ᶠÚᵗᵇᵒˡ Oɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs ⎳⎳

Home (Neymessi)

It was his idol's shadow that he wasn't willing to be dwarfed by any longer. He continually sat in silence, as victory was to be Messi's, and not his. Although he'd be the one feeding Barcelona with goals during the rear end of the season of 2016, credits would be handed over to the Argentine- his name on everyone's lips being cheered loud and clear, the cheers breaking through the stadium doors and walls.

Messi could no longer see the glint of adoration and pride in Neymar's eyes. It was all to be blanketed by a pile of sickening emotion that Messi wasn't familiar in seeing Neymar experience. He was blinded by the awfully irresistible, growing feeling of pride in him that now made the best of him, on and off pitch.

Fans only fed the fire instead of blowing it out. Messi's name was all over front covers of magazines- his existence to be praised by fans all over the world. But the the actual magician behind the glorified title that Barcelona possessed now, would be none other than- Neymar.

His beautiful hazel eyes slowly sagged to an ocean of deep and dark waters that held no emotions anyhow, failing to resemble his youth. The eyes that Messi would always turn to see filled with confidence and youth,- couldn't be promised to remain the same.

Although everyone applauded the actor on stage, the perfectionist behind the curtains would sit in the defeaning silence, with no one to applaud him, or to give him a re-assuring pat in the back for his swift and perfect footwork and patience with the ball.

Neymar gave in, soon seeing himself play for his last game with Barcelona. He had no regrets. Not a single tear threatened to leave his eyes. He convinced himself enough to score one last goal, doesn't matter credit goes to who. It would be his last match with Barca- a club he mistakened for home.

Messi's eyes stay glued to Neymar's figure, preventinh his eyes from shedding the tears he was having a hard time holding back. Bidding his best friend- from who he'd now grown apart from, or that his fans were the reason- with a lifeless hug and a pat in the back did nothing to stop the pain from etching a scar in his heart.

With so many games ahead and fans to satisfy with, Messi let the feather slip from his grasp- the feather he'd held tight between his fingers for so long- was now flowing in the swift wind, fading into an abyss that Messi could define anything but something that would be great for Neymar to go in.

Only if Messi knew what was really going on behind the curtains.

---

I had left Barcelona,- my home, exactly a year back now. I could remember all the celebrations I did, specially the most ridiculous ones in which I danced- I really had to pick to dance, to keep my Brazillian heritage.

Although it wasn't how ridiculous I had been in my youth back in Barcelona that bugs me to this day. It's the memories. It will be an understatement to say that the memories I created while I was there was sensational. It was something more special than that, and there was a certain someone that made it so special and make me feel like at home.

I could never imagine playing alongside a world class football player. I, just a poor and scrawny Brazillian boy back then, wouldn't even come to compare with Messi, who on the other hand- was and still is a complete magician and wonder.

He's something the world loves- everyone loves. Whether it's him doing an Adidas commercial, or if it's him building play for the team, he's an eye candy. There weren't any fans ever to have disrespected or trashed him, or maybe I don't have an idea of it.

But either way- he's praised. He's been the wonder kid who's flourished into a completely matured man who's a goal-scoring machine. I'd never forget when we first met when they played against FC Santos.