madrid ✦ álvaro morata

two years prior

🎧 something real - blackbear (sarah close cover)

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19TH JUNE 2014 | MADRID, SPAIN

"IT'S ALRIGHT," it was the furthest thing from alright, but Alvaro had thought to spare them a little more heartache. His arms were wrapped around her shaking body for the last time in the circumstance they were in and he pressed a kiss onto her head.

Klara had woken up so tightly in his arms to the point she was too at ease, resulting in tears haplessly dropping on his face and waking him up.

Klara hardly every cried in front of Alvaro. The first time was when they were 7 and Alvaro, wanting to look cool in front of his friends, shoved Klara on the way to the seesaw swing. She was still the same tough-act girl then and only bawled her fist in anger and let a few tears slip out. The second was when he was hit with a horrid injury during a football match at the age of 16 and he insisted he wasn't hurt, and no Klara i'm fine I swear, but Klara knew otherwise. The third? The third was the night previous where he shakily explained the situation at hand and that time, Klara couldn't be strong.

With his arms still wrapped around her, he hoisted them up to lean against the backboard where he slowly rocked her back and forth in order to calm her.

She wasn't sobbing and Alvaro thought that the way she cried was much worse than sobbing loudly. It was the type where Klara didn't want to admit she was crying and kept herself choked up while silent tears fell like a rainstorm.

"It's alright, it's alright," he kept whispering as he peppered kisses on her head, "Klara."

They lingered for minutes more until she pulled herself away from him and calmly wiped her eyes and walked into the en-suite toilet. Alvaro's eyes followed her moved until she was out of sight. He closed his eyes and leaned his head onto the wall.

Maybe he had deluded himself into thinking it wasn't over and that she would ask him to stay, but nothing was happening and in a couple of hours, he'd be on a plane to Italy with the suitcase in the corner of her familiar room.

The yellow lights on the side of the large bathroom mirror were always dim and cast shadows onto the person's reflection. Klara gripped the marble counter and fully looked at the mess staring back at her. Hair messy and mascara smudged, she sighed over and over again. She was clad in nothing aside from his final Real jersey they had him wear in the final meeting the night before.

"Klara?" she heard his worried voice by the door of the bathroom.

"I'll be out in a minute," scared her voice would crack, she kept her sentence short and rushed. Biting her lip, Klara wiped away all the mascara flakes around her eyes and brushed through the tangle that tragically was her hair.

When she returned into her room, Alvaro was making the bed and changing into the outfit he would leave in. It was a scary thought that after almost 22 years in Madrid, he was leaving for a long time.

There were no words exchanged between the two because there simply wasn't any words to express their sadness and heartaches. It was probably better left unsaid anyway.

While Klara prepared the most homey breakfast she could give him, Alvaro was in the same spot in front of the mirror she had been in just minutes prior.

He was strong, but it took the world's strength to be able to leave Klara and he simply wasn't that strong. Alvaro would leave Klara with a heavy, hurting heart and wet eyes instead of an 'i'll see you later' and a firm goodbye smile. It was over for them and he knew it.