Chapter Text
Eindhoven
Barcelona vs Wolfsburg
03/06/2023
This year was never going to be one for winning.
Not for Ona, at least. And she was beyond fine with that; she hadn't gone to Manchester three years ago with grand hopes of sweeping a quadruple or becoming the breakthrough starlet on every report.
She knows what she went for; the game. But she isn't quite sure what she'd hoped for. Aside from the obvious...was Manchester supposed to have been golden? Or was it supposed to have been this gritty trimester of her youth that turned her from girl to woman?
Anyway, you never go home empty-handed, not really. Not in ways that actually matter.
For all she lost to the club, to the city, she gained something. A new language, different friends, independence, an appreciation for inauthentic Chinese takeaway, a girlfriend?
She was someone now, for better or worse. Someone people cared about, publicly and in the circles of elite football. With that comes a loss of anonymity, of regular-person privacy. But somehow, the losses feel incredibly insignificant when she looks at the bigger picture.
She only internalises just how substantial the dividends had been when she's sat thirty-thousand feet above the sea, and she starts to wonder if she'll actually miss Manchester after all. Or maybe she'll miss the growth, the strength she found, watching her tears of heartbreak turn into tears of heartache for something she loved and that loved her back.
This outcome and move back home is all she had wanted for so long, but that's a lot of pressure to put on a version of reality that contains approximately zero guarantees. Apart from, well, she'll be home. And she’ll have Lucy.
And now she's getting teary thinking about her sweet Lucy, wishing so badly that she could have been there to take care of her after the knee surgery. Better now than in six months, she decides. Being on the pitch together as teammates isn’t even something she can properly envision, and it’s scary, for many reasons. But she vows to cherish it nonetheless, because she has quickly learnt that nothing matters more than sharing these memories with people who truly love her.
The sun rises in flashes of purple-pink against her cheek, on the first flight out to Eindhoven. To her girlfriend. Maybe even to watch her lift a trophy. And if Barcelona concede miserably, this was still more than enough of a take-home for the season. She’d still lose nothing.
Maybe she won't text Lucy just yet. Maybe she'll keep it a surprise until the very last moment. It was a hasty decision to come anyway—they only finished up the season last week, and she's had more to do than she thought would be possible in trying to pack away her life here.
Lucy hadn't even formally asked her to come to the final, just knew it was a possibility, but one that probably wouldn't come to fruition. Little did she know, Ona was borderline terrified of her obsession with Lucy. It was hard to express the magnitude of her feelings, but she’d leap cities to support her, especially after the amount of grace and devotion Lucy has shown her since they first met. Always so gentle, so thoughtful, so giving in every action and word she spoke. It’s only been a few months of being official official, but Ona can’t remember the person she was before this.
Lucy was so intentional with her love that it had taken some time to catch up to Ona, and the adjustment to someone being so honest and devoted often leads to her feeling slightly undeserving. Or more so, fearful that it couldn’t be true. That was the prevailing theme of these past few weeks: if it breaks, Ona will break with it. She sees their love everywhere, feels it in every bone, throws herself at it time and time again only to come out unscathed. So how then, does it still feel so fragile? Still looks like a gust of wind could break it to smithereens?
Ona curves her hands around the cold barrier, leaning closer, the blaring sun making it hard to see clearly. She was feeling stupidly nervous, awkward even, incongruous. No one would read that from the outside; after all, she was a player, and Barcelona is, by all means, her team.
Her face crashes into her hands just three minutes into the game. Wolfsburg scored.
Lucy looks immobilised by the guilt of her mistake that led to the concede, and that alone cuts Ona in two. Like a punch to the gut, she remembers why she’s here—yes for the game, but her heart’s gaze can’t be torn from making Lucy the star of her world.
Ona doubts if she'd even felt this kind of stab when a loss came from her own doing. It sucked, but when you love someone as much as she did Lucy, it's hard to see the tough exterior over the tender middle that she showed Ona in their private moments. The version of Lucy that feared, and took pain deeply, that wanted so badly to do things right and couldn't forgive herself for mistakes.
That was the problem with all of this. The game became ruthless when its tendrils were seeded in every aspect of her life and relationships, in all the things that made her whole.
And damn if football didn’t try to break her sometimes.
She watches on with a heavy heart, her mind running wild with observations and notes that certainly won’t stick once this is over. It’s so much harder in the stands, when you can’t do anything but bite your cheek and aimlessly flit your focus around the pitch. Lucy was killer. This she knew, but it was different watching her determination spike in real time; a soul driven by a motor that compelled her to push harder in the face of adversity.
It's at some point after the half-time break before play begins again that Lucy spots her. Unintentionally maybe, but Ona can decipher from the distance Lucy’s jaw is falling to the ground nonetheless. Frozen in time, and Ona wishes she could have a momentary glimpse into the mind she so intensely reveres.
In fact, she is torn between grinning wildly and being struck with a look more solemn, more true to the reaction she felt in her chest at Lucy’s eyes locking on hers. Barcelona could lose this, and she isn't sure she can face a Lucy that heartbroken after they've been apart for so long, when all she wants to do is laugh and smile and touch like the hours are finally infinite again.
Ona says nothing beyond a smile. Just touches two fingers to her lips and sends Lucy a heartfelt kiss, who makes a small gesture on her cheek to show it was received.
Something deep in Ona's soul binds and blooms once more.
God, now this is plain torturous. Shifting the weight between her feet, her breath flying in only to be exhaled when the chance passes. She’d like to be normal about this, but the senseless belief in her is so strong that it’s eating her alive.
The victory creeps up on them. Minute by minute, it sweeps through. First Patri, then again, then Frido, and Ona’s never felt a thing like it. It only really solidifies when the whistle blows and her girls ecstatically bolt to each other, in just as much shock and elation as Ona herself. Pulse strong in her ears, her face is suspended in pure joyful disbelief.
A few long, blurry minutes later, the roaring sound drowning out her thoughts, she feels a hand tapping her shoulder. One of Lucy's friends, signalling that someone on the pitch is looking at them. Well, them, but Ona knows it's only her. She hopes, at least.
She has a quick decision to make. No, she mouths softly in Lucy's direction, after Lucy gestures for her to join her family who are already making their way down towards the pitch.
The speculation around her homecoming has been intense, with most people aware that it's imminent. Still, she isn't used to this level of recognition, especially in her home country.
And she doesn't want people to talk. Not about her, not about Lucy, not about them together. Nothing.
Plus, it's still that awkward phase with people who know Lucy, but hardly know Ona. Her family are incredibly kind of course, but she is still very much a stranger. She’d almost felt like striking up a conversation, making some promise that she's a good person and wants nothing more than to know Lucy and be someone she can trust. But she was too shy for that—still sometimes feels twinged with inadequacy.
So she watches from the sidelines, trying to quietly appreciate everyone and everything, but her gaze just keeps drifting to her girl. This was a new side of herself that she hadn't met before, one that so easily loses focus and is clinging so tightly she feels a bit suffocated by the pull. It was good, don't mistake her, but terribly intense.
"Why didn't you come onto the pitch?" Lucy asks, albeit very casually, the question that Ona had been anticipating since their proper reunion outside the changing room.
Hand in hand, the cooler night air hits their tired faces as they peruse a dimly lit street in the city, vaguely in the direction of Lucy’s hotel. The shops are shut, only bars and clubs casting various colours in her periphery. No one will know or see them here, and that’s exactly how she wants it.
Lucy in particular is denying the fact she’s slogging along, but Ona knows too well how the adrenaline takes hours to wear off after such a big rush.
Ona stifles from the question, wanting to apologise, feeling horrific at the thought of not fulfilling Lucy's wishes. In fact, she’d been feeling guilty for some time. It had felt like the right decision in the moment, but maybe the one guided by impulsive fear and not her heart.
It's like Lucy hears her thoughts. "It's okay that you didn't. I didn't really expect you to, I'm just trying to gauge what you're comfortable with."
"I could have," Ona answers quickly. "But I...we haven't seen each other in so long. I needed something special. Me and you only."
They’ve both sobered up from the party, where she wouldn’t like to think how overly affectionate she’d been with Lucy without realising it—much to the astonishment of their teammates who were not used to seeing either of them like that.
But with clarity comes returning in full force the weight of how consuming all of this was. She truly had no idea how to do any of this.
"That's fine. You can do whatever you want darlin’." Lucy’s warm hand squeezes hers, and it’s easy to believe she is being completely truthful.
"I kinda wish I did." Ona admits, moving to walk closer to Lucy.
"Next time." Lucy murmurs.
"Next time I'll be on the pitch anyway." Ona returns with a perk in her voice, a smile Lucy can hear.
"Exactly. How it should be." Lucy kisses her temple, snaking an arm around her. "I love you sweets. You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."
“Come on, you just won the Champions League for the fourth time.” Ona grins.
“I said, I love you.”
Ona feels like bursting, so much disbelief, but so warm and full inside. "I love you too. Quiero dártelo todo." I want to give you everything
Lucy laughs softly, tired, but her affection sings through every gesture. Her hand drifts sweetly to the back of Ona's neck, fixing the hair beneath her collar. "I know you do. But one thing at a time."
Ona breathes out, a little disappointed that they've turned into the recognisable street for their hotel. They slow down, just to appreciate the quiet and the breeze. She bites her tongue, before letting it out. "Does it ever scare you? Doing this again?"
Lucy gives it a moment. "What d'you mean love?"
Ona glances down, careful with her words, fearful as always that they will land completely wrong. "Like...it's not ideal, no?"
Lucy keeps her gaze ahead, a faint smile playing on her mouth when Ona catches it. "I wouldn't want anything else." She replies simply.
"Me too." Ona agrees hastily, lest she imply there is a better option than Lucy or their arrangement. "I just...the football, it's our life, and now we have this that complicates it, or not complicate but it...it's not as easy. To not care. When the football goes wrong, because it affects us."
A squeeze from Lucy’s hand lets her know it was received with full sincerity. No twisting of words or finding scorn where there was only a deep feeling that would eat her away if she didn’t bring it up. As guilty as she feels for letting these thoughts bug her even on days as beautiful as this.
"I know the distance wasn't easy." Lucy turns to her after a break for thought. She still looks at Ona like it's the first time she's ever seen her. "But you only care so much because it's special. Maybe the fact it's not ideal makes it more special. Anyway, we don’t do this because it’s easy, we do it because it’s real."
"You know I would take any risk for you." Ona says with her whole heart, her eyes bright but profoundly honest.
"Likewise, my special girl.” Lucy says, sincere and struck by the same wave of emotional depth as Ona. Her voice comes raw and devotional. “I want you. Location, schedule, nothing changes the fact I’m thinking about you every moment. Always on my mind. And I’ll never hurt you Ona, I swear it."
Lucy’s words make her throat tighten, meeting her jade eyes and holding her hand tighter as they pause in the street. Close was never close enough—she wanted to hear Lucy's voice all the time, to feel her heartbeat wherever she went. And day by day, month by month, she has been. Slowly believing, slowly being proven that real is better than easy. Delicate is better than safe.
Ona holds onto Lucy tightly, and her blunt fingernails find Ona’s scalp. "Of course I'm not scared, sweets." Lucy murmurs in afterthought, still stuck on what Ona had shared. It was the little things like that which made her character all the more special.
"Me neither."
It's past two in the morning when they're still snacking on lousy room service, warm and close in plush bathrobes after a much needed shower together. An episode of Friends plays quietly in the background, but they haven't shared a word in some time.
It's silence of the gentle kind, but when time together feels so borrowed, the weight of it sometimes pulls Ona further from comfort and into fear that they're not doing enough, somehow not savouring these moments as much as they could. Her ears still ring from the match, and she can guess Lucy is the same.
"You taking the left side like usual?"
"Yes." Ona smiles, and Lucy grins back, like the sight of her happiness is enough to make her blood warmer. “I think you’re so beautiful Lucia.” She adds softly, making Lucy scrunch up her face adorably.
“And I think you’re tired…and beautiful.” Lucy replies, Ona’s cheek fitting perfectly in the hand that reaches out to caress it.
“I think you’re speaking for yourself.” Ona says, leaning in.
“No…I’m not…” Lucy answers, swiftly catching Ona’s lips.
It provokes a small squeak of exclamation at first, both tasting of chocolate and a lingering alcoholic tinge from earlier.
Ona doesn’t hesitate, swinging her legs over Lucy’s lap to straddle her and kiss her harder. Lucy loves that, always has, always makes a point to grab Ona’s ass or press her tongue in deeper to engage in a fun battle for who needs this most.
It’s both of them. Of course.
Ona cups the back of Lucy’s head when she’s falling back against the mattress, their legs so tightly locked they don’t even know where to begin untangling. Her lips crash against Lucy’s once more, gently taking the robe apart at her chest.
“I love you.” Lucy reiterates in a breathier husk between kisses.
“I love you.” Ona may have the more suggestive hands, but the way Lucy kisses her with that deep, slow, possessive edge, drives Ona wild.
“You love my tits too.” Lucy grins as Ona palms them and flicks across her nipple with a thumb. The fondling doesn’t lead anywhere though, instead Ona is just tracing skin and feeling as much of Lucy beneath her fingertips as she can.
“Sí.” Ona admits finally, before sinking her face tiredly into Lucy’s neck. So badly wanting to do more, show how proud she is of Lucy and her strength, but God, she can hardly hold herself up.
“Chickened out already?” Lucy mutters teasingly.
“No.” Ona groans a weak, blushy defence.
“It’s fine.” Lucy answers promptly. “I don’t need anything more.”
“You sure? Tonight is for you…my winner.” Ona cranes her neck to confirm Lucy’s sincerity.
“Yes. Really. I’m tired. I can wait till tomorrow if you’re that insistent.”
“Pff.” Ona chuckles before settling her body weight fully. “That’s a first.”
Lucy scoffs, planting a firm kiss on Ona’s cheek while keeping her close. Ona liked the size difference, the way Lucy can fully envelop her and both hands can span the majority of her back.
“Thanks for coming today, love. Really." Lucy murmurs into her hair. Ona gives a small nod. "And don't worry so much about the future. It's one week at a time in this life, and honestly...the control we do have is over what matters most."
Lucy’s fingertips soothe the back of her neck. She takes the words in, just finds it hard to verbalise a response. Lucy continues, her voice combing through Ona’s deepest fears, because suddenly the medal hanging up across the room means nothing if her lover's comfort is at bay.
Their relationship was never perfect, never will be - this life doesn’t permit softness and perfection - but what they lose in time is quickly made up for in promises kept and words shared. Lucy’s love could keep her afloat no matter how treacherous the waters; that, she can only hope.
“What should we do to make it work? I…I never want to be far from you. It’s my worst fear.” Ona answers meekly, not scared as such, just softened by the moment and her impending thoughts of how impossible it is to imagine the future.
"We can make promises. Like we already have done. That we'll keep showing up for each other, and we'll keep that end goal in mind."
"What is our end goal?"
Lucy takes some time to answer, the tiredness affecting her, but not enough to kill her wit. "Well, we don't know what life will look like in however many years. No one does. So maybe it's better to break it down into small end-goals. Like, we'll end this week excited about what's to come. Or we'll end the summer with lots more memories to hold onto when we're struggling. Nothing further."
The words that come from Ona’s lips feel foreign even to her, unintended and buffered by a half-smile. “And what if it all goes wrong?”
Lucy’s smile is proper and whole. “What if it all goes right?”