Chapter Text
Kylian ended up at Neymar's apartment at least twice a week. From what he'd noticed, more often than most of Neymar's lovers. It was probably nothing more than a matter of convenience. Training sessions. Matches. Away games. Their schedules fit together more easily than they would with someone outside the football world. Even so, Kylian counted it as a small victory.
Lately, they hadn't argued much. Neymar seemed completely consumed by preparations for the new season, and Kylian had naively started believing he simply wasn't seeing many other people. He never asked. He had no right to. It was just... easier not to think about it. That's why the photos from the previous night hit him so hard.
The internet had been flooded with blurry pictures from some bar. Dark, grainy, taken discreetly on someone's phone. In most of them, Neymar had an arm wrapped around an unfamiliar guy, laughing without a care in the world. In one, their lips hovered only inches apart. In another, the Brazilian's hands rested far too low to leave much room for interpretation. The quality was terrible. Kylian recognized him immediately anyway.
It was nothing. Neymar always needed someone beside him. That was simply who he was. The real blow came the following morning. Neymar arrived late to training, apologizing with an easy grin as he explained he'd had to drive someone home before coming in. So the guy had stayed the night.
Kylian rarely got that privilege. Most nights, Neymar walked him to the door himself, almost as if he wanted to make sure Kylian actually left. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd slept over. Sometimes it felt like Neymar only let him stay when he forgot Kylian was still there. When he lay quietly beside him, taking up as little space as possible. Unfortunately, Kylian had never been good at that. He was talkative by nature. No matter how hard he tried to stay quiet, sooner or later he always found something to say.
There wasn't much Kylian could do except grit his teeth and focus on training. By the time practice was over, he'd almost managed to push the photos out of his mind. Almost. As he gathered his things to leave, he noticed Neymar leaning casually against the locker room doorway, waiting for him.
"What?"
The Brazilian smiled innocently.
"Thought I'd give you a ride home."
"Whose home?"
Neymar only shrugged.
"You know."
Kylian rubbed a hand over his face. Did Neymar seriously think that after seeing those photos, Kylian would just climb into his bed like nothing had happened? If he did, he wasn’t wrong.
"Okay."
Kylian had lost whatever self-respect he had left a long time ago.
Once they were inside the apartment, Neymar didn’t waste a second. Kylian had barely taken off his shoes before he was already in the bedroom, his lips being attacked by a million chaotic kisses. When Neymar pulled away for a moment, reaching to pull Kylian’s shirt off himself, Kylian suddenly froze. His eyes fell on the bed. The bed where someone else had been lying only a few hours earlier.
“No.”
Neymar looked at him in confusion. Even Kylian was surprised by the tone of his own voice.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I can’t.”
The Brazilian slowly stepped closer, resting his hands on Kylian’s waist.
“Kyky, is something wrong?”
Something wrong? Something wrong? Could he really not see how absurd this situation was?
“You seriously want me to lie down there?”
Neymar stared at him as if Kylian had suddenly grown a second head.
“And where else...?” The older man glanced around the room. “You want the table?”
“Ney, that guy from the bar was literally lying here this morning.”
The expression on Neymar’s face immediately hardened.
“Kylian.” He let go of his waist and took a couple of steps back. “Don’t make a scene.”
“I’m not making a scene.” Kylian could feel his frustration building. “I just think you could show me some fucking respect.”
“What exactly is your problem? This is the arrangement we have.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, do you always have to hide behind that fucking arrangement?”
“You wouldn’t have to hear it if you actually knew how to stick to it!”
“That’s not what I mean.” Kylian rubbed both hands over his face. “One in the morning, another one in the evening. Fuck, Ney, I don’t know if I should be worried about my dignity or my test results!”
“Why do you always have to be so dramatic?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you clearly don’t give a fuck about anything I say?”
Neymar sighed, trying to calm himself down.
“Fine. Leave.”
He said it firmly, pointing toward the hallway.
“Excuse me?”
“Leave.”
“Gladly.” Kylian shoved his feet into his shoes with more force than necessary.
As usual, Neymar walked him to the door. This time, however, instead of the brief goodbye kiss, Kylian heard only the loud click of the lock. He turned around and only then looked out at the street.
It was pouring. Not just raining. A proper downpour.
He glanced down at his thin shirt and shorts. For a moment, he stood completely still, trying to think of another solution. He didn’t want to go back through those doors. But he wanted to walk home for half an hour in that rain even less. He sighed. Then knocked. A few seconds later, he heard Neymar’s muffled voice from inside.
“What?”
“Ney, it’s raining.”
“So?”
“I came here with you...”
“Kylian, you’re an adult.”
“...”
“You’re not going to melt in the rain.”
Kylian closed his eyes. This was the moment when he should walk away.
“Ney...” He swallowed his pride. “Please.”
Silence.
Neymar didn’t answer. Kylian waited a few more seconds, listening to the sounds coming from inside the apartment. Nothing. Maybe Neymar had walked away from the door. Maybe he had simply decided not to answer anymore. Kylian pulled out his phone. Black screen. Dead battery.
“Great...” he muttered under his breath.
He looked at the downpour one more time. This was going to be a long thirty minutes.
The next morning, Kylian could barely drag himself out of bed. Maybe he was exaggerating, but when he finally stood up, he felt as though he were still trapped somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Every muscle seemed heavier than usual. His eyes burned and watered, his throat felt scratchy, and his mouth was unpleasantly dry.
It took a hot shower and a mug of tea to get him on his feet enough to make it to training. He walked into the locker room a few minutes late.
"Kyky, what happened to you?"
Sergio was the first to reach him. Without asking, he pressed a hand to Kylian’s forehead.
"You’re burning up."
"Do I really look that bad?"
"Kylian... " Achraf sighed dramatically, throwing an arm around his shoulders and guiding him towards the bench. " I normally consider you the most handsome man in the world, but today..."
He looked him over with exaggerated seriousness.
"...you look like a dead turtle."
Kylian snorted softly.
" You’re getting more creative by the day."
He leaned back against the lockers and closed his eyes for a moment. The lights in the locker room were far too bright.
" What did you even do? "Sergio asked, sitting down beside him.
Kylian reluctantly opened his eyes. His gaze immediately met Neymar’s. The Brazilian was standing on the other side of the locker room. Just looking at him. Kylian felt all the anger from the night before come rushing back.
" I went for a walk."
He answered Sergio. His eyes remained fixed on Neymar.
" In that downpour? Are you fucking insane?"
" Apparently."
Neither of them looked away. As if they had both silently decided to win some kind of staring contest.
"How long were you walking? " Achraf asked.
Kylian shrugged.
" About half an hour."
Something flickered across Neymar’s face that Kylian couldn’t quite put a name to. For a brief moment, the Brazilian lowered his eyes. When he looked back at him, he seemed... different. As though he felt guilty. Or maybe Kylian simply wanted him to. Achraf looked at Kylian first. Then at Neymar. And understood.
" Kyks." He gently squeezed his friend’s hand. " Come on. We’ll talk to the coach."
" Mhm."
Only then did Kylian finally tear his gaze away from Neymar. He let Achraf lead him towards the exit.
As they passed the Brazilian, Achraf gave him one short look. There was no anger in it. Only disappointment. Really? Neymar managed to withstand it for exactly one second.
"We need to come up with a believable story for why you were even out in the rain " Achraf muttered once they were in the hallway.
Kylian nodded. He had no intention of telling the coach that a teammate had thrown him out of his apartment. And certainly not which teammate.
After listening to three contradictory versions of what had happened, the coach sighed and told Kylian to go home and get some proper rest. Achraf insisted on driving him, but Kylian decided it wasn’t necessary.
On his way back to the locker room, he realised he probably hadn’t needed to drag himself out of bed that morning at all. He could have simply called and said he was sick.
But his pettiness gave him a certain satisfaction from watching Neymar’s guilty expression.
As he picked up his bag from his locker, he noticed a small box sitting on top of it. He didn’t remember putting anything like that there. Curiously, he opened the lid. Inside was a gold bracelet. It was exactly his style. Delicate, without too much shine, perfectly matching the gold chains Kylian wore every day. He knew immediately who it was from.
Neymar didn’t like apologising. Especially not with words. He claimed that “sorry” was just an empty word. Instead, he gave presents. Expensive presents. Personally, Kylian thought that a useless little “sorry” would have been much more appropriate than another expensive gift. Every present from Neymar made him uncomfortable.
This one was no different. He turned the bracelet over in his fingers for a moment. He had blown one rainy night completely out of proportion, to the point where Neymar now felt guilty. That was what he had wanted, wasn’t it? He wanted Neymar to understand that he had behaved like an asshole. He wanted him to feel bad. And yet now, holding another gift from him, all Kylian could feel was embarrassed by his own behaviour.
Maybe he really had overreacted. After all, nothing serious had happened. There had been a downpour. He had gotten soaked. He had caught a cold. A few days of rest and it would pass. And Neymar had apparently felt bad enough to buy him something like this.
Kylian looked at the bracelet again.
It was exactly the kind of thing he would have chosen himself. It was always like that with Ney’s gifts. They always made something warm bloom in his chest. Just the thought that Neymar must have noticed his tastes and remembered them. That he had actually gone into a shop and chosen something that reminded him of Kylian.
Mbappé opened his chat with Neymar.
Ney <3
you didn't have to
but thank you anyway
He turned off the screen and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
When he got home, he collapsed straight onto his bed. He didn’t bother putting on pyjamas. He simply took off his shirt and shorts, then burrowed beneath the covers. He didn’t have to wait long for sleep.
The buzzing of his phone woke him.
Reluctantly, Kylian lifted his head. For a moment, he simply lay there, trying to wake himself up. He noticed that it was already dark outside. So he had slept through the entire day.
Finally, with a sigh, he reached for his phone and, not bothering to check who was calling, simply answered.
“Quoi?” he mumbled sleepily.
“Kyky, did I wake you?”
Kylian recognized his voice immediately.
Ney.
“Yes.”
“I’m always impressed by how honest you are when you’re half-asleep.”
“Glad you appreciate me.”
“No problem.”
Silence settled between them for a moment. Usually, Kylian was the one to fill moments like this with his endless chatter, but today his eyelids were already drooping. He didn’t think he was capable of saying anything remotely coherent.
Eventually, Neymar broke the silence.
“Do you like it?”
“The bracelet?”
“Yeah. What else? The cold?”
Kylian smiled despite himself.
“You didn’t have to buy me anything.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Neymar interrupted immediately. “Do you like it?”
“You know I do.”
“I know. But it’s worth making sure,” Neymar said, and Kylian thought he could hear a hint of pride in his voice.
“That’s it? You woke me up for this.”
“…”
“Are you feeling any better?”
Kylian felt warmth spreading through him again. It was just a question. An ordinary question. And yet his heart seemed to do a little flip.
“Better. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
“The coach said you’ll be out for at least two days.”
“He underestimates me.”
“Kylian.” Neymar’s voice grew more serious. “Stay home tomorrow.”
“Depends on how I feel.”
“No. Stay home.”
“Do you really want to get rid of me that badly?”
“Yes.”
“Ouch. That hurt.”
Neymar fell silent again for a moment.
“It’s quieter without you,” he said eventually.
“Is that a good thing?” Kylian frowned and shifted beneath the covers.
“Strange.”
“Mhm.”
“Silence can get boring.”
“Hmm.”
“Even exhausting.”
“…”
“Kylian?”
“…”
“Are you asleep?”
“You have a nice voice…” Kylian mumbled, barely intelligibly.
A quiet laugh came through the phone.
“Sleep, Golden Boy.”