2 years ago
Carajo. Carajo. Carajo. CARAJO. At this moment, Marc agreed with the stereotype that footballers were stupid. Because he had done something really fucking stupid. He looked over at the back of the girl in bed next to him. Maybe last night had all just been a dream, and he had woken up next to his beloved Mariandrea. He then looked at the woman’s face and noticed her hair was an awful acid blonde with shit brown roots and had what appeared to be herpes on her lip(?). No, it was not his corazón, Mariandrea was still off in Madrid happily going about her life, with no idea that her kinda-boyfriend had cheated on her last night. He shuddered at the word-cheated. He was a big fucking cheater.
Mariandrea hated cheaters. One of their many (kinda) breakups (they never were officially dating) was caused because she was convinced he had cheated in FIFA, which spiraled into a huge, awful fight. (Later that night, she had come by his hotel room with Mexican food, their favorite, to apologize and also to convince him there was good Mexican in Madrid. His position on the matter remained unchanged, but she did look pretty damn cute eating a taco.) Marc remembered her cursing at the TV (always TV, she never went anywhere in public with him because of “what the press and her family would say”, so they spent their small amounts of time together in hotels/apartments/dorm rooms) when someone fouled her beloved Ronaldo, claiming that they were a cheater. She also made it clear that if he ever (kinda) cheated on her he would be dead to her.
Marc didn’t want to be dead to her.
He just wanted to date her for real.
Not have some weird on-again,off-again (kinda) fling. Not get shot down every time he talked about being something more than “whatever we are”. Not live in completely different cities. Not see her post a picture on Instagram with some dude at some party at her University when he was half-drunk, call her in a drunken-range,fight (again), get more drunk, and cheat on her. But he had to fuck it up.
Marc wasn’t used to things not going his way. (Mind you, things with her had never really gone his way.) He had no idea how to handle this situation.
He wondered if he could just… not tell her? I mean, they were only kinda dating, right? That was her rule, not his. No, that was stupid, Mariandrea was the smartest person he had ever met, and she could always see right through him anyway. She would know something was up, and even though they were only kinda dating, she would be hurt. And besides, maybe this was kind of a blessing in disguise. A break might be a good thing. They only saw each other during U21 National Team matches (She would wear his jersey to those matches. He liked it when she wore his jersey. A lot.) or on the occasional break from trainings or classes when one of them could travel to the other’s city. It was obvious he wasn’t going to sway her on the idea of them just coming out and saying they were dating, the press and her family be damned. (“Who really cared about the press?”, he thought.) They fought all the time. (He was trying very hard to convince himself this was actually good. Things always went his way, right?)
But most of all, he knew she didn’t deserve a cheater. He had to tell her.
So, after dashing out of the apartment of last night’s mistake, he sat down for the hardest video-call he would ever have to make, blessing in disguise or not.
He hated the look of happiness on her face when she saw him.
”Hey baby, I missed you!”
He hated the look of shock and hurt that flashed across her eyes when he told her what he did.
He hated when the girl who couldn’t stop talking seemed to be speechless. He hated when the look of sadness was replaced with a look of indifference. He would have rather her have gotten mad. She always said the opposite of love wasn’t hate, it was indifference.
”Um, uh, it’s ok. I mean, we were never really exclusive.”
He hated when she tried to act like everything was ok. (And what the hell did she mean,not exclusive? He hated that he wasn’t really in a place to call her out on that, she was already upset with him.)
”I’m not mad at you. It’s fine.”
He hated when she said things were fine.
”Marc, it’s not like this relationship was ever that important to me anyway.”
He hated that he knew he deserved that. He hated that she knew exactly how to hurt him. (He hated how he had always been scared that was true.)
He hated when she said it was (kinda) over, even though he knew it was coming.
”I guess this is it then, yeah?”
Author’s Note: Hey! This is just a little bit of background into Marc and Mari’s (kinda) relationship, and also so you know the reason why they “grew apart”. I hope y’all are enjoying this!!! :)