Life calls for breaks - Alexia Putellas

Summary: Alexia lost the UEFA Women's Champions League, and you don't really know how to help her. You are there, though, and it's enough.

Word count: 1.5k

..

The sadness you felt in your chest wasn't even comparable to what Alexia was probably feeling right now.

You watched from the stands as the referee blew the whistle and the Arsenal players started to cry, running toward one another, commemorating the win they had just earned.

You had watched the entire game. Arsenal deserved it, but so did Barcelona. You stood by that belief as you searched the pitch for one face in particular: Alexia.

Alexia's worst enemy was herself. She was her biggest critic. Often, Alexia would not be kind to herself, and by the way she was holding it together, greeting and congratulating the Arsenal players while keeping a protective hand on her youngest players' backs, telling them it would be okay. You knew that voice in her head was speaking very unkindly to her right now.

It was as if Alexia went through all stages of grief at once. At first, she didn't show any emotion; she was just there for her players. She was the Captain, she had to be strong all the time—or that's what she thought.

Your careful eyes never left Alexia. You saw as she sat down on the pitch, looking at nothing, letting it sink in. Your heart ached knowing you couldn't go down there and hold her.

Players' families could only access the pitch after the medal ceremony, but given that Barcelona had lost, they wouldn't stay on the pitch much longer after that. It was better to wait for her in the hallway leading to the locker room.

You watched the medal ceremony, how Alexia walked past the trophy without lifting her head. It should be her. It should be Alexia holding it. Alexia should be the one with the gold medal around her neck.

You knew you weren't being very rational right now, but seeing how disappointed Alexia was with herself, you couldn't help it. It made you mad.

Fuck football. Fuck the Champions League. Fuck everything that was hurting Alexia at the moment.

When the medals were distributed, you made your way to the private area of the stadium and waited for Alexia. She was one of the last to walk through. Other players found their loved ones in the hallway and stopped for hugs. They needed that.

When Alexia spotted you, she gave you the slightest smile. You wanted to take all the pain she was feeling and throw it away.

You took a few steps back so you would have a little more privacy, turning toward the right wall. You were kind of alone; anyone could walk by at any second, but right now, only the two of you mattered.

"Hi," you said softly, opening your arms and inviting Alexia into a hug.

Alexia stepped closer, wrapping her arms around you, her head lying on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be," you replied in a small voice, one you knew she needed to hear. "That's football. Part of the game–"

"--but I know it still hurts," you continued, trying to coax a little more out of her. "It's okay to be sad."

You knew how Alexia tended to close off when she was hurt. She would put on her captain facade, being strong for everyone while being hard on herself.

"You played well, amor," you said, pressing a kiss to the side of Alexia's head. "I'm proud of you, you always make sure I am."

Alexia didn't answer. Instead, she took a step back. "I need to change, but then I'll go straight to the hotel. Meet me there?"

"Yes, of course."

You and Alexia were back at the hotel. Alexia had paid for her own room, so you could be with her without questions or interruptions, since the club didn't allow the players to share a room with anyone outside of the team.

"Come here," you said gently, reaching for her as soon as she stepped through the door.

You had arrived thirty minutes earlier than her. Your pyjamas were already on; you were just waiting for Alexia.

You helped her out of her jersey, then guided her to the bed. You lay down first, and Alexia settled on top of you, her body fitting perfectly against yours.

"You never cry on the pitch," you observed quietly.

"No," she agreed, her voice muffled against your chest.

"You can cry now."

"No," she repeated, but her voice was smaller this time.

You caressed Alexia's back gently, waiting for her to say something more, but she didn't. The silence stretched between you, filled only with the sound of her breathing gradually evening out.

Just as you were ready to open your mouth to say something comforting, Alexia let out a very small, light snore.

You kissed the top of her head, trying to shift into a more comfortable position. With Alexia on top of you, your arms were starting to get sore, but you wouldn't wake her up.

Not when she finally looked peaceful. Not when she needed this rest more than anything. It was relaxing to see her face so soft, without any ounce of disappointment.

This game had hurt Alexia deeply. You knew how much this game meant. Hell, for Alexia, each game was important, even a friendly. Alexia's soul was stitched into football.

Football for Alexia wasn't just a hobby that turned into a profession. It was who she was, it was part of her being. Being born in a football-loving family was just a detail.

Alexia would always find her way back to football. You knew she would find her way back to the pitch even stronger. The whole team would.

But right now, Alexia didn't need 'strong' or 'tough'. She didn't need motivational words.

She just needed to be taken care of. Even if she wasn't admitting it, even if she would fight you on it when she woke up the next morning.

..

Alexia was the first to wake up. She rolled to her side when she realised she was sleeping on top of you. She got out of the bed and pulled the blanket over your body. Your mouth was parted slightly, your hair was a bit wet-Alexia hadn't realised how you hadn't dried your hair before bed.

Alexia had gotten to the hotel just as you were getting out of your shower.

When Alexia went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and get her hair ready, it all sank in.

The game. The goal–or lack of. The absolute sadness on her longtime teammates, the disappointment on the younger players. She, in the middle of the pitch, watching as so many Barcelona fans left the stadium without another title for their club.

Alexia felt responsible for all of it. She was their captain. She should have analysed the game better, and should have yelled better instructions. She was in the midfield, she was the backbone of the team. And it was all shredded apart when the game ended, and Arsenal was the winner.

At the locker room after the game, Alexia had kept her composure. Comforting the ones that needed comfort, being logical to the ones who wanted to go back and watch every second of the game, trying to see where they could be different.

Alexia was whoever she needed to be for the team.

And still that wasn't enough for them to walk out with the trophy in her hand and one more star on Barcelona's badge.

"I hope you aren't sulking here alone in the bathroom when you have a very cute girlfriend on the bed that could sulk with you," you said, a small smile on your face.

Alexia looked at you through the bathroom mirror.

You looked soft, tired, but beautiful. You looked like someone who deserved a medal. Alexia couldn't give you that.

Alexia didn't know what to say, so she put the toothbrush in her mouth, feeling the roughness of its bristles against her gums.

She watched as you got closer to her. You wrapped your arms around Alexia, head pressed against her back. "Talk to me," you whispered, so low Alexia barely understood it.

Alexia felt like she had swallowed a ball, as if something hard had gotten stuck in her throat, so much that her words had gotten stuck. She felt so much, but couldn't express it, couldn't let it fall out of her, because she would get drowned in it.

"Can't," Alexia said simply, taking your hand into her own, showing you that she cared, she just... couldn't be here with you, not a hundred per cent. She needed time to process it, a lot of time.

But she was sure you would be by her side until it happened. That you would be supportive. You always were.

"Okay," you said gently. "I'll wait."

Alexia spat the rest of the toothpaste into the sink, watching it as it dripped down the drain.

Alexia needed some time.

She remembers a quote Kika had shown her once, before the game, before everything. "A vida pede pausas".

Life calls for breaks.

The bathroom had a small window in it. Alexia couldn't see much, but she could see the sky.

It was blue, not a single cloud in sight.

She was in Lisbon, the weather was beautiful, and she had lost.

..

a/n: I absolutely loved writing this, especially because I could sneak in a little bit about my mother tongue in it! <3