[Football] Bad Boy Batty

As the Olympic Games were about to start, Ronaldinho, who had been begging his son to look at him online, made a risky move. He went straight to the training ground with his agent brother without even saying hello, hoping to catch Batistuta by surprise.

Fortunately, a passerby recognized him, and the coaching staff of the Olympic team knew that he was coming and started to prepare in advance. Of course, this also reminded Batistuta, the person involved. When the staff took Ronaldinho to find Batistuta, he had disappeared.

"Bati! Damn it, who saw Batistuta!" Head coach Mikael shouted anxiously, the tuft of beard on his lips trembling with his body, "He actually dared to miss training, I don't care if it was his bastard dad who disturbed him, no one in my team is allowed to leave the training ground without permission! Go find him!"

The assistant coach nodded like a chicken, then turned around and changed his expression: "Where's Loach? He can find Batty!"

"Loach is missing too!" Another assistant teacher replied, "I didn't see him today."

No one knew where Buddy had gone. He wasn't in the dormitory, nor at the drinks machine. His assistant and babysitter had also disappeared. They must have been together.

Neymar knows where they are.

Mikael walked back with his beard blowing. Neymar couldn't help but call him when he passed by him, "Coach——"

Mikael slammed on the brakes. He always responded to requests from the team's superstar Neymar: "What's wrong, Neymar?"

Neymar looked at Mikael, Bailando's name was on the tip of his tongue, he opened his mouth but couldn't make a sound, a second before his vocal cords vibrated, his brain urgently issued a command to stop his throat. Neymar stared into the coach's eyes, but his mind was full of Batistuta's past.

He suddenly didn't want to say it anymore.

"Neymar?" Mikael's voice brought Neymar back to his senses.

"Uh, nothing," Neymar shook his head slightly, "Let's find Batistuta as soon as possible, our running training is not yet completed."

Mikael patted Neymar on the shoulder: "Don't worry, we will find him." Then he pointed to the living room, "Ronaldinho is there, do you want to talk to him?"

Neymar frowned: "No, I can't."

Mikael and the coaching staff left. Neymar looked at their backs and breathed a sigh of relief. He felt a sense of inexplicable joy, as if he and Batistuta were accomplices.

He became famous at a young age and had seen many former Brazilian football stars, including Ronaldinho. At first sight, he knew that this was not a man who would stop. Just as the elves would not stop dancing, Ronaldinho would not stop enjoying himself.

Neymar thought of Batistuta who was having fun in Bailando. In fact, from this point of view alone, they are quite similar as father and son.

No one was training properly anymore, and the Barcelona superstar quietly slipped out through a hole in the training ground fence.

……

This is a private box, luxurious, with a catwalk.

Neymar pulled aside the curtain and walked in. There were two dancers on the stage, one dressed as a devil and the other as an angel. They twisted their bodies to show their entire selves to the man below the stage.

"I knew you were here."

Neymar walked over and sat down next to Batistuta. The dancer was not surprised by this. The little devil walked down and ran his fingertips across Neymar's shirt. The Barcelona star stuffed a few bills in her bra, then waved his hand. The dancer returned to the stage tactfully. They walked to the middle, a little away from the audience.

Batty waved his hand in disapproval. "You chased my girls away."

He was lying lazily on the sofa, his long legs spread wide apart, with a dozen empty wine glasses at hand. Neymar could smell excessive alcohol on his breath.

"What's wrong?" Barty said, almost tongue-tied. "Did my asshole dad send you here?"

Neymar rolled his eyes and decided not to bother with the drunk.

"You can tell with your toes that I won't betray you, Batistuta," Neymar said kindly. "The people at the training ground are going crazy looking for you," he added.

"Yes, you won't betray me. We are the best partners in the world." Batistuta did not respond to Neymar's last sentence, and Neymar was sure that he had heard it.

The drunkard drank another glass of wine with a silly smile, which smelled like whiskey. Because his arms were unsteady, most of it spilled on his chin, and then it wet Buddy's front, making him look like he had been crying.

Screw it, Batty thought.

Batista will not cry for Ronaldinho, Batista's tears have gone into the grave with his mother.

"If you don't want to see him, don't see him," Neymar said. "But you can't drink without restraint because of this. Professional players must have professional ethics and you have to be responsible for your own body."

"That kind of thing is unnecessary. I'm in good health. The only thing that guy gave me is this - a good body." Batistuta shook a whole bottle of wine in front of Neymar, "Come on, you too. It's my treat, good brother."

"Oh my God..." Neymar pinched his eyebrows in pain, because he hated his father and did not cherish the body that inherited his physique. Batistuta was trying to make himself like a genius who died young.

He waved the dancers out and signaled them to turn up the music in the hut, for which he paid some more money. Only those light green things worked here.

"Don't drink, Batistuta. Hey, look at me." Neymar held Batistuta's cheeks with both hands. The boy let him do whatever he wanted as if he had lost his cervical vertebrae. Neymar sighed, "Wake up, Batistuta. Tell me where the loach is?"

"That loach kid," Batty smiled drunkenly at Neymar, pouting as if he was back in his childhood and said, "I asked him to get the money—"

"To pay for these." The drunk raised the bottle and shook it. "Stop drinking, idiot." Neymar couldn't help but scold him, and then in order not to sound too preachy, he added, "I don't want to carry you back. A drunk weighs twice as much as a normal person."

"It's okay." Batty didn't care. He looked at the T-stage with hazy eyes and said in surprise: "Where are my girls?"

"Back to heaven and hell." Neymar said casually, "If you want to drink, why don't you go to the bar, but come here."

"Because..." Batistuta smiled slyly. If it weren't for the mist on his pupils, Neymar would have thought he was not drunk at all. "Because I - because the wine tastes better with girls."

The latter part was changed awkwardly, and Neymar knew it was not the correct answer. "Because of me" what? He really wanted to know what the latter part of Batistuta's original sentence was, but if Batistuta still didn't say something when he was drunk, then it must be so important that it was engraved in his bones.

So Neymar held back and didn't ask any more questions. He believed that Batistuta would tell him when the time was right.

"That's right, Nei."

Batistuta suddenly came over, and Neymar smelled a strong smell of alcohol. The boy's beautiful face suddenly appeared in front of Neymar, and Neymar's heart skipped a beat without any warning. He had to press his palm hard on his chest to prevent it from jumping out.

The Barcelona star's Adam's apple moved up and down, and he replied dryly: "What is it?"

Batistuta didn't say anything. He beckoned Neymar to come closer, so Neymar put his ear close to Batistuta's ear, but Batistuta didn't mean to say anything to him.

The drunken boy clamped Neymar's chin to straighten his face, then pecked him quickly on the lips.

Neymar blinked, not reacting to what happened, while the culprit lay back on the sofa with his eyes closed.

He hadn't experienced such a gentle kiss in a long, long time.

Neymar pinched his thigh hard, again helpless at the boy's basically unconscious behavior: "You don't know what you are doing, right?"

Batistuta didn't hear a single letter, he snorted. Neymar pursed his lips, there was a rare dry dead skin on it, he gently bit it off with his teeth, and carefully avoided some numb places.

【Bati! 】

There was a call from the door, it was Loach.

Neymar was flustered for a moment, but he quickly adjusted himself. "Finally you're here. I was worried about how to bring him back." He said to Loach.

Batti didn't respond. He fell asleep on the sofa, looking very insecure. The dark-skinned boy looked at the sleeping Batista. He opened his lips slightly but didn't say a word. If Batti was a gangster, then Loach must be the most conscientious second-in-command.

"Let's go." Loach helped Batty up and looked up at Neymar, "Let's carry him back."

……

When they carried Batista back, Ronaldinho had already left, and Neymar and Loach both breathed a sigh of relief.

After Neymar sent Batistuta back to the room, he went to report to the coach. Mikael's face was full of rage, but after realizing that it was Neymar in front of him, he said nothing, just waved and told him to go back.

The benefits of being famous.

On the way back to the room, Neymar met Barbosa. Barbosa and Batistuta were from the same club, they were both in Santos.

"Bati must have gone out to drink with other women." Barbosa's words successfully stopped Neymar.

Barbosa was not sure at first, but after seeing Neymar's reaction he knew he was right, so Barbosa shrugged: "Bati becomes a different person every time he meets his father. I have always admired Ronaldinho until I met Batistuta. Now the part I admire does not include his private life."

Neymar was in high spirits. He gave up going back to his room to rest and turned around to hook Barbosa's neck. "Would you like to share some of your stories with me? I'd be happy to bring some drinks and snacks."

Of course Barbosa was happy to do so. As long as he could talk to Neymar, he didn't care whether the topic was about Batistuta or not.

"You know, Batty's favorite thing is to lie to people everywhere. He told everyone that he is a virgin." Barbosa looked gossipy, just like discussing where the most beautiful girl in the class went with whom on the weekend during recess. "The most important thing is that everyone believes him. Look at his face like a newborn lamb. I mean, no wonder everyone believes him."

It's an old-fashioned move, but it works, especially for a guy like Batistuta who has a face of an innocent boy. If Neymar said this, I'm afraid he would not get a passionate kiss but ruthless ridicule.

"This guy has more lovers than our first team and coaching staff combined, and there are boys who are fascinated by him." Barbosa said proudly, "You know, one time Batistuta's lovers bumped into each other at the club's training ground. We all thought he was going to flip over, but he just hugged them left and right. We were all stunned. Batistuta is really more Brazilian than any other Brazilian."

Barbosa kept chattering, and Neymar felt as if his lips were on fire.

Now he began to doubt the purity of the kiss.

Oh, Batty.

Went to his.

(End of this chapter)