Chapter Text
TWO- The Hater Goes Ghost
It took until the next morning for Araujo to realize that contacting Vinicius would be a lot harder than he thought. In his post-match haze it seemed rather simple. Since he didn’t have his phone number, he would just send him a quick message from one of his Social media accounts and see what happens from there.
He seemed to forget that Vinicius was an absurdly popular football star that most likely got hundreds of messages a day from fans and other famous people alike.
He decided to try anyway, keeping his message short and simple.
Hey, good match yesterday :)
He stared at the words for a good five minutes, hoping none of it came off sarcastic or patronizing. He genuinely didn’t want to offend the man. He was without a doubt a great football player, and it wouldn’t hurt to make a friendly relationship.
If Vinicius would let that happen.
Before Araujo could change his mind he pressed send and shut off his phone. It was a bright Saturday morning, and he could really be doing anything other than worrying about Vinicius’ opinion on him, but for some reason he couldn’t get the anxiety out of his mind.
Araujo considered himself a likable person by nature. He was able to make friends almost anywhere. His entire team adored him, and even people from rival clubs begrudgingly struck a friendship after speaking to him.
Maybe if he reached out to him earlier, Vinicius wouldn’t have a problem against the defender. They just never seemed to cross paths unless it was on the field.
Araujo shook the thoughts out of his mind. It was a nice day and he should get some work done. He didn’t expect Vinicius to answer right away, so he pocketed his phone and resolved to check it later.
——
It was past midnight by the time Araujo arrived back home. He was dragged by Gavi to Raphina’s “Post-El Classico” party, and the young player seemed dead-set on keeping him there for as long as possible. It felt like his hearing would never be the same after the non-stop montage of Brazilian music played over the speakers.
He dragged himself into bed, trying to sooth his headache. Really, he wasn’t a party person. Eight hours at a party was just too much.
He reached dumbly across his bed to find his phone in the dark, tapping the screen and squinting his eyes against the light.
His message… did Vinicius see it? He had tried not to think about it during the party, and he strictly refused to check his phone. It crossed his mind once or twice, before he checked himself. Why was he so worried anyway? They weren’t friends. It just seemed like a big deal, for no reason at all.
Here, deep under his covers with a throbbing headache and much rising curiosity, his resolve crumbled. He had to check, had to make sure that his “Friendly-guy” persona wasn’t taking a turn for the worse.. God forbid one person dislikes him.
He tapped on the app, making a bee line for the messages.
He had no notifications. Frowning, Araujo scrolled down, seeking the message he had sent that morning. Written under his message, in small script we’re the words: “READ by Vinijr, 4:56 pm.”
Read? Araujo double checked the message quickly. He reloaded the page. There was no response, only those foreboding letters under the speech bubble.
Why had he read the message and just said nothing in response? Was he too busy? A surge of annoyance swelled in Araujo’s chest. It was too late for this, and he was tired. He figured Vinicius was just being pissy about his loss against Barca. The thought didn’t soothe him. He threw his phon to his bed stand, before settling himself back into his pillows.
If the Real Madrid forward wanted to ignore him, then so be it. But Araujo needed to know the reason why, and before he closed his eyes to sleep, he promised himself that he would.