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Leo follows a strict sleep schedule. He doesn't go to bed too late, and he gets up as late as possible. He cannot function with less than ten hours of sleep a night, and he feels better if he can take naps during the day.
Which is why when he's roughly awoken at 3 am, Friday night or not, he isn't happy.
His unhappiness takes some time sinking in. He's sleepy and his vision is blurry, and he can barely process the desperate knocking on his window. Even when he does process it, he still can't comprehend why there would be knocking in the first place.
He decides to ignore it, but to the noise is suddenly added a high-pitched whiny voice.
Rafaaaaaa Rafaaaa RafaaaAAAAAA
The longer it goes, the more high-pitched it becomes, and the knocking somehow morphed into frantic scratching.
Leo gets up, eyes barely open, and he blindly walks to his window, opening it in one swift motion. Immediately, a heavy weight falls on him, and Leo stumbles back somehow managing not to fall on his ass. The weight whines and hugs him and calls him Rafa, and keeps complaining about being cold and not being let in earlier.
The weight smells strongly of alcohol.
It seemingly tries to nestle against him, making Leo lose his balance, and he has to take some steps back until he bumps into his bed.
“What the hell.”
The weight freezes. It's dark and Leo can't see much even when the stranger straightens up to look at him. He makes a sudden movement forward, his face almost smashing against Leo's and Leo tries to step back, falling on the bed instead, and dragging the man with him as he was still clutching onto him.
He doesn't have the time to move before there are hands frantically touching his face and his body, and whining sounds escape the intruder's throat, like those of a puppy crying.
“Rafa, Rafa,” the man says desperately.
“I'm not--”
“Oh my god Rafa.”
Leo tries to wriggles back on the bed to escape the man, but the man follows him and he seems intent on lying on top of him when he buries his face against his chest. He starts sobbing.
“What are you doing?” Leo croaks out.
The man slurs into his shirt and Leo is sleepy but he still manages to understand what he says.
“Why didn't you tell me you were dying?”
“I'm not--”
“Don't lie to me!” the stranger's body is wracked with sobs, and he clutches desperately onto his pajamas. “That's why you didn't want to come to the party, you're dying!”
“I'm not---” Leo tries again.
“Don't lie, I said!” The man lifts his head, and Leo can't distinguish his features but he assumes he is looking at him, “Your skin! It's white! It's so pale, you became so pale, you're dying.”
Leo doesn't understand what's happening. He has the feeling this man isn't the brightest there is, and he hopes the alcohol is to blame. He tries to wriggle out from under him but the stranger doesn't want to let him go, crying his heart out against him.
“I'm sorry for all the time I was mean to you. You're my bestie Rafa. I'll love you forever.”
He almost sounds like a child, and Leo is too tired to deal with that. He manages to free a hand, and awkwardly pats the stranger's back in the hope it might calm him down.
“Everything will be ok.”
“No it won't,” the man cries, “you're dying. But I-- I'll be there for you. Until your last breath, I'll be there until you die. I swear you won't die alone.”
“Thanks,” Leo says awkwardly.
He starts rubbing circles on the man's back to appease him. It must work well enough because the man's voice grows quieter.
“You're going to die in my arms.”
“Thanks.” Leo repeats dryly, knowing it would be fruitless to try and reason the intruder. He feels the stranger's arms tighten around him, and realizes the guy has the intention to actually keep hugging him until he 'dies'.
He tries to move the man's arms, but he's held in a vice grip, and Leo is way too tired to fight against a drunk stranger. The guy doesn't smell that strongly of alcohol, and he seems harmless enough. He kind of sounds like a child – he's probably younger than him. Leo decides he's too tired to deal with this.
He sighs and pets the intruder's head when he starts whimpering again. When his nails scratch his scalp a bit, the man falls silent and nestles closer to him. Within minutes, the sobs have completely disappeared, and the stranger's breath is even. He's sleeping on him.
Leo knows he shouldn't let a stranger sleep in his bed but again – Leo already wasted an hour of sleep over this, and he doesn't have the time to lose another. He closes his eyes.
–
Leo loves Saturday morning. He makes sure never to have anything planned, and he can stay in bed as long as he wants. Gerard is almost always sleeping at his girlfriend's, and Leo has the flat to himself.
He feels warm and rested, albeit breaths don't come to him as easily as usual. There's something on his chest, pressing him down. It's not heavy enough to be uncomfortable, and it's warm, but it's there and it shouldn't be.
He attempts to roll on his side but it's impossible with the weight resting on him. He stills and focuses on taking his environment in.
There are legs entangled with his own – partially clothed, and Leo can feel soft shaven skin rubbing against his own. He experimentally moves his fingers, and finds that they brush raw material. He finally opens his eyes, slowly, blinking a few times before he's finally able to look down.
There's someone resting on him, and Leo isn't surprised. The events from last night felt surreal, and he'd hoped they might have been a dream, but waking up with a weight on him ended that dream for him.
He squints, trying to adapt to the new light to take in the man's features.
The man has brown skin and his hair is shaved on the sides, as the trend is. His face is buried against him, and Leo can't see much apart from the top of his head. There is a delicate hand clutching his shirt with long thin fingers, a crown tattooed on one of the digits.
Leo doesn't know who the man is, and he is certainly upset to have been woken up in the middle of the night, but he finds himself curious about the stranger's face. He tries to move, subtly attempting to slide the stranger off of him, but the movements seem to disturb his sleep.
Good.
Leo watches as the man wakes up. His grip on his shirt tightens, his calves brush subtly against his own, and he rubs his head a few times on his chest. All movements stop, and the man seems content going back to sleep.
“Hey.” Leo says, not too loud and not too quiet, and the man doesn't move an inch, but he stops breathing. He seemingly froze on his chest, and Leo waits for him to react.
Several seconds pass, and he is slightly disappointed that the stranger does not freak out. Instead he uncurls his body, his hands unclenching and his legs stretching. His head slowly starts moving up, until two clear eyes are staring up at him.
It's an odd and impractical angle to look at someone, but he still sees enough. The boy – too soft-looking to be an adult – blinks owlishly up at him, his eyes a brown so clear it almost looks green. Leo doesn't know if it's the angle talking but from where he is the stranger looks pretty.
The boy gets up on an elbow to get a proper look at him, but he doesn't appear to be moving off of him anytime soon.
“You're not Rafa.”
“No, I'm not,” Leo answers awkwardly.
The boy frowns and he looks around wildly. “This isn't Rafa's place.”
“No, it's not Rafa's place, seeing as I'm not Rafa.”
The boy's eyes open wide and he looks horrified, “Did you kidnap me?”
Leo frowns, “What? No, I--”
It's too late it seems, for the boy is already screaming and calling for help. He doesn't think to get up and get off of Leo, and Leo finds himself hoping there is still alcohol in his veins to explain his lack of self-preservation instinct.
Leo clamps a hand over the stranger's mouth and holds his shoulder still.
“I didn't kidnap you, alright? You came here on your own. I didn't even invite you in.” The kid stops to look at him, wide-eyed and expectant. “I'll explain, so calm down.”
The boy nods and Leo lets him go. He still needs to actually push the boy away for him to move, finally getting off of him. He sits cross-legged in front of him as Leo hoists himself up to rest against the headboard.
Leo takes a deep breath and tries to make it as quick as possible. “You woke me up in the middle of the night, knocking against my window. I opened it, and you clung onto me, refusing to let go and calling me 'Rafa'. I somehow fell on the bed with you and you fell asleep. You were quite drunk.”
The boy frowns. “Rafa…?” Then he seems to be struck with an idea and he springs out of the bed, rushing to the window.
Leo takes that moment to finally take in the kid's appearance. His shorts are riding so low on his hips that Leo can see half of his boxer-clad ass. He doesn't seem very tall, and his legs are perfectly shaved, looking smooth from afar and Leo knows from first-hand experience they also feel smooth. When the boy turns around, laughing, there's a picture of a half-naked woman printed on his t-shirt. His laugh oscillates between hoarse and high-pitched, and the boy has earrings and some tattoos on his arms.
He looks ridiculous. It's kind of cute.
The kid grins cheekily, pearly white teeth on full display, all semblance of panic gone from his eyes.
“I got the wrong flat!” He points outside, “Rafa's my friend, he lives next door. I think I wanted to go to his place.”
It's Leo's turn to frown. “Next door? Wait, you mean the Alcantaras?” The kid nods energetically. “Rafa is...Rafael?” The boy nods again, and Leo's frown deepens, “But you mistook me for him, and he's---”
Leo remembers the Alcantaras, all members undoubtedly brown-skinned, and he thinks back to Neymar thinking he was dying because his skin became whiter. He closes his eyes briefly, overcome with incredulity and wondering exactly how drunk was the kid?
When he opens his eyes again, the kid is smiling sheepishly. “Sorry to have woken you up. And uh, thanks for-- letting me in and not calling the police, I guess.”
Leo can't do anything but stare, disbelieving.
“And uh. I'm Neymar, by the way.” The boy – Neymar – glances at him briefly before avoiding his eyes altogether, “not that you asked, but Mom wouldn't be happy if she knew I went to bed with people without knowing their name.”
The sheepish grin is back on his face and he looks at Leo expectantly. It takes him some seconds to understand what he expects from him.
“Oh, I'm Leo. Leo Messi.”
Neymar nods, “Thanks, Leo Messi. I guess I'll get back to Rafa then.”
The walk to the door is slightly awkward, none of them talking. Leo isn't good with social interactions generally, but he really doesn't know what you tell someone who crashed your bed uninvited.
Neymar stands awkwardly at his doorstep, muttering bye and thank you and offering one last smile before walking away. He walks slowly, and Leo thinks he's trying to instill swagger into each of his steps, lifting his shorts from time to time to keep it from completely sliding down his hips.
Leo watches him leave and wants to snort at how ridiculous he looks. He still finds him cute though.
–
Leo isn't too fond of parties. He will admit it's fun from time to time, but never as good as staying in, dozing off on his couch in a quiet house. It's still inevitable living with Gerard that he gets dragged to parties once in a while.
They're in a club and Leo feels sweaty, courtesy of Gerard tugging him on the dance-floor and Leo's inability to get out of the crowd before several songs had ended. He's now sitting at a table alone, watching from afar Geri's tall head moving above the mass. Watching him dance is as entertaining as watching cartoons.
One second, he's quietly laughing at Gerard's expense, and the next there is a heavy weight pressed against his side, and an excited voice right in his ears.
“Leo Messi!” the voice exclaims.
It startles him, yet when he turns towards the voice and recognizes the drunk stranger who invaded his flat a few weeks ago, he's not surprised, just taken over by a sense of inevitable fatality.
“Neymar,” he tries to smile politely, “right?”
The boy nods eagerly, looking almost blissful that Leo somehow remembered the name of that guy who crashed his bed, as though that wasn't something memorable enough.
“Leo Messi,” Neymar repeats with a pleased smile on his lips. “I actually came up here searching for Rafa, but you're still not Rafa I see.” And then he giggles uncontrollably, clapping his hands at his own quirkiness.
Leo watches him laugh, taking all the space as he moves even though he doesn't move that much. He's obviously quite drunk, and Leo spares a sudden thought about his age.
“Are you even legal?” he blurts out. He doesn't want to be seen with a drunk minor.
Neymar sobers up, as much as he can, and he nods solemnly. “Yes. I turned 18 last week,” he says, almost preening with the notion of maturity.
“Last week? So you weren't legal back then...”
Neymar smiles broadly, eyes sparkling with joy and pride. “No I wasn't,” he says, smug about the thing, as though proud of the fact he got drunk before the legal age. “Because I hang out with older people, you know?” he drawls, leaning back on the couch, and Leo assumes he's trying to look cool and laid-back. It's kinda pathetic.
Neymar doesn't seem to notice the mocking smile at the corner of his lips, because he keeps going.
“People my age are just so un-cool and uh, immature.” He looks smug again, “I'm the first one to turn 18 in my class, and it's, it's papal- palpable, that I'm older than them. Rafa, he turns 18 today, but like you can feel he isn't really 18, not in his head. How old are you by the way? I bet when you were 18 you were already old like, 20, in your head.”
Leo has trouble understanding whether it's a compliment or an insult. Neymar sits too close to him and he watches him expectantly, so he finally answers, “I'm 21.”
“Wow I thought you were like, 25! You're so cool.”
Now it feels like an insult, but Leo doesn't really care. He's watching Neymar like he would watch a movie. Nothing really makes sense in what he says, but it's entertaining enough, and there is something cute about the way he naively thinks his showing off is any effective.
Except it's not a movie, and he should be playing a part in this interaction. Thankfully, Neymar talks enough that Leo doesn't need to say much. “Cool? What makes you say that?”
“Well, if a drunk man came in my house during the night, I'd scream and panic. I'd probably hit him, or, or call my parents, or the police! But you didn't, you let me in, it's- it's super cool, I'd like to be that fearless too.”
A short and incredulous laugh escape Leo's lips after Neymar's words, but it stops quickly as Leo stares at him, astonished. “If someone bursts into your room, do call the police.” He makes his voice light but he still searches for the focus in Neymar's eyes, because he certainly don't want to be responsible for the woes of a dumb 18 year old who let strangers into his house because he thought it was the cool adult thing to do.
Neymar doesn't seem to understand, his brows knitting together, about to protest, but Leo repeats again in a voice that breaks no argument, “Do call the police.”
Neymar looks dejected but he nods, and Leo relaxes back in the couch. He still can't believe the reason why Neymar finds him cool, and he lets out an involuntary snort. The snort turns into laughter despite himself, and Neymar look at him curiously.
“Hey,” he says, confusion written all over face. “Hey!” he says louder, trying to stop Leo from laughing at him.
Leo indulges him and stops laughing, but there's a small smile playing on his lips as he looks at Neymar's confused face. Neymar frowns and squints, searching his face.
“You're confusing,” he whines, alcohol making him sound like a toddler. “What are you thinking?”
“Why do you want to know what I think?”
Neymar frowns, and closes his eyes. He loses his balance for a second, his head almost crashing against the table.
“Wow,” he catches himself quickly, eyes wide. He looks a bit embarrassed by that, giggling nervously. He looks back at him and his giggle dies down.
“You don't talk a lot,” he finally mumbles.
And indeed, Leo isn't known for his ability to interact with people, though drunk as the boy is, it's not like he would even be able to hold an actual conversation. Leo likes it better that way. He watches, and Neymar is still sitting too close, but he doesn't look anything but harmless and Leo feels comfortable enough.
“You talk enough for the both of us,” he teases.
“Yeah but! You watch. Instead of talking.”
Leo frowns, puzzled. “Does me watching bother you?”
Neymar nods eagerly. “Yes!” Then he frowns and shakes his head quickly, “no.” He frowns some more, “But you watch me with your eyes, and I can't read them, and I don't know what you think and it's confusing.” He trails off, mumbling the last words. He's quiet for a few seconds, then he giggles again, throwing his head back to roar with unprompted laughter.
That's how Rafael Alcantara catches them a few minutes later, with Neymar laughing his heart out and Leo watching him, confused and curious all at the same time.
“Leo,” Rafael says. “Hi.” He looks tipsy, but not overly so. “Sorry for this,” he says tugging Neymar up and slapping his head when he tries to resist.
“Ow!” Neymar seemingly awaken with the slap, and he tries to attack Rafael, the both of them exchanging glares. Rafael slaps him again and Neymar stomps away with anger.
Rafael shakes his head, and looks back at him, “Sorry again.” And then he's gone, following in Neymar's wobbly and angry footsteps.
Leo watches them as they walk away. They seem to be bickering the whole way, but a few moments later, they're joking and laughing. He watches Neymar exit the club, flashy clothes and wild gestures, pulling his pants up every now and then.
Leo stops himself before he thinks 'youth these days'.
–
It's a lazy day, the weather too cold for Leo to gather the strength to go out, and he and Gerard are content to lay on the couch and play games.
There's a knock on the door and neither of them move. Leo turns his head slowly towards Gerard. The knocking persists as they exchange a long stare, and finally Gerard heaves a sigh and gets up.
He can't hear what's said after Gerard opens the door, but quickly after, there are steps and Geri appears in the living room, a sheepish Neymar trailing behind.
Geri has the widest grin on his face.
“This boy here--”
“Neymar,” Neymar supplies quietly for him.
“-was telling me he wanted to apologize for how he crashed both your bed last month, and your party yesterday.” Gerard's grin widens, “Funny story; weird that's the first time I hear about it.”
Gerard's eyes promise nothing good, only mischief and endless teasing, and Leo grimaces at the thought. Neymar, oblivious to their exchange, frowns at Leo's grimace, as though the face was directed at him.
Leo sighs, “You didn't need to come here and apologize.”
Neymar shrugs, “Well, Rafa lives next door anyway. And he said I bothered you yesterday, at the club.”
“You don't remember it?”
“No.” He shakes his head, then seems to think better of it. “Well, I remember your eyes on me but--- I mean, I remember meeting you,” he amends quickly, seemingly embarrassed.
Leo doesn't think it's possible for Gerard's grin to get any bigger.
“Anyway, I just wanted to apologize for that, and the time before, and also thank you for not hitting me or throwing me out.”
“It's fine. You're harmless anyway,” Leo mumbles.
Neymar catches that and he smiles widely. “I bet everyone is harmless to you! Do you know how to fight? You didn't even call the police, even though a drunk guy broke into your place. This is, this is so cool.”
“You already said that yesterday.”
Gerard laughs out loud at Neymar's words, clapping him on the back, and Neymar looks sheepish.
“Well, I thought it was pretty cool,” he mumbles.
“You're easily impressionable aren't you?” Leo asks, but he doesn't give Neymar the time to answer. “Anyway it's fine, don't worry about it.”
Neymar smiles happily at that, and Geri's laughter slowly dies down as he makes his way to the couch and flops down on it. That's the end of the conversation, and Leo expects Neymar to bid his farewell and leave, but Neymar doesn't move. He fidgets in the living room, peering at the TV screen.
“Isn't Rafael waiting for you?”
Leo means to prompt Neymar to leave, either give him a reason to or subtly tell him he should, but instead Neymar latches onto the sentence as though it was what he'd been waiting for, and Leo regrets his words instantly.
“Not really no! His Mexican friends just came to visit, and him and his brother are all over them. It's all very homoerotic. I'm left-out of the party though,” he shrugs.
And there it is, Leo sees it coming, but he can't control Gerard's mouth and it opens too fast for him.
“Do you want to hang out here while they rub it out?”
Neymar bursts out laughing at the joke and he nods eagerly. He's been polite and kept to himself up until now, but then he doesn't do the polite thing which is to say 'I wouldn't want to disturb you'. He immediately walks to the couch and drops down next to Leo, smiling from ear to ear.
He looks at Leo expectantly, glancing down at his controller pointedly. He expects Leo to share it. Leo sighs and snatches Gerard's controller, and Neymar looks as delighted as if Leo had given him his own.
“So you're both in college?” Neymar questions as he and Geri are battling it out. “It's so cool,” he sighs dreamily.
Neymar fans over them for being in college, for having a flat, for essentially being older than him, and Gerard roars with laughter, petting his head when Neymar looks confused.
Neymar is giddy the whole time he's here, and he seems weirdly naive as he goes on and on about how cool they are for being college students, even though he doesn't even ask what they are studying. He's good at FIFA, but not as good as Leo, and once he gets comfortable (quickly), he's loud and talkative. He makes jokes and laughs easily, heartily, loudly, and he's buzzing with energy throughout the hours.
Leo thinks there could be worst companies.
–
There has been an unspoken deal with Neymar: if you're let in once, you're let in forever.
At least that seems to be the only explanation as to why he starts dropping by their flat weekly, most of the time bringing nothing but a wide sheepish smile on his face. Sometimes he drags Rafael with him, and they hijack his couch to play games.
Leo is always happy to win at FIFA, but he sometimes brings games that involves much more moving, dancing and/or singing, and Leo has been coerced into playing one too many times. Even if he manages to stay on his couch, he still have to watch Neymar sing and dance, and he is neither a good dancer nor a good singer, though what he lacks in talent he makes up with enthusiasm.
The thing is, he doesn't mind Neymar too much. He's constantly buzzing with joy and enthusiasm and despite his flashy ways he's surprisingly easy to please. Though he's always invading his personal space, looking up at him with sparkly eyes even though Leo is smaller than him and he keeps wondering how Neymar always manages to find a position in which he can look up at him. Additionally, he's pretty sure he never did anything worth admiring and that side of Neymar bothers him, but strangely enough it also entertains him. Neymar is amusing, fun to watch, and while he talks a lot, he doesn't expect Leo to say as much.
Neymar always wants to move, always asks to be taken parties, older people parties, he says, starry-eyed and expectant at the thought of older people things, idolizing the very notion of maturity as though it is something he will never have himself.
“What's the point of befriending college students if they won't take me to college students parties?” he says one day, a pout at the edge of his voice after Leo and Gerard refused his demands, again.
“I thought you were already friends with older people.” Leo remarks, but his eyes don't leave the TV screen, focused on beating Gerard's character.
“Uh? I don't remember saying that.” Neymar licks his lips quickly. “I may have been lying,” he admits.
Leo laughs. “Of course.”
Neymar tugs on his t-shirt to catch his attention, “Please Leo.”
“I don't go to parties.”
“That he doesn't,” Gerard confirms.
“Please.”
“No.”
He's careful not to look Neymar in the eyes. Leo doesn't know why but if he does, he suddenly feels like indulging Neymar's every whims. It's probably because of how dejected he looks, and how his eyes look like that of a small, scared, unloved animal. That's how Leo found himself singing a love duet in a karaoke and he's never doing that again.
–
Leo, Leo.
The voice is only a whisper, but it echoes in the room as loud as a yell in Leo's sleepy state. He groans and turns over, nestling deeper under the covers.
Leo.
The voice rings, loud and annoying, and despite Leo pulling the pillow over his head, it doesn't stop cold as ice hands from reaching his face, attempting to freeze him awake, probably.
Leooo-
“Shut up, Neymar.” Leo groans, too tired and annoyed to even question what Neymar is doing in his bedroom so early in what Leo thinks to be morning.
Neymar quiets down for a second, but he is never silent for long.
“Leo, you promised.”
“No.”
“Yes. I can't drive, and you said you'll take us.”
“Under pressure,” Leo mumbles in his pillow.
He distantly remembers Neymar coercing him into accepting to drive both he and Rafinha to the beach to surf. Leo hates the beach. For his too pale skin, it either means layers of clothes or covering himself in white and sticky sunscreen that smells like baby lotion.
But it's very hard telling no to Neymar. And so the boy is now in his room, trying to awaken him at an ungodly hour, and Leo thinks if he closes his eyes and doesn't look at Neymar's hopeful and pleading eyes, he will be able to refuse.
“Leo…,” he starts sounding dejected, so Leo buries his head deeper under the pillow to block the noise. “I don't have enough money to take the train, Leo...”
His tone is sad now, and Leo groans deeply, aware he's losing the fight, and he won't have his ten-hours of sleep today. He opens his eyes slowly, and it's so early there is no sunlight in his room yet. He's welcomed by darkness, and he wants nothing more than to close his eyes again. But Neymar is hovering above his head, peering at his face and he literally beams when he notices Leo opening his eyes.
It's like a band-aid, it hurts less if you take it off quickly, Leo thinks. He sits up in one go. Neymar moves back just in time, and Leo is dizzy for some seconds as his blood rush down his body. When his vision stops being blurry, he looks at Neymar, who is, for a lack of a better word, ogling him.
His eyes flicker from his crotch to his naked torso, for several embarrassing seconds, in which Leo feels both self-conscious and astonished. Finally, Neymar glances up at his face on a sudden, as if realizing he shouldn't be caught staring, and when he meets Leo's eyes, he looks flustered and quickly scrambles off of the bed, letting out a high-pitched, “hurry!”
Leo thinks the tip of his own ears are red. That was...unexpected.
Now, Neymar always always tries to sit next to him on the couch, even if he needs to squeeze himself to do that, but Leo thought it was due to admiration, to Neymar being overly impressionable and eager to idolize.
Yet looking at his crotch is... another thing entirely, and Leo doesn't know what to make of that. He keeps watching the door, even though Neymar walked away moments ago. He doesn't know if it's serious, if it's just lust, if it's Neymar projecting a fantasy onto him, if it's admiration taken too far, or if it's actually genuine. It could be any of these, and Leo still feels Neymar's eyes lingering on him, and it's too soon for him to have any idea what's happening.
He doesn't know what to think. So he waits. Neymar will either drop it or talk about it eventually, because he has no filter whatsoever.
Leo just needs to have made up his mind by then.
–
Leo is pretty sure there was no one here when he went to the shower, yet as he exits the bathroom he definitely hears noise coming from his bedroom.
A quick glance at the lobby shows flashy orange sneakers, and he has a very precise idea on who the intruder is. He enters his room and watches Neymar rummage under his bed.
“What are you doing?”
Neymar yelps, and stands up as quickly as if Leo had light a fire under his ass.
“Leo!” he exclaims, and then he quickly hides his hands behind his back – too late, for Leo has already seen what he is holding.
Leo says nothing and waits for Neymar to sabotage himself.
“I… I was waiting for you.”
Leo keeps the silent staring, and Neymar's breath quickens visibly.
“I thought you'd be in your room. And, you're small so I thought maybe, you could be under your bed?”
He smiles nervously and Leo can't help laughing out loud.
“Come on Ney. What were you looking for?”
Neymar's shoulders slump, and he shows the items in his hands – magazines Leo bought for uni.
“I was searching for clues,” he mumbles.
“Clues?”
“Yeah, I…,” he blushes, “I wanted to know who- who you're attracted to. Your sexuality,” he adds quickly when Leo frowns.
“My sexuality?” he repeats, astounded, and he feels his ears burning already.
“Yeah but,” Neymar lifts the magazines he's holding, “Your sexuality seems to be… atoms.”
He looks genuinely confused, and Leo wants to laugh out loud and ruffle his terrible haircut.
“That's what I study at uni. Remember?”
Neymar frowns, and then a sheepish smile forms on his lips, along with a slight flush on his neck and ears. “Did you know the human body is made of atoms? Why don't you study me?”
The flush spreads to his face but he doesn't break eye contact, and he goes as far as wiggling his eyebrows. He seems totally aware of how ridiculous he's being, but he still doesn't stop himself, and Leo can't keep his laughter in, throwing his head back and chortling loudly.
Neymar seems to become even darker with embarrassment. His smile drops slowly and he looks discomfited.
He can't stop laughing, even when Neymar quickly rushes out of the room and escapes the flat, his tail between his legs.
–
Neymar opens the front-door and stomps in, not even bothering to knock to announce himself.
He looks around the room quickly, taking Leo in, slumped in the couch lazily, watching TV.
“Geri isn't here?”
Leo shakes his head and Neymar huffs.
“SO,” he starts. “My night is ruined because of you so I have decided you have to entertain me.”
Leo cocks an eyebrow, “Because of me?”
“Because you refused to drive me to the place I've been invited.”
“I'm not your chauffeur.”
“But you're the only one with a car!” Leo is about to point out that it still doesn't make him Neymar's chauffeur, but Neymar is quicker than him. “Anyway, it's your fault ; you have to entertain me.”
Leo considers Neymar for a moment, the cap too big on his head, the pants too large on his hips, and the shirt so tight Leo can see his nipples through it.
He lets a smile dance on his lips and he gives a small nod. Neymar smiles broadly and marches towards the couch, slouching in the spot to Leo's left.
“I brought movies, games, and popcorn.”
Leo doesn't have the motivation to play a game, and so they end up watching a movie, picked by Neymar. It's a thriller, and Neymar won't stop talking. He keeps making comments, reviewing the movie as it plays, and hypothesizing about the murderer – hypothesizing so much in fact that Leo loses track of what's the actual plot and what is Neymar's commentary.
Granted, listening to Neymar comment the movie is actually hilarious, probably more interesting than the movie itself, and Leo is laughing a great deal. Neymar sits close to him, sometimes whispering it's the murderer! in his ear like a secret, as though they were in a movie theater and other people were there. Except they're not and Neymar is sitting close for no reason.
Neymar grows more agitated throughout the movie, spurred on by Leo's laughter. He's buzzing with energy, and while it's fun to watch, it's like a battery charging, and it will take hours afterward for Neymar to calm back down. Leo fully intends on going to sleep right after the movie.
Neymar is about to rant about why the main character is actually the villain (which goes against everything he hypothesized until now) and Leo clamps a hand over his mouth. It shuts Neymar up right away. He stills for a moment, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlight.
Leo smiles fondly and whispers shhh. He doesn't move his hand and uses it to pull Neymar down, putting his head on his lap. Neymar doesn't move an inch. He doesn't try to lick his hand or fight him off. He lays still, curled stiffly on the couch with his head in his lap. Leo can see his eye wide open, and he can barely feel his breathing on his hand.
Leo doesn't take his hand off. Neymar's skin is soft under his palm, and his eyelashes look long from above. Leo focuses on the movie, finally, and he understands nothing. Neymar doesn't move until the end, frozen in his lap, shocked probably. He looks like a small animal, afraid if he moves even an inch Leo will take his hand off and push him off. It's cute. It's cute, unbearingly adorable. It makes Leo fonder than he's ever been, it makes his heart soar with affection and tenderness.
The movie ends and Neymar is silent and calm. Leo lets him sleep over, and he catches himself just in time before offering Neymar to sleep in his bed.
He knows Neymar won't hold much longer anyway. He just needs to wait.
–
He's playing football on an endless field, the ball at his feet uncontrollable at it bounces and bounces again. He needs to dominate this ball, he needs to master its way. The tournament is in two days and the fate of hydrogen is between his hands. He made sure to be alone when he isolated himself to train, yet there's a voice on the sideline, cheering him. It's calling his name, loud and joyful, and Leo doesn't need to look to know its owner is Neymar.
He wonders what Neymar is doing there. He thought Piquetosaur had imprisoned him in a dungeon, but he doesn't ask. He's glad he's here, screaming his name. But as he loses focus and his dribbling get messier, Neymar's cries don't sound like cheering, they sound like cries of help, of agony. He freezes in his track, petrified at the thought, because what if he'd heard wrong and Neymar has been asking for help the whole time? He wants to turn around, run to him, but he's frozen on the spot, plants wringing around his foot and his hair growing and growing until he can't even see from the corner of his eyes. Neymar is screeching, imploring him, calling his name again and again desperately. The noise is growing louder, louder and louder and Leo still can't see anything, still can't move, still can't do anything, fearing, dreading, agonizing---
He wakes up with a start.
His eyes opens at once, darkness the only thing he sees. He's sweating a bit, and he's confused, trying to reconcile dreams and reality. It's hard shaking off his nightmare because he still hears it, Neymar's voice calling his name and---
He still hears Neymar's voice calling his name. He heaves a deep sigh and closes his eyes, an annoyed frown taking over his features, because Neymar is scratching his window and calling his name in the middle of the night, again.
He considers ignoring it out of spite, but the fear he felt before still lingers in his mind, and he reluctantly gets up. He shuffles to his window and opens it swiftly. Neymar falls forward into his arms, yelping.
“Leo!” he chirps, like a baby bird happy his mother is bringing the food.
It all seems awfully familiar, except now Leo can identify what's in his arms and it just gave him a nightmare.
“Neymar,” he says flatly, letting Neymar move his limbs painfully slowly, trying to nestle into his arms even though they're both standing up and Neymar is taller than him. Finally, Neymar settles on wrapping both his arms around his head, hugging it to his chest like a stuffed animal. He reeks of alcohol.
“Neymar.”
“Neymar”, Neymar repeats, giggling. “I like when you say my name.”
Neymar is heavy in his arms, leaning his whole weight on him, and Leo is too tired to hold him up. He thinks he might have to relocate them to the bed.
“I like saying your name too,” Neymar says dreamily. Leo starts taking steps back, dragging Neymar with him like a dead weight. “Leo. Leo Leo Leo Leo. It's so nice. I wish I could say it when I wank but I'm too afraid my mom will catch me so I bite my lips.”
There's a distinct pout in Neymar's voice and Leo stops dead in his track.
“When you wank,” he repeats under his breath, bewildered and blushing despite himself.
Neymar nods.
He knew Neymar would come to him eventually, but he's drunk out of his mind and it's not the way he imagined things going. He shakes his head to get rid of his thoughts and he resumes his walk backwards, until he bumps on the bed and pulls both of their bodies down, Neymar giggling happily.
“I think I'm a bit drunk,” he admits, laughing.
“You think?”
Neymar nods. “I didn't want to be. Uh, not that much.” He tries to brace himself on his elbows to look at him but he keeps slipping, and eventually he gives up, huffing. “I just wanted to be tipsy!”
“Why did you want to be tipsy?”
“To confess.”
“Confess,” he repeats, and Neymar nods.
“I wanted to confess, to uh, you, I think, but I drank too much, and I don't remember the speech I prepared. But then I thought, YOLO, I might as well go, he might let me sleep in his bed again!”
Leo can't help the quick laugh that leaves his lips, and Neymar squeals happily.
“You're laughing! I like it. More.”
“I can't laugh on demand,” he mumbles shyly.
He drags the both of them in the middle of the bed, and tries to pull the covers from under their bodies.
“Bummer. So are you going to let me sleep with you?” Neymar asks, lifting his head when he notices Leo moving.
“It seems so.”
Neymar laughs and nestles again him again, content to let Leo pull the sheets over him. He sighs happily.
“I want to sleep in your bed forever.” He's silent for a few seconds and then, “I want you to like me forever.”
“I do like you,” Leo mutters.
“No, no,” Neymar shakes his head. “I want you to like me, like-- uh, I want you to like me when you jerk off too. I want you to like me even when I'm stupid. I want you to like me even when I'm not here.”
“I do like you,” Leo repeats, his voice louder and more assured.
Neymar shakes his head, denying everything. “No, no! Not like that I say, not like--”
He cuts himself when Leo takes his head in his hands, holding it up level with his. Leo leans in slowly, pressing his lips against Neymar's in the softest touch.
“I do like you,” he whispers. “But now you need to sleep.”
Neymar is still in his arms, eyes wide open and mouth agape.
“We'll talk about this tomorrow if you remember, ok?”
Neymar nods mechanically. He jolts suddenly. “If I remember?” Leo can hear the frown in his voice, “What if I don't remember?”
Leo shrugs and lets Neymar's head go, “Too bad then.”
“What?” Neymar starts moving, trying to grab his shoulders and shake him, “No Leo, no! I won't remember it, I know I won't remember it. It's unfair, Leo!”
“Too bad,” Leo repeats, an amused smile on his lips as he closes his eyes to signify the end of the conversation.
“No, no nonono, Leo please. Leo!” Neymar is getting agitated, struggling against him, trying to shake him or pull him. He sounds a bit panicked, and Leo can't refrain his laughter, loud in the silent room as Neymar keeps pleading.
He wraps his arms around him, forcing him down against his chest, but Neymar still tries to fight him, calling his name again and again, insisting it's unfair. Leo finally manages to stop his laughter, afraid he'll wake up Geri if it keeps going. He rolls on his side and blocks Neymar's head against his chest. Neymar stills when Leo leans down, whispering into his ear.
“Shhh sleep.”
There's a voice, muffled and weak against his shirt, but Neymar doesn't attempt to move again. He feels his body relaxing slowly as he calms down, falling asleep as fast as a tired baby. Soon, the room is silent again.
Neymar probably won't remember anything tomorrow.
There's a smile on Leo's face as he watches Neymar, thinking about how confused he'll look when he wakes up in his bed, and how shocked he'll be when Leo will kiss him out of the blue.
He leans down, his mouth against Neymar's ears and he whispers, “I can never say no to you.”