guardian | neymar jr

5. hungover?

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I brought the groceries inside to find Neymar sleeping on the couch in nothing but his tight boxers. Damn maybe he did need those XL condoms.

For Neymar trying to be professional, he was doing a pretty bad job after only the second day. I guess he did live here. Blaming him for living his life would be a stupid thing to do, even if he did hook up with girls.

He was sprawled out taking up almost all of the huge, comfy couch—I thought he was a shorter male, but he looked pretty big in the position he was in. I tried my best to ignore him and took the groceries into the kitchen. I did my best to put everything away in the proper place.

A strange groan came from the living room causing me to check up on Neymar. He was still sprawled all over the couch but I noticed he had beads of sweat on his face. His eyes started to flicker open as I walked over to him.

"Are you ok?" I asked him worryingly.

He tried to stand up before answering. Instead of him getting up swiftly, like his normal movements, he stumbled to the side. Before he fell over, I caught him by his side. Thank God I was only an inch shorter than him because his muscles were a lot of weight.

I honestly was disgusted by all of his sweat on his chest getting all over my black shirt.

"Can you help me to my room?" his voice wavered and was very dry.

Neymar leaned nearly all of his weight on me as he put his arm around my shoulders. His breathing became heavier as we got to the stairs. One stair at a time, I didn't ask any questions. Although I wanted to, I figured if he could barely walk, he couldn't talk and walk at the same time.We got about half of the way up the steps when Neymars foot stumbled on the step, and he nearly fell backwards.

"Merde," I whispered receiving a confused glance from Neymar.

He rested his head on my shoulder as he whispered quietly, "I didn't know you spoke French."

"Well," I groaned trying to lift him up the last stair, "there's a lot you don't know about me, and there's obviously a lot I don't know about you."

I felt bad for Neymar. It was hard to tell if he was sick or hungover or both. He was having trouble walking so there was obviously something wrong with him.

His room was messier than the previous time I was in it. It had some clothes thrown around and football gear in the corner. His bed was the only clean thin in it. The sheets were freshly washed and the cover was folded over nicely.

Lying him down on his bed, I tried to leave the room. However, Neymar's warm, sweatly hand caught my arm before I could get very far.

"Can you get me water?" He desperately asked.

I nodded and retrieved his water. I looked at him while he was drinking it. Somehow he managed to look sexy. The sweat glistened on his abs causing them to look even more toned. His tattoos looked darker as well. If he needed to fix something it was his hair. It had tight, little curls from the salt in his sweat that stuck to his forehead.

Either, I was staring at him for along time, or he chugged the water due to the fact that he set it down on his side table rather loud.

"You need to see a doctor," I told his as he tried to go into a lying down position.

"No, I don't," he refused calmly.

"Look at you Neymar. You need to see a doctor. You probably have alcohol poisoning or something."

"No. I can't," He voice was hostile, "because if I go then they find out that I drank to the point of being drunk at an event, and I get benched."

I was shocked at his tone. All I wanted to do was help, it's not my fault he decided to get drunk last night.

"Ok. No doctor." I kindly smiled at him to calm him down. Looks like I'll have to be the professional one now.

I approached him and put a hand on his forehead. He tensed up at this gesture and let out a quiet sigh. He needed a doctor, his face was practically on fire. Neymar was staring at me without me realizing. I kept my hand on his forehead for him to feel something cool on it until I would get him a wet towel.

I looked down into his eyes that have been glaring at me for awhile now. We looked at each other kindly for a couple minutes as my hand brushed trough his hair. I knew guys loved when I did this, they always said it felt so good. Neymar must've thought the same thing when he drifted off to sleep.

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Sorry this chapter was trash. Hopefully that picture makes up for it :))).

Love ya,
Cassie