la princesa

As it would turn out, Mapi and Ingrid wouldn’t even make it a week without each other.

After the blonde had gone home and the Norwegian had the chance to talk to Frido and Aitana, she felt slightly more confident about the situation. This wasn’t the end of her relationship with the defender, but rather a hurdle that they would need to get over.

A hurdle Ingrid needed to get over. So the brunette goes to see Carmen after her first training session back, her head held surprisingly high as she marches into the brunette’s office.

After she explained why she was there, the Norwegian found herself in the chair across from the psychologist, her head in her hands in frustration.

“I just can’t seem to tell her everything, no matter how hard I try. I clam up and I panic and I just can’t…I can’t do it Carmen! And I don’t even understand why,” Ingrid huffed out, shifting in her seat rather uncomfortably. The psychologist studied her for a moment, her head tilted to the side.

“What are you afraid of Ingrid? What are the implications of telling her?” Carmen asks simply, and the midfielder swallows uncomfortably. She looks around the room, her eyes darting from the artwork to the curtains to the blue of the sky outside of the building that the two sat in.

“That she thinks of me differently. That she’s disgusted by the things I’ve done in my past and everything that I am. That it changes how she feels about me and our relationship,” Ingrid says after a moment, her voice quiet.

Carmen doesn’t respond immediately. Her eyes are on the taller woman, but not in a pressuring sense, they’re more observant than anything else.

There are tears springing to Ingrid’s eyes before she even really realizes it, stinging harshly in the back of her eyes. The psychologist blurs before her eyes, and she reaches up to scrub the unshed tears from her face before they can cascade down her cheeks.

“That she leaves me,” Ingrid says finally, after a few minutes. “That she leaves and I lose the most important person in my life because of what I’ve already done.”

“I hate to be blunt Ingrid, but aren’t you already going to lose her on the path that you’re on right now?” Carmen asks gently, and the Norwegian grimaces uncomfortably, the thought not what she wanted to hear, but rather what she needed to hear.

“From everything that you’ve been telling me, you have two choices here. Two paths you could walk down. The first is not to tell her, to leave her in the dark. But I will say that I can’t think of many healthy relationships that can sustain a fracture of the truth that large,” Carmen began simply, gesturing with her hand to signify the first choice.

“Or, you can tell Mapi about everything that has happened and let her decide what is and is not too much. I think the key thing that you just said Ingrid, but can’t seem to really think about, is the fact that everything you’ve been through? It’s in the past, entirely out of the control of you in the present. Mapi knows who you are, she trusts who you are, but you have to give her the chance to do that in a complete way,” Carmen finished, and the midfielder nodded slowly, the information melting into her mind.

“Now, here’s my recommendation. You told her two weeks, correct?” Ingrid nods in response to Carmens question, and the psychologist continues. “Give yourself the two weeks, think over your choice, write out what you want to say, act it out with your friends. Come to see me more, or whatever you think will be the most productive. Hell, if you want to have a session with me in two weeks and use that structured space to tell Mapi so you don’t get too choked up, do that! But these two weeks Ingrid? You have to decide what you want to do, and nobody else holds the answer to that but you,” Carmen explains, and Ingrid feels the full brunt of her own free will staring back at her with a devilish smile.

You get to decide what your life is, she reminds herself as she walks out of the psychologists office, her future in tow.

—

Mapi and Ingrid strike an interesting balance at work, where they orbit each other but never directly interact. They have conversations with other people present, chatting as though nothing is different or awkward, and it just never really feels that way honestly.

The Spaniard acts as though nothing is different at their first training session after her and Ingrid had decided to take a break, coming over to the Norwegian and Aitana and jumping into the conversation without missing a beat. The brunette is grateful for it, for the fact that Mapi doesn’t even give her time to consider feeling awkward or pulling back into her shell.

Besides, the two always knew that they needed to put football above their personal lives when they were at work. Here, they were athletes first, and their personal lives could be dealt with when they were off the pitch. They were both adult enough to manage that, at the bare minimum.

Throughout the week, Ingrid goes to see Carmen every single day, letting the psychologist lead her further and further inside her own mind to try to understand why she was so scared, trying to deconstruct why she couldn’t tell the person she was closest to about the things that had occurred in her life.

The closer she got to Mapi, the more nervous she felt to tell her about the shit in her life. The more she had to lose if for some reason the blonde changed her mind once the Norwegian told her everything.

The brunette didn’t trust Mapi. She did, but not in the way that the Spaniard needed her to.

But where did such a deep fear like that come from? Why was Ingrid so afraid of Mapi leaving when the blonde made it such a point to reassure her that she wouldn’t?

It’s a work in progress, and it still is when the team heads off for a game against Alhama on Friday, but Ingrid is feeling relatively calm about everything, surprisingly enough. She’s going to go see Carmen three more times next week, and ask Mapi to talk again the weekend after they get back from the game.

She feels as though she has the situation under control a little bit more control, and a renewed sense of confidence that maybe she hasn’t screwed this entire relationship up. She was still trying to unpack exactly where her fear was coming from, but she had acknowledged it and knew that regardless she needed to talk to the defender.

Well, talk to her once the allotted two weeks was up, that is. The brunette wanted to make sure to give Mapi the space to process and think about their relationship in the same way that she was able to.

But life, apparently, had other plans for the Spaniard and Norwegian.

Ingrid is roomed with Alexia upon arrival to Alhama, which is perfectly fine with the Norwegian. She had stayed with the blonde midfielder a handful of times before, and she always seemed content to stay in relative silence, a fact that Ingrid never minded. Occasionally, the two would watch film together or a La Liga game that was going on, commenting on different things and critiquing the plays or players.

The midfielder wondered as she walked up to her room, if Alexia would be any different after hearing about what had transpired between her and Mapi. She knew that the blonde likely had told the Barcelona captain, she was one of her best friends after all, but if Alexia held any animosity toward Ingrid over the situation upon her arrival to the room, she doesn’t show it.

(Secretly, Alexia is surprised but rather pleased by the Norwegian’s choice to take a step back from her relationship with Mapi in order to preserve what they have. She’ll tell her, later, but for now she remains silently impressed with the self awareness and thoughtfulness of the brunette in a situation as difficult as this.)

Alexia smiles easily, almost awkwardly at Ingrid as she key cards into their room, setting her bag down in the bed closest to the window, knowing that the Catalan likes to be closest to the door. They unpack silently, going down for a light dinner before heading to bed.

They end up watching a Real Madrid game as they get ready to go to bed, Alexia yelling at the TV so much that Ingrid is doubled over in laughter, and it feels light, and easy. Different than how the Norwegian expected for it to feel. But there’s unbridled hope sitting high in her heart, and it’s true that sometimes there’s not much one can do in the face of such hope but let it burn wildly within them, lighting up situations that might feel dark with despair or concern.

Ingrid feels hope about her relationship with Mapi. Sitting here, laughing with her teammate, she feels hope that life will go on, but also a renewed sense of confidence that she gets to enjoy this life. She deserves that, if nothing else.

After the game ends, both women tuck into bed, setting their alarms. The game is in the afternoon, so they don’t have to be up ridiculously early, the team schedule allowing for a more relaxed schedule.

They both wish the other a good night before turning off the light, Ingrid pulling the covers over herself and letting herself drift into a restless and fitful sleep.

—

“You don’t deserve a spot on that team, not when you eat like this and act like that. A slob, a whore, and a shitty football player. You’re the full package Ingrid!”

“Just because you haven’t gotten a spot yet doesn’t mean that I don’t deserve mine, Maia. And eating a bowl of pasta every once and a while isn’t going to kill me, anymore than enjoying myself at work would!” Ingrid insists, but Maia is drunk, and she’s mad. Her face is red, flushed and angry, and that was the wrong thing to say apparently because suddenly the blonde is entirely in her face.

She crowds the brunette’s space in the living room, forcing the midfielder back against the wall, and Ingrid knows what’s coming but somehow she feels entirely helpless to stop it, and she’s just frozen, standing there when Maia’s hands come up and then down sharply, slapping her clean across the face.

The Norwegian’s cheek stings from the hit, but she feels entirely outside of her body in the moment. Maia begins hurling her fist at her, landing throw after throw after throw but Ingrid can’t move, can’t fight back, can’t do anything outside of just sit there and take it, the way she always did. She can’t even tell if she’s registering pain or if she’s even inside her body anymore, just that she knows she’s going to be black and blue when she finally gets Maia to stop, already thinking about how much concealer she will need to use to cover the damage caused by her girlfriend.

But then suddenly, it isn’t Ingrid under Maia’s punches. The Norwegian is suddenly standing across the room, watching as her former girlfriend rains down on the person in front of her, and then she shifts, revealing the face of who she’s hitting to the midfielder, who lets out a strangled cry.

It’s Mapi, her hands held up in a feeble attempt to protect her face as Maia smashes into her again and again and again, and the brunette is helpless, frozen and standing there. She’s unable to move her feet, unable to do anything except scream, scream because Maia is hurting Mapi, and the blonde is staggering under the aggressive hits, blood pouring down her fa–

“Ingrid!” The Norwegian is pulled from her dream by shouts of her name, hands at her shoulders, shaking forcefully.

The brunette flies forward in bed as her eyes slam open, and she nearly crashes into Alexia, who had been shaking her. Her throat feels raw, her eyes are blurry from tears, and she’s sweating profusely, despite the light sheet that covers the bed. Panic is ringing in her ears, and everything feels out of focus and yet there is just one thing in the midfielders head.

Mapi.

She needs to get to the Spaniard, because she’s hurt, she needs help, Ingrid needs to help her or do something or call for help or something! Anything!

“Mapi, where is she? Is she okay, oh god I need to help her oh my god I can’t, she’s hurt and where is she I can’t just–” The Norwegian rushes out, so quickly that she’s hyperventilating trying to shove the words out of her chest, her hands coming up to claw at her throat as she tries to bring more air in, but there’s none left in this room for some reason. There’s nothing but emptiness and stillness and Ingrid is positive that the center back needs her help but she doesn’t know what to do, how to get to her. She can’t see, black spots appearing in her vision as she tries desperately to suck air into her lungs, which are spasming with the pace that the green eyed woman is breathing currently, sharp, quick breaths in and out.

“Mapi is fine, Ingrid, she’s alright, she’s completely fine. She’s right next door, she’s sleeping,” Alexia says calmly, trying her best to soothe, but her eyes betray her. They’re wild and nervous as she looks over at the clock that reads 11:08pm, the green light of the electronic clock illuminating her concerned features despite the darkness of their hotel room.

Alexia is a good leader, no, she’s a great leader, but this isn’t typically her area of expertise. Never had she seen someone so panicked, so far gone, so triggered by something. She had always known that there was something…not off per say but a reason to be concerned about the brunette.

The captain always noticed the way that Frido would talk to her, the concerned glances of Caroline and Aitana. How she had first acted when she arrived, cold, hard, focused. Over time she had come out of her shell, softened, her kindness and compassion coming out like vines reaching gently for sunshine. But they all still knew that something had happened to the brunette, and she was to be looked after with care.

Alexia just hadn’t expected to experience the aftershocks so closely, to be the only one here with her. This seemed a lot more like a Frido or Aitana job, but the Catalan knew there was no time, especially with how frantic and disjointed the midfielder seemed to be, hurtling toward an unknown edge as she somehow got even more worked up.

“No, no Alexia you don’t understand she’s hurt, she needs help, oh god she got her, I can’t–she can’t be hurt, not her, never her,” Ingrid stresses, her voice tight and raw from screaming, her airways constricting as she tries to speak, gasping out her words. Alexia looks back at the door once, seems to be calculating, before she squeezes her teammate’s shoulders, letting her go and grabbing her phone and key card, dashing out of the room and leaving Ingrid sitting in bed by herself, sobbing as she holds herself tightly.

It was a common nightmare for the Norwegian to get, had been ever since her and Maia had broken up, but she had never had anyone but herself involved in it. She had only ever been on the receiving end, would end up waking up in a cold sweat with a raw throat, all the breath stolen from her lungs.

Oftentimes, when the midfielder got a dream, especially one as vivid as these tended to be, she couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night, too worked up and unsettled to go back to sleep. It didn’t happen often, the nightmares. But they always came with a vengeance, leaving her brain feeling shredded and her entire being left on alert, like she was right back in her little Wolfsburg apartment.

They’re bad enough, and that was before her brain decided to add Mapi into the fictitious scenario, forcing Ingrid to watch someone she loved dearly get pummeled into oblivion, unable to do anything except scream.

She could take it. She was willing to take it, but the thought of the blonde getting hurt? Of anyone else being on the receiving end of that? It made her bile rise in her throat, the dinner she had just a few hours ago threatening to resurface.

While Ingrid rocks back and forth in her room, trying to soothe herself and trying (failing) to quell the tears, Alexia is flying out of the room, sprinting over to the door to the room next to them where she knows that Mapi and Lucy are sharing.

The Catalan pounds on the door, losing any sense of decorum and hoping to god that one of her teammates wakes up and answers because she genuinely does not know what to do, not when the Norwegian is so panicked and worked up.

She knows that her friend and teammates are on a break, or whatever, but Alexia also knows that Mapi would never want her to leave Ingrid in this state, not when she had the chance to fix it. That, combined with the fact that the captain is genuinely not sure if she can calm the Norwegian down without getting her to see that the defender is completely fine, is another reason she’s knocking on their door in the middle of the night.

She’s about to pound on the door for a fourth time when the heavy wooden hotel room door is flying open, revealing Lucy Bronze standing in her pajamas, her hair tousled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Que?” She asks, her English accent poking through as she offers the best Spanish she’s got at the moment. Both Lucy and Keira were making valiant attempts to learn Spanish quickly, the couple taking classes together as well as immersing themselves in the language, and Lucy is picking the language up quickly. Her English accent pokes through at times though, like right now, and it normally makes Alexia smile, the English twinged Spanish not sounding quite right. The captain doesn’t really have the time to stop and comment on it tonight, as she looks back into the hotel room with wide eyes, feeling just a step away from franticness.

“Where is Mapi?” Alexia asks quickly, her English stilted but clear enough, and it's enough to have Lucy perking up, a wrinkle of concern appearing in her forehead. The Catalan almost never spoke in English, only when she really needed to be sure that Lucy understood her. The English woman steps back wordlessly, revealing the blonde defender, who is standing halfway between her bed and the door, having gotten up the minute that she heard Alexia begin speaking.

Her expression is deadly serious, her eyes locked onto her best friend, taking in her worried and mildly panicked expression.

“What is it?” Mapi asks, her voice low and firm as she looks at Alexia. The midfielder looks between her friend and Lucy before she begins speaking.

“We need to switch rooms. Get your phone and go now. Ingrid, something happened while she was sleeping. She needs you,” Alexia explains quickly, offering her room key card out to Mapi rapidly, hoping that Lucy doesn’t need any other explanation. When she looks over at the English defender, her eyebrows are raised but she makes no move to do anything, simply letting her captain into the room.

The midfielder hands Mapi her key card after she gathers her phone, and the center back leaves in a rush, all but running out of the room and to the next door open, not even bothering to look behind her at Alexia and Lucy’s reaction.

Ingrid had mentioned offhandedly that she occasionally got nightmares, but Mapi had never been there to witness one. She remembered seeing the brunette the night after she assumed that she had one, but the Norwegian had spent the entire day looking as though she had seen a ghost. She had been pale, with deep bags under her eyes, and Frido had stood by her for the entirety of their lift, only adding small weights and all but forcing water down her throat.

She pauses for a moment outside the door, unsure of what exactly to expect from this after she had only had that one experience with Ingrid’s nightmares, but only lets herself stop for a second when she hears a muffled sob come from the inside of the room, key carding in quickly and pushing into the room haphazardly, blowing the door open and revealing the taller woman inside.

Ingrid is sitting with her legs hanging off the bed, her shoulder’s shaking, her head in her hands. The Spaniard is dropping her phone and key card onto the bed closest to the door without a second thought, dropping to her knees in front of Ingrid, looking up at the midfielder through the strands of dark brown hair that cascade over her face.

She touches the Norwegians knee gently, and Ingrid’s hands are falling down from her face, revealing her flushed, tear stained face. The green eyed woman looks down, her eyes wide and wild, her chest hitching from the sobs she was holding in, startled by the gentle touch of Mapi’s fingers on her knee.

But then her eyes connected with the defender, frantic green meeting a worried but calm amber, and Ingrid felt all of the (little) air in her chest leaving her lungs, being pushed up and out and away at the sight of the blonde, in one piece and looking up at her with clear concern.

“Mapi,” Ingrid whispered with disbelief, as if she didn’t quite believe that the defender was really there, just a figment of her imagination that she’d dreamed was there, and okay, and unhurt.

“Hey,” Mapi said quietly, her hand still on the Norwegian’s knee as she rubbed her thumb softly over the brunettes kneecap, and the word is barely out of her mouth before a sob is bubbling up in Ingrid’s throat, and she’s standing and pulling the shorter woman up with her gently by the elbows.

For just a moment, Ingrid looks the blonde up and down as her chest heaves in and out. Mapi lets her, standing quietly as the green eyes track down, cataloging her chest and hips and legs and back up to her face, looking for any signs of injury or bruising or bleeding and finding none. And then, the brunette is pulling her into a rib crushing hug, wrapping her hands around the blonde’s neck and pulling her in.

Mapi steps into the hug easily, nestling her cheek on Ingrid’s shoulder securely, her head turned in toward the taller woman’s neck. She wraps her arms around Ingrid’s back, letting the Norwegian hold her tightly, one hand gripping her shoulder and the other loosely holding the back of the defender’s head, her fingers threading through Mapi’s soft blonde hair.

Ingrid’s chest heaves up and down, her lungs almost spasming as she tries desperately to calm down, letting the comforting rosewood scent of just Mapi invade her senses, her grip on the blonde just a hair too tight.

The defender doesn’t complain one bit.

It’s the closest they’ve been in the last week. It’s the most relief the midfielder has felt in the last week.

“You’re okay,” Ingrid breathes out, and Mapi pulls her in tighter, if it was even at all possible.

“I’m alright, Ingrid, I’m okay,” the Spaniard repeats, and she feels how Ingrid sags just slightly into her, exhaling a hard breath out of her nose as she turned her head just slightly, her temple pressed against Mapi’s forehead.

They stay like that for a few more minutes, just soaking in one another's company, before finally Ingrid leans back, unwrapping herself from the defender and stepping back, turning her head to the side as if she’s trying to hide her face as she wipes the tears furiously from her eyes.

Embarrassment is blooming in her stomach, embarrassment that she couldn’t even last a week without something like this happening and Mapi having to come to her rescue.

“Please don’t do this,” the Spaniard whispers, and Ingrid turns her head back, her forehead scrunching in surprise at the defender's words.

“Do what?” The Norwegian asks softly, and if it was possible for her to make herself physically smaller, she would have taken that option right there. She can already feel herself caving in around her, shifting uncomfortably at her own vulnerability in this moment.

“I don’t know exactly what is going on in your head, but I can tell you’re beating yourself up, and you don’t have to.” Mapi pleaded gently, and Ingrid’s stomach flips over uncomfortably, not used to someone who could read her so well. She looks away, focusing on the creamy beige of the hotel wall as the center back continues, trying to hold back another wave of tears.

“I know…I know we need to talk about this, I want to talk about this, about us, but please just…can I please stay?” Mapi asks, and she’s putting everything she has into making sure that her tone isn’t leaning into begging territory, and it’s only half working. It is, however, exactly what the Norwegian needs to hear though.

The brunette, who for the past few minutes has been valiantly trying to throw a wall back up around her mind, deflates at Mapi’s words, her eyes closing tightly. She nods wordlessly, and watches as the blonde’s entire body relaxes. The defender moves around her wordless to pull the covers back on the bed nearest the window before she pats gently on the spot, and Ingrid follows her lead, settling down on the bed. Mapi moves around to the other side of the bed without saying a word, with the midfielder watching her carefully as the blonde moves to join her.

Ingrid turns the bedside light off, shifting down into the bed as darkness descends into the room. The green eyed woman shifts to lay on her side, and finds that Mapi is already turned, looking at her with gentle eyes.

Ingrid feels her eyes starting to well up again, because every time she looks at the Spaniard all she can imagine is her dream, Mapi getting beat again and again and again, all because of her. She hates herself for it, even just the idea, even if the center back is actually fine and just a mere six inches in front of her, entirely unscathed.

The defender shifts forward immediately, pushing herself into Ingrid’s space and wiping the first tear that falls down her cheeks.

But more follow, and the brunette can only shake her head as the floodgates open again, thick tears pouring down her cheeks again, and she can barely feel as Mapi helps her sit up, wrapping her arms around the midfielder securely.

“Sh, sh, ya está, princesa, ya pasó,” Mapi whispered softly, bringing her lips up to press a light kiss to the taller woman’s temple.

“Te tango,” Mapi said gently as Ingrid tried to gain control of her breathing, leaning back to rub her hands over her cheeks, ridding the evidence of her breakdown.

“I’m sorry,” the younger woman whispered, and Mapi immediately shook her head, her hand coming up to cup the midfielder’s cheek softly. The Norwegian leans easily into the touch, the warmth seeping from Mapi’s hand and into her cheek as she leans into the delicate touch.

“I–uhm, I had a dream where…” Ingrid swallows, trying to force the words out of her throat. She closes her eyes, the action forcing another tear out of her eye, and the blonde lifts her hand wordlessly to brush it gently off of the midfielder’s cheek.

The Norwegians body relaxes again at the gesture, and she nods her head slowly, opening her eyes again to face Mapi again.

The blonde is looking at her with a quiet concern, her attention solely focused on Ingrid. She’s always looked at the Norwegian as if she was the most important person in the room, and this is no different, even if they are alone. Her complete and entire, undivided attention.

“I have this uh…recurring dream where Maia and I get into an argument, and then things get physical and it’s just…not good,” Ingrid explains quietly, and Mapi nods, understanding beginning to dawn on her. The Spaniard is a little surprised, honestly, that the Norwegian is sharing this with her. She can’t help the slight flutterings of hope that stir within her chest at the fact that the midfielder is actively sharing something with her. She quietly tamps it down though, focusing on the situation at hand.

“And it’s always just been me. That she was hitting, it was always just me, and that was okay,” Mapi’s insides curl in on one another at the thought of that exact thing being considered okay, but she knows that it’s not the time to bring that up.

One day the Spaniard will point out to Ingrid that if she wouldn’t accept the treatment for those closest to her, that she shouldn’t accept it for herself. One day, the defender will make the Norwegian see that she deserves as much love and quiet care as she shows to those around her. But this evening isn’t the time to bring that up, so instead Mapi stashes the thought away, settling it on her bookshelf of topics to be brought up at a later date.

“But tonight, it was, it was you getting beat by her, and I just couldn’t…I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t move, or breathe, or get to you and you were just taking it for me, and you were getting absolutely pummeled and I just, I lost it,” Ingrid shook her head as a tear drips down onto her lap, and Mapi runs her hand over the brunette’s forehead, down and over her face until she’s cradling her cheeks with both hands.

“No pasa nada, es solo una pesadilla,” Mapi says lightly, and Ingrid nods, leaning back into the center back to wrap her arms around the blonde again.

“I never want to see something like that happen to you,” the brunette whispers over Mapi’s shoulder, and the defender just pulls her in tighter, her grip on Ingrid strengthening as the Norwegian leans heavily into the Spaniard.

“I’m fine, princesa. We’re both fine, nothing like that is happening to either of us ever again. I’m right here,” Mapi assures, and Ingrid relaxes into her, nodding her head slightly as if she’s convincing herself, her grip on the Spaniard loosening just slightly, but still there. Almost as if she’s grounding herself with the feeling of the defender there with her, alright, completely unharmed.

After a few minutes, the two shift back to lying down, and Mapi tucks Ingrid’s head until it’s resting just under her chin, with the side of her head laying on the shorter woman’s sternum.

Ingrid finally relaxes with the steady beat of Mapi’s heart under her ear, her hands wrapped loosely around the blonde’s body. The center back holds the green eyed woman tightly to her, not letting herself fall asleep until the brunette is fully asleep, her body entirely relaxed against Mapi.

They still have so much to discuss, but the Spaniard feels like she can finally, finally relax, right here, with Ingrid tucked into her.

—

When Mapi wakes up, her head is turned toward the window, a ray of sunlight hitting her directly in the face. She groans, shifting over and burrowing herself into the covers, her eyes roving over the state of her room before she closes them again, content to go back to sleep.

Wait.

Her luggage was red, not blue, and…

Mapi opened her eyes as realization hit her square in the chest, and she sat up instantly, the sleep suddenly shook from her body altogether as her eyes roved over the state of the room that she was in.

The other side of the bed next to her was empty, but the covers were rumpled and thrown back, as if someone had once been there, and when she pressed her hand into the mattress it was still warm.

She couldn’t have dreamed the whole thing, could she have? But Ingrid was nowhere to be found and…

Mapi is just about to start an internal war with herself when the door to the bathroom clicks open, and Ingrid steps out and into the soft morning light of the room, wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, a sleepy but somehow nervous expression on her face.

The Spaniard felt her entire body relax at the sight of her, at the familiar sight of the brunette, standing in front of her and safe. She lets herself sag back into the bed, looking up at the ceiling for just a moment as her eyes closed, relief washing over her in waves. She can feel the covers being lifted, and the sudden warmth that blooms at her side as the Norwegian curls back into bed, not touching Mapi but still in bed next to her.

Relief is blooming everywhere inside of the defender, and her eyes sting as she fights back tears, blinking furious as she turns and buries herself into the brunette’s side. The midfielder lets out a surprised noise at the sudden contact but she quickly wraps her arms around the blonde, and she’s warm against Mapi, her skin smooth and her arms secure as they wrap around the Spaniard, letting the defender curl into her.

“Morning,” Mapi mumbles into Ingrid’s shoulder after a few minutes when she’s entirely sure she the emotion in her voice won’t cause it to crack, and the blonde can’t see but she can tell just from the cadence of her words that a small smile has graced the brunette’s face as she responds.

“Good morning,” Ingrid whispers back, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on Mapi’s back as she lies incredibly still in the bed.

They both just let each other lay like that for a moment, completely content in the early morning sunshine, drunk off of the feeling that is getting to be together, like this. It’s nothing but complete comfort and utter security, something that wasn’t felt often in many relationships.

But Mapi knows that they need to talk about things, about everything, and so eventually she untangles herself from Ingrid, sitting up to look at the brunette, who had sat up, following Mapi’s lead.

“I–” Ingrid starts, an uncertain look on her face, but the center back cuts her off silently, her hand raised.

“Could I start, maybe?” Mapi asks hesitantly, and the Norwegian’s eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, but she nods regardless, gesturing for the blonde to continue.

“I…I know you want to work on yourself, and I understand if you need space Ingrid,” Mapi starts, swallowing thickly as she tries to collect her thoughts under such short notice. She had so much she wanted to say, so much to express, and no way to catalog everything and tell her right now, not when they don’t really have the time. But she has to say something, at least a little part of how she’s feeling, or else she knows that she will regret it.

“I wanted to say this when everything happened but I just never got the chance, so I’m going to say it now. I care about you, so, so much, and I have so much faith and belief in you. And if you need some time to figure things out, that I understand, but I hope you also understand how much I want to be here and work on things with you.”

“It’s always been you Ingrid, and it’s always going to be you. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done in your past to me, because I know who you are right now, and that is the person that matters. I just wish that you could…that you could forgive yourself and have the same trust in you that my care for you won’t change just because you think you’ve done something bad in your past.”

“Ingrid, I can say without a shadow of doubt that nothing you tell me is going to make me feel negatively about you. I know who you are, and I want to know all of you. You’ve always accepted me for exactly who I am, every wonderful, horrible thing about me. I only wish that you would trust me enough to let me do the same for you,” Mapi finished and Ingrid is losing a battle to start crying again, ducking her head into her chest as she closes her eyes for a moment.

Sometimes, the way that the Spaniard feels about her overwhelms Ingrid.

She almost doesn’t understand how someone could care so deeply for another person.

The key word there though, is almost.

Because Ingrid also knows exactly what it feels like to look at the person in front of you and think that they are the most amazing human being to ever exist.

She’s staring right at the person she feels that way about.

But there’s still so much…so much wrong about her, in so many ways. So many bad parts intertwined with the good. She needs to forgive herself, she needs to move on, but this secret, this inability to tell Mapi is stopping her from letting go. The shame builds the longer she keeps it to herself.

“Mapi, I…I don’t want you to have to get caught up in all my dramatics as I try to figure out what I’m doing. You don’t deserve to get thrown in the middle of that,” Ingrid shakes her head, as if she couldn’t fathom the thought. But the defender looks at her curiously, her head tilted just ever so slightly. She reaches forward, threading her fingers in the green eyed womans and squeezing.

“Ingrid, I appreciate that you want to protect me. But at the end of the day, I get to choose what I deserve, and what I want to go through. And where I want to be is with you. The good, the bad, the ugly, the everything in between. I want to do it with you,” Mapi insisted, and something about what she has just said causes Ingrid to stop, looking up at the center back for a moment.

There is silence, stillness, as her eyes rove over Mapi’s face. Over the slope of her forehead, the plush of her cheeks, the sincerity in her big brown eyes, and softness of her lips all the way down to the slight wrinkle in her brow that Ingrid knows is from concern.

She hadn’t really stopped to think about the fact that in her choice not to tell the Spaniard about her past, she was hindering Mapi’s own choice to decide what she did and did not want in a relationship.

It wasn’t up to Ingrid to decide what the blonde deserved. Only she got to decide that, and the realization hits the Norwegian straight in the chest as if she had been shot. She takes a few more moments to respond, trying to tilt her world to get it planted back on the axis that she had it spinning on just a few moments ago.

“I don’t…I don’t want to mess this up Mapi, I don’t want to lose you. But I’m really fucking scared to tell you everything,” the Norwegian finally said, finally admitted what she had been too scared to say for months now.

“We can take it one step at a time, Ingrid. You don’t have to open the floodgates all at once if you don’t want to, but you have to start trusting that I won’t leave just because you aren’t perfect. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I trusted you, and you never gave me a reason not to. I need you to give me the opportunity to do it for you, if this is going to work,” Mapi said quietly, and Ingrid nodded silently, relief poking through her expression.

“God, I missed you,” The Norwegian says quietly after a moment, and the defender lets out a wet laugh, nodding insistently in agreement.

“I missed you too,” She says softly in response, leaning forward to wrap the brunette in her arms, hugging her tightly. Ingrid tucked her head into the crook of Mapi’s neck, and for the first time in a long time, she had faith that everything would be okay.

Really, okay.

—

Mapi and Ingrid fall back into a routine so easy and practiced, it feels like they had hardly left it. They change, with both the Spaniard and Catalan switching in and out of rooms to get their bags, chatting as they get ready to go play later that afternoon.

Ingrid tells Mapi about a phone call with her mother that had frustrated her earlier in the week, and Mapi tells Ingrid a story about a man who approached her at a coffee shop to tell her how much he loved watching her play.

The midfielder finds herself smiling more in the few lazy hours than she has the whole week, at the simplicity and domesticity of it all.

This entire past week, she’s spent a lot of time talking to Carmen. It’s been productive, but challenging, and painful. She’s dredging up things that she never even realized, while trying painfully not to beat herself up about everything that she had done wrong so far.

But mostly, she missed Mapi. Life without the defender just…it just wasn’t the same. All the Norwegian could notice were all the places where light should be, where there wasn’t.

The way that she smiled, or the excitement she would get finding something she loved at the grocery store, or how she would blush when a fan came up to ask for a picture. Ingrid hated how much the expression “absence makes the heart grow fonder” seemed to be true.

All of the small, mundane things that Ingrid missed that she had never realized she loved so much about the blonde.

Because she did love her. She loved all of her, everything from her blonde hair all the way down to the tips of her toes. There wasn’t an ounce of Ingrid that didn’t love the Spaniard, and that she was sure of. It was a strange thing for the brunette to be so sure of something, so secure and content in her feelings.

They got ready quickly, both moving with nimble fingers and quiet conversation. They found themselves with twenty minutes before they had to be down to the bus after they had finished getting ready, but Ingrid couldn’t stand here in this room any longer, really wanted to get down to the bus.

Because there was…well there was the case of where she was going to sit. Should it be that much of a concern? No…but the Norwegian had a tendency to overthink things anyways so here didn’t really feel like the place to stop.

Ever since they had started talking to one another, Mapi and Ingrid had sat together on the bus. But for the last week, the Spaniard had been sitting elsewhere, either by herself or with Alexia and her other teammates.

And Ingrid, well, the Norwegian had appreciated the space, just as much as her heart ached, wanting the center back to sit next to her. She knew her teammates had noticed the shift too, nobody directly bringing it up except for some intrigued looks, and an overall lack of the usual teasing they received.

Would Mapi come sit with her today though? Or would…would she still be alone, relegated to sit by herself in a seat in the back.

“Can we just go down, min kjære?” Ingrid asked, the words just slipping out of her mouth. The Norwegian freezes, not even realizing the nickname that she was saying. The blonde looked over at her curiously, not knowing quite enough Norwegian to decipher what Ingrid had said.

“Yeah, of course,” she said carefully, holding the door open for Ingrid, who stepped through quickly, fighting the blush that was rising on her cheeks at the words that had slipped out of her mouth.

They made their way down to the bus, the midfielder stepping on first. Mapi stays back for a moment, fiddling with something in her bag, so Ingrid steps into the bus, noting that she’s the first one on, and picking a spot toward the back, sitting down in the window seat like she always did.

She’s trying desperately to keep her face neutral as the Sppaniard steps onto the bus, her eyes roving over the seats until she sees Ingrid, her face breaking into a smile. The Norwegian is helpless not to smile back at her, shifting back in her seat nervously as Mapi makes her way back toward the brunette’s seat with purpose.

Ingrid lets out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding when Mapi slid into the seat next to her, the blonde looking around to make sure the rest of the bus was still empty before she snuck a quick kiss to Ingrid’s cheek.

The midfielder preens at the gesture, turning back to her crossword silently as Mapi pulled her phone out, responding to a text from her brother that she hadn’t had a chance to answer yet.

The first person onto the bus after them came fifteen minutes later, when Claudia came flying up the steps, a hurricane of noise and movement that spilled into the quiet bus, causing both Ingrid and Mapi to look up with surprise from their respective activities.

Pina is laughing, looking behind herself as she enters the bus with Patri, who has climbed on after her, when she turns and locks eyes with Mapi and Ingrid.

The Spanish forward’s mouth flops open, and she opens and closes it several times, looking back at Patri several times and then back between Mapi and Ingrid, her head whipping back and forth as she makes an indiscernible noise.

“What? Is everything alright?” The defender finally asks after a long pause, looking over at the brunette quizzically, who just shrugs, equally unsure of what is going on.

“You’re back TOGETHER!” Claudia squeals, and Patri behind her breaks into a huge grin, while Ingrid smacks her hand to her forehead, Mapi chuckling slightly next to her as she shakes her head.

Pina flies down the aisle at a rate that would probably make their manager nervous, but all she does is squish the midfielder and then the defender’s cheeks between her thumb and middle finger, smiling brightly before plopping down in a seat near the middle of the bus, smiling over at Patri.

The rest of the people boarding the bus act in a similar fashion.

Marta and Geyse walk onto the bus together, with Geyse pointing to the two excitedly, Marta’s entire face lit up at the sight. Ingrid buries her face in her book, and Mapi continues to laugh, not letting the attention get the better of her.

When Keira and Lucy board the bus, the ginger is intently fiddling with something on Lucy’s bag, when the defender reaches back and pokes Keira in the stomach, causing the midfielder to look up and smile broadly at Ingrid, who smiles shyly back, her cheeks tinged pink.

Alexia walks onto the bus with a knowing smirk on her face, and this time it’s Mapi who is burying her face into Ingrid’s book, stealing it from her and pretending to be incredibly interested in Norwegian crosswords suddenly. The brunette chuckles, smiling thoughtfully and nodding her thanks to her captain, who simply offers a nod of her own back with an understanding expression on her face.

When Aitana and Frido board the bus together, they both miss Mapi and Ingrid sitting together entirely. It takes Claudia leaning forward, poking the smaller midfielder theatrically and telling her to turn around, for the two to rise out of their seats and look back.

Aitana looks over at the Swede with excitement, and the forward player is smiling something that is close to relief, an emotion Ingrid wishes she could bottle up and keep with her. She's seen that look from Frido on occasion, almost this relief from the Swedish forward that the Norwegian will be okay.

For once, she doesn’t mind the teasing from her teammates. In fact, she kind of loves it.

When they play their game that day, there’s a lightness to Ingrid that she hasn’t remembered having in awhile. The old version of Ingrid would have thought that with everything that had happened in the last few days, weeks, months, it would all cause her to perform poorly. She was too emotional, too attached, too involved. She got herself into messy situations that weren’t hard to leave, she let love and care seep into her decisions and into her life.

But everything about that, was what made this game one of the best she had played in a long time. She was connected, right there with her team and doing exactly what she needed to be doing, because of the fact that she was feeling everything. She had everything to play for, everything to lose sure but also everything to gain. She wanted to fight, she wanted to fight for this and for everything else in her life.

She played amazingly. And when they win, and Mapi comes up and jumps on her, she can’t help but do anything other than spin her girl around, a huge smile on her face.

She knows that this is the life Carmen told her she could have, if she wanted to.

And she wanted this.

When the Spaniard finally hopped down from her back, turning to Ingrid, with the most earnest and kind expression, the Norwegian feels ready. Ready to tell Mapi, ready to jump the final hurdle that’s been holding her back for so long.

Just…ready. She can’t quite explain it. Maybe it was the night before, the way that the Spaniard had put her cards on the table and to be honest, maybe it's the heavy lifting Ingrid has been doing trying to figure herself out the last week, the last few months. But something has changed, she can feel it.

Mapi falls asleep on her shoulder on the bus ride back to the hotel, and Ingrid can’t help but think about how different her life is from when this had first happened. Everything is different, everything is better.

And that is everything.

—

“Um…okay, so…” Ingrid tries to start, clearing her throat nervously for the third time as she tries to start speaking again.

The Norwegian and Spaniard had the whole day to themselves, and the midfielder had decided it was time.

The whole squad had gone in for recovery the day before, having gotten back from their game against Alhama. But now, the team had a two day break, and Ingrid knew this was her chance.

She had gone to see Carmen just yesterday, right after she had finished up with her recovery.

“I need to do this, I need to tell her,” Ingrid had said, a slight nervous lilt to her voice, but Carmen just nodded calmly.

“Then, just start from the beginning Ingrid,” Carmen had said simply, and Ingrid tried to remember that.

“I’m going to…I’m going to start from the beginning,” Ingrid said quietly, and the blonde nodded.

The two were situated on Ingrid’s couch, one person at each end, looking at each other. The Norwegian is wrapped in on herself, and Mapi is sitting, her legs crossed together, her gaze laser focused on her girlfriend.

“Maia and I started dating when she was 18, and I was 17. We met at a Norway youth camp, stayed in touch before we ended up playing at the same club right after I turned 17. She was…she was lovely. Passionate and driven, but so much fun to be around. She was the life of the party, and everyone just gravitated towards her. She was a great player and teammate and so secure and confident of herself,” Ingrid began, fighting to keep her voice steady.

“I was anything but confident at the time. I had skills and talent sure, but I was shy and nervous in myself, still trying to figure out my place and my overall impact on the game. And just that combined with trying to grow up I was just…a little lost.”

“But everything felt better with Maia around. I didn’t see what she saw in me, when I was younger, but she always complimented my looks and my playing ability and seemed to seek me out and it just made me so excited. I had only recently come out, I had never dated anyone before and so when she expressed interest I was just surprised, really.”

“Surprised that anyone so fun and charismatic would be interested in me, I mean I felt so plain and boring and inadequate and all these things. But Maia always made me feel better, would always tell me how gorgeous I was and how good of a football player I was and all these things she liked about me. And over time, I just listened to her, and I liked those things about me, but looking back I only liked them because she liked them.”

“But we were happy together, playing for the same club and doing well. And I got a lot more confident with Maia around, and I trained a lot more with her, and so I got better and better, and she kind of did too but not in the same way, you know?”

“We had been dating for over a year and a half at that point. We were living in Norway, living together and playing together and it just worked. She made me laugh and we loved football and being outdoors together and we just fit into one another's lives so seamlessly.”

“It’s so strange to me to say it out loud because we would stay together for another two years after I left, but my contract for Wolfsburg really was the beginning of the end of the relationship,” she explained, sounding almost ashamed of her words.

“I had been performing well, I was beginning to get called up for the National team, and at first Maia would join me, but only for a few camps. They never seemed to be quite as interested in her as they did with me, she never got the offers from the big clubs, and it really frustrated her. She put in so much work, she was so dedicated and passionate and she never saw the results that she wanted to. But I did.”

“There were a few days after I heard from Wolfsburg where I thought about not taking the contract. It would have been a whole new country, I didn’t know German, I didn’t want to leave my family or Maia, I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that big of a step at just 19. It just all felt like too much.”

“Maia was the one in the end who told me to go. I think it was more out of spite than anything else, but I didn’t see it that way back then. And eventually I realized that yes, I did need to go, because this was my shot. This was my chance to play at the highest level of football and I would have been insane to pass it up, but I felt so insecure about myself and my own playing that I almost held myself back, and I hate myself for that. I still hate myself for that hesitation, to this day.” Ingrid pauses, trying not to choke on the garble of words falling out of her mouth. She takes a deep breath in through her mouth, letting it out through her nose before she tries to begin speaking again.

“So I left. I moved to Wolfsburg, and it was…it was bad. As a footballer I improved, I improved my technicality and my playing abilities in general but everything else just fell apart. The management at Wolfsburg was horrible, the team culture was in shambles, and it was just an absolute shit show. It didn’t even feel like I was on a team anymore, and I was just this 19 year old kid in a country where I hardly spoke the language! I was drowning…I mean everyone there was but it just…I had never known anything else playing at this high of a level. I just thought this was what it meant to be on a team competing at this high of a caliber.”

“And I leaned on my family back home, and on Maia for support, and that’s really where everything began to go downhill.”

“Maia was, I mean Maia is really really serious about football. She lived and breathed it, and the longer we dated, the harder she tried and the more passionate she got. She was the head down, do your work and get your shit done kind of person. That’s what she did, and that’s what she suggested I do too, so that’s exactly what I did. I isolated myself from the team, not that it was all that challenging to do, and I adopted that ‘every man for herself’ competition style. Maia saw everyone as competition, and over time I did too. It stripped me of that team mentality, it took all the enjoyment out of the game for me. Which fucking sucked because it was my dream to play football like what I was doing at Wolfsburg, and I was so miserable but so unwilling to see how damaging that type of environment was.”

“So, at this point, I only had a few friends left. Frido and I had gotten to Wolfsburg at the same time so we were friendly enough, and a few other Norwegian girls were on the squad so I knew them from international duties but other than that I was mostly on my own.”

“Maia and I would go back and forth to see each other, between Norway and Wolfsburg. But the move changed something in our relationship. The move changed me as a person, yes, but it changed the dynamic in our relationship. It was subtle, and I didn’t notice it until way later, but things just went downhill after that move.”

“Maia was fed up with the lack of progress that she was making at her Norwegian club. She was mad she wasn’t getting called up, not with how hard she was working and how good her nutrition and training and everything was. And she went from this fun, carefree person to something bitter.”

“I wanted to support and help her, though! I was struggling, sure, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t be a good girlfriend too, and help her in her time of need.”

“It was a few months after I got to Wolfsburg that the comments started. Somewhere along the line, the resentment got to her, the anger and upset that she felt at the world, and she needed an outlet. And so she would start to say these things…these little snappy, snarky comments.”

“First, it would just be about a bad move I made in a game, or when we practiced together. A small comment about how I couldn’t possibly be eating pasta the night before a game. Something about the top that I was wearing being too skimpy. Just little stuff, enough to make me pause but I always just let it go, because it was just Maia! She said shit every once and a while, and she was still kind and funny and nice to me for the majority of the time. I had nobody else at the time, so I just let it brush over me. I didn’t let it get to me,” Ingrid continued, trying to convey everything. Trying to really explain.

“But over the next few months, what would turn into the occasional comment went to being something that was brought up in every single conversation. It wasn’t long until the negative comments outweighed the positive ones, about everything. My appearance, my playing ability, my weight, my technical skills. Nothing was off the table, and she just kind of stopped holding back. I just assumed it was a rough patch for us, that it was normal for couples. I had nothing else to compare it with, nobody to talk to about it except my parents, who I didn’t want to burden. So I stuck it out and stayed,” The brunette pauses, screwing her eyes shut for a moment, hesitation creeping into every aspect of her expression. She really didn’t want to continue, but she did. She did it for the blonde sitting in front of her, and for the Norwegian sitting in that tiny apartment in Wolfsburg wondering how she had turned into such a monster.

“And after a while, I started to say shit back,” Ingrid choked out, unable to look Mapi in the eyes. “She went after everything and I just…I snapped. It was horrible of me, it is horrible of me, but I went after her too. She went after my playing abilities, I went after the fact that she couldn’t get a call up. And then we’d just spiral into these arguments and just…rip each other apart. I was cruel, I should never have stooped to her level, but I let myself. I let myself turn into a monster who hurts someone else and didn’t even hardly feel remorseful about it. I just felt…relief.”

“While all of that got worse and worse, Maia started drinking. I don’t know if I was entirely the cause of it but I was definitely a part of the problem and not the solution which firmly disgusts me to think about but well…I can’t change it now,” the Norwegian sighed heavily, her whole chest feeling as though it might as well cave in on her.

“I’ll never forget the first time that the whole thing became physical. Before it was just snappy comments at one another, attempt to pull ourselves down because apparently we had nothing better to be doing. But one night, I came back from a game, and she had got in just a few hours before to come visit me, and yet somehow she had found the alcohol in my place, and god she was drunk, drunk beyond belief.”

“And she just, she started screaming about everything I had done wrong at the game, and when I argued back, suddenly she was right there, and my cheek stung, and I just…for a moment it felt like the whole world stopped. And then she got up, and we pretended like nothing happened, and I just took it. We were so angry and so fucking bitter toward one another, and I just sat there! I let her shred who I was as a person to bits, everything that I loved and every bit of self confidence and security that I had was gone. I did it right back to her though, like the perfect fucking monster that I was. And I had no friends and no support because I had been such a bitch to everyone, so I didn’t know what to do other than stay. We had been together for years, and I didn’t know what life without her looked like. Instead of helping her, or trying to be the solution, no I said all of these horrible, mean, cruel things to her because that is the person I am.”

“It was like that for months. For every snarky, horrible comment Maia had to say, I would say one back with no remorse. She dug at my poor eating habits, I went for the fact that she never got an offer to play at a big club, and we just went around and around and around for what felt like forever. I just…I stooped to her level and I let myself get cruel and hard and everything that nobody should ever wish to become. And I hate myself for doing it every day but I did, I did and I can’t change that now,” the brunette admits, as much as she hates herself for it. She hates so much of herself, even still. Even now.

“We were both so horrible toward each other, and yet we didn’t do anything about changing any of it. Nothing! We just went on like that, for months and months and months until I didn’t even know who I was as a person anymore. I just felt…numb, and inhumane almost.”

“And she swore it wouldn’t happen again, the hitting, after that night, but it did. I never…I never hit her, but she would get drunk and just get so mad that she would just have to, to, to take it out on someone, and I was there and convenient,” Ingrid says with a shrug, swiping the traitorous tear that had made its way down her cheek as she rushes to defend the actions of her former girlfriend.

“But she always felt bad about it afterwards! And she would be so upset and apologize so many times and I always felt so guilty because it was never just her fault. I always said something to provoke her, I always did something that gave her reason to. She said she was getting help, for the drinking and for everything and I believed her but it…it never got better. I believe that she would get better, that she would change and that I would too but we just kept being so vicious to one another in our own little ways. For months, we went around and around and around and around just like that, this never ending cycle. It was just our new normal, and we both just accepted it from one another.”

“It wasn’t until I got the call about coming to Barcelona that I finally woke up, realized how run down I was, how much of a shit show my life was. That I didn’t even recognize who I was as a person anymore, that I hated my behavior and at least maybe could try to change myself. And when I came here, I didn’t…I had lost all social skills. Everything made me anxious. Playing football, meeting new people, being somewhere new. It was all so overwhelming and anxiety inducing.”

“And the worst part about it was that I was just plain mean. I let everything that Maia constantly told me infiltrate who I was as an individual and change me fundamentally into this person, this thing that I hardly even recognized anymore by the time I got here. My relationship seeped into who I was as a person, I think because I was so young, I just kind of let it become who I was, and I let all that negatively change me, change my soul. There was no kindness there, it was just black and hard and vicious and cruel in the worst ways possible. The things I said and did, they were and are unforgivable. Nobody deserved the treatment that I gave Maia, nobody.”

“And then there you were when I got here, with your kind smile and your welcoming presence and you just…you made everything just so much easier. And I never got the chance to thank you for that Mapi, but I need you to know how grateful I am. You saved me when I didn’t even realize I needed saving. I felt like I was drowning, but you just jumped in the water and helped me learn how to swim again. I mean everything about being at Barcelona helped me a little bit but still…it was mostly you,” Ingrid looked down at her hands, more tears welling up in her eyes as she shook her head slightly, her voice crackling over her words.

“But I…I’m not a good person, Mapi. The things I said to Maia, the things I said to all of my teammates at Wolfsburg, the girls here. I can’t, I’m not sure I can ever come back from that. I’m not a good person on the inside, I can’t…I feel like I’ve been lying to you about who I am for months.”

“You, you are a good person Mapi, you are wonderful and kind and I’m all harsh and mean and I say things that I shouldn’t and I, you deserve something with a heart as compassionate and gentle as you. And I completely understand if this is too much. Because it’s a lot, and I don’t expect you to deal with all of my shit because that’s not a fair request for me to make. I don’t know if it’s possible for a person to change that much and I can’t…” the midfielder looked around helplessly, her vision entirely blurred from the litany of tears falling from her eyes.

The Norwegian stood, turning away from the couch and walking into the kitchen as she heaved in one breath after another, trying to calm herself down. Mapi shouldn’t have to be the one to deal with this. She should be the one comforting the blonde after finding out that the person she’s been dating for months is such a horrendous person, but she’s crying and she can’t bring herself to stop so instead she removes herself from the situation.

Her hands eventually find the kitchen countertop, gripping the marble so hard her knuckles are white as she tries to calm herself. The countertop is cool beneath her fingertips, but right as she sucks in a breath she feels nimble, warm arms coming to wrap around her stomach and any air she had just taken in gets punched out, leaving her lungs in a second.

The brunette hangs her head as she feels Mapi’s body curl around her, the blonde’s hands coming to rest over the midfielder’s heart.

Ingrid doesn’t deserve this kindness, the care that the Spaniard is showing her at this moment. But she also can’t bring herself to force it away, can do nothing but stand there and grovel in what she feels are the dying embers of the blonde’s affection for her.

But she couldn’t be more wrong, it turns out.

Because the defender finally unwraps herself from Ingrid after a few minutes, using her hands to gently peel the midfielder’s away from the countertop and spin the Norwegian to face her.

So gentle. Everything about the Spaniard is so gentle.

But then Mapi is reaching up, her hand coming to hold Ingrid’s chin softly, tilting it down so she can look her in the eyes.

“Ingrid Syrstad Engen, I know exactly who you are. I know that you are compassionate, I know that you care deeply for others, I know that you are gentle, that you lift up those around you. I know that you appreciate all the kindness that you get in this world, and you try to give it back tenfold.”

“And maybe there are some things in your past you regret. But every single time you got knocked down you know what you did? You got up, and you kept going. And now you’re here with me, and you deserve to tell yourself that you are not that person anymore. You are thoughtful and sincere and generous and honest and so so kind.”

“I would know! I am the one who spends the most time with you out of everyone. And I see all the things you do when you think nobody is looking. How you stop to help someone when you’re sure nobody is watching, how you always check on the younger girls after a tough loss, how you stop to literally smell the flowers you see everywhere,” Mapi’s eyes crinkle as she smiles at the thought, almost as though she is unable to contain herself from doing so at the thought.

“I think that you deserve to give yourself some more credit about how much a person can change. Your relationship with Maia was far from perfect, but it is in the past. Nothing that you’ve done in this relationship has been with the slightest bit of bad intent. Nothing. Every day I wake up and I thank whoever is out there that I get to wake up and be with someone as wonderful and compassionate as you.”

“Your past does not define you, princesa. It is how you change and grow, how you choose to live your life as a result of that past that defines who you are. Your soul is good Ingrid,” the amber eyed woman said finally, and there are tears slipping down her cheeks, and it only makes the Norwegian want to cry harder, but she lets her head dip further into Mapi’s grip, collapsing into the embrace of the defender, her arms wrapping tightly around the blonde’s neck.

“What did I ever do to deserve someone as perfect as you,” Ingrid asked gently, her voice muffled by the Spaniard’s hair.

“You didn’t have to do anything, Ingrid. You just deserve it. You never deserved to have anyone lay their hands on you, whether that be provoked or not. And it hurts my heart to think of someone hurting you in that way because you, princesa, deserve to be loved and cherished and shown compassion, not violence.” Mapi says softly, tilting her head back to press a gentle kiss to the Norwegian’s temple. It’s seeped with her love, and Ingrid lets herself accept it, leaning into the comfort and affection of the defender, for the first time, whole heartedly.

Because she put everything out there, all of her cards on the table. Every horrible, vicious, cruel, terrible thing that she had done in her last relationship.

And Mapi was still here.

Mapi was still here.

She was still here.

Ingrid is pretty sure she might be dreaming, but when she wakes up the next morning, the defender is still snuggled into her, the bright morning light casting a bronzy glow on her skin as she cuddles into the Norwegian. When the Spaniard wakes up, her amber eyes are lit up by that exact morning Spanish sun, amber pools of warmth and affection and sleep and everything wonderful adjective that Ingrid can think up. She wants to open a dictionary and find them all, recite them into Mapi’s skin as she tries to impart her love into the center back, to make sure she knows how much she cares.

—

When Mapi and Ingrid walk into the training room hand in hand at their next practice, it’s Geyse who wolf whistles at them, causing the defender to smile and the midfielder to shake her head, a blush forming on her cheeks as she ducks her chin. Mapi pokes her cheekily in the side before she lets go of the Norwegian’s hand, walking over to her locker beside Jana and Laia to change before training begins.

“Someone looks like they had a nice weekend,” Jana said with a raised eyebrow, and the older defender can’t help but sneak a look over at Ingrid, who is talking calmly to Keira and Asisat. She nods slightly, trying to keep the smile that is threatening to come out, doing her best to keep her face neutral despite the relief and happiness she feels inside.

It’s not that she had ever wanted Ingrid to have to tell her about her past. Mapi wishes that the brunette had nothing to tell, wishes that the Norwegian had lived a life as wonderful and full of kindness as she was, but unfortunately that just simply wasn’t the case. And if she did have to go through that, the Spaniard wanted her to feel comfortable to share with her.

She loved Ingrid. She wanted the good, the bad, the ugly, and everything in between. And she finally felt like she had it. The shoe that she had been waiting to drop for months had finally just drifted away into thin air. So yeah, she had a pretty good weekend, honestly.

“Yeah…something life that,” is all Mapi replies quietly, and she hears Lucy snicker as she walks past, the English defenders mind clearly in places slightly more dirty than the blondes.

“Love sick!” She teases, and Mapi’s head lifts in surprise at that statement, looking over at the brunette with a disbelieving expression on her face, her hands coming to rest on her hips sassily.

“That is a lot coming from you!” the Spaniard exclaims, and Lucy ducks her head, jogging out of the changing room with a huge smile on her face as all the other girls pull on their clothes and odds and ends.

When they’re all finally changed and out on the pitch, Rafel comes over to start their practice. They have a light week this week, and Ingrid can tell from the smile on Rafels face that he has something up his sleeve.

“Alright ladies, before we start practice we wanted to play a little game with you all! Everyone played phenomenally last week, and we thought this would be a fun way to start the week!” He announced, and everyone smiled easily, excited and perhaps already a little competitive, despite not even knowing the activity.

“Okay, can everyone start by pairing off? We need the pairs to be equal, so try to go for people around your same height,” Rafel said, and Ingrid immediately turned to Asisat, who was standing right next to her.

Mapi had immediately looked over at Ingrid, her mouth flopping open when she realized that her girlfriend already had a partner. She stood still for a moment, having not been paying attention to the instructions of finding someone of her same height, flabbergasted with mock shock that the brunette had chosen someone over her.

After just a second, the blonde defender felt a tap on her shoulder, and she turned to find an unamused looking Aitana giving her a rather exasperated look and holding out her own hand.

“She’s like half a meter taller than you, Romeo. Stick with someone your own size,” Aitana said simply, and Mapi’s mouth immediately closed, turning down in a frown as she clasped the smaller midfielder’s hand with an eye roll.

“Smart ass,” The defender mumbled, squeezing Aitana’s offered hand before she moved over into the open spot in the circle that the team was forming.

The game was somewhat like tag, meant to work on agility and speed. It was marketed as an unserious, relaxed game, but you don’t exactly get to be a top athlete by thinking of competition as unserious and relaxed.

The competitiveness in some came out clearly and quickly, with Lucy, Mapi, and Alexia all immediately yelling as soon as the first teams were off, screaming at each other and erupting into laughter when someone was caught.

Ingrid was fast, using her height to her advantage as she weaved in between different groups with Asisat, but Mapi was agile and quick, tagging her easily before she turned away, speeding back into Aitana, and hiding behind the brunette midfielder with a wry smile on her face as the Norwegian shook her head with a laugh.

Pina, who was paired up with Frido, looked over at the Swedish forward as they both watched it happen, a huge smile on her face. The blonde woman could do nothing but offer a big smile of her own back, watching the whole situation play out in real time with a unique and relief laden joy.

Ingrid looked more relaxed than Frido had seen in the years that she’s known the Norwegian. There was a sureness and stillness to her actions that is new, a genuine smile tugging at her lips easily. It warms the Swede more than she expected for it too, sending spikes of relief down into her heart as she watches the midfielder interact with her teammates. Her joy feels infectious, so far away from the cold and calculated person who had first stepped foot onto this pitch after leaving the toxicity of Wolfsburg.

When Ingrid makes her way back to Asisat, she manages to get all the way back without getting tapped, flying into the striker’s arms, a huge smile on her face.

Mapi was watching like a hawk though, standing right behind the two next to Aitana still, and she finally seizes her opportunity, darting out and going to tag the Nigerian, who immediately runs away, forcing Ingrid to come over to Mapi and Aitana’s team.

The blonde turns back to the small midfielder with a huge smile on her face, and while Aitana immediately rolls her eyes, she can’t fight the smile that springs up on her mouth as Ingrid makes her way over.

The taller woman smiles easily at Mapi, the action lighting up her whole face as her eyes go soft and warm, a gaze only ever really reserved for the blonde, who smiles back at her brightly. Ingrid nods over at Aitana for a moment before she takes her place next to her girlfriend, slipping her hand into the defenders with a practiced ease it feels almost second nature now.

The blonde knows that she doesn’t really need to, but she can’t quite help herself from keeping her hand somewhere on Ingrid. Maybe she just likes knowing she’s there. Maybe there’s still a small part of her that is worried she’ll run away. That Mapi will wake up and she’ll be gone, the ghosts of her past forcing her out of the door she doesn’t need to run through.

But she stays.

She stays, and she takes the Spaniard’s hand, squealing when they have to run away from someone. She laughs lightly as she pulls the blonde with her, or turns to crash right back into her when they have to change directions.

They end up on the outer edges of the game after a few minutes, catching their breath and trying to not to laugh too hard any time they look at each other for too long.

Ingrid watches with bated breath as Pina and Frido, who have somehow ended up on the same team meander toward the pair. They both look far too mischievous, and Ingrid finds herself looking at Mapi out of the corner of her eye, but the blonde seems entirely oblivious to the pair, who are getting closer by the second.

But at the last moment, the two swerve so they aren’t touching the couple, speeding past them before Claudia leans her head back, singing quietly under her breath, just loud enough for Mapi and Ingrid to hear.

“Mapi and Ingrid, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S–” The Spaniard can’t quite finish her song, on account of Ingrid dashing out at her, swiping her hand out in a feeble attempt to tag the brunette, who half runs and half gets dragged away by Frido.

“Very mature!” Ingrid yells out, looking back at Mapi with her hands on her hip, expecting some back up. She finds absolutely none though, because the center back is red in the face she’s trying so hard not to laugh, and if anything was going to make the Norwegian crack, it was that.

She tipped her head back, letting out a laugh from deep within her belly, a sound full and light, and so carefree it makes Mapi’s heart squeeze, in the best way possible.

—

Ingrid and Mapi revel in each other’s company over the next few weeks, spending almost no time apart. They go most places as a pair, from training to games to dates to slow Saturday morning walks in the park. It’s a comfortable ease, a simplicity that neither ever expected to get out of a relationship. They both just love spending time with one another, still always learning something new about each other every single day.

The Spaniard can’t help but see her girlfriend in a new light, now that she knows more about the brunette. But it’s not a bad light, not like what Ingrid expected when she was so worried that Mapi would think she was a monster because of her past actions.

What the defender sees? She sees a person who has every reason to be unkind right back at the world, and yet who is still so gentle and compassionate.

On their little Friday night stroll after dinner, Mapi watched as Ingrid released her hand to bend down, picking at some of the wild flowers growing along the sidewalk.

The midfielder gathered them together before standing again, turning back to the shorter woman to present them to the Spaniard proudly, a wide smile on her face. It’s such a small gesture, but the pureness of her expression and the excitement in her face strikes the defender directly in the chest like a lightning bolt.

The Norwegian looked absolutely gorgeous, the golden of the setting sun creating a halo behind her. Her green eyes were relaxed and looking at Mapi as though she was the only person on the planet.

It melted the blonde, in every single way possible. She accepts the offered flowers, bringing them up to her nose and breathing in deeply, letting her eyes flutter shut at the soft, sweet smell of the unruly combination of wildflowers.

When she opened her eyes again, Ingrid was looking at her with a relaxed expression, her face soft and kind. Mapi couldn’t exactly help herself, reaching up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to her lips, letting herself lean heavily into the Norwegian, who easily accepts the weight of the Spaniard without a second thought. There’s such an unhurried selflessness about the way that the brunette composes herself that still surprises the blonde, even months later.

Mapi smiles into the kiss, and she feels Ingrid do the same, both of them leaning back just enough until their faces are just inches from one another, just far enough away to look at each other but not far enough away that their bodies can’t stay pressed against one another, the warmth of the Norwegian’s body melting into the center back’s.

“Hi,” Ingrid whispered softly, and Mapi smiled even wider, letting her forehead come to rest against the midfielder’s.

“Hey you,” she responded quietly, and the brunette shifted them so she could wrap her arms around Mapi more firmly, hugging her tightly and lifting her up tightly, causing the defender to squeal with surprise.

Neither of them had told the other that they loved each other, but in that moment, they both just knew.

Ingrid left the following morning for National team duty, giving Mapi a kiss (or two, or three) goodbye, before she walked out the door regretfully. She had plans to see the Spaniard in two weeks once she was back from camp.

Later that day, the defender watched as a truck pulled up to the driveway of Ingrid’s house, unloading a large rectangular box before driving away. She’s sitting on the couch as the truck pulls up and then drives away, can’t quite get herself to get off the couch.

She was conflicted on this decision, especially considering the fight that it had caused just a few weeks ago, but at the same time she knows that it’s time. She can’t spend any more time in this house with a broken mirror, with the thought that Ingrid still forces herself to think of herself in this way.

She deserves a chance to heal. She deserves to give herself that opportunity.

The blonde wasn’t exactly sure how Ingrid was going to take this news, but Mapi knew that the brunette had made so much progress in being happier with herself these past few weeks.

The blonde could only hope that this delivery wouldn’t change her entire relationship.

—

It's the dead middle of night when Ingrid finally clicks the lock of her house open, opening the door silently and stepping into her house for the first time in two weeks.

She had spent the past few weeks in the south of Spain and Stockholm for friendlies against Spain and Sweden, and as grateful as she was to get to spend time with her national teammates and represent her country, there was something about sleeping in her own bed, pressed up against Mapi, that she had seriously been missing for the past two weeks.

She set her bag down in the little entryway hallway, walking with tired feet through the living room, keeping all the lights off, and slipping into her bedroom. She had caught a late flight, and she feels entirely dead on her feet as she makes her way through her house before she finally reaches her bedroom.

She could just make out Mapi’s head from where it was poking out from under the covers, and just the sight was enough to make the brunette smile.

She grabbed a loose t-shirt that definitely wasn’t her own, as well as some sleep shorts, deciding that she should shower quickly just to get the airport smell off of herself. She slipped into the bathroom without a word, grateful that Mapi was generally a heavy sleeper, turning the shower dial to hot before she stripped out of her travel clothes.

She showered quickly before redressing in the clothes she had just grabbed, crawling into bed with the defender and tucking herself in next to the Spaniard. The blonde smelled like rosewood and something musky and just so Mapi, Ingrid lets herself bury her nose into the center back’s shoulder and breathe in deeply, her lungs rattling as they filled up.

The Norwegian slides her hand around the blonde’s stomach, wrapping herself so that her front is pressed against Mapi’s back, her hand holding the defender securely back into her. She feels the shorter woman shift under her, the blonde moving back into the brunette’s embrace instinctually as her hand comes to cover Ingrid’s over its place on her stomach.

The midfielder can feel the moment that Mapi actually consciously wakes up, the way that her body tenses before her head shifts down as though she’s looking at her stomach before she relaxes again, her body softening back into Ingrid.

The amber eyed woman shifts in the midfielder’s arms, turning over so that she is facing Ingrid, her eyes blinking sleepily. Her hand comes down to lace with Ingrid’s, their fingers interlocking as Mapi readjusts her head on the pillow so that she’s closer to the brunette, their faces just inches apart.

A slow smile dances on her lips at the sight of the Norwegian, and she takes a moment to just take her in. Ingrid is sure she’s not exactly the most gorgeous sight right now, her hair in need of a wash, bags under her eyes, and a general exhaustion weighing her down, but somehow Mapi is still looking at her as though she’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

The blonde brings her hand up, running her thumb gently from the Norwegian’s forehead, down over her cheek and tracing the line of her jaw, her touch featherlight and so soft. As she brings her hand down, she leans into the brunette’s side firmly, nuzzling her nose into Ingrid’s neck and shoulder as she wraps her hands around the midfielder.

“You’re back,” Mapi mumbled, the sleep still thick in her voice as she pressed a ghost of a kiss to the column of Ingrid’s throat.

“I am,” the Norwegian confirmed softly, pulling the Spaniard in tighter to herself until the two were pressed against one another.

“Sleep, min kjære. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Ingrid reassured gently, and she felt Mapi relax into her, her entire body melting into the Norwegian as she slipped back into sleep.

Mapi’s weight against her is comforting and familiar, and the green eyed woman fell asleep easier that night than she had in weeks, her mind clouded with a haze of rosewood and pine.

—

When Ingrid wakes up, there is light streaming through the curtains and the bed next to her is warm but empty as she looks over, expecting to find Mapi still asleep next to her. The Norwegian stretches out, elongating her arms and legs as she blinks the sleep out of her eyes. She can smell something coming from the direction of the kitchen, and she throws her legs over the bed and sits up gingerly, rubbing any remaining sleep out of her eyes. She can hear rain outside, the start of a Spanish rainstorm surely, the light pattering almost a comfort of sorts.

It’s late morning, later than she usually sleeps, which she can only blame on her late arrival home last night. It’s strange though, usually she is the one to get up before Mapi and get going with her day, and not the other way around. She walks over to the window, pulling the curtains back and letting brightness into the room.

The sun is stuck behind the clouds, but it’s a bright day regardless, and just as Ingrid expected it’s beginning to rain, thin droplets of water turning into a steady stream, a warm and light rain that makes the brunette just want to stand there and listen to it forever.

It’s the smell of food and the rumbling of her stomach that pulls her away though, turning from the curtains and walking over to open the bedroom door, where she is immediately met with the distinct smell of coffee and eggs, light and delicious and wrapping her in warmth. The Norwegian smiles to herself, stepping through the door and toward the kitchen, when something stops her in her tracks.

The light hits her eyes peculiarly before she can even turn to look into the kitchen, causing her to turn her head and examine where the strange light source is coming from.

But all she finds is herself, looking back right at her.

There is a new mirror, with absolutely no cracks, scratches, or a single shatter in sight, and there is just Ingrid, looking back at herself. Wearing an old shirt of Mapi’s and a pair of white sleep shorts. Her hair is flowing down her back in soft waves, and her face is a mixture of surprise and anxiety, almost similar to a deer in headlights.

Time feels like it stops. There is nothing but her and her reflection, looking back at herself with a completely shocked expression. She can’t seem to move, to look toward Mapi, to say anything.

She just stares.

The Norwegian swallows, watching the way that the muscles in her face contract with the movement, before she steps toward the mirror. Her feet are moving but her brain doesn’t even seem to recognize it, until suddenly she’s standing just a few inches away from the mirror as she examines herself up close.

She hardly recognizes herself.

But…not in a bad way exactly.

She’s filled out from when she was in Germany, less skeleton looking. There's color in her face, and a tan against all of her skin that she knew was there but somehow still forgot about. Her hair looks soft and supple despite her having done little actually to it, not the unruly and dry mop of hair she remembers having. Her facial expression is calm, relaxed somehow as she looks at herself, nothing like the taught and harsh expression she always held just a few months ago. The lines that used to be a constant present are there but they seem less severe, more gentle.

She looks completely different, more soft and relaxed. She looks…healthy.

She steps impossibly closer to the mirror, looking at her face closer. At the slope of her forehead and nose, the pink in her cheeks and of her lips, which are just slightly chapped. The forest green color of her eyes, the smile lines forming in the outer corners of her eyes. Each individual eyelash that bats up and down as she blinks in surprise.

The Norwegian feels full of wonder almost as she examines herself, entirely lost on how she could look like this.

She feels…beautiful.

She feels like she’s not even looking at herself, and yet she’s never felt more like herself at the same time. It’s a strange thought, to realize that she likes herself. That she’s actively choosing to love herself and her body when for so long it felt like a burden, or a means to an end.

The person staring back at Ingrid in this mirror isn’t the same cruel person who left Wolfsburg feeling torn down and torn apart. This person is lustrous and gentle, worlds away from vicious words spat in a tiny apartment in a cooker pressure of a relationship.

Ingrid is so lost in thought that she almost misses the crop of blonde hair behind her, and when she does notice Mapi she startles slightly, looking at the center back’s uncertainty staring back at her. She spins to actually look at her girlfriend, who is staring at her with an unreadable expression, her entire body reading hesitancy and almost…fear? As if she’s afraid Ingrid will react poorly or become upset with her.

Which isn’t the most inaccurate assumption to make, considering past events as Ingrid thinks about it.

The brunette opens her mouth to speak, but the Spaniard beats her to it, words tumbling out of her mouth in rapid succession.

“I know you don’t want a new mirror, and that we fought about it before but I just…” Mapi pauses, trying to collect herself. She looks up and out of the living room window, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths before she looks back at Ingrid, her eyes shining with unshed tears and her voice thick with emotion.

“Ingrid, I’m sorry but you’re not the same person you were when you got here, on the inside or on the outside.”

“And you deserve to see yourself the way that everyone else sees you, the beauty and grace and kindness and every wonderful thing about you. You deserve to see yourself the way that I see you,” the Spaniard said quietly, and Ingrid shakes her head just slightly, more to herself than anything else really. She sees the way that the amber eyed woman’s face falls in response, entirely misinterpreting the movement.

“No, god no Mapi I just…” Ingrid looks around for a moment, unable to find the words to even say to the blonde right now. She doesn’t even know how to express how deeply she feels for the defender in this moment, for her selflessness and her heart.

The Norwegian can say with confidence that she’s never loved the Spaniard more than in this moment, at the sweetness and sincerity that just seems to flow through Mapi naturally. The feeling bubbles up in Ingrid, flowing out of everything in her, out of her heart and seeping into the ground but the brunette just doesn’t know how to say that out loud, exactly.

She looks around for a moment before she reaches forward, grasping Mapi’s hand and pulling her toward the door, out into the warm and consistent rain. They’re immediately soaked, and her hair is beginning to stick to her face but the brunette doesn’t care, can only think about the center back.

“Ingrid what are we…” Mapi starts, only to trail off when Ingrid drags her barefoot into the driveway, spinning around and looking at the blonde with every single emotion she can think of on her face. All of the love, all the care and compassion and affection and wonder and thoughtfulness she has for the woman in front of her.

The blonde who ran out into the rain with her, and looks at her as though she holds the moon and stars in her hand. The Spaniard who has helped get her through everything, who has been there for it all and has never given up on her.

Ingrid’s love for the defender feels as powerful and all consuming as a rainstorm, as this rainstorm. It seeps into every part of her, all the good and the bad, the wonderful and the horrible, all the best and worst parts of herself. The midfielder lets herself love all of it, she lets Mapi love all of it.

It’s the same all consuming feeling that her love for the blonde is.

“I am…” Ingrid begins, her voice wavering just slightly, before she steels herself, beginning again after she clears her throat slightly.

“I am so in love with you, Mapi. God, so unbelievably, undeniably in love with you. I love you and your compassion, and your kindness, and your ferocity and passion on the pitch. I love how you care for your friends and I love the tenderness you somehow always seem to save just for me. I love when I catch you looking at me when you think I don’t notice, and the little snuffling sound you make in your sleep.”

“I love that you believe in me. I love that you loved me until I realized that I could love myself. I love that you make me want to be a better person every single day, but you still never fail to make me feel like I am always enough, no matter how I show up.”

“I cannot imagine my life without you in it, and I just…when I looked at that mirror I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. Because I’m happy, and secure, and it’s all…it's all thanks to you. So thank you, for supporting me when I needed it the most. And thank you for letting me love you, even when I made it really fucking hard.”

“And I really just want you to know that I love all of you. The inside, the outside, and everything in between. All the bad and all the good and anything because it’s you.”

“And maybe the world does say that it’s not natural for me to love you and for us to be together, but you know what? For me, loving you is as easy as breathing and that is the most natural thing in the world. Loving you feels like being consumed by a rainstorm, entirely unstoppable and yet so fucking beautiful at the same time. The rest of the world, the rest of my life, of our lives is going to be complicated. But this? Us? That is the simplest, and most natural thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. We don’t choose who we fall in love with, but my heart chooses you. I would choose you, every time. I love you María, and I am hopelessly in love with you.”

Mapi just stands there staring at Ingrid with a wide mouth for a moment, shock etched into her features.

For just a moment there was nothing but silence between them as they looked at each other, the rain slamming down around them, sinking into their clothes and over their skin. The blonde’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, but everything else about her is unmoving. Her eyes are laser focused on Ingrid, emotions cycling through her face so rapidly the Norwegian can hardly even begin to capture them all.

“You…you love me?” Mapi asked in disbelief after several moments of silence, and Ingrid’s eyebrows nearly raised into her hairline in surprise. She nods her head slightly, determination etched into her features as she looks at the defender’s expression, at the seriousness of her question. The brunette sobers for a second before she nods definitively once more, watching the way that Mapi’s eyes widen just slightly at the movement.

“God, yes Mapi, of course I love you. What is there not to love about you? You’re…you’re everything,” Ingrid exclaimed softly, her voice barely audible over the rain. Again they stood there, both of them just standing a breadth apart from one another as Ingrid watched tears well in Mapi’s eyes, mixing with the rainwater that ran down her cheeks, the rainwater that soaked the thin cotton shirt and sweats she was wearing as the rain bounced off of them.

The Norwegian was poised to continue as, but she was unable to on account of Mapi slamming into her, nearly sending the brunette backward with the force of her embrace.

But Ingrid would never let her fall. Not if she had something to say about it.

The defender wraps her arms around Ingrid’s neck and clings to her as the Norwegian’s arms wrap around the blonde’s abdomen, holding her tightly to herself. The Spaniard buries her face in Ingrid’s shoulder and neck for a moment, trying to quell the stuttering sobs that are threatening to surface.

The blonde didn’t really get emotional like this, but Ingrid loved her.

Mapi had spent so many months feeling like she wasn’t enough for the brunette, that maybe Ingrid felt like she couldn’t tell the center back because she didn’t love her enough. She had spent so long wondering if they would ever get to this point where they could both just love one another, and that would be enough.

Mapi had so desperately hoped that it would be enough.

She loved Ingrid too much for it to be contrary.

The blonde leans back just slightly, letting go of her tight grip just enough so she can bring her face in front of Ingrid’s. The Norwegian is still holding her securely in place, her hands warm and secure on the center back’s waist, even with the water making her skin slippery.

Mapi leans forward, resting her forehead on Ingrid’s and closing her eyes, forcing more tears out of her eyes as she finally spoke.

“I love you I love you I love you I love you,” Mapi whispered over and over again as she pushed forward just slightly, her lips just brushing against the midfielder’s, just ghosting over the soft lips of the brunette. It was Ingrid who pushed them over the cliff, connecting their lips solidly as she lifted the Spaniard up just slightly, even in the rain.

Tears were mixing with the rain that ran down Ingrid’s face as she lifted up the blonde, holding her tightly and spinning her around as she broke the kiss, her heart singing at the way that Mapi squealed happily.

“I love you so much,” Mapi said quietly after her girlfriend had set her down, the defender taking Ingrid’s hands and intertwining their fingers after they both examined one another for a moment.

“I wanted to tell you earlier, I’ve wanted to tell you for months. Because I love everything about you, and who you are as a person. I love the person I am when you are around, how you bring out a side of me that nobody else can. I just…I really love you Ingrid, and I hope you know that,” Mapi said finally, her voice thick with emotion. The midfielder’s entire face softened at the confession as another small part of her heart stitched itself in repair.

Everything about the Norwegian’s life was different than when she had first stepped foot in Spain.

She had gone from a hateful person, cruel and unforgiving in a world that had beaten her down, to someone full of love and life and happiness. To finding a space and finding people that she would have never dreamed she got to spend her days with.

She had healed, both by putting in the work and learning to accept help from others.

She had reignited her passion for the game of football, learning to love her team and the game in a way that no longer felt compulsory or forced.

But above all, she had found a love greater than she could have ever expected to get. She was the luckiest human in the world to love and be loved by Mapi.

She knew that there would be challenges, trials that she would need to get through. Healing is not a linear process, and life is never meant to be easy.

What she did know, though? As she looked over at Mapi, at the adoration and attention in her eyes as she looked at Ingrid, the Norwegian knew that she wasn’t alone anymore. Never again would she be that girl sitting in a tiny apartment in Germany who had learned that the world was something to hate and that love was just a fallacy made up by those who were perfect.

Because Ingrid wasn’t perfect. But one doesn’t have to be perfect to be deserving of love, deserving of the love of a small Spanish defender who cracked down her defenses and helped her learn how to live again.

Ingrid deserved that love, and that was something she knew without a shadow of doubt in her heart.