Downfall
By the next day, Mapi is more or less back to her usual self.
She’s still sniffly, still coughing now and then, but she’s well enough to come back to training, and Ingrid is relieved.
Spending the last two days in such an enclosed space with Mapi had been terrifying. Not because Mapi had done anything wrong, but because Ingrid’s mind had overthought absolutely everything. Every touch. Every glance. Every word.
So, when Mapi started showing signs of improvement, Ingrid had taken the opportunity to go back to her own apartment for the night. She hadn’t wanted to leave Mapi alone while she was still recovering, but she’d needed space -to shower, to sleep in her own bed, to breathe. And she did, though the sleep part didn’t really happen despite how exhausted she was.
Mapi hadn’t minded. At least, she hadn’t said anything. But Ingrid had noticed the way her usual playful energy had dimmed just slightly when she told her she was heading home. It had made something uncomfortable settle in her chest. But Mapi hadn’t asked her to stay, and Ingrid definitely wasn’t going to bring it up.
So nothing was said. And now, as they carpool to training, it’s just like before -Ingrid behind the wheel, Mapi beside her, radio playing softly in the background. It’s nice, quiet, neither of them feeling the need to fill the space with unnecessary words.
When they pull into the training ground, Mapi reaches across the center console and squeezes Ingrid’s hand briefly before slipping out of the car. Ingrid exhales, flexing her fingers after Mapi disappears inside. Already in her training kit, she dumps her things in her locker in the changing room heads straight onto the pitch.
Frido is there, and she spots Ingrid immediately.
“Men, hallå!” Frido calls, grinning as she jogs over. “Finally escaped from Mapi’s clutches, huh?”
Ingrid rolls her eyes. “Mhm.”
Frido grins, bumping Ingrid’s shoulder. “Seriously, she had you locked down.”
“She was sick,” Ingrid mutters.
“Yeah, and you nursed her back to health. So cute.” Frido beams.
“Don’t,” Ingrid warns.
But Frido doesn’t stop.
“You must really like her,” she teases, wiggling her eyebrows. “I mean, staying over for days, cuddling her while she-“
“Frido.”
Ingrid’s tone is sharp. It cuts through Frido’s playfulness immediately. Frido blinks, registering the shift in Ingrid’s body language. She sobers, her teasing grin fading.
“Sorry,” she says quickly. “Jag skojade bara.”
Ingrid exhales, shakes her head. “Det är lugnt.”
Frido watches her for a moment, then reaches out, squeezing her upper arm. “Är du okej?”
Ingrid nods, brushing it off. “I’m fine. Just…been a long few days.”
Frido studies her, clearly not believing her, but she doesn’t push.
Instead, she squeezes Ingrid’s arm again before stepping back. “Alright. But if you need-“
“I’m fine,” Ingrid insists, forcing a small smile.
Frido hesitates. Then nods. “Okej.”
Ingrid watches her walk off, guilt settling into her stomach as she lets out a slow breath. She doesn’t know why Frido’s teasing got to her so much. Maybe it was just…exhaustion. Yeah. That had to be it.
She just needs some alone time. To recoup after a a very sociable few days her introverted self was just not used to. With a quiet sigh, she forces a smile onto her face and makes her way over to where Frido was standing with Aitana. They were talking about the upcoming match against Real Madrid happening in just a few days, and Frido easily welcomes her into the conversation by wrapping an arm around her waist.
Aitana acknowledges her with a smile Ingrid finds herself returning with ease, and though her hesitation was apparent, Ingrid does manage to speak when asked her opinion on how well she thinks they were all doing. Frido squeezes her hip twice, as if to say ‘good job’. Ingrid doesn’t hate it. It felt nice to be told she was doing good.
Soon, the rest of the training staff and team were out on the field, and warmups begin. This, Ingrid was thankful for, and she quickly lets herself forget about everything other than training. Shes paired up with Mapi for drills, and though they share a few smiles between them, no words were spoken other than the occasional murmur of praise from Mapi. Ingrid pretends her stomach doesn’t fill with butterflies each and every time, and that the flush on her cheeks was caused by the heat and absolutely nothing else.
At lunch, they sit together, Frido sat opposite with the space beside her empty. Conversation was made, mostly between Mapi and Frido as Ingrid picks at her food, letting both their voices drift over her like white noise. All Ingrid could really focus on right now was not face planting her food in her exhaustion. And she does a good job, for a little while, occasionally poking at the pasta on her plate.
Her knee was squeezed a few minutes later. Just once, gentle and assuring, and though Mapi wasn’t looking at her, Ingrid knows it had been a silent instruction and she finds herself sighing as she stabs a piece of pasta and shoves it onto her mouth.
Another squeeze. This one softer. And Ingrid hates the way she feels her cheeks heat up and her skin tingles at the touch. She shouldn’t be reacting this way. Like a schoolgirl with a crush. Mapi was a friend. Just a friend. And people shouldn’t blush when their friend praises them.
It’s her exhaustion, Ingrid tells herself. It had to be. She refuses to let herself believe it was anything else. She knows, though, that she was quickly coming to the realisation that she could only use that excuse for so long before it became clear she was lying not only to herself, but everyone around her.
And that was a terrifying thought all on its own.
Plate still half full, Ingrid excuses herself with a quiet murmur of needing the bathroom and quickly hurries out of the room. She misses the way Mapi freezes, a frown on her face with a forkful of pasta half way to her mouth. And the way Frido watches her disappear with a look of concern.
Why did she have to have these feelings for Mapi? Why did she have to like her beyond the point of friendship? Doesn’t the universe know what had happened to her in her last relationship? How fucked up it had left her? It was a joke. A cruel, sick, bitter twisted joke that was going to finally break her past the point of repair.
The tears were falling before she could stop them, and Ingrid laughs at how pathetic she is as she heads into the changing room to grab her kit bag. There was only an hour in the gym after lunch before it was home time anyway, and Ingrid doesn’t see the point in staying when she was about as useful as a car on a train track.
She just wanted to go home and sleep for eternity. And if she had any luck, she won’t wake up.
Ingrid hears her name just as she exits the building, and she recognises the voice immediately. Her heart sinks at the sound, and she hates the way guilt gnaws at her stomach as she speeds up in an attempt for get away from her.
Ingrid wasn’t mad at Mapi. Mapi hadn’t done anything wrong for Ingrid to be mad at her. But at the same time, Ingrid was absolutely livid with her. Why had Mapi been so nice to her? Why had Mapi invited her into her circle, pried down her walls to get her to trust again? Why had Ingrid allowed herself to fall for her? Why hadn’t she pushed her away, just as she’d done everyone else?
Why did Isabelle have to hurt her? What had she done to deserve the cruel treatment she’d been subjected to every single day for over two years? Why had she stuck around that long? Why didn’t she have the guts to leave sooner, before her contract at Lyon had ended?
“Ingrid?”
Ingrid hastily unlocks her car, shoving her things into the passenger seat.
“Ingrid!?”
Ingrid climbs in, slamming the door closed as she buckles herself up and blinks away the tears blurring her vision.
“Ingrid!!”
She lets out a soft sob as trembling hands start the car.
“INGRID!?”
Ingrid drives away, Mapi’s body slowly fading into the background.