Chapter Text
Ava loves football.
She really does.
But-
Okay, this is going to be a retelling of Ava's worst ever football game. It was so bad, infact Ava started to think about prison. Prison sounds.. okay. Sort of like a... suitable retreat. A wellfare of some kind. Pure relaxation.
It's just a room right? With a roomie. And free food. It's all she needs.
She could.. relax, read the books that were laying on her bedside table for a year; with judging looks; always mocking her for not opening them. Maybe she could learn how to crochet (she always wanted to crochet a dinosaur for Diego back in Madrid) and.. fuck knows- draw or something.
She started to really consider it as an option as she was tackled. By her Teammate. „Team. Mate." By definition: „a fellow member of a team."
Ava doesn't know how you can confuse this but hey, some people just aren't the brightest. Her thoughts stopped tumbling as Zoe's studs crashed into her ankle, just as she was just trying to go into dribbling against the midfielder who pulled into the back, sending her flying onto the pitch. Silva's ribs cracked loudly as she crashed into the grass, desperately trying to catch her breath. They both lost complete control of the ball and Zoe muttered a halfassed „sorry, I slipped." and sent her a nasty look as the opponent shot a long pass right over their heads that landed directly on the foot of the winger. Great.
Ava didn't try to get up immediately, no use in doing so as she couldn't be fast enough up on her feet and running to defend. Right now, she had a first class view on the counter attack. She spat onto the pitch, grass and blood splatching on the spot next to her. She wiggled her tongue around in her mouth to find the cause of the iron-y taste, finding it in form of a cut in her cheek. She flinched but slid her tongue over it again anyway. Must've bitten the inside while crashing into the green floor. She mentally cursed her teammate as the disgusting taste filled her senses again.
Zoe was long gone, rushing into a defensive stance. Ava groans and tightens her pony tail. She's been in france for six years now and still feels like absolute crap in this country. She can't even understand these people for fucks sake. She speaks Spanish, Portugese and English but French never fucking clicked for her. After her parents died, she was able to switch from the academy in Madrid to youth teams of professional clubs in France. She was 13 when she first got here, 16 as she made her professional debut at the club she currently is in and now, at 19, after sustaining a really intense and bad injury and only actually playing at this level for one and a half seasons, walks out for the top club in france. However, things have... tough.
The football world likes to call her the new football wonderkid and it absolutely terrifies her down to the bones, even deeper if she'd find the words for this. She's not one to thrive from shit like this. Nope, she is scared shitless. Right now, there is not so much sensation in her play anyway. She's been tackled too much, the enemy clearly focusing on her because she can be so fast you hardly have time to think about your moves. She, herself, tackled way too sloppily today, always just avoiding a card and she can't fucking get behind the defensive line. Everytime she tries to dribble past, there's a foot seperating her and the ball. Everytime she tries to cross, it's deflected or strays too wide. And every goddamn time a long ball is flying towards her, the first touch is terrible and she can't convert it. It's infuriating.
The striker re-tied her laces and rolled her ankle a few times, wincing a bit. That's definitely gonna take a lot of kinetic tape and ice to fix. The physios already know her anyway. They're basically best buddies since she's been in their office more than on the pitch.
Ava decides to stay on the ground a second longer, watching the attack play out technically perfect infront of her. The winger who received the ball perfectly dashed forward almost all the way up to the corner flag, barely covered, and flanked beautifully towards the penalty spot. The striker who tried to volley it, miscalculated and missed. Her team now has covered most of the box but the ball is still in possession by the enemy. The right wing stopped it and waited for Zoe to come try and grab it from her. The number 9 did a little body feint and Zoe completely fell for it (Hah!) as she buckled in the wrong direction and left the opposition player with the ball enough space to slip past her. She tries to finish quck, putting the ball on her strong right but she miss-hits just slightly and Marie (the goalie) dives and directs it into the goal out. Corner. Great.
The ref decides that, now after probably two minutes, is a great time to look at her for any serious injuries but she waves it off anyway and slowly makes her way over to the box, limping a bit. This bitch really hates her guts and it sure as hell ain't one sided. Ava takes her place in the middle, around the penalty spot, exactly as they discussed in training, standing behind an opponent, covering and enclosing her options. She hears her talk some shit but Ava is just standing still, keeping her arms outstrechted. She knows this act by heart.
For years in the younger leagues, that was her best play. Be the annoying one. Talk shit, hold the jersey, step on shoes. But- gracefully. Don't make it punishable. Just, you know. Annoying. Get them to be slower. Get them to throw sloppy passes. Get them to be emotional. Get them to go insane. That's what her Coach always told her, and let me tell you, Ava Silva took this Advice to heart. She was a menace on the pitch. The person in her arms is trying to get free but Ava follows closely and she swears she hears a muttered „Putain". Okay, rude. But..
Ava smirks, that's exactly what she wants.
The Referee whistles and the sets the ball free and their winger takes the shot after lifting the left arm. Ava never understood this act. She knows what it's for, but some people really over do it. Especially since the kicks come never exactly the same. Well- Anyway. It's a mad kick, It flutters slightly, but accurately, into the box, right into Ava's reach. The attacker tries to wing out of Ava's reach, stepping forward. Ava let's her, pushing her just slightly because she sees the ball fluttering just behind the attacker. The number 11 apparently took one small step too much, because Ava is easily able to jump up and clear it away with her head. She mentally high fives herself. Success.
Ruby is the designated safeguard of the team and receives the ball around ten meters outside the box. Ava and their own right wing start dashing across the field, hoping to get a perfect counter attack. Ruby had little to no problem dribbling past the two defenders that were closest to her. Both Ava and Zoe were turning up the speed even more to get in a suitable position to receive a pass from Ruby. The blackhaired girl needed to make a decision and decided to pass to Ava instead of Zoe. It's probably impossible but Ava swears she hears Zoe complain over the crowd.
Ava jumps up, let's the ball hit her boot and push it forwards a little, a few feet before the penalty area. Exactly the way she wants; setting it up so that she can out-play the Goalie if needed. Nobody even close to her. However, she feels like showing off today, just for the spite of it. Ava knows she has it in her. Hell, probably everyone else knows. The striker has spend a few months time just shooting from every possible angle until she couldn't get it wrong. Multiple pairs of cleats fell of her feet like dead skin from over usage. She knows she is good. So she just takes an extra tiny step and swings her left leg towards the ball at an angle, hoping to curve it in just right. After the ball hit her foot she just knew.
She knew she was gonna miss.
And she did.
She hit the top corner but so very slightly off that it sprung out instead of into the net.
Fuck.
The crowd lively breathed out an impressed or rather disappointed „Ooh" and Ava hated existing more than ever. Hardly anything feels as bad as missing a pretty much open goal. Her throat closed up and she felt the unwanted body fluid behind her eyes to grow. And, because things apparently can get worse, she saw Zoe starting to stomp towards her. It wouldn't surprise her if she grew red wings and horns and saw smoke streaming out of her nose and ears. Ava can practically hear the boiling whistle.
„What the fuck, Silva!" She yelled. „You had one fucking chance at doing something good and you just do what you always do: Fuck everything up!" The frenchwoman practically spit in her face. If Ava wasn't so annoyed and angry, she might've thought it sounded hilarious with a heavy french accent. She definitely will remember this for future storytelling. Ava, instead of making fun of her, started to think about prison again... weighing her options.. again. You know what? What's life without a little fun. Ava, without using her critical thinking skill, headbutted her teammate.
Full on forehead to forehead. Skull to Skull. Zoe, utterly shocked and, lowkey hurt (Ava's very proud if this) fell to the ground, looking up in shock. Ruby came rushing in to hold them away from eachother because Zoe was already in motion to get up again. Hungry for more drama with Ava. The refs whistles, the surprised gasps from the crowd and the loud screaming of the coach were just background noise. The crowd wasn't the biggest, to be honest. It wasn't sold out, nor was is it some big pretentious stadium. Afterall, it was just a friendly in preseason. That situation is one for the history books. For sure.
Ava turned around towards the center circle and smirked maniacally. Oh how much she loved being a menace. Especially if people expected her to be. The yellow dressed person with the whistle was, at best, utterly confused. Ava couldn't blame her. She doesn't think that they teach you this in ref school. Or do they? She has no idea, honestly. She pulls a card out of her breast pocket and shows it to both Zoe and her. Yellow. Huh. She can live with that.
Everybody on the pitch seems to be settled again and she cracks her neck one time, feeling already exhausted even though it's been just barely 60 minutes and she was hyped to go today. The annoying whistles goes of again and the Goalie kicks the ball into play.
For twenty more minutes everything went fine. Like- exceptionally well. Ava thinks even the coach deems it suspicious.
All went well until...
Yes ofcourse.
Until Zoe.
The enemies were awarded a corner kick. Ava took her step behind one of the strikers in the middle. As always. Ava tried being a menace. As always. Zoe made her way up behind her. That's new.
Zoe, usually, is supposed to be guarding the post. Well fuck that, apparently. Whistle went, Ball flew and the eneny went out of her arms, as fucking always. Zoe, however, decided to be uncalled for, for the third time today and pushed an elbow into her. Very forcefully, by the way. That'll bruise, no doubt. Especially over the scar tissue. Ava toppled over the strikers foot, flailing her arms and she senses her mistake immediately. Footballing rule number 1? Keep. your. hands. to. yourself.
Whoops.
The no11 doesn't hit the ball perfectly, due to Ava legitimately flailing and stepping on and against her. It deflects right onto her outstretched arm, rolls along and goes into the complete different way.
Whistle went, ball stopped and Zoe smirked next to her. A yellow shirt appeared in her sight, pulling out a yellow piece of cardboard followed by a red piece of cardboard. Mh. That's- not optimal. After putting away the cards, Miss Yellow shirt pointed (very dramatically if she's honest) to the penalty spot. Oops.
Ava didn't even turn around another time before walking of the pitch. But.. She is still Ava Silva and she feels like it's her job to hold up a finger over her head. You know which one.
„It's the little victories." She mutteres to herself.
Continuing to walk, she totally ignores the things Coach says to her. Not a single word is registered. She looks around the crowd and sees many little girls right behind the benches. Some had jerseys on, some didn't. A few had signs, ranging from a joke to asking for a jersey. It was a sunday, very sunny, pleasantly warm and early afternoon. Perfect for parents to take their kids for a little bit of fun. And hey, Ava sure as hell made it a lot more interesting. As her eyes stroll across the signs, one relatively close had her name on it, the number 9 and a whole lot of glitter. Like an extraordinary amount. She feels sorry for the parent because that must be stewn all across the house. Ava loves it so much she can't hide her smile.
Looking back over her shoulder, she saw that the coach made a few substitutions, talking angrily with the other coaches, and Zoe walking towards the touchline. Heh.
Ava tried to walk past the girl with her sign. She really does; but she can't. It's too cute. Way too adorable. Unfair, really. She looks around one last time and slips her jersey over her head, bunches it up and throws it to the girl who catches it with a squeak. Her eyes look very smiliar to her sign, shining full of life and glitter. This kid looks towards an older guy to her right and jumps excitedly up and down while the Man nods thankfully, smiling. Ava nods happily and waves goodbye. She isn't really allowed to give away the jerseys, but after today Ava also feels like she is not gonna need a whole lot of those in near future. She will gladly pay the fee for this.
The penantly she caused went in, based on the cheers she can hear erupt while she walks through the tunnel and towards the locker. She feels a little conflicted about the goal, honestly. She decides to leave that bottle of feelings unopened, not ready for more internal turmoil.
Walking through the tunnel clears her head a bit. She feels a little miserable. Not because of the results, more because of her missed goal, her pulsing ankle and throbbing forehead. Life's bad. Ava hates feeling like this. Yellow cards and even Yellow/ Red cards are nothing new to her. Being the menace and all that, you remember. But it still stings. It's her first game. Her first starting, anyway, after the incident.
It wasn't anything spectacular. A bad takle, a proper ankle breaker. She landed wrong, her arm somewhat under her torso as she crashed into the ground and something was definitely not okay. Ava was stretched off, barely conscious, being high of her ass from some pain numbing gas. Only fully coming back to her senses, pretty sparsely clothed and in an all white, sterile room. Lovely memory. Definitely not scary at all.
When she next wakes up, she has a tube down her throat and breathing hurts. Like- somebody set fire to my lungs and its trying to shut itself off kind of pain. Even thinking about it causes her entire torso to feel uneasy. She had a few fractured and one actually completely broken rib, that seemed to have damaged her left lung, causing her lung to collaps. Therefore needing the chest drainage tube thing. The thing she noticed second is her mobility. She can't move properly. She tried to get up and run, to sit up, to use her hand to rip that fucking tube out of her throat, to just fucking move but.. nothing. Not even a scream even- but, guess what, there's a tube down her throat. That whole ruckus atleast got the nurses attention.
After a whole lot of actual screaming and panicking, the doctors tell her what's up. Broken ribs, damaged organs and all that. The tiny detail that Ava would've like them to start with came last: Her Back and Mobility.
Thank fuck, It was not as bad as they initially thought, „just" a swelling within her back. It was caused by blunt force to her lower back. Ava doesn't remember what exactly was swollen, she thinks it was a nerve within her spine but god knows, something was just not the size it was supposed to be.
The thing they did tell her: It was temporary, the area that was hit not vital and the impact not strong enough to damage something irreversibly. The thing they couldn't tell her: How long it was going to take to go back to full mobility.
Not to point out the obvious, but Ava felt frozen. Felt like her whole life was over. Spoiler: It wasn't. But it sure as hell felt like it. Nurses and Doctors had to up the dosis on the benzodiazepines because Ava was becoming hysterical and having panic attacks that really took her out.
Few days went by and Ava slowly regained the feel in her feet and muscles but her mobility was still strongly limited to the point of being wheelchair bound. That was the first time where the doctors could estimate a certain time frame. And it was long. At least a few months of rest because of her broken torso and then, depending on the mobility impediment after those months, a lot of Rehab. She was barely 17 when that happened. And alone. All alone, in a foreign country without her parents. All she had was football, now there was nothing.
Rehabilitation sucked. Sucked ass to be percise. She met her physios after being moved to a bigger club for better possibilities. (The only incredibly kind thing her club has done. Take her in even though she practically is a charity case.) Her physios were Steve, a kind german man who moved here with one of the players of his last club and Maisie, a younger woman who looks „tiny and petite" and all that; but could probably rock your shit. Along with the medical department she tried to get back on her feet. Literally.
And, by some fucking miracle, she did it. Long months of crying, working and living on the edge of giving up, somehow, turned into jogging on grass again. The first time she stepped foot on the green without help she immediately flopped down and sobbed. Steve came worrying over but as she stood over her, just saw her laughing with her whole heart and soul. He quickly laid down next to her and just soaked up the overjoyed atmosphere radiating off of the young girl. It was a great day. For both of them. Probably for the whole medical department.
After that, process came quicker. She jogged and regained her stamina (which sucked. She is very glad she does not have to do that again in nearest future.) She relearned how to shoot and how to dribble. She relearned her reflexes and quick moving, slowly benefiting of her muscle memory. Over a year of pain and desperation finally became lighter and lighter. Throughout the next two months, she started light group training and four months later was fully integrated again. Life felt lighter. She felt a whole lot lighter. The Striker felt like flowing away. And Ava Silva was ready to step onto the pitch again to destroy her opponents.
The brunette is pretty sure that around that time Zoe started hating her. Or- Ava likes to think that she started fearing her. That she is afraid of her standing at the club, afraid of losing something to Ava. Probably also felt annoyed that Ava was some kind of charity, but Zoe surely didn't think much further and looked past the reason Ava was really here. To play. To play good.
She opened the heavy door to the dressing room, benches and hooks placed all along the white walls. Falling into the lock, the door made a loud thudding noise and Ava visisbly deflated. Kicking her cleats across the room caused a line of dirt and grass to follow them. Her socks felt gross on the slightly cold tile floor. Flopping onto the wooden bench, she stretched her legs out and lifted her arms out, tensing and untensing her back. Clearly sore and a little bruised.
Looking around the room, seeing all the bags strewn across the hooks and tiles she mentally congratulated Zoe on winning the battle, because there is absolutely no way in hell that she stays here any longer than she absolutely needs to. Today was her last straw. She's been here for far too long and she'd really, really like to be able to communicate in full sentences soon.
She sighs and pulls the hairtie out of her sweaty hair, ruffling it so it feels a little less disgusting. Her spot is as messy as ever, socks and laces laying everywhere and she fishes around under the bench to grab her bag and take her phone out of it. The slightly cracked screen greated her with a few pop ups from some social media shit or a few games where she forgot to turn of the notification. No real or important messages right now, however. She's sure it won't take long. Around thirty seconds she reckons. While she waits for that, she already puts towels and fresh undergarments out, for her to use after showering. Dreaming about the hot water running down her body as she searches for her shampoo leads to her kicking her phone to the floor again. Neatly folded now, she puts the towels and clothes down to pick up her already vibrating phone. Ah. Okay. „ManageMichael" is calling.
See? Not longer than thirty seconds.
„Okay, yes. I know. Whatever you wanna say: I know. And I am sorry. But can we cut this short? I'm still sweaty and really disgusting." Ava said and already regretted the harsh choice of words. „Yes of course. Let me ask you first: Are you okay?" Michael asked and sounded genuinely soft and concerned. „Some of this looked pretty painful and we don't want you to go into rehab again." He sighed. Ava can hear the worry wrinkle between his eyebrows. Michael was a big part in her journey back to the pitch. She wouldn't be caught dead saying this to him but she couldn't have done it without him. „Yes. Just sore. Michael.." She sighed and let her head rest against the wall. „I want to leave. I know what the club did for me, I know! But I want to live. I want to have fun with this and not be tyrannized by my own teammates." Phone now laying next to her, she went on.
„I will forever be grateful- but fuck! I really really want to leave. It's not only that these girls are lowkey really rude and mean, I can't understand half of it! I'm a person who thrives of bad jokes, man! I can't do that when they don't understand it. And it's preseason, so transfers are not only possible, but rather easy. I know that I'm hard to want for a club but please help me out there, Michael." She finishes and already starts undressing.
It's uncharacteristically silent on the other end and Ava looks at her phone and waits. „Okay. So- There's something I need to tell you." Ava stalls, not sure if she is supposed to already say something. Sje stays silent, hopefully signaling him to go on. „I've been in close contact with your headcoach for a while now and we've put you on the transfer list around three months ago. We've come to the mutual agreement that it's better for you, considering the situation and considering the way you talked to me about it."
„Huh." Ava blurts. „Okay, go on." She continues. „Tony and I both decided to just let offers trickle in and act on it as soon as you really want to change something." That's- oddly considerate. „And? Are there any offers?" She asks, excitedly. Outside, she can hear some cheers again, meaning someone scored something. „Eh.." Michael stuttered. Michael doesn't stutter. „Michael?" Ava pressed. „What did your stuttering mean?" He sighed. Oh no. That's it. Ava's career is over. She is gonna need to study something. Ava will have to concentrate on a job she doesn't like, grow old bitter and bitch about football because she never got to fulfill her dream and then her cat's will eat her dead body 'cause she never made any friends that-
„I think we should talk about this tomorrow over coffee." He said plainly and stopped Ava's internal nightmare. Ava stays silent. Michael sighs and again, she can practically hear the frown. „Go shower, Ava." Silva snorts and says a quick goodbye before trotting to the showers. Coming to a halt infront of the mirrow on one of the walls, she twists her upper body and winces. Jesus fucking Christ. Her whole lower back has adapted a rather unfriendly looking shade of red and already tiny speckles of blue. For this fresh style of skin, Ava wants to highfive Zoe. With a cleat. Studs first, to the face.
Steve was gonna have a field day with her in the after game session. Making quick work of the showering process, she steps into the main room at the same time as some of the team starts to trickle in again. The silence is defeaning in the funniest way imaginable. So, they very clearly lost that game, right? Ava should feel some kind of sorry but after today, she is already thinking about celebrating this loss. Zoe can't loose. It's one of her even worse habits. Ava smiles, knowing she'll be big reasons for this misery.
Nobody really cared for Ava Silva. She didn't really care for them. They played together and that's it. No fake niceties or something like that. Zoe has this team by the balls, so everybody would rather side with her to not get thrown under the bus as well. Which- fair, Ava thinks. She just didn't know that in the beginning and immediately started as the mortal enemy. She didn't sign up to be the sworn arch nemesis of Zoe, but really working against it also seemed worthless. So she plays her part and hey, slowly she's getting really good at that.
Ava is unsure which way her career is currently going. Football is her love. The one true love that was there for her when she needed it most. Always has been there. Since forever had she kicked everything that was kickable and always celebrated when hitting her target, running laps with outstretched arms and holding a fist up into the air. And aside from the academy in madrid, nobody seemed to incorporate Ava into the feeling of a team. She loves the sport itself. The way it's played, the tactics and the physical aspect of it. And she loves the teams behind it. Everyone going crazy when someone scores. Everybody being on the same side when a game is lost or a goal is conceded. Ava always thought that this will come with time and professionalism. Turns out, some professional clubs are more of a kindergarten than the u-12 sides in madrid. Good to know.
However, she always dreamed of winning. Winning competitions, cups and leagues. Winning over hearts and fans. Winning everything imaginable, but never alone. Experiencing this kind of hate and cruelness in the one community she always deemed inclusive, breaks her a little. She just wants to belong. Somewhere. To shine, to thrive with a team instead of against it. She wants nothing more. But believing in it continuously grows to be more difficult.
She groans and bangs her head against the wall as she sits down. Ruby, the only girl who doesn't despise Ava for Zoe's sake, smiles at her politely and nods before vanishing into the steaming shower room. She wouldn't admit it, but her heart feels a tiny bit lighter. Ava puts on a fresh pair of sweats with their team logo on it and slips into her sliders, deciding against a shirt for now because the humid air would absolutely drench this thing in 5 seconds. Ava taps around on her phone for a few minutes, being reminded about the call with ManageMichael and she thinks very hard about what it could mean that the very straightforward, very direct and never mysterious Michael didn't want to tell her over the phone.
Another five minutes tick down on the clock before the coach comes in. The air feels stupidly charged and she is so sure that she can feel tiny lighting strikes sizzling through the room. That is scary as shit. Tony stands there like a disappointed father, hands on his hips and breathing slow but very deeply. He sighs before starting his rant. First on his list is to address Zoe and Ava directly. Both of which retract into their shells like disobedient children now being faced with the consequences. Even Zoe didn't dare to argue when he starts to tell her of.
„What on earth did you think you were doing out there? For fucks sake! You are a team. And not just any team. We are one of the biggest in the fucking world!" He yells, alternating looking at Ava and than at Zoe. „That was embarrassing! Good god! It was fucking unwatchable. You let your emotions carry out on the pitch. You let your personal emotions carry out on the pitch. You are supposed to leave your soul there for eachother, not try to destroy your own goddamn team!" He continues to stay loud and Ava feels like she shrunk into the size of a mouse. Everyone else doesn't even dare to breathe. „Zoe, you even recklessly risked Ava's health on multiple occasions! What are you thinking?!" He looks at the offensive Midfielder and she looks onto her feet, hiding her face like a goddamn coward. Checks out.
„And you!" He turns his body to Ava. „You, without a care in the universe completely self sabotaged this game, pushing our preparations back at least two weeks." He sighs, highly agitated. His blood pressure must be beyond anything Ava's ever seen. „I know what you are capable of but you need to fucking show it! And not use it against us. God fucking damnit." Coach mutteres those last words and pinches the bridge of his nose. „For the rest of you, rest for the day. Right now, emotions are high and nothing good will come of this. We'll analyze tomorrow morning. Take care." He says before leaving the room and slamming the door. This went- better than expected. Ava anticipated her being suspended, maybe being thrown through the wall or being stomped on, who knows. She is going to be suspended anyway because of the redcard but she is glad no additional suspension is hangig in the air.
Ava feels like shit. All she ever fucking wanted was the exact opposite of this. She lets her head hang and groan. You know what? Maybe working in finances might actually not be the worst idea ever. It doesn't matter. She just wants to not be here, in this room anymore. She waits until most of the girls leave on their own, filtering out the room that now only smells like shower. Ava slips into her shirt and pushes all her stuff into the bag, ready to move out of this hell hole as a hand stops her.
Ruby stands infront of her looking incredibly concerned and sorry. A tiny smile jumps around her lips and Ava's worried. Is she about to get murdered or something? This was weird. This never happened before. Zoe probably payed her to eliminate Ava as fast as possible and-
Ruby steps up to her and hugs her. Really hugs her. Hands around the back, squeezig and all that jazz. Ava goes rigid because what the fuck. „I hate that this is happening to you. Nobody deserves this and I really hope you find your way to be happy. You are a good person." She whisperes before pulling back and smiling at her, patting her on the arm once before leaving this room.
Just like that. Leaving Ava in a puddle of uncertainty.
Ava wants to crumble now. Great. That was the first real act of kindness she witnessed from anywhere inside the team in forever. Long months without hugs, without reassurance and love. She misses kindness, affection and... fun, essentially. Fucking hell, she misses Diego the most. She misses Home and her Parents. „Fuck." She sighs and shoulders her bag, walking out of the dressing room feeling like hell on earth.
Ava limbs a little down the hall before stopping at Steve's office for the day. „Come in, Ava." He says and Ava snorts. She didn't even knock. „I saw the game and I can tell you, this session will not be fun." He says sternly and Ava throws herself onto the bench. „Oho, is that a threat, Stevey?" She chuckles. He raises an eyebrow. „A warning, darling." As he rolls up the shirt and starts working on her back, Ava understands. Good lord, she really understands.
Oh fuck.