#Mbappe pisses me the HELL off

[getting-messi]

im tired of hearing about Mbappe

[holdmyhopeinyourhands]

Neymar

I thought about this a lot. I don’t know how to really put it into words, but ever since the transfer rumours started, ever since the rape allegations, ever since his injury, I thought about this a lot. I didn’t really wanna say anything, let the storm pass and all that, but I’ve talked to a lot of neymar fans through messages. People who have found it difficult to just scroll through their blogs because of all the hate, and I found myself telling them it’s just stuff that happens. Players get hate all the time, it will pass, and hey look on the bright side etc etc

But my own words feel kinda hallow to me now, because I think I’ve understood something. Fans are petty. They are cruel, and they are vicious. It’s easy to look at a football player and think “Hey, why isn’t he/she putting my team first? They are rich right? So shouldn’t they have honor?”

And fair enough I guess, maybe people should have loyalty. I think so generally, I felt like that against rabiot, against alisson, and maybe against neymar now too, but then I thought again “Why should players show loyalty? Do clubs?” 

Did Barca put Coutinho on their back when he started to not perform for them? did roma respect de rossi’s loyalty to his only club ever? Did they respect Totti’s 25 years of loyalty? Did Madrid respect Bale’s cl victories? No, I guess they didn’t, because when people become dead weight they are easy enough to throw away right? We are fans of the club, we stick by our club, and we hate on players leaving said clubs. Again, fair enough, but a time comes when we go past the hate for the footballer and start hating on the person, and I think a lot of people have crossed that line with Neymar. Again and again and again.

I have been gone for a while. Commented every now and then, and yeah I was busy, but maybe it was also because of the sheer volume of toxicidity surrounding Neymar’s circumstances. He wants to leave, it hurts, we are angry, it pisses fans off, but, people go further than that when the name “Neymar” is in the mix. Suddenly what the media says is true, when the name “Neymar” is in the mix.

Oh, the Sun says Neymar is bullying Sarabia since he’s new on the team? Well, most be true despite the lack of evidence.

Oh, the guardian says Neymar is jealous of Mbappe and trying to turn the team against hi? Well most be true as well, Why?

Because most of you already hated the man. For sever reasons maybe, but you do. Maybe because he dived all over the place during games, maybe because he was quick to anger and tended to lash out on the field, maybe because he was unreliable; getting injured and all that, so hey, since you already hate him, everything written about him, and only him; as long as it is negative, most be true right?

When he was accused of rape, there was no evidence, there was no investigation yet, there was no comment on his part, hell a day hadn’t even past, but this site and every where else became a toxic hell hole of hatred and vicious attacks. I didn’t say anything. I left for a while. Wanting to know the truth before a chose a side, and honestly, maybe that’s because I didn’t want to believe, but also maybe it was because you all wanted to believe it too much as well. In the end, it was difficult to even bare looking at the anger and the hate and the malice. 

I don’t know what it is about Neymar, and why he is so easily hatable. Don’t get me wrong, I get the basics. He’s too obnoxious, he parties too much, he has no “respect” for his opponents on the field and he dives a lot, but again, what about Neymar “the person” the father, the friend, the teammate, the son? What about him is so easy to hate? Maybe people will answer that “Hell, we don’t know those parts about him, so of course we hate on the things we do know about him, because that’s all we see!”

That’s an ugly and a terrible excuse, because you’re lying to yourselves in the end. Your not hating on the footballer, as I said, we’re way past that. People hate on Neymar the person, because they attribute whatever negative outlook they have about him to whatever person he may be, and to that I say “You might not know Neymar the person, but you sure as hell, gave him the personality you so desperately wished he had.”

I feel sorry for his family really. For his parents, for his sister and for his son. Davi’s dad isn’t an evil man, just a football player, but the way people treat him, you would think he was Satan himself.

In the end, I don’t know why I made this post, and hell, it will most likely be ignored, but what I wanted to focus on was that people have a right to look out for themselves too. They have a right to fear for their career, and they have a right to choose a different path. Just like psg would have done if he turned out to be terrible. We all know neymar didn’t come to us because he loved our club, but we also know we didn’t buy him because we loved him, so go ahead. Attack him as a player, but don’t twist who he is into whatever ugly shape you want him to be in your eyes, and don’t twist the friends he has made in the team into something disgusting that reflects your own hatred for him.

I don’t know why this all just came flooding out. I have generally tried not to stir up the waters on this whole transfer topic, but it’s not even about that anymore. It’s about hatred. And while he may be easy to hate for most, that doesn’t mean you should. It’s all rather unhealthy really.

[ghostlywritten]

When I Was Your Man VI.

Words: 7k+

Thank you for all the reviews, anonymous comments and likes. They’re greatly appreciated. 

I  II  III  IV  V

I headed downstairs after quietly getting ready, shaking Antoine awake before leaving. Right now, I wasn’t in the mood to face him so I merely told him I would wait downstairs to check out.

Rummaging through my bag I made sure our tickets and passports were there before scrolling through my phone aimlessly and looking around, watching other people; anything to get my mind off of my situation.

Slowly the other footballers trailed down with their wives and girlfriends, checking out at the front desk before settling around me with small greetings, their hangovers too present for them chat up storms with each other like they usually would.

I waved at Jennifer as she stopped next to me with a half-asleep Giroud draped over her and she tiredly smiled back without a word.

Chuckling, I wondered how it usually was the other way around with me being the one too tired to talk.

Antoine finally arrived in sweats and a simple shirt, his hair tousled and blue eyes half-closed as he searched around the crowd. Spotting me, he trudged over with his suitcase behind him.

“Why didn’t you wait in the room for me?” Antoine asked sluggishly, rubbing his eyes with the knuckles of his hands. I melted slightly at this cute sight, but quickly pulled myself together.

I shrugged, taking the keys from him. “I’m gonna check out for us,” I said without answering his question and he furrowed his eyebrows when I left.

Checking out, I took my time getting back, only fastening my pace when I saw the last person of our group arrive, which was the coach.

“Alright, ladies,” Deschamps clapped his hands together, gaining everyone’s attention, “Let’s head for our next destination.”

“Why does he call all of us ladies?” I wondered. Mbappe and Pogba, who had been closest to me, chuckled quietly, “It’s how he always calls us, even during training.”

I nodded, noticing Antoine head over from my peripheral view. “You guys want any painkillers?” I asked, holding up the two pills I had gotten from the hotel staff. I originally planned to give them to my husband but decided against it.

“Hell yeah, do you have some?” I gave them the two and they thanked me gratefully.

“Hey Ads, do you have some more of those?” Antoine asked hopefully and I shook my head, “Nope, sorry.” He deflated into a pout, but I ignored him and walked ahead.

We drove towards the airport with a shuttle bus, got ourselves checked in and settled down in the waiting area after the security check.

The entire way I barely spoke a word to my husband, too tired and quite frankly pissed at him to care if I was behaving like a bitch. He kept trying to start up a conversation - or a light-hearted argument like most of our conversations was - but I simply agreed with everything he said to stop the talk as soon as possible.

By the time we got on the plane, he was looking like a dejected puppy trailing after me so even the hungover Giroud pair noticed with raised eyebrows. I simply shook my head at them, sitting down on the seats behind them.

Antoine sighed, laying his head on my shoulder. “Did I do something I don’t remember?”

“Hm?”

“You seem angry at me,” he said quietly and I sighed. I was angry at many things about him, but it wasn’t like I could voice it out.

“Let’s just say...you are a messy sleeper when you are drunk and I didn’t get much sleep last night,” I lied and his head shot up, “I didn’t do anything to you, did I?”

'Except for falling asleep on me and making my heart race...' “No, you were just the Patricia last night instead of me.”

He sighed in relief before chuckling, “So you are just grumpy because you are sleepy again.”

“Yep,” I said, turning towards the window as the plane started moving. Antoine yawned next to me, settling back down against my shoulder, “Don’t worry, you can sleep at the hotel in a few hours.”

And with that he fell asleep, drooling over my shirt.

-

Arriving at our hotel room I was more exhausted than ever so just like our previous arrival to the other hotel we took a nap before dinner.

“We’re quite the old couple,” Antoine chuckled as we headed downstairs,” Always sleeping around. Even Gran is more fit than us.”

“Mhmm,” I hummed, eyes wandering around the hotel decor.

“...Ads, are you sure you are not mad at me about something?” Antoine questioned, gently holding me back by the elbow before I could open the door to the diner.

“I’m absolutely sure yes.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“Nope.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“No.”

“...was that-”

“For God’s sake, Antoine, everything is perfectly fine!” I exclaimed in exasperation, pushing the doors open. He flinched away and thankfully said nothing for the rest of the way to our table, as usual where the Giroud pair was dining.

“Good evening,” Jennifer greeted us, back to her usual self. Her hangover had obviously been cured since she was already nursing a new glass of wine.

“Good evening,” I greeted back, almost wishing I wasn’t obligated to sit next to my husband when he settled down next to me.

“Did you sleep well?” Giroud asked and I nodded, starting up a conversation with him and Jennifer, Antoine opting for staying quiet most of the dinner. I had a feeling the other two could tell there was some tension between us but thankfully didn’t comment on it for now.

“So, Ads. I’m determined to change your mind about our boring training,” Giroud said and I sighed, shaking my head with a smile, “We have a practice session until 2 PM tomorrow. You can sleep until whenever and join us later.”

“Or we could do other stuff like exploring the city,” I suggested, “That sounds more interesting.”

“Uhh yes, exploring cities!” Jennifer agreed, clapping her hands enthusiastically.

“Wife, be on my side,” Giroud ordered with playfully deep voice and I chuckled. “You can go explore for the rest of the day, come on!”

“Fine, I will give your training one more chance,” I said and he pumped the air in success, causing his wife to giggle.

Antoine grumbled, “How is it so easy for him to convince you but for me it’s harder than shooting a goal against Real Madrid?”

I gave him a look and he narrowed his eyes in exasperation, “What did I do now?”

“Nothing,” I said again and he sighed heavily before he turned back to his food, moodily.

“Is everything alright?” Jennifer asked, a little worried.

“All good, we’re just tired,” I reassured.

“Yeah, Ads and I are going to sleep early,” Antoine said, abruptly standing up and holding his hand out for me to take. Confused I took it and got swept off by him in no time, “See you guys tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of dinner!” Antoine called over his back as he marched out of the diner with me getting dragged along.

“You can let go of me,” I said, not wanting to get used to the warm feeling of his hand around mine. He pretended not to hear until we reached the elevator, only letting go when the doors closed.

“I know why you are mad now,” he stated and I raised an eyebrow.

“I told you I’m not mad, I’m just tired.” ‘Tired of getting hurt by you.’

“No no, I get it. You have every right to be,” he said earnestly, putting his hands on my shoulder to turn me towards him. My heart raced. Did he figure out that I knew?

“...I do?”

“Yeah, I would be mad too if someone forgot my birthday.”

“...my birthday?” I asked, wondering if I had heard right. He nodded, his eyes wide and apologetic. I thought back on what date today was. Though that actually didn’t matter, it was summer and I was pretty sure my birthday was on a winter month. December to be exact. And it was June. “Why on earth would you think it’s my birthday today?”

“I know it is and that’s why you’ve been grumpy all day,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “I promise I will make it up to you. We could go to a nice restaurant tomorrow for dinner. You like Chinese, right? We could look up some cool places for Chinese food...” His words faded away when realisation struck me. Cateline’s favourite food was Chinese. I could absolutely not stand it. And it was also her birthday today.

I pushed him away, dread filling me as I took out my phone to check the date for good measure. 18th June, yep. It was Cateline’s birthday today.

Closing my eyes, I swallowed, hoping to gulp down the burning feeling in my chest as I prayed for the elevator to get to our level faster.

“...there’s also a good Italian place, you like that too, right?” That was actually my favourite food.

Sighing, I laughed humourlessly to myself, which finally stopped his chatter. He rubbed my arm in what he probably hoped to be comforting, “What do you think, hm? It would be just us, nice and quiet, no party. I promise!”

“I’d rather not, thank you,” I declined, bitterness clear in my voice.

“Huh? Why not?” he frowned in confusion.

“Because it’s not my birthday.”

“...No?” he asked meekly.

“No,” I said, looking straight into his blue eyes to make sure he knew how pissed off I was right now. He gulped, mumbling something like ‘I was sure it was today..’ under his breath but I ignored him in favour of finally getting out of the small space as the elevator doors opened.

“...Then...how about we celebrate what an idiot I am tomorrow?” he tried some damage control as I gestured for the keys. He dropped them into my palm and I quickly put it in the lock, trying not to get reminded of how he had hugged me from behind last time.

“No, thank you.”

“An apology dinner?”

“Antoine, if I could I would sleep in another room, away from you,” I said coldly and he winced, “So what makes you think, I would want to spend time alone with you?”

“I-” I didn’t stay to listen to his answer, opting for locking myself in the bathroom. Turning on the shower, I sat down on the toilet seat, biting my lip as a wave of tears tried to push past my barrier. It might have been harsh of me right now, but I didn’t know how else to handle the pain I felt. Alas, I lashed out, feeling a sick satisfaction in hurting him when he hurt me. I sunk my teeth into my fist, not being able to stop a few droplets from falling. Sighing heavily I leaned back and looked up into the ceiling, wondering how much longer I would be able to handle this.

-

The next morning I woke up to a cold bed with the sun beaming down on my face. I had taken a shower after my small breakdown and when I had gotten out, Antoine had already been asleep, curled up on his side with his back to me. Remembering last nights happenings, I took a long breath in, blowing it out as my chest deflated with the movement.

I didn’t feel like getting up, but a knock on my door forced me to change my plans.

“Good midday!” Jennifer greeted me with her beaming smile. I looked at the clock.

“It’s 11 AM, it’s still morning.”

“For sleepy heads like you perhaps,” she retaliated.

“...Touché,” I said back, opening the door wider for her to get in. She strolled inside, setting down the two cups she had brought with her along with a small paper bag.

“I brought you coffee and some croissants since there’s not much of breakfast left,” she informed, plopping down on the seat in front of the mini desk. I smiled at her gratefully, “Thanks. Just let me get ready real quick.”

Brushing my teeth and hair, I quickly changed my clothes, applying some makeup as well. “It’s going to be warm today, right?” I asked, stepping out of the bathroom with shorts and a thin shirt on.

Jennifer nodded in approval, “Real hot. And yes, I’m talking about the weather.” I chuckled, blushing slightly. She nudged her head over to the messy bed with a smirk, “I see you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Glancing over in confusion I cocked my head to the side, “What?”

“Well, look at how messed up your sheets are! You had a wild night, didn’t you?” The heat in my cheeks intensified, “O-oh no, no. Nothing like that.”

“Suuure,” she said, nodding quickly and I scratched my head. How was I going to tell her that it had been a very cold night in bed last night without going to deep about my marriage life? “Don’t tell me about it then,” she shrugged off as she saw how uncomfortable I was and got up, “Let’s head to the stadium. You can eat on the way, right?”

“Right.”

We headed over to a bus station that would get us right to the front of the stadium. The hotel was specifically equipped with shuttles driving to and from there for the football fans. Thus, there were many tourists around as well, occasionally taking pictures when they recognised us.

“This is really weird,” Jennifer commented, smiling awkwardly at a few paps, “I mean, we are just the wives. Why would they need pictures of us.”

I shrugged, “Something to write about in their magazines, I guess.”

“I will never get used to this, that’s for sure,” Jennifer said, putting on some sunglasses as we got into the bus. I followed her suit, not wanting to read another article about my resting bitch face.

We arrived at the stadium and strolled around it seeing as the team was practicing on the open field for the press and fans.

“There’s quite the crowd,” I commented, “No way, we’re going to be able to watch them properly.”

“Anna texted me where they are,” Jennifer informed, gesturing forward, “There will be enough space for us.”

“Ah...who’s Anna?” I asked, never having heard of her before.

“She’s Mbappe’s girlfriend,” Jennifer giggled, “You really ought to learn their names at some point.”

I shrugged, following her.

“Girls, over here!” A blonde, petite woman shouted, waving us over.

“That’s Anna,” Jennifer said and started listing the other girls’ names as well. As if I would be able to remember them all. Some had kids running around them or babies in their arms and I cooed inwardly at how cute they were when we reached them.

“Hey, girls!” Jennifer greeted them all cheerfully, hugging each of them whilst I stood back, waving awkwardly. I noticed some of them give me quite the dirty looks and swallowed slightly, looking away and towards the field. My eyes searched automatically for my light-haired husband, finding him dribbling the ball by himself. I watched with furrowed eyebrows as he lost control of the ball a few times; he didn’t seem focused like he usually was, especially during games.

“Care to explain to me why Dani and Bella are glaring at you?” Jennifer whispered as she leaned against the bar next to me. I figured she meant the same two girls I had seen glaring and shrugged. “No idea. I’ve never talked to them.”

“Weird,” Jennifer remarked, smiling at them. The two smiled back before resuming their death stares at me, “Should I ask them?”

“No,” I immediately declined, “It doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Seriously? Aren’t you even the slightest bit curious?”

“I mean, their dislike can’t really be reasonable since I’ve never even exchanged a word with them,” I explained, “So why would I care?”

“Maybe that’s exactly why,” Jennifer mused and I looked at her, questioningly, “I mean that you don’t talk to anyone. It kind of makes you seem arrogant.”

“It does?”

“Yeah, I admit I thought you were snobby when I first saw you at the party,” Jennifer said with a sheepish grin as I stared at her, shocked.

“Really?”

“You weren’t talking to us and seemed a little uptight. Not exactly approachable. Can you blame me?”

I stayed quiet. I knew I was a tad bit arrogant, but never thought it was that bad. Okay, maybe I had been really arrogant before I found out about the affair, but my ego had taken quite the hit. I was more cautious about meeting new people than just plain snobby.

“Not anymore though!” Jennifer quickly reassured when I didn’t say anything, “I know you’re just an introverted nerd now. It’s all good. And the others will come around soon when they get to know you.”

“I guess...,” I said uncertainly when I heard Giroud call out our names.

“Jen! Addy!” He exclaimed, waving cheerfully when he spotted us. I noticed Antoine's head snap over and immediately follow his friend’s eyes until he found us. Waving back at Giroud, I quickly looked away, biting my lip awkwardly.

“You guys sure you are okay?” Jennifer inquired as she finally stopped blowing kisses at her husband, who was comically catching them all. I envied their relationship really. Where had Antoine and I gotten wrong to end up like this? I could safely say that we never at some point acted like these two lovebirds and that was quite a depressing thought.

“Addy?”

“Hm? Yeah, of course. We’re fine,” I answered belatedly, giving her a tight smile.

She looked at me, unsure. “Then why is Antoine looking at you like a lost puppy and ignoring his quite scary Coach yelling at him?”

I glanced up to see she was right. Coach Deschamps was slowly getting red and seemed ready to march up to his French striker. Antoine straightened up when he saw me looking, waving tentatively. I waved back, causing him to sigh in relief and finally notice his Coach’s mad rant. Apologising quickly, he picked up the ball and ran over to his assigned team not without another glance over his shoulder at me.

“...I know, it’s not my place to always ask about your relationship,” I heard Jennifer say, feeling like my ears got unclogged now that his blue eyes weren’t captivating me anymore. “But if you like to talk about it to anyone, I’m here for you.”

I smiled at her, touched by her words and yet a little mistrusting when I remembered Cateline say the almost the exact same words to me once. “Thank you, Jen.” She beamed at the nickname, hooking her arm around mine as we continued watching the practice.

-

“And? How was it?” Giroud asked as soon as training was done, jogging over to us. He gently kissed his wife before turning to me with an eager look.

I shrugged, playfully answering, “It was meh.”

“Meh?!” the dark-haired striker exclaimed, astonished and I saw Jennifer stifling her laughter. “Just meh??”

“Yeah, it was a tiny bit entertaining,” I teased, leaving a small gap between my thumb and forefinger. He looked at me peeved as the other footballers came over, greeting their girls, wives, and kids.

“Impossible,” he grumbled and I giggled to myself. My smile faded though when I saw Antoine head over, sweating and downing a whole bottle of water in his thirst.

He ran a hand through his locks and I was tempted to do so myself when he gave me a precarious glance, “Hey Ads,” he greeted softly and I nodded back in greeting. Resting his hands on the bar that was separating us, his eyes dropped to his shoes for a second, “Any plans for today?”

“Nothing much. Maybe a bit of sightseeing,” I replied, fiddling with my shirt, “I saw some cool places online. You?”

His blue eyes widened and I almost regretted my indirect rejection of letting him tag along. He looked back down sadly, shuffling with his feet. “Um, I’m just gonna relax at the pool or something with the guys. I’m pretty tired.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Jesus Christ,” I heard Giroud mumble under his breath and clapped his friend's back. “Let’s get changed, Anton. We’ll meet you back at the hotel?” he asked us and we nodded in goodbye.

Jennifer thankfully didn’t make any remark on the more than uncomfortable conversation. “Are you going to join me?” I asked her on the way to our hotel.

“I would love to but I promised Olli to spend an all-alone day today,” she said apologetically.

“That’s fine,” I said, reassuringly. I would have to go by myself then.

“You could ask some of the other girls,” she suggested but I shook my head. Walking around with a stranger around other strangers in a foreign country didn’t seem appealing to me.

“No, I’d rather not.”

She shook her head at me with a laugh, “You’d rather walk around alone that make friends?”

“Exactly,” I said with a grin.

-

I took off with a purse filled with my wallet, my phone, a map of the city and my passport that I forgot to take out.

After a bit of contemplating I took the wedding ring off as well and put it in there, having read that as a tourist you should not have anything expensive on you that would make you a target.

Taking the bus to the central station that was the heart of the city I started my sightseeing trip from there. It was quite relaxing to just calmly stroll around without any rush, listening to music and taking pictures of cool places. There was a cathedral that looked breathtakingly beautiful and I photographed every inch of it from the outside and inside. ‘Antoine would have loved taking selfies with this,’ I thought, feeling bad when I recalled his sad face. We could have enjoyed this day like the one back when we visited campus.

I blushed when I remembered that one kiss we shared. The amount of times I thought about it was actually quite embarrassing.

Shaking my head out of it, I turned a street filled to the brim with people. My eyes lightened up; a bazaar! I squealed inwardly, proceeding to mingle into the crowd. I usually didn’t like crowds but I loved bazaars over everything. It was a totally different experience than going shopping in stores, just...a lot better in my opinion.

Pursuing a few unique trinkets I admired them in the sunlight when suddenly my purse got ripped off my shoulder, causing my arm to jerk and drop the trinket. “What-?” It took me a second to realise a little boy just stole my purse and was currently running away. “Hey! Wait! My purse!” I shouted, pushing past people.

I didn’t know how long I ran after him, panicking every time I lost sight of his dirty, red shirt. No one came to help and I felt breathless way too fast. ‘I really need to work out.’

The crowd dispersed slowly, but it was too late for me to catch him. He probably disappeared through one of the thousand back alleys.

“Ok, Adeline, don’t lose your mind,” I whispered to myself as panicked tears rushed to my eyes, “You’re going to be alright. Let’s just get back the way we got here.”

Easier said than done. That damn boy took so many twists and turns to get rid of me, I had no idea how to get back to the bazaar. Reaching for the map, I cursed when I realised in the purse. Along with my wallet, my phone...”Yeah, I’m a goner,” I sighed shakily, turning around. I tried to listen for any noise, slightly scared of the few people staring at me openly. I didn’t dare approach anyone until I got most desperate, going for an elder lady.

“Can you help me?” I asked her in English and she just looked at me weirdly. Biting my lip, I continued, “Bazaar. I’m looking for the bazaar. Do you know where it is?”

She seemed to get a hunch on what I was trying to say as she started talking rapidly in Russian. Watching her hand gestures, I vaguely got the directions from her and thanked her.

I felt encouraged to ask around others after this, slowly finding my way back to the crowded street. Sighing in relief, I proceeded to ask my way to the Central Station when I saw a stand selling maps for tourists.

“Hi, can I get one of those?” I asked the seller eagerly, taking one where Yekaterinburg was written in bold letters.

“Five dollars,” he said with an accent. My smile faded.

“I don’t have money on me right now,” I said, gesturing widely, “My purse got stolen. I can come back and pay you later.”

“Five dollars,” he repeated loudly, holding his five fingers up.

“I can’t pay right now, can I come back later?” I tried again and he simply shook his head, “Five dollars.” Breathing in deeply, I was tempted to just run with the map in hand, but figured it wouldn’t do well getting arrested here. So I dropped it back on the table disappointedly and resumed my asking around.

Some were willing to help, most were not and many were just outright creepy. I mainly stuck to asking women if I could. By the time I got to the Central Station, it was already early in the evening. ‘Dinner must be ready soon,’ I thought to myself, my stomach growling since I had eaten nothing but the croissant and coffee Jennifer had gotten me this morning. I longingly stared at the food stands whilst looking for someone approachable.

Thankfully, most people could speak English around here and another tourist couple was friendly enough to help me out with an extra map they had, taking pity on my disheveled state.

Since I had no money for a bus back to the hotel, I proceeded the long way back home by foot, closely following the directions on the maps in hopes of not having to ask anyone anymore. It was pathetic how independent I was in life.

It had gotten pitch dark and I figured it was around 10 PM or something when I saw the familiar lights of the hotel. I almost dropped right there on the ground, so glad after this horrifying day and a rush of exhaustion that I had held back so far hit me in a nauseating way.

“Don’t pass out now, Adeline. Only a few more meters,” I motivated myself, the euphoria of seeing something familiar giving me a small rush of adrenaline.

I noticed a police car parked in front of the steps of the hotel when I got there and Giroud walking down. A wide, tired smile lifted the corners of my lips upon seeing him. “Hey Olli,” I called out to him and he looked over, eyes widening as if he had just seen a ghost. I dragged myself over to him when he stood stock still in his shock. “What is it? Never seen me with unruly hair before?” I chuckled weakly, patting down the strands that stood in a disarray.

“Jesus, Addy. Where the hell have you been?” he exclaimed, gaining the attention of his wife, who just came down the steps as well.

“Addy?” she asked, eyes widening similar to her husband before she rushed over, hugging me. “What on earth happened?”

“Long story,” I sighed before thinking, “No, actually not that long. It was just a long day.”

“What happened?” she asked, guiding me upstairs, “You’ve had us so worried when you didn’t come back. Antoine almost went bald from gripping his hair the whole time.”

“A boy stole my purse and I got lost running after him,” I said shortly, “It took me all day to find the way back here asking around.”

“My god,” Jennifer gasped, putting her arm around my back, “That must have been horrible.”

“I was close to panicking, I admit that.”

“Damn. Why didn’t you call?” Giroud asked with a frown and my heart warmed at their apparent worry for me.

“It was in my purse. Along with my wallet and the map I had with me,” I sighed, rubbing my eyes tiredly.

“Let’s just get you in for now. You must be absolutely drained,” Jennifer said, “You can tell us everything tomorrow. Get some sleep now.”

“And inform Antoine, please. He’s going mad,” Giroud added.

“Oh yeah?”

“He even yelled at me for letting you go alone,” Jennifer said and my jaw dropped, “I was shocked, too! Never saw him so angry, it was quite scary, to be honest.”

“Damn right it was. And I wasn’t even on the receiving end,” Giroud commented when he opened the door. I immediately noticed Antoine in front of the reception desk, rapidly talking to two police officers and the hotel-keeper even,

“I’m telling you, my wife is missing! You have to get out there with all your men and search for her!” he demanded loudly, his breathing fast and heavy as if he was close to a panic attack.

“Antoine,” Giroud called him but was ignored.

“Sir, we can only start searching for your wife when she’s been missing for 48 hours.”

“So??”

“It’s been around 9 hours now.”

“Are you freaking kidding me right now? She’s gone around in this foreign city for so long and you don’t think she’s gotten lost?! Do you know what could happen to her in 48 hours?? Or what might have already happened to her- oh god,” he cut himself off, gripping his hair with both hands.

“Antoine-!”

“I will freaking sue you all. My wife is a lawyer-to-be!”

“Antoine-!”

“Antoine,” I called out too and he finally heard, his head snapping around. I took in his wide-blown eyes that had panic attack written all over it, his flushed cheeks and erratic breathing. A second later, he crushed himself against me, tightly wrapping his arms around me. My breath got knocked out by the hit but I gladly returned the gesture, fully relaxing now that I was surrounded by him. Never had I felt so safe before.

“God, Addy,” he whispered brokenly, “Where have you been the whole time? You got me worried sick.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered back, breathing in his soothing scent. I closed my eyes, relishing in the calming effect. “My purse got stolen and I was lost.” His grip around me tightened and he buried his face into my hair.

“That must have been terrifying,” he said incoherently, “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” I chuckled, “It’s not your fault.”

“That’s right. What the hell were you thinking, going alone and worrying your husband like that, Patricia?” he asked teasingly, smiling into my neck slightly and I knew he had calmed down now. I tried pulling away but to no avail.

“Nooo,” he whined, cutting off the air in my lungs with how closely he held me.

“Antoine,” I laughed slightly, leaning my head against his.

“Like hell, I’m going to let go of you now.”

-

“Here, I got you a tea,” Antoine said, putting a cup on your night table.

“Thank you,” I yawned heartily.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Not right now.”

“I could order room service.”

“Antoine!” I called, exasperated and he stopped his fussing, “I’m fine, really. Just exhausted.”

“Okay,” he sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to me.  Closing my eyes, I felt the ache on my feet subside as the weight of my body was finally off of them.

“Tell me again, what happened,” Antoine demanded and I sighed, whining inwardly when my drift to sleeping wonderland got interrupted.

“I went around town, ended up in a bazaar,” I listed, “A boy stole my purse, I chased after him, I got lost, I found my way back.”

Antoine nodded attentively, pressing his lips together. “It’s decided then.”

“What?”

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” I chuckled at his ridiculous announcement and rubbed my forehead. “I’m serious!”

“There’s no need for that. Nothing major happened except for my stuff being gone.”

“Nothing maj- My heartattack??” he protested, pointing at his chest. "My hair loss??" he continued, pointing at his luscious locks, "The fact that I threatened the police, which could have put me in prison???"

I rolled my eyes. ‘Don’t act like you really care.’ “Don’t act like a drama queen.” He gasped, holding onto his chest and I giggled. “Glad, my misery is such a delight for you,” he pouted and I patted his back. “It is.” He glared and I burst out in laughter that soon turned into a yawn.

His blue eyes softened. “Drink up that tea. You should get some sleep,” he suggested, handing me the cup. I nodded gratefully, taking a sip of the warm beverage. It was fresh peppermint, sweetened with honey. I hummed appreciatively. “This is really good,” I mumbled between my sips, causing my husband to smile weakly.

“The officer said they would be looking for the boy, who stole your purse,” he informed, rubbing circles on my back.

“I doubt, they will find him,” I voiced out my thoughts, “I couldn’t give them much of a description.” I sighed, “Everything was in there. Even my passport...”

“We can get a new one in no time,” Antoine reassured.

“...and my wedding ring.”

“We can- wait, what? Why did you take off your wedding ring?”

“Because ‘Tourism for dummies’ said that you should never have anything valuable in a foreign country because tourists are the most frequent targets for thievery in every country,” I said matter-of-factly.

Antoine looked at me like I was mad, “And that Gucci bag was not enough to make you a target?”

“Well, maybe. But it was the cheapest I had,” I shrugged and he rolled his eyes. “I have expensive taste.”

“Explains why our house costed nearly a million,” he grumbled.

“Oh please, you wanted that house, I didn’t even like it,” I argued and he gasped, “How can you not like it? It’s cemented beauty!”

“Meh, there are better ones,” I said with another shrug.

“You have a weird taste.”

“I chose you as my husband sooo...yep.”

Antoine gasped, but contained his dramatic nature, “I will get you back for that, but for now; go rest, you had an exhausting day.” I smiled at his caring nature, even if it might have been fake, and laid down. He shut down all the lights before crawling to bed beside me.

My eyes practically fell shut by themselves with how heavy they were and I soon succumbed into sleep, feeling a hand search for mine and hold onto it tightly. 

-

Antoine kept true to his words in the most ridiculous way. Forcing me awake early in the morning every day to tag along for practice, resulting in a grumpy me and a few creative curse words thrown at him.

I eventually got used to it and even brought my laptop along to study when his training got too boring. The rest of the time was spent with him stuck like a glue, making sure I was always around up until to the point where he followed me to the bathroom. I shut down that habit fast when he once commented on how much I must have been drinking to pee for so long, listening from the door.

The games came and passed, France making it to the last sixteen, which sent everyone into a super-excited state. Especially today, when Argentine - who almost won the last World Cup -  was the opponent. The players were tense and particularly silent throughout breakfast, immediately heading off for some last minute practice when the Coach ordered them, too.

“You should wear Antoine’s shirt,” Jennifer remarked whilst watching me getting ready.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” I asked, looking at my simple, light green attire combined with some black pants.

“Nothing. In fact, I would like to borrow it someday,” she said, giving me her puppy eyes through the mirror. I chuckled, nodding and she cheered, dropping her back against the made bed.

“So?”

“So, I just think Antoine would feel the support more when he saw you in his jersey,” Jennifer explained, picking on her nails absently.

“You think so?” I thought back on how the other girls’ always wore their man’s jersey.

“Of course! I don’t know why either, but Olli, for example, gets some kind of kick out of it, seeing me in his shirt.”

I hummed in contemplation as I walked out of the bathroom. “I don’t have his jersey. Maybe he has a spare one in his suitcase?” I wondered, walking up to his bag. He had left all his stuff in there, not really bothering to put them up in the wardrobe as we were always on the move. Now we were back in Kazan.

Rummaging through his stuff, I giggled when Jennifer shielded her eyes, not wishing to see the infamous Spongebob pants.

“No worries, Jen. I’m sure he’s wearing it now for good luck,” I mentioned, my eyes lightened up when I pulled out his blue shirt.

“There you go,” Jennifer cheered, “Put it on.”

Complying, I quickly took off the shirt and put the jersey on. It was obviously bigger than my first choice, going down until mid-thigh. I smelled his cologne on it when I pulled it over my head, inhaling more deeply than necessary.

“It looks good on you,” my friend - as I timidly considered her to be - commented with a thumbs up and I smiled shyly, taking out my hair from under it.

“We should head down to the bus soon, the others are probably on their way too now,” I said, looking at my watch.

-

The game was intense, to say the least. I cheered when Antoine scored another goal due to a penalty, but it got deathly quiet in the France corner with us as Argentine took the lead with two goals; one shortly before and after halftime.

Then it got loud again when three shots for France got kicked in the space of 11 minutes!

“That’s my boyfriend right there!” Anna shouted proudly when Mbappe shot his second goal, causing us all to laugh.

The game ended with 4:3 for France, sending them straight to the quarterfinals. I clapped along, the cheers booming around us as Jennifer hugged me in her euphoria. I hesitated before hugging her back slightly, smiling.

Since we were right at the first row, the guys came over instead of heading straight for the cabins after shaking the other team’s hands respectfully. I grew a little nervous when Antoine spotted me, his eyes widening in surprise at my attire.

“Congratulations,” I said as soon as he got into hearing range. He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling in happiness and stopped in front of me, the railings the only barrier between us.

“Thanks...are you...wearing my jersey?” he asked perplexed.

“Yeah, I had nothing else to wear,” I tried to play it off with a shrug but an elbow in the ribs caused me to wince, “I mean, I thought I could support your this way?”

His smile widened if possible and he bit his lip, rubbing his neck. “It suits you. You should wear it at every game.”

“Sure,” I agreed, inwardly sighing in relief. We talked a little about the game until the guys forced him to go to the cabins with them to change.

“Alright, I will see you at the hotel?” Antoine asked and I nodded in agreement. He smiled again before taking off with the others. An arm got placed around my shoulders and I glanced to my right to be met with the face of a slyly grinning Jennifer.

“What did I tell you?” she said, wiggling her eyebrows and I chuckled. “I don’t know why, but the guys get crazy whenever their girl wears their jersey.”

“He seems happy about it,” I commented, feeling a bit shy about it.

“He doesn’t seem like it, he totally is,” Jennifer corrected, pointing at the field, “Even now he can’t take his eyes off of you.”

I looked over, catching Antoine’s eyes. He smiled, waving at me before he almost toppled over an Argentine player sitting on the field. I laughed to myself, watching as he apologised profusely and jogged away with a red face.

“That guy is whipped,” Jennifer said and I caught myself before I could nod, my smile fading slightly. ‘Yes, but not by me.’

“Come on, let’s head back to the hotel. I’m sure there will be a celebration party!”

“Dear God, no!” I groaned when she dragged from the stands.

-

The party was in full swing two hours later. I observed the guys dancing with their wives/girlfriends or getting shit-faced drunk again like my husband next to me.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look in that shirt?” Antoine slurred and my heart skipped a beat at his words. I took a glimpse at the jersey, rolling my eyes when I remembered how he had insisted that I kept it on.

“The only time you ever did was right now,” I commented, ���Thanks.”

He gasped in shock, “I never told you, you are beautiful before?!” I shook my head. “You’re the most beautiful human species I’ve ever seen, woman!”

I chuckled at his choice of words, swirling my drink around. “Sure.”

“I’m serious!”

“And I believe you,” I said untruthfully.

“You’re lying,” he accused and I raised my eyebrows. How could he tell I was when he was drunk but not when he was sober?

“Alright, maybe I am.”

“Why don’t you believe me, babe?” Antoine said, grasping the edge of the bar to pull himself closer clumsily. “I really think you’re the most beautiful.”

“I think you will find Cateline more attractive than me,” I dared to say, knowing he would not remember this the next morning anyway.

“Who’s Cateline?��� he asked.

I scoffed, “Please.”

“I don’t know any Cateline,” he said with a hiccup, “Is that your mom’s name?”

I laughed, “No. Jesus, you are drunker than last time and it’s only been an hour.”

“Well, I got something to celebrate! Why are you not drunk with me?” he asked, nudging the drink in my hand up to me. “Bottoms up!”

“If I get drunk, who will take care of you?” I asked him teasingly and he puffed his chest out, “I don’t need taking care of. I’m a man.”

“Says the one that has Spongebob underwear on.”

“I have Spongebob underwear? That’s so cool!” I shook my head. This guy would be the death of me if I had to spend the rest of my life with him. But that wasn’t something I had to worry about...

“Hey, what’s with the long face?” he inquired, poking my cheek.

I smiled sadly, “Nothing. I think...I’m just gonna miss you despite everything.”

“Why? I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere,” he announced, holding up his pinky, “Promise!”

Chuckling, I hooked my own against his, “You might not. But I will...” Sighing, I downed the drink in my head, deciding that I wanted to forget about all of it for once. “You know what? Let’s get smashed!” I voiced out, causing my husband to holler.

Next thing I knew I woke up in bed, stark naked.

VII.

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