ᶠÚᵗᵇᵒˡ Oɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs ⎳⎳

Nyctophile

Richarlison is playinh for barca here- well- for the least, at least not Tottenham dawg.

____________

He hadn't arrived to practice, again.

This seemed to be turning into more of a routine for all his teammates than an unexpected absence which would push their curiosity to maybe text him or call him to see if he's doing alright.

But no one seemed to budge as Xavi had said that Raphinha had called in sick. No one bothered to stop and listen- they went on with their daily practice and dribbles as they should be- fooling around here and there. But a certain tall guy in his early 20's rushed to Xavi, before the elderly man could disappear off into the tunnel.

- "What?" Xavi turned around with a plain face, the slight creases of disappointment finding no way to be smoothened.

Richarlison caught his breathe, before standing upright. Xavi knew what he'd be asking, so he stopped the latter midway of his question before he could continue.

- "It's insomnia, you can talk to him after practice, he'll be home I guess." Xavi suggested, walking away, his shadow disappearing into the halls.

Richarlison didn't want to wait for practice to end, but he knew that he had to. The worst part is, he has no control over his temper.

And if he manages to get himself frustrated, it's gonna end badly. Things will be going downhill in practice. All he can wish for now is, for the next hour to just pass by before he starts to pick up symptoms of frustration.

Hopefully he doesn't catch onto it as quickly he's always done.

Maybe he'll hold on a bit longer for Raphinha. It's all for him, either way.

---

Richarlison didn't have to bother pressing the switch to ring the speaker inside his house. Standing by the gate, he stared at Raphinha, who in turn stared at the evening sky's warm colors beginning to fade, the sun's peak minutes away from sinking under the horizon.

Although Raphinha was a fairly far distance away from Richarlison, the younger man could see that slight sparkle in his eyes. He seems to be waiting. And Richarlison knows exactly what he's waiting for.

It makes Richarlison groan to think of how stupid anyone could be to not be aware of their slowly deteriorating health, and whatever kept Raphinha's focus averted from his health. It is not too much of a good reason to give as an excuse for the insomnia that he's earned himself, which is not a a good treat for a professional football player.

Richarlison sighs, knocking on the gate.

Raphinha slightly jerks in his position, neck twisting towards the gate. Richarlison watched the other man place his hand to his heart, letting out a dramatic sigh, indicating Richarlison to push the gate open.

Richarlison's footsteps were loud, probably because of his shoes that were so polished you'd be able to see your reflection in it. Too bad the roughly cut blades of grass are putting a slight stain to the shine.

The grass crunches as the ground seems to dip as he takes a step. It's almost uncomfortable, as he's trying to walk as nicely as he can, doesn't matter if it's a best friend that's watching him and trying not to laugh. In reality, he's walking funny,- as a result of his attempt to walk elegantly in his rather classy attire.

He wheezed and sat closely beside Raphinha, resting his hands on his crossed legs, following Raphinha's orbs. Not the skies, please. Richarlison could only dream of that to happen.

- "You need to sleep, man."

- "I guess?"

- "No, you will."