Conejita - Leila Ouahabi

Summary: You weren't expecting to be called up for the Euro squad - or to be rooming with Leila Ouahabi, your sister's best friend and your long-lost crush. But it turns out Leila doesn't seem to care about any of that. 

Warnings: heavy predatory undertones. 

Word count: 7.2K

..

Leila heard the sound of broken bones the moment Patri accidentally stepped on Laia Alexandri's tibia.

The crack was acute and fast, so much so that if she hadn't been standing next to Laia, she wouldn't have heard the way her bones snapped in two in such a sickening and easy way.

Patri didn't have a chance to step into it fully; actually, she quickly regained control of her body and let herself fall next to the defender. It only took two seconds for something whole to become fragmented, as if Laia were made of dust.

Leila felt nauseated when the metallic scent of blood travelled to her nostrils, settling at the back of her tongue.

She felt her heart hammering as she looked down at her collapsed teammate on the pitch. She wondered if it was that easy to be broken.

A horde of players gathered around Laia, their brows furrowed with worry, sweet dripping down their bodies as their hands trembled.

They were trying not to panic, but there was no nervous system that would stay calm when one of your friends was crying on the pitch with an open fracture.

Leila heard Montse's frustrated groan from the sideline, as if she had just lost a crucial pawn in her strategy plan. Maybe she had.

The manager tossed her writing board onto the grass, cursing in Spanish as she walked off.

The medics didn't take too long to make their way into the pitch and pushed the other players aside, giving Laia space while they tended to her injury.

The moment they saw Laia's exposed fracture, they signalled frenziedly for an ambulance.

Laia's injury was too serious to be treated at Ciudad del Fútbol; she would need to go to the hospital. She would need surgery.

That was the exact moment Leila understood: she had lost her teammate for the upcoming matches. And worse, she had lost her roommate, her friend. The one she had grown closest to in England, since they were the only Spanish girls playing at Manchester City.

Leila and Alexia stood side by side as the ambulance pulled away, the sirens echoing in the distance, a reminder and a warning about what had just happened inside the walls of the training Camp.

A few steps back, Patri stood frozen, still in the same spot that she was when the accident happened, her eyes were filled with tears, and her cheeks were red from holding it all in.

Pina was rubbing soothing circles over her back, trying to offer some comfort.

It was never easy to be the cause of someone's injury. Even less so when it was your teammate, and worst of all, just three weeks before the Euros.

"We can visit her tonight," Alexia murmured, her warm breath brushing against the back of Leila's neck.

"She'll be in surgery tonight," Leila pointed out.

"Tomorrow, then."

"She'll still be in recovery."

"She'll be in recovery for the next year, Ouhabi." Alexia rolled her eyes, though the tension in her jaw told Leila all she needed to know.

"Come on. We still need to finish training." Alexia's hand held firmly on Leila's forearm, pulling her away from the sidelines, back to the pitch.

Leila knew Alexia well enough to read between the lines.

Fifteen years of friendship - some of those years spent tangled in each other's bedsheets - had taught her that Alexia's determination wasn't coldness. If the captain showed how worried she was, the whole team would break down.

It had happened before, when Alexia was away from the pitch due to her ACL injury. Paredes was a great captain, but she didn't have the same ability as Alexia to put on a brave face in front ot everybody.

When the assistant manager blew the whistle to restart the training, it was clear the team was already crumbling either way.

Ona was biting her nails raw, staring at the spot where the ambulance had disappeared, as if sheer will could bring Laia - one of her best friends - back. Patri was missing every pass sent her way, too. Even Leila was off, taking shots with the wrong foot.

Leila was concerned, but not because she doubted Laia's toughness to deal with this new season in her career; she knew her friend would survive this. What worried her was who could take Laia's position.

Ona, Jana, Paredes, Mendes, Carmona, Laia, and Leila: that was the defensive line.

Laia was good in tight spaces, brilliant at intercepting passes from the left wing to the right. She protected Cata in a way that was surely going to be missed.

And now she was gone, for God knows how many months.

Leila glanced toward the technical staff and understood the stress carved on their faces. No one could fully replace Laia. Not her speed, not her brain and not her attitude.

"Estáis bien?" Alexia asked Patri at the water break. [are you okay?]

Leila remained nearby, but her attention turned to Vicky and Jana, who were whispering enthusiastically about something that Leila couldn't understand properly.

"I think they're going to call her," Vicky said matter-of-factly. "Should I text her? Let her know?"

"I wish they would, but I doubt her first senior call-up would be straight to the Euros." Jana frowned as she chewed slowly at her protein bar. "Don't tell her yet...what if Montsé ends up calling someone else? She'll be upset."

"Yeah," Vicky agreed sadly, her expression losing its usual excitement. "Maybe Ale will talk to her, though and-"

Leila wanted to press them and find out who they were talking about, but Pina stopped at her side and drew her attention.

"You can room with me and Cata," Pina offered, nudging her shoulder. "So you don't have to be alone in your room."

Leila smirked, looking down at the forward. "And pretend I don't hear you and Cata making out at midnight? No, gracias."

Pina rolled her eyes dramatically and stormed off toward Cata. Leila shook her head, smirking.

She didn't know what those two had; she wasn't even sure if they knew, but whatever dynamics they had created, it wasn't her problem.

Leila's real problem was the empty room waiting to greet her tonight.

Laia wasn't going to snore on her ears all night, making it impossible for her to fall asleep. Leila also wouldn't have to rush in the shower because Laia was pounding on the door, demanding that she finish the shower she started twenty minutes ago.

But Leila would also have no company to escape to the kitchen in the middle of the night to steal some snacks. She wouldn't have company for her morning workouts either.

She was going to miss Laia. Dearly.

Whoever joined the team needed to be a fantastic baller and an even better roommate.

..

Leila's future roommate had arrived, although, by sheer work of destiny, she still didn't know who it was.

When she woke up sharply at 5:45 am, the bed beside he was still empty, still undone, just like Laia had left it. Leila sighed, gave herself five more minutes, and then threw her legs on the side of the mattress.

She stretched her arm and got to her feet. She walked to the drawer, pulling on her training gear. She freshened up in the bathroom and sent a quick text to Laia's fiancé, asking for updates.

Leila gave one last look at the room before she moved through the walls of the training centre.

Most of the girls weren't up yet, but she knew, by spending so many years with them, that Paredes, Alexia and Esther were probably getting ready right now.

They, alongside her, were among the first to be up. She blamed that on their age. When she and Alexia were younger, the last thing they did during camp was wake up early; they much preferred to stay up late, doing things she couldn't even remember properly.

They didn't have a training schedule today, only gym work, and even that wasn't planned; they could do whatever workout they wanted to.

Since she didn't have any drill schedules, Leila took her time in the kitchen, eating yoghurt with fruit as she made small talk with the cooks who were already starting to work on everybody's breakfast.

She even got to eat a muffin that one very kind lady gave to her. That was another positive side of being the first one up.

After eating, Leila headed to the gym. She was happy to find it empty. She didn't put her earphones on, preferring to stay with the steady rhythm of her shoes on the treadmill and the heavy thud of the weights dropping against the gym's floor.

She looked through the window, watching the beautiful day that was already starting to form. Her muscles were aching already, but she couldn't resist a few laps under the warm Madrid sun.

Leila headed to the tracks, trying to finish her morning workout session on a high note.

Halfway through her laps, with sweat stinging her eyes and sticking to her temples, she caught sight of a black car pulling up to the main entrance of the building.

However, from her position on the track and how the car was parked, she couldn't see who had stepped out.

When the car pulled away, all she saw were Montse and Alexia. Someone was walking in front of them - she could tell by the way they and Montse were positioned - but she still couldn't make out so much as a strand of hair of the newcomer who was shielded by their stance.

She shrugged it off and finished her run. There was no rush in meeting the new footballer.

Whoever it was, they would be her new roommate anyway; she was sure she would have plenty of time to get to know her and catch up.

Hours later, when Leila returned to the building, she saw the team gathered in a circle around someone. Just as she was about to approach the group, which was surely surrounding the new girl, she was pulled aside.

"There you are, Ouhabi," said Cíntia, one of the medics, smiling a little too warmly. "We've been looking for you all day. Where have you been?"

Leila squinted her eyes, sensing an accusatory undertone Cíntia was trying to conceal.

Leila wasn't hiding from anyone; she had just been busy moving her body, doing something other than worrying about Laia, about how she was out of surgery by now and how her injury had been worse than expected, according to Laia's fiancé.

"Looking for me"? Leila asked uncertainly. "Why-"

"Come with me."

Before she could protest, Cíntia guided her to the medical wing, a place Leila was very well acquainted with.

It was the room where they conducted biomechanical and physiological assessments; they checked average heart rate, blood oxygenation, and all the standard tests that every athlete was very familiar with.

Leila was one hundred per cent sure she had already done those tests alongside the others when she first arrived. She just didn't know why she was having to repeat them, so she frowned.

"I already went through all of this."

"Sí, but some of your results came back inconclusive," Cíntia said in faux empathy. "We need new ones."

That led to Leila being stuck in the medical room for the remainder of the day. Even lunch was delivered there, she didn't get to eat with the other girls. She just had Cintia as company.

She hated.

After lunch, Leila barely had time to rest; she was hooked to weird machines.

She was weighed and measured more times than she could count, had to run on the treadmill (for the second time that day) and held herself in a plank until her arms trembled.

By the time Leila was released from that torturous session, dinner was rolling around, and she was so exhausted that she didn't even head to the dining hall to eat with the others.

Her legs were shaking from running for an hour straight, her arms sore from all the exercising, and her head pounding from hearing Cíntia talking about her love life as if they had any kind of confidentiality for that.

Well, maybe Cíntia thought that seeing someone half-naked and attaching wires and electrodes to their chest was enough to create some kind of friendship bond.

Leila, however, didn't think that came anywhere near close.

Leila walked wobbily; her thighs were aching from the workout sessions and running. Her eyes were so heavy with sleep that she could barely see where she was going; her steps were guided more by memory than sight.

Her spatial memory, formed from spending every summer at La Ciudad del Fútbol since she was fourteen, was the only thing keeping her from stumbling into the walls.

The sweat had already dried; it was sticky against her skin, and her hair was so greasy that she could feel it clinging to her temples. Her muscles were another problem; they were stiff and tense, as if ready to give up at any moment.

Leila needed a shower, desperately, and a good night of sleep - just as desperately.

Also, a banana would be good too. Leila had decided to miss dinner, but she was still hungry, and with the way her body had worked itself to the limit, she didn't think any digestion would happen.

Leila placed her hand around the doorknob of room 203 - her room, Laia's old room, too. She sighed but pushed the door open.

When she stepped inside, she made sure to double-check the door number, because there was no way this was her room.

Her bed was intact, but the rest of the room? Unrecognizable.

The chest of drawers she once shared with Laia was now cluttered with trinkets; there were three different flowers in mismatched pots, stacks of multiple books with unlit candles on top of them.

She was a hundred per cent sure that candles were not allowed inside the rooms, especially ones that smelt like cinnamon.

The scent was so strong that Leila thought she was going to be sick, which, mixed with the flowers' fragrance, made her feel as if she had stepped into some twisted version of Candyland.

The other bed, the one that belonged to Laia, was piled with pillows - she counted four - and she couldn't ignore the two teddy bears scattered around either.

She didn't like them; it was as if they were staring at her with their black, soulless, button eyes.

On the bedside table sat a lamp she had never seen before. It was turned off, but Leila knew it was one of those lamps that cast warm, orangy light.

Leila took in her transformed space like an animal that had just been moved to a different habitat.

Her room didn't feel like her own anymore. It definitely didn't feel cosy or familiar.

Leila was simple; she liked her room practical, with minimal decor and absolutely far less colour than what was happening here.

She carefully stepped into the room, and her foot met something strange. When she looked down, it was a rug. A fluffy pink rug.

Before Leila could say anything, before she could grimace, the door opened and somebody bumped into her, hard.

It would have sent Leila tumbling if she hadn't spent years working on staying upright while people pushed her. Perks of being a defender.

She didn't turn around; she didn't need to, to know who was standing behind her: the new girl.

Leila took a deep breath, ignoring the way her hips ached slightly from the impact.

The girl behind her squeaked; it was high-pitched, like a startled little mouse, or bunny, definitely bunny.

"Oh, madre mía!" the girl said, slightly out of breath, frightened even. Although startled, her voice was soft, almost velvet. "Perdón!"

Leila turned slowly, as if she needed time for her body to prepare for whoever she would see. It took Leila a minute for recognition to settle.

It didn't come quickly like a sudden flash of a camera that was way too bright for your eyes, but rather as small scenes in her head, like recalling a very nostalgic movie from your childhood.

Leila took the girl up and down, carefully, focusing on everything her eyes could see. Leila knew exactly who the new girl was, who Laia's replacement would be.

Leila just needed a moment to reconcile the young child she remembered years ago with the young woman standing in front of her now.

You had the same eyes, but your hair was different, darker, and your cheeks were still naturally flushed, as if your body was always getting ready to blush deeply.

You had the same mannerisms, too, the same way of holding yourself as if you wanted to blend in everywhere you were. Your shoulders were folding inwards, your hands trembling, just slightly.

You.

Alexia's younger sister

"I - I didn't see you there-oh!" Your voice broke the silence created by Leila's lack of response. You were surprised, just as surprised as Leila.

Then silence filled the room, and suddenly, Leila understood the room's decoration. It was delicate and gentle, just like you.

Just like Leila was taking you in, you were doing the same, your eyes moving up and down Leila's body, as if trying to remember her. It took you longer than it took Leila to remember, which was odd.

You knew who Leila was, of course, you did; you were obsessed with the senior team, you just didn't expect to be sharing a room with her.

No one had told you who your roommate would be when you moved into the room hours before; there was not one single object that told you who the room belonged to.

Leila tilted her head, curious. She watched the way you dropped your eyes quickly to the ground, right to the pink rug.

"Y/n," Leila said slowly, tasting the name on her tongue, the name she never really had a reason to say out loud. A name that, though allowed, still felt forbidden. "Hola."

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out of it, as if you didn't know what to say, as if you were too scared.

Leila remembered you, though, only faintly. When she and Alexia first became friends at Spain U15, you were just three or four, so now you would be around twenty.

You were a shy kid, a shadow in the Putellas' house, Leila remembered that from when she would have sleepovers at Alexia's house.

You were quiet, scared of people, or at least that's what fourteen-year-old Alexia told Leila before she kissed her for the first time.

It didn't need to be said that Leila didn't really care for you. Once Alexia moved out of the house and started her own professional career, Leila never saw you much.

Truth be told, ever since Leila moved to Spain, she never thought about you again, never saw any highlights about you, especially after she and Alexia decided that they would be better off as just friends, no benefits.

Leila knew you played for Barça B and Spain's U21; she knew you were her friend's younger sister, someone too young and irrelevant.

You were private too, never showed up on Alexia's Instagram pictures, and nver made yourself too known.

Maybe you still liked that, still enjoyed lingering in the shadows, peaking through corners, watching everybody and praying they wouldn't see you.

Leila saw you, though.

Now, standing under the dim lights of the room, you didn't seem so hidden, didn't seem too attached to the hem of Alexia's skirt, you didn't seem so young.

But the way your jaw was locked tight and how you seemed to be struggling to breathe told Leila you were still very much anxious, still very nervous.

And she had just said hola.

If Leila looked through your fearful demeanour, she would be able to see how beautiful you were.

Dangerously beautiful and alarmingly hot in a way that made Leila take a step back, trying to create some well-deserved distance.

Because this couldn't be true.

You couldn't have changed so much over those years, changed enough to make Leila salivate while thinking about you. Change enough to make the well aerated room feel without oxygen.

You looked a lot like Alexia, the same Alexia who Leila used to hook up with years ago, the same Alexia who was still one of her good friends and captain.

And still, you looked different, someone else entirely, someone that could be dissected by Leila's skilled hands and careful eyes.

Leila stared at you, and you let her. You didn't move; you stood still, very obedient.

Leila felt as if she was watching a flower she had never seen before. She wanted to lean closer, smell it, but not necessarily pluck it from the ground. Well, at least not now.

You were pretty, that was undeniable, but Leila couldn't really see the athlete in you. There was too little muscle and too much of a baby face.

You looked too soft, you were too soft. Leila only needed to peek around the room to confirm that.

It felt like no one had ever thrown you into the ground, stepped on your back while you were tasting dirt on your mouth, as the game went on without you.

As if you never had to fight for the ball from the feet of a very reckless, coarse forward who only cared about shooting.

As if you never had to pretend you were walking on a broken ligament because the team couldn't afford to lose you.

Back when Leila was in La Masia and Barça B, it was tough and rough. The managers did not take it easy on the players.

Leila wished no one had taken easy on you, that you would be a good addition to the Spain squad - you weren't allowed not to be.

Leila wasn't sure if you had been a good call. You looked like you might fall apart if someone so much as breathed too hard in your direction.

Defenders were supposed to be the walls of the team. They were supposed to be unshakable and tough, right? You seemed breakable, easily destroyed.

She could already picture your first strategic meeting with Montse, how her harsh words would get to you, how you would go back crying to Alexia the moment you realised this - the senior camp - was both mentally and physically brutal.

How tiring and challenging it was, how it turned players into tougher versions of themselves, but positively and negatively.

You moved in your heels, tucking your hair behind your ear, and Leila took the moment to study you again, to memorise the delicate curve of your cheeks, the smooth lines of your jaw and neck, to appreciate how thin and flawless your skin looked, as if it had never carried a single mark, not even a mosquito bite.

You made Leila think of hamlet, the play she had been assigned to read when she was still in high school. You would have been the most perfect Ophélia in her mind, beautiful and delicate, but without the tragic ending.

Perhaps she wished you would stay soft, just like you were now, that the Spanish squad wouldn't corrupt you, that the people at La Masia had been gentle and careful enough to keep you impeccable.

Maybe they had been easy on you, she realised, as she looked at your legs, noticing not a single scar. If she were to count how many marks football had left on her own body before the age of twenty, Leila would have to sit down.

She wanted you to stay delicate, yes, but she also wanted to see you sharpen up just a little bit, to awaken the part of you that could thrive in a competitive environment and maybe, just maybe, awaken something else, too.

Leila watched you one last time before her eyes were back on the room, how you seemed to love pastel colours and flowers and...teddy bears.

Leila didn't know you very well, but she wanted you to stay like that: soft and tamed. But still, a part of her wanted to see you on the edge, see how you would react, and she wanted to be the one to do it.

She remembered how Alexia would always brag about you in some sort of protective way. She would say how much of a sweetheart you were, good to her mom, good to her, never got in trouble.

Good. The perfect girl.

Too good, Leila thought to herself. Too perfect.

Leila knew Alexia would kill her if she let anything happen to the girl she talked about so proudly. Destroying Alexia's little golden girl was, of course, out of the question.

It was probably written in bold letters somewhere in the unspoken constitution of best friends - or perhaps in the "friends-who-used-to-hook-up" constitution - that one did not allow themselves to feel attraction towards the other's youngest sister.

All of that should have been enough to stop the strange, stirring feelings in her chest. And yet, you looked at her again, as if you were nervous, intimidated and something else too.

Something that Leila couldn't read yet, but that made her smirk.

Of course, you were young, way too young for Leila to allow herself to want you.

You were eleven years younger; when you were born, Leila had been playing at La Masia while your older sister was already starting to steal her attention.

While you played with dolls, Leila had been on top of your sister, pressing kisses across her neck in the room next door. Suddenly, Leila wanted to kiss you right here, right now.

The thought of doing so felt dark, uncomfortable, but thrilling just the same. It made her chest tighten and her pulse pick up.

Leila could feel her pupils dilating, taking you in once more; she wanted to turn your little scared face into something different and rawer.

But of course, Alexia couldn't know about it; she was, at the end of the day, very special to Leila; her friendship meant a lot to her. But you were your own person, you could make choices for yourself, too.

Leila would set the trap in front of you, carefully, and if you were a good little bunny... you would jump right in.

She would let you come to her.

"Do you like it?" You mumbled under your breath, so low Leila could barely understand.

She leaned closer to you. "Qué?" [what?]

You gulped, taking a step back and almost getting out of the room.

"T-the room?" You explained. "Alexia told me I could decorate as much as I wanted, so, um...I did."

Leila looked down at the horrible rug. "I see."

"I can, uh, move things around if you want me to," you started rambling, stepping back and pointing at your flowers and books. "Or if you hate it... I can totally move them. No problem."

"And why do you think I hate it?"

"You seem like you might hate it," you said, eyes wide and lips pressed tight. "I'm sorry! I can throw the books away or get new candles?"

Leila just blinked at you.

"Uh, I can get vanilla-scented candles," you said. "Do you prefer vanilla?"

Leila looked at you, mischief sparkling in her eyes. "I don't like vanilla, corazón."

The nickname sent shivers down your spine.

"Oh, okay," you said. "Good thing the ones here are cinnamon, then," you added, trying your hardest to smile. "Do you like cinnamon?"

"No."

The smile disappeared from your face. "Oh."

Leila smirked, walking around you to close the door, locking you both in.

You froze when you heard the click of the door and didn't dare to turn around and face Leila.

She was your roommate; you were, obviously, going to share a space with her. A closed space, a place with locks, a place where you would sleep with Leila by your side.

Leila was as intimidating as she was attractive, although you had to pinch yourself whenever any of those thoughts occurred to you.

She was one of Alexia's best friends. Someone you remembered from your childhood vaguely, but back then, she was just one of Alexia's many teammates.

Leila was still Alexia's teammate, still Alexia's friend, but somehow, someone new and completely different.

You had never really spoken to Leila before, not alone at least, and now, as she looked at you as if you were pathetic, like she could read how nervous you were to be near her, it made you want to shut down completely.

You wanted not to be perceived at all, to vanish within the room, although Leila's presence filled the room so intensively that you were sure you would never achieve it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say you would hate it," you rushed, hoping it would be the right thing to say, the thing Leila wanted to hear.

"I'm not like... making assumptions about you or anything!" you continued, fidgeting with your hands. "Or about what you like or don't like! So yeah, sorry, uh, about that."

Leila squinted her eyes, and then, as if something out of your most desperate teenage wet dreams, she lifted the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, standing in only her shorts and sports bra.

You took in her body, staring, mouth open. Her skin was tan, her abdomen was defined, and her arms were covered in tattoos.

You couldn't do it. You couldn't share a room with Leila Ouhabi. Not when you felt like some teenage boy who had never seen a woman's body before.

Well, actually, you haven't, never like that.

"You say you're sorry a lot-" Leila said, taking her shirt and folding it before placing it on her bed.

Her back was turned to you, and you could see clearly the small tattoos on her shoulders. You were ready to part your lips, another 'sorry' sitting heavy on your tongue, ready to spill.

"-I don't like it," she finished, turning back to you.

"Are you going in?" Her chin pointed at the bathroom, changing the subject entirely.

You open your mouth and then close it, but finally, you were able to form a coherent sentence.

"Y-you can go," you manage to say.

"Good," Leila said before grabbing a toiletry bag from her dresser and walking into the bathroom and disappearing.

The second she was gone, you let out a breath you hadn't realised you were holding.

You carefully sat on your bed and tried not to think about Leila at all. But your mind betrayed you, and you began visualising Leila's body, how she was naked and wet now, with water falling down her back while her hands slid over her body, her muscles softening under the shower heat.

You buried your face in your pillow, wanting to scream.

Fuck.

Maybe this wasn't a good call-up after all. Maybe you weren't ready for such a big tournament.

Maybe you should have said no when Montse called you, saying they needed a defender. Maybe you weren't as ready as you thought you were.

Certainly, you weren't, because why were you obsessing over the older teammate who was going to sleep next to you rather than on the actual game?

You were going to play at the Euros, but all you could think of was Leila Ouhabi and the tattoos that filled her body, how you wanted to take a closer look and trace each one of them with your fingers.

You were younger than most girls here, inexperienced and not athletic enough.

The players here were tough and you... weren't. Maybe the senior team wasn't for you, maybe those girls at La Masia were right, and you would never be a great footballer like your sister.

You shook your head. No. Deja de pensar así. You couldn't think like that. If you had been called up, there was a reason.

You were the best defender of the Spain U21, and you were fast and agile. Opponents never saw you coming to take the ball from them and send it to the forwards.

Maybe you weren't bulky yet, you might not have had much strength or an aggressive mindset, but you still had your own qualities. Qualities that your sister always talked about.

Your sister.

Maybe you should sneak into her room tonight? Ask if you could sleep there. Alexia always made things better; she was always there for you, and right now, you felt like you needed someone.

Someone older, someone who could put some sense in your head, stop the voices telling you you weren't supposed to be here, voices that insisted on making you think about your new roommate.

You weren't going to tell Alexia you had a crush on her best friend, Alexia wouldn't approve it, mainly because Leila was older. And, unfortunately, Alexia's approval was very important to you.

You had gotten up from the bed, hand on the knob, ready to run to your sister's room, but then you shook your head and cursed yourself. No.

You weren't going to Alexia's room.

You were going to stay here and deal with your own feelings. You were twenty already, not a kid, not a teenager, and Alexia couldn't always be your shoulder to lean on.

It was late too; she was probably asleep already.

You whined and let yourself fall face-first on the mattress, the pile of pillows making your fall feel soft. Maybe you should sleep, too, and try to keep the voice inside your mind quiet.

You looked at the clock on your bedside table, it was almost 10 pm. Yeah, you definitely should sleep. You had already showered earlier, and you would have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.

Your body was heavy just like your eyes; you needed rest, especially after making such a rushed trip from Barcelona to Madrid.

You had packed your suitcase in the most horrendous way ever. Alexia (and your mom) would have an aneurysm if they saw how your clothes were all bundled up in piles instead of folded neatly.

You walked to your suitcase and grabbed your pyjamas, taking one last glance at the bathroom door and still heard the water running.

Okay, good, Leila wouldn't walk in on you changing.

You slipped into your clean pyjamas - ones that felt way too short to wear around others - but Madrid's heat was brutal and you didn't want to wake up drenched in sweat.

You allowed yourself to lie on the bed again, the pillow welcomed your head, and the soft lilac blanket was comforting; it reminded you of home, of your room in Barcelona.

You reached for your lamp instinctively, feeling the warmth of its light brushing your cheeks. It made you smile.

You loved how shiny the lamp was; it felt almost sunny whenever you turned it on.

You almost knocked your clock while doing so, but you were faster and caught it before it could shatter into pieces on the laminated floor. You were sure Leila wouldn't appreciate a mess of metallic and plastic fragments beside her bed.

Minutes had passed, and you were almost sleeping, but then Leila finally walked out of the bathroom, with droplets of water clinging to her skin and falling down her oversized shirt.

You watched her, your head still on the pillows. She looked divine, absolutely divine, you even had to clutch your blanket hard.

She placed her toitlrty bag on the dresser before turning her body and walking to her bed.

Well, mhm, actually, you realised she was walking straight to you and your bed.

Leila was getting closer.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Your brain short-circuited, you didn't realise you were holding your breath.

Each of her steps created a pattern against the floor until she reached you, stopping right at the side of your bed.

You looked up to her, mouth agape. You couldn't quite read her expression, but you were trying to. Leila's jaw was tensed, her brow furrowed, and now she was moving her arm and-

Dark.

Leial turned off your lamp.

You were in the dark.

"W-what?" You blinked up at her, though you could barely make out her silhouette anymore.

"I can't sleep with too much light," was the last thing Leila said before she crawled to her bed, her back turned to you.

The mattress creaked as she settled in, fluffing her pillow and letting her sandals fall onto the floor.

You listened to every sound Leila made: the way her sheets rustled; the sigh she let out as her head hit the pillow, as if her day was tiring and she was just waiting for the right moment to finally fall asleep, the way her breathing gradually fell into a soft pattern.

You, on the other hand, stayed frozen with fear, clutching your pillows against your chest, trying to focus on something, anything that would ease the familiar tightness that was building in your ribcage at each second.

You were scared of the dark, not just a little scared, you were panicking.

Your heart was hammering so hard it made it difficult to think. For a moment, you thought the sound might wake Leila up.

Your throat began closing around itself, and you felt like there wasn't enough air in the room, although all windows were open.

There were so many real and unreal things that could linger when light was absent. Things you couldn't see, things that could creep into your bed.

Your imagination had always been your worst enemy when the lights were off.

Every sound from the room next door became footsteps of a malignant being coming at you, every whisper of wind slipping through the windows through the curtains felt like ghost hands brushing your skin.

That's why you always left a light on. It was too scary not to stay in the dark, but now, it seemed like your roommate didn't care about your comfort that much.

You didn't dare to turn it back on.

Because what if Leila woke up and got angry at you? Thought you were being childish? She was intimidating (and pretty); you couldn't bear the thought of her being amused at your ridiculous fear.

Also, you didn't want to risk annoying Leila; she deserved to rest, to have a good night of sleep.

You had no idea what it was like to train for a big tournament. She was probably exhausted.

It was like you were spellbound, like there was something unseen keeping your hand glued to your own body. Your muscles were all contracted, your knuckles white from clutching your hands in fists for so long.

You could hear every sound in the building, every step, every muffled laugh, the sound of someone watching Youtube, of someone on a call.

Underneath all those sounds, you could hear Leila's steady breathing, too. At the same time that it made you feel safe, it also kept you on edge.

You squeezed your eyes shut and pulled yourself under the covers. It was hot, so hot under the blanket that even the smallest pyjamas wouldn't help keep you cool, but at least it made you feel somewhat safe.

You began to count the same way Alexia and Alba had taught you years ago.

Un corderito, dos corderitos, tres corderitos...

You counted 21.600 corderitos, just enough to keep you occupied until the first sunlight escaped through the curtains.

You breathed in once, then twice, feeling like you were finally allowed to move.

Sleep didn't come to you during the night, and a headache was already making a home in your frontal lobe.

You pressed your hand to your forehead, rubbing the skin, trying to make the pain go away, but it wouldn't.

It didn't matter how much medicine you would take; it was the kind of pain formed out of the absence of something, in your case, sleep.

Maybe you could nap during the day. Yes, definitely, or else you wouldn't be able to work and play properly.

You looked to your side. Leila was still asleep. You checked the clock on her bedside table: 5:32 am.

You groaned, but then got up anyway and moved to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, you realised how horrible you looked: there were dark circles already forming under your eyes, and you looked way too pale.

You splashed water on your face and brushed your teeth. You tried to look put together, to do some skin care routine, some face massage, but nothing was working.

So you decided to shower. Perhaps it would make you feel renovated, maybe the hot water would take away the fear and tiredness that were clinging to your cells.

Once you were standing in just your underwear, ready to step into the shower, the bathroom door burst open.

You squeaked and spun around, grabbing your pyjama shirt and putting it in front of your chest, creating a shield to protect your decency from the intruder.

Leila froze and looked at you with wide eyes for just a moment, genuine surprise on her face, but then she smiled, a smirk tugging at her lips.

She turned around casually, though she didn't leave.

"Sorry," she said, drawing out the word slowly, as if mocking how you said sorry so often. "I'm ot used to sharing a bathroom."

Your heart was hammering, and your breathing was uneven. The small bathroom felt suffocating with both of you in it.

"I- I," you stammered, hoping your obvious distress would make her close the door and leave. It didn't. "Didn't you share a bathroom with Laia before me?"

"Sí-" Leila said simply, moving around the bathroom as if you weren't standing there half-dressed and absolutely mortified, at least, she made sure to have her back to you now.

She opened a drawer and rummaged through some items, very unhurried, as if she wasn't in the way of your shower, as if you weren't naked.

"- but we were all girls, anyway." She found what she was looking for, a hairbrush. She lifted it slightly, as if showing you her justification for being there. "We didn't care about seeing each other naked."

"I'm not naked!" you blurted.

Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and you were clutching the shirt so tightly to your body that it might fuse with your skin.

In one swift movement, Leila turned to face you, her eyes meeting yours before slowly trailing down your body.

"Maybe I should have waited a bit longer to get into the bathroom, then," she murmured.

As if she had found a pot of gold, her eyes fell to your legs, then she lifted her gaze, lingering on your underwear - your very unsexy - bunny underwear.

"Conejita." Leila winked before leaving the bathroom.

She moved toward the door, but paused.

"Lock it next time," she said through the doorway, her voice amused. "I might forget to knock again."

..

A/n: I hope you guys enjoyed this story! <3 Come talk to me about it if you feel like!