of stress-induced exhaustion?” Will asks softly. His eyes, finally, have begun to droop.

Lee smiles. “Something like that.”

“Then what happened?”

“The villagers panicked, because the boy wasn’t awake to tell them how to fix him. They didn’t know what to do. Some of them, even, didn’t know why he collapsed at all, they thought he might be cursed and didn’t like him anymore.”

“But he wasn’t cursed, he was sick!”

“That’s right. He was sick, because he didn’t stop to take care of himself. He let people take too much without making sure he had enough to stay whole.”

For a long time, long enough that Lee thinks he’s asleep, Will doesn’t say anything. And then he says, in a very small voice, “Does the boy still die?”

“No,” Lee whispers, tightening his hold. “His big brother comes back from a long trip and heals him. And then he yells are the villagers for making him sick, and makes them promise to be more careful. The end. For real this time.”

“I like the second story better,” Will says. “It’s good that he had his big brother there.”

“Always.” Lee swallows, shifting once Will’s eyes flutter shut, sliding him under the covers. “Always, kiddo.”

#thinking about what could have been and sobbing on my hands and knees on the ground #something something the children of prophecy know which of them is going to live something something #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #will solace #will solace angst #lee fletcher #will solace & lee fletcher #i don’t know how else to tag this but like. pain #my writing #fic #longpost #baby will #baby will solace #kid will solace #smart will solace

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samkerrworshipper · 4 months

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The Last Time (exile pt.2) | Alexia Putellas x Reader

part 2 to exile

summary: Alexia tries to apologise to r after what happened at the club… another songfic based off the song the last time by taylor swift

warnings: none besides a whole lot of angst :(

Alexia knows a lot of things.

She knows how to play soccer, she knows how to speak English, Spanish and Catalan, she knows how to make some of the best paella in Barcelona thanks to her mother, she knows how to dance, she knows how to have some fun.

She also knows that you are the best thing that has ever happened to her.

It’s a fact, because Alexia was a mess before you, fresh out of a break up with Jenni, who she never really saw herself staying with but also never saw herself breaking up with.

There are some people like Alexia thinks, people that you love, but they aren’t your person. Sometimes those relationships are the ones that hurt the most.

Alexia knows that she’s fucked up more than she ever has before, she’s stripped you of your dignity and the respect in your relationship.

Eli told her as much, her mother taking your side as Alexia sobbed into her phone explaining just how badly she had messed up and how she had to fix it.

Alexia knew she was right, but she was also frightfully aware that she was fairly intoxicated, and she didn’t want to ruin your night anymore by showing up at your doorstep.

So, she timidly stepped back into the bar, taking in how a lot of the team had exited the dance floor, Jenni appeared to be gone, something Alexia was grateful for.

Before she could properly step into the space, Mapi was coming out of nowhere and clutching onto Alexia’s forearm, dragging her out of the club as quickly as humanly possible.

Before Alexia could ask any questions, all the air was exiting her lungs as she was slammed up against the brick wall of the outside of the club.

Mapi’s arm had come to rest flat against her chest, pressing her directly into the cold concrete.

“What the actual fuck was that.”

Mapi’s voice is seething, and sure, she’s Alexia’s best friend in the entire world, but you are also Ingrid and Mapi’s adoptive daughter, when it comes to protecting you they do it fiercely.

Alexia can’t do much besides burst into tears, she feels weak, stupidly weak, she doesn’t deserve to be crying, not after what she just did to you, but she can’t help herself, everything is too much.

Mapi eases up a little bit, her arm falling from Alexia’s chest, down to her stomach and bringing her in for a hug, it’s clear that Alexia is pretty tipsy, and she decides she’ll save the yelling for when she can fully appreciate it.

“C’mon, let’s get you home, Ingrid’s sober, she’ll drive.”

Alexia looks behind Mapi, to find her girlfriend lingering behind the two of them, a deep frown of anger and disappointment on her face.

It makes Alexia sick to her stomach, like she’s been punched in the gut repetitively, she probably deserves it, especially after what she just did to you.

She allows Mapi to lead her to a car, her body crumpling into the backseat, the thoughts of the last hour circling in her mind repetitively, like a record stuck on replay.

Drunken, heartbroken Alexia forces herself to make a promise in the back of Mapi’s car, this is the last time.

The last time she puts her feelings above yours, the last time she thinks without acting, the last time she disregards your relationship with such ease.

If for some miracle, she can manage to claw her way back into your life, then she promises herself she will never let this happen again, this will be the first and only time that she goes behind your back, this will be the last time that she treats you like you aren’t enough, this is the last night she will lie to you.

It seems empty, in the context, but Alexia doesn’t care, as far as she’s concerned this is rock bottom, this is the worst thing that has ever happened to her, and she’ll be damned if she lets you slip out of her hands without putting up a fight.

Never again will she allow you to push your feelings under the rug, she is never going to hide all of your problems away like they don’t matter.

When they do make it back to Ingrid and Mapi’s apartment, it’s clear Ingrid is fuming, Alexia can’t really blame her.

So Mapi is on clean up, dragging a zoned out Alexia into the apartment, throwing her into the guest bedroom with some Advil and water on her bedside.

It’s the bare minimum, it’s what Alexia deserves, Mapi doesn’t comfort her, she just gives her the look, the ‘you’ve seriously fucked up and I won’t lie to you about it’ look, it’s a look that previously Alexia had used on Mapi, before Ingrid, before Mapi got her shit together.

She leaves Alexia to wallow in her hangover and depression, deep down Mapi knows it’s what's best, even if it hurts her, she knows from personal experience that sometimes it’s best to hold yourself accountable for your actions, and she knows Alexia will.

Alexia manages to tug her clothes off, the items harbouring memories that make Alexia gag, she manages to crawl into the unfamiliar sheets of the bed and tumble into an alcohol induced sleep.

It’s not a good sleep, the kind of sleep where no matter how long you stay unconscious for, you seem like you are teetering on the edge of waking up again.

It’s why Alexia can’t sleep anything past 6am, which is her normal wake up time, on every day but a Monday, Monday’s are the one day of the week where Alexia allows herself to sleep in, because typically the only thing that happens on a Monday is video review in the afternoon, but that had been cancelled because Jona had some family commitment.

She crawls out of bed, finding a spare hoodie and shorts on the dresser in the room and tugging them on before walking into the living room.

To her surprise, Ingrid is already sitting at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of coffee in her hands, Bagheera in her lap and a laptop sitting on the counter in front of her.

“There is coffee in the pot.”

Ingrid’s voice is stiff, something so unusual for the brunette, normally she is all things warm and kind, it’s why Alexia believes she compliments Maria so well, she mellows out all of Mapi’s bluntness and contradictiveness.

Alexia tiptoes over to the pot, pouring herself a cup and then tentatively taking a seat at the table after Ingrid eyeballed the seat beside her.

She closes the laptop once Alexia has sat down, all of the Norwegians attention turning to Alexia, unfortunately.

“What you did last night was quite frankly disgusting. Your wife, my best friend, has put seven years of her life into you, you fall on her for anything you like, everything in your relationship is her problem, and for whatever reason she puts up with it, I know if it was me I wouldn’t put up with an inch of it, but she does, because that's who she is. She was holding on to one thing, you give away every single part of you, but she had something, a little piece of hope and last night you took it away from her. In fact, you practically stomped on that hope right in front of her. You don’t deserve her, you don’t deserve to walk on the ground that she does. I don’t care if you're my captain, or that you are La Reina or Alexia Putellas, you do not get to treat the person that loves you very most in the world like a piece of lint on a sweater. You dust her off at every single opportunity you can, and she just sits by, allowing you to, because she loves you, a lot more than you deserve.”

Alexia tries to say something, agree with Ingrid, because she does agree, everything Ingrid is saying is true, Ingrid stops her though, continuing her rant.

“For whatever reason, one I do not understand, she loves you, she talks about you like you created the moon and the stars, you make her happier than anybody else. That is why I am telling you that you have to make this right. Fuck Jenni, fuck you, fuck your fucked up ways. You need to fix this because she is going to be broken if you just give up. If anyone deserves to have their heart broken it’s you, so I don’t care if you have to die for her, you owe her that for all of the shit that you’ve forced her to put up with over the years. Last night might have been the straw that broke the camel's back, but you’ve been disloyal in every single way besides cheating up until last night, and if you love her at all, you will make it right. Nobody deserves to be loved more than she does, and if you don’t prove to her that you love her then she will spend every minute left of her life on earth gutted about it.”

Ingrid’s words are cut throat, so brutal that it takes Alexia a few seconds to absorb them all.

“Ingrid, she told me that she wanted a divorce, that she didn’t want to be married to a woman who broke vows, I can’t blatantly disregard her wants.”

Ingrid just rolled her eyes.

“Of course she doesn’t, so prove to her that you aren’t that woman, that it was a mistake and that it will never happen again, and I swear to every single god that exists that if it ever happens again, mark my words, you will be six feet under and nobody will be finding your body, understood?”

It’s a threat that normally Alexia would find humorous, but the way Ingrid says it makes Alexia fairly certain that the Norwegian is fairly serious. Ingrid is innocent, Ingrid is a sweetheart, Ingrid is kittens and all things sweet and nice, apparently until you hurt someone she loves.

“Do you know where she is?”

Ingrid takes a deep sip from her coffee.

“I talked to Keira and Lucy last night, they took her back to their apartment, said she was practically catatonic and refused to speak to them, just cried and sat on their couch with Narla.”

It’s a sad image, the pit of guilt in Alexia’s stomach only seems to continue to grow the more information she’s fed.

“They live two blocks away from here, right?”

Ingrid nods hesitantly, with the confirmation Alexia is shooting out of her seat, rushing towards the door of Mapi and Ingrid’s apartment, Ingrid is far to tired and fed up with the whole situation to try and stop her, even with the negative feeling that’s pooling up in her gut, she figures Alexia is a big girl though, and if she’s going to make time to atone for her sins there's no time like the present.

Alexia’s fast paced walk is fueled by one thing: fear.

Fear she’s lost you forever, fear she’s made the biggest mistake in her life, fear that one stupid fucking kiss could be the end of her life as she knows it.

It doesn’t take her very long to navigate her way through the Barcelona streets to Lucy’s apartment, Alexia and Barcelona are practically synonymous.

She grew up on these streets, she knows them better than anything in the world, she knows them better than she knows you.

Which almost makes her hurl, at what point did her wife, her lover, her heart become somebody that she doesn’t know, when did you stop becoming her priority?

Find myself at your door

Just like all those times before

I’m not sure how I got here

All roads, they lead me here

I imagine you are home

In your room, all alone

And you open your eyes into mine

Everything feels better

Alexia somehow finds her way to Keira and Lucy’s apartment, she’s been her hundreds of times, team bonding, dinners, movie nights, coffee catch ups. Lucy and Keira are also two people who you heavily rely on, often Alexia’s innately grateful for the two of them, because she can always trust that whilst the two of you are separated for national duties that you are in good company.

She knocks on the door, powerful, unyielding, confident. All things that Alexia is definitely not feeling.

She waits a maximum of three seconds, before she’s met with a frazzled looking Keira, who is still dressed in her pyjamas and looks like she hasn’t slept a single bit.

“Leave.”

Keira’s voice is scratchy, dry and weirdly fearful.

“I need to talk to my wife.”

Alexia doesn’t know why she uses the honorific, she hardly ever refers to you as anything but your name, but it's some sort of safety blanket for herself, a reminder that technically, according to a piece of paper the two of you are still married.

“Alexia, leave, she doesn’t want to see you and I don’t want you to get hurt when my girlfriend finds out you are here.”

Alexia grimaces at the thought of Lucy, who she knows will have far less restraint then Ingrid and Maria when it comes to defending your honour.

She relents though, Alexia has walked out the door one too many times, she knows it, and she won’t allow this time to be just another time that Alexia’s failed to show up for you.

“Keira, I won’t leave until I get to see her.”

Keira rakes her hand through the roots of her hair.

“Look, she’s been torn up about what happened all night, didn’t catch a wink of sleep, neither did Luce or I because we were so worried that if we left her she’d jump off our balcony or do something stupid. I’m sure you didn’t sleep well either, so how about you come back tomorrow or something, when she’s feeling up to it.”

Alexia pities Keira just a little bit, it’s Alexia’s fault that she looks like shit, everything is Alexia’s fault.

“Keira, please, I just need to see her, I know I fucked up, trust me, nobody knows it more than I do, I just need to see her, and apologise. You can kick me out afterwards, just please, let me say my peace.”

Keira’s jaw sets, and for a moment Alexia sees a different side to Keira, it scares her just a little bit.

“I hardly think you deserve any of her time, you don’t deserve her time or forgiveness.”

Alexia is about to agree with Keira, but the both of them are silenced by a voice.

“Kei, let her say what she has to say.”

And right before your eyes

I’m breaking

No past, no reasons

Just you and I

Just the sight of you brings tears to Alexia’s eyes.

There are big, puffy, red bags underneath your eyes, your makeup from the previous night smeared and mixed all over yourself.

You look so incredibly raw, like a piece of art, and it pains Alexia so much that she’s the reason for all of your pain, that her fucked up decisions have made you so broken.

“We’re waiting.”

Alexia’s brain snaps into order, all of her thoughts circulating as she tries to articulate what she needs to say to you.

This is the last time I’m asking you this

Put my name at the top of your list

This is the last time I’m asking you why

You break my heart in the blink of an eye, eye, eye

You find yourself at my door

Like all those times before

“Please, I know I fucked up last night. And it’s not the first time that I’ve put myself above you in the last little while, and you deserve better, you deserve so much better. But I do love you, I loved you enough to marry you, I loved you enough to make you a Putellas and I don’t regret that. I don’t love Jenni, I don’t want her, I don’t think about her like I think about you. I know, I broke your heart, a heart that I promised I would protect, that I’d care for. I know that I’ve asked too much of you, asked for you to forgive me of too much, you deserve better. Please, let this be the last time, I promise, I swear on my mothers life, that if you give me a chance, I will make this the last time. I know we’ve been here hundreds of times, and you have no reason to trust me, but please, give me a chance.”

Your facial expression doesn’t change, it’s spacey, sort of like you’re on a different wavelength.

Alexia’s toes are scuffing against the doormat, her hand resting on the door frame as she looks at you, with tears and desperation in her eyes.

“Little while? Alexia the last time you told me you loved me when it wasn’t for cameras or show was two years ago. When we took the trip to Ibiza before your break out season started, as soon as the award started rolling in, I didn’t matter, how could I? I didn’t marry La Reina, I married Alexia Putellas Segura, the woman who loved me, you aren’t that person anymore.”

You wear your best apology

But I was there to watch you leave

And all the times I let you in

Just for you to go again

Disappear when you come back

Everything is better

“Please, Y/n/n.”

Your face is unwavering, and for once Alexia doesn’t feel weak for being the one breaking down, it feels deserved, considering how many times the tables have been turned and you’ve broken down in front of Alexia because of her words and actions.

“No, you do not get to show up here with some perfect fucking apology to try and worm your way back into my life. It’s not fair Alexia Putellas, because you know I love you, you know that I would follow you to the ends of the earth, you know that I would give up every single part of myself for you. But I have watched you walk out the door so many times, and every single time I’ve let you back in, I’ve let you disappear whenever its been most convenient for you and act like everything is fine when you return. I put up with that, because I am a good fucking wife and I love you, more than is healthy. You are my everything, you are my world, and I would have died knowing you didn’t love me as much, because loving you was enough for me. But knowing that you loved Jenni enough to give her something so sacred to me, it felt like you ripped my heart out of my chest and cut it to pieces in front of my eyes. The worst part is, I still fucking love you, you could kill a hundred people or move to Antarctica and it wouldn’t matter, because I love you, unconditionally and it hurts. So please, for me, walk away, because if you don’t I’ll forgive you, and then you’ll worm your way back into my life, and it’ll hurt even more because I’ll be going against my beliefs and wishes.”

And right before your eyes

I’m aching

Run fast, nowhere to hide

Just you and me

Suddenly, tears are dripping down Alexia’s face, it hurts so bad to hear what you are saying, it feels like she’s being stabbed.

Having you hate Alexia is one thing, but having you love her but ask her to leave is the worst possible thing.

Alexia wants to runa way from the door, to leave you, leave this awkward fucking situation which Keira is directly in the middle of, but she can’t, not when your staring at Alexia like it’s physically hurting you to do so.

This is the last time I’m asking you this

Put my name at the top of your list

This is the last time I’m asking you why

You break my heart in the blink of an eye, eye, eye

“Please just let this be the last time, let it be the last time I fuck up, let this be the last time I hurt you.”

Alexia’s voice is pleading, begging, hoping.

“Sure, this is the last time you hurt me, this is the last time, because there won’t be any more times between us, we’re done Alexia.”

This is the last time you tell me I've got it wrong

This is the last time I say it's been you all along

This is the last time I let you in my door

This is the last time, I won't hurt you anymore

Alexia is balling now, big, wet, fat tears sloppily falling down her face as she processes the emotions and current conversation.

“Alexia, it’s been you all along for me, and I was okay with that, even if it was painful, even if you could never reciprocate. But this is the last time I open my door to you, this is the last time you hurt me. So leave, please, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

Alexia’s feet feel rooted to the floor, her toes curling into the doormat below her feet.

“Alexia, leave, before we call security.”

It’s Lucy’s bigger body, now shielding you from Alexia that sends the order, and before Alexia can say anything more, the door of the apartment is slammed in her face, and she’s left standing in front of a white door, with tears streaming down her face as she mourns her marriage that’s slipped out from under her, all because she was fucking stupid.

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