Even with the new puppies, it's not an easy week. Ricardo's insomnia plays with him as he stares up into the darkness and thinks, unable to stop. He's sad and unsettled and Alicia's warmth against his side is only some comfort, each moment he spends trying not to ruin her good week adding to his tension- she and Mickie's won a match against Ember Moon and Dana Brook, and she seems optimistic towards their chances at being in the Elimination Chamber match that will determine who will be inaugural women's tag champions. Not to mention she's going to be in this year's Rumble for sure, her previous injuries only a distant echo in the back of her mind when she thinks about last year's and how she just missed it.
Ricardo is happy for her, he is, but he's still close to snapping, social media doing nothing to help his anxiety and general feeling of unease. When Alicia flies out for WWE business, he finds himself on the soccer field, kicking around a ball and trying to distract himself with his second passion. He's just kicked the ball into the net when he feels eyes on him so he looks up, almost expecting a former fan being weird or something, just to stop short and smile, slightly. "El Patron?"
Alberto inclines his head and pulls away from where he's leaning on the fence posts, walking over to him. "Hola, mi hermano." He squeezes his shoulder gently and smiles. "I heard... about how your week is going," he says carefully. "I wanted to make sure you're ok."
Ricardo pauses, considering lying, again, but Alberto knows him better than he knows himself sometimes, and he thinks based on the shrewd look Alberto is giving him right now that even trying would be pointless, so he ducks his head, slightly, and sighs, shoulders slumping. "No," he admits lowly. "I'm not, not really."
Alberto nods, biting his lip, before gripping his arms and pulling him closer, tucking him in against his chest and just holding him for a few moments. "Lo siento, mi hermano. It isn't fair."
"No, it's not," he whispers, his fingers curling into the fold's of Alberto's shirt and fighting his long-held emotions. But Alberto begins stroking his hair, murmuring in Spanish, and Ricardo is somewhere between horrified and relieved to feel tears begin pouring down his cheeks, staining Alberto's shirt. He's not sure how long they stand there like that, Ricardo trembling as he breaks down, but finally he runs out of tears and just stands there, too mortified to move as Alberto rubs soothing circles between his shoulderblades. Finally he pulls away, not quite able to look Alberto in the eye just yet. "Lo siento," he says. "Your shirt, I didn't mean to-"
"No worries," Alberto says, fingers gentle as he grips Ricardo's face and lightly wipes the tear tracks from his cheeks. "Anytime you need to talk... or this," he says with an uncertain expression on his face, "just let me know. It's ridiculous if we live this close together and I'm not here for you when you need me."
Ricardo swallows, nodding a little. He's been growing more isolated since moving to Texas, and he knows it's mostly his own doing. Living in an insomniac little bubble of not sleeping, training at Hybrid, managing Sabotage, playing soccer and wrangling the dogs, and... not much else. The only time he sees Heath or Alberto is when they take the initiative, and he knows it isn't fair, but sometimes he's just so tired that texting or calling is too daunting for him. But as he looks up into Alberto's face, taking in the worry in his dark eyes, he swallows hard. "I promise I will," he tells him, vowing to do better. To be a better friend. A better husband. To lean on people just a little bit more.
Alberto grins at him, some of the angst leaving his face. "Well, mi hermano, that's all I can ask for. Now what do you say we play?!" And suddenly, before Ricardo can prepare or recover, he's run forward and kicked at the soccer ball, continuing to evade his former ring announcer until he gets a straight shot at the net, laughing happily at the annoyed look on Ricardo's face, ruffling his hair as he runs back out with the soccer ball.
"Not fair!" Ricardo calls out before chasing after him, laughing when he gets control of the ball once more and blocking Alberto with his forearm before landing a solid kick that sends the ball straight into the net with a beautiful whoosh sound. "That's how it's done!" he laughs, feeling good for the first time in he's not sure how long.
