Chapter Text
“So you want me to introduce you to Leo?” Dani looked dubious.
Neymar flushed. He knew how clever Dani was, how he hid it behind a wall of playfulness, taking life one day at a time, enjoying, as he said, “the good crazy”. But he knew Dani was coming to the wrong conclusion here: he thought that Neymar liked Messi, but it wasn’t like that.
But he couldn’t explain it to Dani. It would be betraying his sister’s confidence. Rafaella was obsessed with Messi. He’d taken her to a college football game two years ago when she was a freshman and he was a senior in high school. Apparently, Leo had been the star at that game, but Neymar had been too busy making out with his girlfriend behind the bleachers the whole time and he hadn’t noticed.
Since then, Rafaella had talked endlessly about Messi. Neymar paid little to no attention. He knew Messi was a pretty incredible football star, but he didn’t care or notice because Neymar himself wasn’t sporty. He was into music and he and his friends spent many weekends travelling to the city to watch obscure bands.
Secretly, Neymar wished he could sing, but he was terrible. He sang anyway, off-key and pitchy, tone-deaf to a criminal degree. It was the surest way to get anyone out of his room.
But he was stuck now. Last weekend, he’d made the mistake of betting his sister that he’d be able to get a pretty girl’s number. He’d been so confident. She’d seemed to be into him. He usually always got the number. He’d even thought he’d won the bet because she had given him her number.
Until, of course, he called it and found it was a sex hotline.
That had sucked.
So he’d lost the bet fair and square. The terms of the bet had been simple: the loser owed the winner a favour, to be called any time at any place, no matter the circumstances.
When he told Rafaella he’d lost—he was honest, after all, and it was only fair—his sister had leaped. She’d barely waited a second before blurting, “I’m cashing in my favour. You have to introduce me to Messi.”
Neymar had been dumbfounded. “What? I don’t know him!”
“You go to the same college!”
“Yeah, so?” Neymar cried, truly anxious. The rules of the bet declared that the winner couldn’t not fulfill the terms of the bet, but he really didn’t want to do this. He didn’t even know Messi and he’d never even seen him. Besides, his sister was in high school and Messi was a junior at college! It was highly inappropriate. There was a four-year gap between them, at the very least!
Rafaella crossed her arms. “You lost fair and square. You owe me. This is what I want.”
Neymar hesitated. What she said was right, but he couldn’t in good conscience let his sister date a college student when she was still in high school. “But you’re so you—”
Rafaella held up a hand. “I’m not asking you to get him to ask me out. I just want to say hi to him. Please, Ney. You know how much I love him.”
Neymar looked at her face searchingly. He didn’t like this. But she made a good point. Just because he introduced them, it didn’t mean Messi would like her. He probably had a girlfriend, being the star he was. Why would he want to date an underage high school girl? Besides, he could probably step in if it went that far, put an end to it.
All she was asking for was an introduction.
Surely that wasn’t too hard?
And that was how he’d gotten into this mess. But he couldn’t possibly explain this to Dani. A sibling’s trust was sacred. No matter how much he hated Rafaella right now, he couldn’t possibly tell Dani. She would never forgive him if he did.
Neymar sighed. Dani was going to think he had a huge crush on Messi. But what could he do? Dani was his only connection to Messi. Dani played football with him and he also occasionally showed up at the music clubs Neymar visited. He was Brazilian too, like Neymar, and the two had unexpectedly bonded over music and terrible singing.
Dani was a good friend. He was a senior at college, a couple years older than Messi. He’d had to redo a few semesters after he’d gotten suspended for getting into fights with some racist kids who’d thrown bananas on the field while he was playing.
He’d always treated Ney like a younger brother and he’d also introduced Neymar to more Brazilian guys. And they had become some of Neymar’s truest friends in his first couple of years at college. Some of them played football too, but others were purely into the music scene.
“I… yes,” Neymar said, clearing his throat. God, this was embarrassing.
Dani started to smile. His eyes were twinkling. Neymar’s heart sank. Good God, Dani’s matchmaker heart was going to ruin him, wasn’t it?
“Alright,” Dani said, a broad grin on his face. He winked at Ney.
Neymar suppressed a groan. He was going to murder Rafaella. “Thanks,” he mumbled, flushing harder and harder, making him look all the more like he was in love with Messi. He sighed. “When can you make it happen?”
Dani waggled his eyebrows. “So eager, huh?” Without giving Neymar a chance to recover from that, he laughed and continued, “Some of the guys are going out on Friday to the Bar. Come there and I’ll introduce you two.”
Neymar nodded. The Bar—certainly the least creative name for a bar—was where most of the athletes hung out. He’d been there once, but hadn’t liked it. There were always sports games on and someone yelling at the TV. It was boring. He gritted his teeth. Friday couldn’t come sooner.
Neymar was nervous.
He had picked out his best outfit—a long black shirt, baggy white pants tucked into ankle boots, long dangling chains, and a hat he was wearing backwards. He knew he looked good, but he was well aware that Messi and co. were the elite, some of the most popular people at his college. Despite himself, he felt his heart pounding a little.
Trying to wipe his sweaty palms surreptitiously on his pants, he waited at the bar, foolishly ordering shot after shot. After his third one, he blinked at his buzzing phone and saw Dani’s text.
Where you at
He texted back quickly.
At bar. Where you guys
He ordered another shot while he anxiously waited for the reply. When his phone buzzed, he took a deep breath and downed the shot before looking at his phone.
Booth by the bathroom. Can you see us
Neymar looked, standing up and peering over the crowd. He wasn’t very tall and this wasn’t made easier by his four shots. When he finally saw Dani’s leopard-print pants, he took a deep breath and headed over.
He felt someone pinch his butt and briefly wondered whether he should be outraged. But his nerves were jangling and he didn’t think he could fight anyone on a good day without backup so he continued on his way. By the time he had fought through the crowd, his heard was thudding so hard that he felt faint.
Dani, luckily, noticed him coming over and leapt up. Slinging an arm around him in welcome, he turned to the rest of the group and smiled broadly. “Guys,” he shouted over the pounding music, “this is my friend, Neymar. Ney.”
Neymar smiled as easily as he could, trying to fake coolness. He wondered which of the guys sitting around the booth was the famous Lionel Messi. There were four guys. One was a tall, very-good looking blond. He was leaning back comfortably, looking confident and vaguely like a model. He smiled at Neymar politely, his blue eyes glinting under the bar lights.
The guy on his right also had blue eyes and was clearly very tall, even sitting down. He had a beard and a playful look. He grinned at Neymar. He towered over the guy sitting next to him. The short guy was small with a dimpled chin and black eyes. He looked quiet and was no match in looks with the other two guys. He nodded at Neymar, but made no other welcome.
Ney looked quickly at the next guy, who had a nice-guy-face. He was smiling in welcome. He was good looking in a not-so-obvious way with a beard and dark eyes. He was sitting surprisingly close to the short, quiet guy and Neymar briefly wondered if they were together.
Dani was shouting names, but Neymar couldn’t hear him over the din and he heard ‘Messi’ but missed Dani’s finger pointing at the owner of the name. Cursing, he felt too embarrassed to ask again and instead slid in to the empty space next to Mr Nice Guy. He was directly opposite Model Dude and found himself staring. Surely this was Messi? He was so incredibly good looking and confident.
He berated himself inwardly. He should have just googled him before tonight. Maybe he could do it now, under the table? But at that exact moment, Nice Guy turned to him.
“What’s your name?” he asked, flashing a smile.
Neymar blinked. The alcohol had dulled his senses a little and he felt slightly slower than usual. “Neymar,” he shouted.
“I’m Kun,” Nice Guy said, teeth white and brilliant.
So, not Messi. Ney was pretty sure Model Dude was Messi now. Kun seemed friendly so he leaned in and said, “What were their names again? I couldn’t hear over the noise!”
Kun laughed. “That’s Marc-Andre, but we call him Marc.” He indicated Model Guy. Disappointed, Neymar turned hopefully towards to the next tall guy. “That’s Gerard, Geri. And this one,” Kun said, clapping his neighbor hard on the shoulder. The short guy looked up, looking bored. “This is Lionel. Leo.”
Neymar stared. This was Messi? This was the hot guy his sister, Rafaella, was dying over? This guy? Was his sister blind? He was nothing special. He wasn’t even cute, for God’s sake. He wondered if he should take his sister to an eye doctor.
Leo looked inquiringly at Kun. Kun said something in another language to Leo. It sounded like Spanish, but Ney wasn’t sure. And then Leo laughed and a dimple showed up. Ney kept staring. He couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t even good looking smiling. Maybe this was another Leo? Maybe there was another Leo, who was a Messi?
His sister had waxed lyrical about a boy with dimples, true, but if this was hot, then Ney was on fire. He wondered if he should ask Kun if this was Messi, but felt it might be a little too embarrassing. He might look like a fanboy.
Instead he subsided, his brain buzzing. He really wanted some clarification here, but Dani had disappeared to the bar. Before he could start to feel awkward, a shadow fell across the table. Looking up, he saw a short, broad-chested guy standing in front of the table.
He had shaved all his hair off and he had a thoroughly mean look about him. He was staring at Neymar and not especially nicely. Ney instinctively placed his hands protectively on his crotch.
“You’re in my seat,” the guy said bluntly. Get up was unsaid, but implied.
Neymar almost scrambled up, but his reflexes were slower because of the four shots which were progressively making him drunker and drunker. In retrospect, that had been a big mistake. Before he could move, Geri laughed.
“Sit down, Masche, you’re scaring the poor guy. Here,” and he began to scoot over, pushing himself into Leo and tugging on Marc’s arm.
Marc moved over willingly and they all made room for Masche. He made scary eye contact with Neymar for a couple of seconds for good measure and then sat down, resuming his glare. Ney swallowed.
Luckily, Dani came back just then, bouncing up happily. “How’s everyone doing?” he sang, his eyes roaming around the table. His gaze settled on Kun and Neymar instantly knew what was going to happen.
He tried desperately to make eye contact with Dani, trying to signal that he didn’t want this. But Dani was an incurable matchmaker and in another second, had deftly extricated Kun from between Ney and Leo, pulling him away on some half-baked excuse.
Neymar felt sweat beading on his forehead. He was starting to think this was a very, very bad idea. Besides, he really needed to eat something. Those shots had been stronger than he’d thought and his vision was starting to swim.
At the corner of his eye, he could see that Leo was looking at his phone. He didn’t seem interested in talking to Neymar at all. Occasionally Geri would lean down and tell him something and Leo would laugh, but otherwise he made no effort to socialize.
All of Ney’s doubts had flown out of the window when Dani had whisked Kun away and now he knew this really was Messi. But he still couldn’t quite fathom what his sister was thinking. It was so baffling, in fact, that he texted his sister.
Wtf this guy is not good looking
The reply was instantaneous. She’d known he was going to meet Messi tonight and she must have been waiting to hear from him.
You’re blind he’s HOT
Neymar felt befuddled. Were they all talking about the same guy? This guy was average, at best. At best.
Are you sure it’s Messi you like
Yes idiot. Just because you’re blind doesn’t mean everyone else is
Neymar was blind? Neymar was blind? Shaking his head, doubt creeping inside of him, he texted again.
Are you sure it’s the football dude? The short guy? Butt chin?
Her reply was succinct:
Fuck yeah
Fuck yeah? Neymar couldn’t resist himself and he raised his eyes in amazement, staring at Messi. Maybe he stared too long because Messi lifted his head and met Neymar’s gaze coolly, his gaze challenging.
And, suddenly, Neymar understood. Leo wasn’t good looking, but the aura he exuded was power. Neymar wondered suddenly if it was because he was so popular and so talented, or if he’d always had this self-assurance, this quiet confidence. As Leo’s dark eyes met Ney’s hazel eyes, Ney felt convinced that Messi had always had this self-possession, a kind of confidence you can’t teach someone. He was… Dangerous, almost.
Neymar shook his head inwardly. Dangerous? He was just a football star in a mid-tier college. What could be dangerous about him? But as they continued to look at each other, Ney couldn’t shake the feeling that the little man in front of him was different from anyone he’d met before or, for that matter, would ever meet.
Finally, Messi must have had enough. “Yes?” he asked coldly. His eyes were dark and fiery and Neymar wondered how it could be both.
“Sorry,” Ney stammered, realizing he’d been staring for far, far too long. “I was daydreaming.”
It was a lie and they both knew it, but Messi let it pass. He looked Neymar over, quietly, almost condescendingly. “What’s your name?”
He didn’t shout, but for some reason Neymar could hear him loud and clear. “Neymar.”
Leo was silent, just looking at him and Ney burst into pressured speech, unable to take it. “I’m a friend of Dani’s. We go to Bells in the city a lot together. We’ve known each other for a while.” He chattered on for a while until Messi’s expression eased.
Finally, Leo interrupted. “Okay,” he said. And then dropped his head back to his phone.
Neymar knew he’d been dismissed. He also realized that he’d passed some test. He didn’t know what had done it, but he suspected being Dani’s friend had helped. He’d noticed that whenever Messi looked at Dani, his expression was soft and affectionate.
As Neymar began to calm down, he met Geri’s gaze. Geri looked amused. He lifted his glass, silently toasting Neymar, and then drank deeply.
Wondering if Geri was mocking him, Neymar flushed and looked at Marc. Marc was smiling kindly at him. God, he was handsome. He also looked safe. Why couldn’t his sister like this guy? Sighing inwardly, he looked at his watch.
He had a long night ahead of him.
Neymar spent most of the evening being silent and just watching everyone. It was unlike him, but he felt hopelessly out of his depth here. He didn’t understand half of the inside jokes. They also talked a lot about football, which, frankly, held no interest for Neymar.
It would have been easier if Dani had stayed, but he was hitting on a beautiful, tall girl who Neymar recognized from one of his classes. Her name was Joana or something like that. Dani whispered drunkenly to him that he was going to marry Joana and Neymar nodded, patting him on the shoulder.
Drunken confessions were a part of college life. How real they were remained to be seen. The cold light of day was usually enough to break the deepest of loves and Ney was too experienced to take something like this seriously.
He didn’t speak to Messi at all and started to feel increasingly desperate. Marc, the incredibly good-looking blond, seemed to take pity on him and asked Neymar to come along with him when he went to the bar. Ney followed, feeling awkward and frustrated.
He expected Marc to ask him something, but he seemed content with silence. They stood at the bartender quietly until Marc got the pretty brunette bartender’s attention. She blushed prettily when he smiled at her and quickly served them their drinks.
When Marc turned back to Ney, he asked simply, “Do you want to stay here for a while or go back to the booth?”
Neymar was surprised. He hadn’t expected Marc to be so perceptive. Hesitating, unsure if he should be honest, he was saved by Marc smiling. “Let’s stay here!” He winked at Neymar and they moved down the bar until they found empty bar stools.
Marc sat with easy grace and confidence. He sipped his beer comfortably, a German brand that Neymar had tried and found disgusting. He offered a taste to Ney who politely declined. He had chosen a cocktail himself. It was green and delicious.
“Do you like football?”
Neymar straightened his spine. He almost chirped a yes, but looking at Marc’s blue eyes, his shoulders slumped. “No,” he said honestly. Something about Marc made Neymar want to be truthful. He grinned. “I hate it.”
Marc laughed a long time at that. “So what’re you doing here?”
Neymar hesitated. “I can’t say.”
Marc’s eyes roamed Neymar’s face. “Well, good luck with Messi,” he said finally, sipping his beer.
Ney’s eyes rounded. “How—”
“Everyone knows. Messi knows you have business with him too. Maybe you should just be honest with him. He’s actually a good guy. He’ll probably help you out.”
Neymar felt his stomach flip. Everyone knew? He felt miserable and embarrassed suddenly. “I can’t. It’s not my secret to tell.”
Marc considered this. “Well. That’s a bind,” he said, laughing softly. Instead of getting offended, Neymar felt vaguely comforted. There was something about Marc that was incredibly likeable, very soothing.
Neymar laughed too. “Trust me to get in these kinds of situations.”
They both chuckled at that, as if they’d been friends for ages and Neymar had a history of getting into similar scrapes. They sat for a while in companionable silence until, finally, they headed back. Marc clapped Neymar’s shoulder hard in encouragement and Ney’s eyes watered from the pain for the next ten minutes.
The plus side of that was that he was too much in pain to feel nervous about rejoining the group. He actually was so distracted that he sat next to Masche, who glared hard at him and then, very pettily and obviously, moved about two inches away.
Offended and embarrassed, Neymar turned away, his eyes still prickling from the pain and looked at Geri. Geri wasn’t even bothering to hide his amusement, openly laughing at them both. Irritated, Neymar downed his cocktail, hoping to regain his buzz which had slowly started slipping away.
To his surprise, Geri leaned forward. “Hey, Ney, you done here?”
The entire table fell silent at that. Even Messi lifted his eyes from his phone to look at Neymar. His face was in shadow so Ney couldn’t make out the expression, but he was pretty sure Messi was probably looking at him haughtily.
“I… what?”
“Do you have a ride back?”
Ney shook his head. He was too broke for a car.
“I’ll give you a ride,” Geri said, jerking his head.
Neymar was genuinely taken aback. “No,” he stammered, “that’s alright, I can get myself home.”
“What, you want to stay longer? It’s getting boring.”
Neymar looked around. The Bar was still very much alive and it was only just past midnight. But he looked at Geri and suddenly realized it wasn’t a polite offer, but a command of sorts. “Er,” Neymar said. “No, yeah, I’ll come with you. Thanks.”
Geri smiled and winked. Neymar didn’t smile back, wondering what was going on. Everyone was so weird here. Rafaella was going to pay.
Geri seemed to know everyone. As he left the bar, moving slowly through the crowd, dozens of people clapped his back or shook his hand. He actually waved like a celebrity at the door and Neymar felt a tiny bit proud that everyone would see he was leaving with Geri.
The night air was cool and deafeningly quiet after the din in the Bar. Geri stood for a second, looking up at the sky, and then he turned to Neymar, his hands in his pocket and smiled delightedly, enthusiastically as if he was just happy to be alive.
Neymar found himself feeling equally happy. Geri’s inner joy was infectious. People had always told Ney that he had a kind of joy that touched everyone and made them joyous too, but he’d never understood it. Now, looking at Geri, he got it.
“Come on,” Geri beckoned, smiling broadly. He gestured towards his car and Ney was unsurprised to find a sleek black, very expensive looking car.
“Nice ride,” he said admiringly, his fingers trailing the car lightly. He got in and sat on the leather seats, feeling slightly envious.
“Thanks,” Geri said absently. He was fiddling with his phone. He placed it aside and flashed a smile to Neymar. He turned the car on and drove off in a roar.
Geri drove like Neymar knew he would: rashly, expertly, dangerously. Neymar buckled himself in immediately and prayed he wouldn’t die. Geri talked casually as if they weren’t close to seeing the pearly gates.
After a few minutes of this, Geri braked at a red light, giving Neymar some time to breathe. “So you like Leo?”
Neymar whipped around. “What? No!”
Geri grinned. “No big deal if you do, dude. I don’t judge.”
Neymar stuttered in horror. “No, I don’t!” He could hear his voice was shrill and knew, with a sinking feeling, that Geri wasn’t going to believe him.
Geri shrugged, smiling. “Okay, okay, relax. You don’t like him.” But he winked at Ney slyly. Sighing, Ney shook his head. He was going to have to make friends with Messi fast because he wouldn’t be able to handle this bunch of weirdos for a lot longer.
To be fair, though, he usually was the weirdo in the group. He just felt completely uncomfortable with these guys, these athletes. He had never been the cool kid, not in high school and not in college. It was weird to hang out with them—they were so self-confident and assured, certain of being liked everywhere they went. Ney didn’t live like that and he felt very insecure in the face of all this confidence.
Geri’s self-assurance was almost cocky, but endearingly so. He was also so happy that it was difficult to resist him. Neymar knew that, in any other circumstance, he’d probably become best friends with Geri because they seemed similar in their personalities, but he was too nervous tonight to really be himself.
“So Messi and I are hosting a party next weekend,” Geri suddenly said, smirking at Ney. “Do you want an invite?”
Ney almost choked in excitement. This was it! “Can I… bring someone?”
That surprised Geri. “Who?” he said, snapping his head around. It was clear he thought Neymar was single.
“My sister.”
For a second, Geri’s face went blank. “Your sister? She’s in our college too?”
“Nooo,” Ney hedged, feeling nervous. He wondered if this might be a strike against him. “She’s in high school.”
Geri rolled his eyes. “Neymar.”
“Please, Geri!” Alcohol loosened Neymar’s tongue, made him beg. “Please. She would be so excited.”
Geri waved his hand. “Fine, fine, bring her. Although, what’s your deal, man? Why would you wanna bring your sister when—” He trailed off, gesturing.
Neymar swallowed. He had to play this just right. Geri had to continue to believe he was still into Messi so that he could get an invite and he also had to believe that Neymar bringing his sister along wasn’t going to impede his ‘seduction of Messi’.
“I want her to see what a college party is like before she goes to college. And I’ll be able to keep an eye on her this way.” He hoped this older-brother-protective-nonsense sounded convincing to Geri.
Gerard frowned, but nodded. “But how will you talk to Leo?”
Neymar flushed. He couldn’t believe people legitimately thought he had a crush on Leo. He wasn’t even attracted to the guy! Besides, he had a casual relationship with a girl from his class. They only called each other after midnight for… activities, but still. He wasn’t looking for anything serious.
“I… My sister likes football. So it won’t be too weird, I guess.” That wasn’t an answer, but he hoped it would distract Geri.
Geri said nothing, still frowning. Then his expression cleared and he exclaimed, “Tell you what! We can drop your sister off early and that way, you can have time with Leo without your sister there.”
Neymar’s mind was blank. He couldn’t think of a single reason not to agree with this. Forcing a smile, he said through gritted teeth, “Great.”
Geri smiled delightedly at Neymar, who suppressed a sigh. What Geri, Marc and Dani actually were doing was really sweet, especially considering he had just met the first two—if only Ney was actually into Leo. Nevertheless, he smiled at Geri and fell silent, gripping his seat tightly as the car took a particularly tight turn.
Just one more weekend and he would be done with this nonsense.