#praying for a goal tonight minty

[wollerjoseph]

minty leafs availability vs lightning🥹🥹

“is any part of you still in awe of the NHL life, on the road, the hotels you stay at, how you’re treated…?”

—“i hope i never get used to it…it’s pretty special…it’s something that i’ll try not to take for granted ever.”

[yellowkitkieran]

What the Heart Wants (Part 6)

Read part 5 here

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Kieran is your best friend’s older brother. Your best friend’s fit older brother that you definitely haven’t had a crush on for years. Not at all. And he certainly doesn’t like you back, that would be absurd...

Kieran's shout of pain pierces your soul. One hand immediately flies to your mouth, the other latches onto the person closest to you- one of the boy's girlfriend if you're remembering correctly. 

"Get up," you murmur to no one. "Kieran, get up." 

He doesn't. He stays down, his agony obvious even from across the pitch. You don't think you breathe once for the entire time he's down, only gasping for air once he's on his feet. Your heart pounds as you watch Martin escort him to the touchline, ignoring the shouts from the away fans screaming about time wasting. 

You expect him to look for you. You were at the match when he broke his jaw- the first thing he did when he realized what happened was to look up at you, horrified that he'd gotten hurt. Today, he doesn't so much as lift his head. 

Is he in that much pain? What's happened that's been this bad? You don't pay a lick of attention to what's happening on the pitch- your eyes are glued on Kieran as he heads for the tunnel, moving achingly slow. 

"Kieran!"

You swear his shoulders stiffen in response to your shout, though he doesn't turn. Stones fill your stomach. Kieran needs someone right now. Someone who understands him. Someone like you- but you can't.

You spend the rest of the match on the edge of your seat, alternating between absently watching Aaron in goal and checking Twitter for updates. How Twitter normally finds things out so quickly you have no idea- but tonight there's nothing about your injured fullback. 

No, not your fullback. Arsenal's fullback, their number three. You have no claim over Kieran; never have and never will. 

The game ends with Arsenal on top, a fact that you find bittersweet. Kieran's teammates are clearly worried about him, with Martin going as far as holding up three fingers toward the camera at the end of the match before clapping the fans. 

Aaron picks you out in the crowd easily thanks to the minty kit you're wearing. He holds up his gloved hands in the shape of a heart before joining in with the muted celebrations of his teammates. You don't have it in you to echo his excitement.

Pulling your phone out, you quickly draft a message to Kieran. You tell yourself you're only trying to be friendly, because once Bella finds out she'll want all the details and you'd like to tell her that her brother is doing fine. Beneath that excuse lies the true reason; you're worried. The way Kieran limped off indicates this isn't the sort of thing to be overcome with a few therapy sessions. This is serious, possibly more serious of an injury that he's ever faced. 

You aren't stupid. You know how often brilliant, talented players have their careers cut short by a high caliber knee injury. Right now, all you can do is pray that Kieran pulls through. 

You erase your message, locking your phone and tucking it away as Aaron makes his way over. With a cursory glance to double check no cameras are pointed in your direction, he stands up on one of the seats and kisses you over the barricade. The whole thing leaves your skin tingling in a way you aren't quite sure you enjoy. 

"Cheeky- Aaron you shouldn't have done that!" Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, ducking your head to hide from anyone that might recognize you. 

"Just couldn't help myself love," he explains, "that kit I got you fits perfectly. And with my name on your back…" he shrugs, as if that explains the thoughts in his head. You shake your head, smiling ruefully at him. 

"Do you think Kieran is alright?" The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. Aaron frowns, clearly thrown off by the blunt question, and you can't blame him. 

"I can't say that's the first thing I expected you to ask but uh, I can message him once I get my phone." Aaron fiddles with his gloves, frowning at his boots. "They've probably taken him to a proper office for scans and whatnot- we can't do that at the stadium."

You nod, tucking your hands in the pockets of your jeans. You're not sure what to say now. Your mind is filled with the realization that Kieran is suffering somewhere alone, with no one there to support him. Something in you urges you to ask Aaron if he knows where they've taken him so you can be at his side. 

Your mouth remains glued shut because you're dating Aaron, not Kieran. You aren't even sure Kieran would allow you to sit with him right now, given everything that's happened. 

"Martin is having some of the boys over in a few hours. There's enough time for us to stop at mine and get changed… If you want to go?"

"What? Oh-" you shake your head, clearing the thoughts of a certain brunette crowding it. "Yeah, of course Aaron, I'll come with you. Like you said I'll need to stop at yours, at least just to grab a jacket. It's cooler than I thought it would be." You run your hands up and down your arms in an attempt to stave off your goosebumps, which are more likely from nerves than the chill in the air.

Aaron waves a hand, "if that's all you need then I have one you can borrow. Right then- I just need a quick shower and then I'll drive us, if you wait here I'll grab you my keys and a pass that will get you outside to our lot. I'll meet you there?" 

Your stiff nod brings a smile to Aaron's face that almost makes you feel bad for him. The man is far too sweet for you, almost the exact opposite of your awkward, stinted ability to love. 

Twitter still fails to provide you any sort of update while you wait for Aaron in his posh car. You scroll for hours, or what feels like it, until he finally knocks softly on your window in a silent request. You unlock the door and let him in, watching him hopefully. 

"Nothing," Aaron says, picking up on the question in your gaze. Your shoulders slump in response, and whatever flashes across your face must concern Aaron because he leans across and wraps you in a hug. 

The first thing you notice is that he smells wrong. He doesn't smell like forest, he smells like sea- something about that doesn't sit right with you. Shaking it off, you grip Aaron's shoulders and tuck your head into his neck, soaking in all the comfort he can offer you. 

He rubs circles on your back, "It's not unusual for him to not have access to his phone though. I wouldn't worry, I'm sure he's fine, he likely hasn't checked it yet. As soon as I hear something I'll let you know, I promise."

"Thank you," you say softly and finally let him go. You offer him a thin smile, trying your best to be convincing. "Off to this party then- I do remember you telling me that Martin throws the best parties out of anyone on the team, so it better live up to the hype!"

And by that, you mean you hope there's plenty of alcohol so you can drown your growing feeling of unease. 

*********

By your second drink, you've handed your phone to Aaron for safekeeping, not trusting yourself to keep from messaging someone you shouldn't. His friends welcomed you easily, engulfing you in their conversations from the moment the pair of you arrived hand in hand.

"I don't know how we didn't win by a bigger margin." Martin sips his drink, something fruity and delicious that he let you try earlier and subsequently made you one of your own when you drank half of his. "That ref missed at least two clear penalties we should've gotten."

Perched on Aaron's lap with his hand on your waist for stability, you lean forward and clink your glass to Martin's. "Amen! Honestly, there should've been so many more cards handed to Chelsea tonight- I mean Kieran was getting fouled left and right before he went down! I'm sure that contributed to what happened, I've seen him play for years, he doesn't slip like that. Not ever!"

"Shh, inside voice darlin." Aaron's rough voice in your ear forces you to listen. You bite your lip, stopping the retort on your tongue before it has the chance to slip out. He's not spoken to you like that before. Either it's the alcohol or the emotions of the night, but that's the first real bit of spark you've felt since arriving a few days ago.

"Sorry," you murmur and twist in his lap to meet his eyes. "I can be quiet, promise."

Martin stands abruptly, phone in one hand and drink in the other. "Lads- lads! Hey, turn it down- Kieran update!"

The sound of your thumping heart fills your ears when the music is paused. Aaron's chin on your shoulder and the hand he keeps on your waist are the only things keeping you from leaping up to shake Martin and demanding answers. 

"It's from Mikel. I'll read it out- 'Kieran's ACL is at least partially torn. He'll be out minimum of six weeks, best case scenario. More likely to be at least two months. Longer depending on the severity of the tear.'" 

Martin glances at the faces in the room. His eyes crinkle with a sympathetic wince when he notes the defeat on your face. 

Six weeks or two months. Either way, Kieran isn't going to take the news well. This sort of thing is a footballer's worst nightmare. 

You lean into Aaron without realizing. His arms wind around your middle, lips meeting your jaw as he attempts to comfort you. You crane your neck away from him, trying to process what you've been told. 

"He'll be alright." Aaron's murmured reassurances do little to touch the pit of despair you're quickly hurtling towards. The alcohol doesn't help, only dampening your ability to think rationally. Suddenly you feel sick, overwhelmed by everything and needing to be free. 

You claw at Aaron's hands until he gets the hint and releases you. You stumble towards the balcony doors and throw them open to gulp down deep lungfuls of chilled air. Cast iron bites into your forearms as you lean on the railing, head hung as you try to reign in your thoughts. 

One thing is for certain: you need to see Kieran. 

**********

Suitcase in hand, you shift on your feet outside Kieran's flat. You lift a fist to knock, hesitating before rapping your knuckles on the wood.

"Kieran? It's- it's me. It's Bug."

"Bug?" There's a crash followed by a yelp and your heart stutters, fearing the worst. 

"Are you okay?" You try the doorknob, finding it locked. "Kieran, are you-"

The door is yanked open and you're face to face with the man who you haven't been able to stop thinking about. His chest heaves from the exhaustive task of dragging himself from the sofa to the door whilst keeping his weight off his knee. 

"Hey," he murmurs, brows knit together. "What are you doing here?" 

You swap your suitcase between hands. Now that you're here and Kieran is standing in front of you shirtless, you feel foolish. 

You take a healthy step back, shaking your head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come. I didn't mean to bother you."

"No don't-" Kieran lunges for you, managing to grab your wrist but stepping with his left foot as he does. Your eyes go wide when his face scrunches as he tries to conceal his pain. 

"Fuck Kieran, you know better than that!" You abandon your suitcase in the hall, ducking under Kieran's arm to help him inside. "Don't you have crutches or something, even just a brace that you're supposed to wear?" 

"I'm supposed to take it off when I'm sitting- which I was until you knocked, so don't yell at me."

Your voice shakes despite your efforts to contain your lingering fear, "Well I'm still going to yell at you Tierney! You shouldn't be up and about, I know where you keep the key and I could've let myself in!"

Kieran's laugh holds no humor. "I just wanted to get the door. I thought if you saw me sprawled out on the sofa, you'd turn around and leave right away." 

Once Kieran is sat on said sofa, you allow yourself to take in the scene. Empty takeout containers litter the ground at your feet, as do empty energy drink bottles. You bend down to pick one up, holding the can out, "I didn't think you were supposed to have so many of these during the season."

"Well Bug, my season is kinda fucked now so I said fuck it. Can't really get much worse than it is now, can it?" 

Your heart sinks when Kieran slides a hand under his calf to help bring his injured leg onto the sofa. Seeing him hurting like this both mentally and physically is already taking a toll on your spirit, and you aren't even the one living through it.

"I'm sorry, Kieran. You didn't deserve this." 

"That's what you think, maybe I do- what are you doing?" 

You glance up at him from where you've crouched on the floor. "Cleaning? Helping you out? Is that alright?"

Kieran's cheeks flush, "n-no, you don't need to do that. Honestly Bug, you don't have to!" Kieran pauses, then sighs. "You won't take no for an answer… I know you better than that."

You nod firmly, "yep! I'm gonna clean this all up for you and then I'll do a little cooking, okay? So you have some leftovers in the fridge and you don't have to eat from paper boxes for the next week."

Kieran lets you work for a few minutes. He hates asking for help, you know that much from when you were both young. Lucky for Kieran, you don't need to be asked, you simply act. 

It takes all of five minutes to get the trash bagged up and set by the door. "I'll take that out when I leave, what do you have here to eat?"

"Uh, not much. I'm not even sure I have eggs. But you don't have to cook," he adds quickly. "Really. You've already done enough. And don't you have a flight you need to catch?"

You glance at your watch. "I had a flight to catch, yeah. I won't make it now, so I might as well stay and help you."

"What? No, you should go!" Kieran hauls his body upward so he can look at you properly. "Bug you don't need to stay, I can look after myself, I'm fine I swear." 

"Would you stop saying that?" You press two fingers to your temples. "For once in your life, just accept help when I offer it to you, Kieran. Let me help you so I can ease my conscience about how shite I've been towards you lately. So will you please, shut up and let me work Key?"

Kieran's mouth drops open, his face softening. You mentally replay everything you've said, trying to figure out what might have upset him- 

Oh shit. I just called him Key.

Kieran's voice is thick as syrup. "You haven't called me that since I was fifteen." 

You haven't called him by that nickname for good reason; his eyes lit up whenever you called him by the simple name, and each time it made you fuzzy. This time, that feeling is compounded tenfold until you feel like your chest might explode. 

"I did," you say after an eternity. "Sorry, I won't let it happen again. I just got caught up-"

"Could you come here?" Kieran's voice is so soft, so tentative, that it stops you in your tracks. Your body obeys on instinct, your legs carrying you to the sofa to sit on the arm next to Kieran. His lips become your focus- slightly chapped but still as kissable as you remember them looking when you were younger. 

"I said come here."

"I am here. I'm right next to you."

"No, here." Kieran pats his good leg, an action that lights a fire in you. He can't be serious. He wants you in his lap? That doesn't make any sense, unless-

"Do I have to do everything myself?" With a sigh, Kieran grabs your hips and uses his considerable strength to pull you into his lap. Despite your shock you manage to keep from jostling him too much, even as you gape at him, your hands on his chest to steady you.

You have never been this close to Kieran, not ever. But… who knows if you ever will be again?

Swallowing your pride, you allow yourself to explore. Eyes glued on your own hands, you skate them down Kieran's firm chest to trace the lines of hard muscle. You allow yourself to indulge in fantasy, imagining that this is an everyday occurance instead of a once in a lifetime opportunity. 

Kieran's breath shudders when your fingers drift lower over the ridges of his abdomen. You tell yourself it's his fault for not wearing a shirt. Besides, he insisted you sit in his lap, didn't he? So if anything, you share the blame for the way his heart seems set on beating out of his chest. 

"I broke up with Aaron." Now seems like the right time for that fact to be brought to light. 

"What? Seriously? Why?"

When you lift your eyes to meet Kieran's, you immediately know you're lost. "Because… he doesn't feel like you."

Before you can process Kieran's gasp, he's surging forward. Sparks zing across your skin when his lips meet yours, instantly drawing a moan from your throat. Kieran takes advantage, slipping his tongue into your mouth for an exploration of his own. 

Finally. Finally, finally, finally. 

Your body sings in response to Kieran's kiss, chest pressed to his. Your arms wind around his neck, refusing to let him break the kiss before you're ready for it to end. You aren't sure you'll ever be ready for this to be over, honestly- everything about it feels right.

Kieran's needy whine is music to your ears when your hips lightly move over his.  The sound curls upward at the end in a desperate plea for more. You'd give it to him, you would, if he asked for it. He doesn't ask, not with words at least, and only then do you force yourself to pull away and breathe. 

Kieran swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing beneath your fingers. When did your hand find his throat? And when did his hand find its way under your shirt to rest on your lower back? 

"If you broke up with him… does that mean I can ask you to be mine?"

Yes. No. You don't know. What do you want? Are you ready for that sort of commitment? Have you forgiven Kieran for the way he's treated you?

After a moment, you shake your head. Kieran's face falls and you hate yourself, immediately brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. 

"Not yet Key. You have to earn that okay? I'm not… I can't forgive you just yet. I'll need time, and you'll have to do a lot of groveling but… maybe one day you can."

Kieran fights to put a smile on his face. It's plastic and an imitation of the real one you love so much but at least it's something. 

"Well then I guess it's a good thing I've got months of free time coming up, isn't it?"