[ cuatro ]

Javier was pulled out of his flashback by the loud yelling of his mates accusing each other in the locker room. Pointing his index finger at the next footballer, Javier hissed, "There is no way it could have been me because I saw Diego approach Memo after I left." He actually hadn't seen them speaking, but knowing Memo's popularity with their group of friends, he was almost sure they had all spoken to him before he died.

All eyes turned to the next accused, ready to jump at the chance of getting a confession out of him. Diego was munching away at the contents in his bag of chips, but stopped when he noticed everyone watching. "I already told you guys I'm not sharing my Sabritas." He folded up the family sized bag in record time and hid it under his arm to prevent his team mates from taking it. The entire time the rest of them had been arguing, Diego wasn't paying attention to any of it. He had other things to worry about.

Since they were all trapped in the locker rooms, he wouldn't have time to sneak off to the toilets in a long while and that worried him.

-

Diego walked past Memo in search of a vending machine in the stadium. He knew how to get to them because he had played for Club America many years, but the trick was not being seen by anyone or else it would make getting some snacks a whole lot harder. As a footballer, they weren't allowed to have junk food often, but Diego snuck it anyway. It was the only thing that made him feel better whenever he was having a problem.

"Hey Diego," Memo called in a slight whisper. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere." Diego coughed awkwardly, trying to think of a way out. Memo was the only one who knew his secret and the last thing he wanted to hear from him was a scolding disguised as concern.

The curly haired goal keeper shot his team mate a serious look. "You're going to go buy some junk food aren't you?" He guessed, and he was right.

"No." Diego decided to take the hard path and lie about it.

"Have you gone to the therapist lately?" Memo asked, his eyes full of concern.

"I'm not crazy." Diego murmured, more to himself than anything.

"No one said you were." said Memo. "But you need to get your eating habits under control. Its not healthy..."

Eyes brimming with hot tears, Diego replied, "Don't you think I know that?"

"I want to help you-"

"Do you?" The Porto footballer asked. "Because all my supposed friends do is tease me because I used to be fat. Now I'm thin and they still call me that stupid fucking nickname. What more do I need to do for them to stop?"

Memo sighed, offering his friend the advice he so often gave him for the milionth time. "For one, you need to talk to them and tell them you don't like them calling you that. When you keep those things at heart, you compensate by binging on all this junk food. Then you feel bad about it and you make yourself volmit. Its not healthy for you. Soon you won't have enough energy to continue playing football. Is that what you want?"

"Of course not." Diego said. "I love playing football."

"Then you need to tell them." Memo reasoned.

But Diego quickly shook his head at his friend's words. "I can't tell them because they'll call me a puto for expressing my feelings. You know Paul and Miguel, they'll victimize any bit of sensitive emotions. They can never know it bothers me."

"So you'll slowly kill yourself because you don't want to speak up?" Memo continued in his efforts to convince Diego to speak up about how he was feeling. Diego was only thankful they were in an isolated part of the stadium, where no one ever went anymore, old passage ways that had been used when Mexico hosted the World Cup in the seventies and again in the eighties. "Maybe I'll talk to Miguel and Paul, and we'll have an intervention so that we can all help you—"

Grabbing his friend by the fabric of his Mexico National team jacket, he shook him violently, hissing a threat, "If you do that, I will kill you, Memo. I swear to God. This is my business and no one else's."

Memo remained silent as his friend's grew dark in anger, the threat lingered in the old hallways of the Estadio Azteca and remained etched in Diego's mind.

-

this one is a bit shorter, but i thought i would update this. thank you all for reading and supporting. it means a lot to me. i love you all bunches!

-clary xx