you said, ‘forever’ (and i almost bought it)
| steph catley x reader
| angst
| 0.9k
| a/n: okay so i feel like i need to put the warning that this is purely fiction here. i've got nothing against any of the people mentioned in this fic lol. in fact i love them all. but anyways, i read @reminiscingtonight's fic australia a few days ago and it just hasn't left my mind (it's a masterpiece if you ask me). and so it prompted this idea :) hopefully this is decent bc i wrote it all at 3am but yeah, happy reading amigos! 🫶
~~~
You don’t know why you did this to yourself.
You really don’t.
All you know is that your stomach’s dropping six feet under and you have no one but yourself to blame.
Oddly enough, you shouldn’t even be feeling this.
You shouldn’t be feeling your heart break into two, chest tightening impossibly as your stomach knots and your throat closes up.
The team’s just won the derby and you should feel elated. You should be celebrating like a maniac, probably joining Katie and Beth as they run around the field celebrating with the crowd.
You should be joining Kyra as she goes around and sprays people with her water bottle.
You should be doing the victory lap with Viv and Cloe.
What you shouldn’t be doing is just looking towards the crowd by the bench- the friends and family section.
You shouldn’t be staring at Steph, your hands pressed tightly to your sides in a somewhat successful attempt to hide how much they’re shaking.
You also probably shouldn’t be swallowing hard, your breath shaky as thoughts of what if run endlessly through your mind.
You want to tear your eyes away, forget the way she immediately ran to the stands to wrap her arms around someone that wasn’t you.
You want to ignore the way her hold around him is so easy, so fitting, like it was meant to be.
You desperately want to forget that she ever existed to you as anything more than a teammate
But you can’t find it in yourself to, instead choosing to let yourself suffer, lump in your throat getting bigger with each passing second.
You hate that it’s those three words that come to your mind when you see them together - ‘meant to be’- the words like poison on your tongue.
Jaw clenching as you feel your eyes burn, cheeks colouring as you anger begins to course through you, you will yourself to look away, head turning to the side as you try and focus on Victoria chasing Kyra around with her own bottle
The image of her in another’s embrace is seared into your mind though, haunting you even as you’re turned away.
There’s still a bitter taste in your mouth.
You know it’s childish, but you hate that the three words are being used for someone that isn’t you and her.
You hate that it’s what your mind went to.
It used to be you.
You two were meant to be.
It’s what she said to you years ago, when the two of you were lying in your shared bedroom back in Portland.
Back when the world felt right, with her in your arms, her little huffs of laughter at your stupid jokes filling the otherwise silent night.
Back when love felt right- when it felt like a hug, a warm blanket tucking you in, like the warm sunshine on a cold winter night.
When love felt anything but like this- like the taste of blood from the way you were biting your cheek in an attempt to distract yourself from the cruel pain in your chest.
Like anything but the feeling of your nails digging into your palm as you tried to direct your focus to the pitch, to the fans, to the team- anywhere really- anywhere but towards the blonde you once called yours.
You two were meant to be, she’d said.
Whispered into the inches of space between you as she’d looked in your eyes, moonlight making her look more angelic than ever, her hands intertwining with yours as she’d tucked herself into your side.
She’d promised you forever that night, a gentle kiss sealing the words.
‘Whatever happens, it’s you and me.’
All that only to go and break your heart months later, Arsenal contract signed easily, a shitty letter apologizing for leaving- a letter you now kept shoved in a cardboard box in the back of your closet, along with all of the other mementos from your three years together.
You two were forever, she’d sworn.
And yet, here you were, head thrown back, eyes pointing at the sky as you willed for the tears in your eyes to not fall.
Shaking your head as you took a shuddering breath, you brought the bottom hem of your jersey to cover your face, covertly wiping the single tear that escaped you.
How was it that you’d won today and yet somehow all that you could feel was the sickening feeling of your stomach turning?
How was it that all you could think about was what you used to have, mind wrapping around the fact that at the end of the day, win or lose against the blues, you’d already lost something greater than any derby would ever be.
Running a hand over your face, you did your best to plaster a fake smile on your face, betraying the way you wanted to curl up into a ball and just comfort your shattered heart.
Swallowing your emotions down, you put your absolute focus on making sure you didn’t look behind you- didn’t let your heart break again.
Instead, walking up to Lia and Noelle, you let yourself fall into step with them as pieces of your broken heart trailed behind you on the pitch.
‘Maybe’, you concluded bitterly, ‘maybe this ‘falling in love’ thing just wasn’t meant for you.’
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