perfume - marcus rashford

𝐭𝐰𝐨

grace boardman entered the canteen of the carrington training complex, not showing much emotion.

playing for manchester united and england for their respective women's teams never really took a toll on her, that was, until she was without him.

everyone knew they were together, deeply in a love which words could not describe because it was that bliss. but, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.

and, inevitably, it did.

but that was what they didn't know. they thought nothing could ever separate the couple the whole football world were talking about.

being without him made her realise things she never thought she would. how, each morning, she would have deep bags under her eyes, which normally weren't there because she would always have a great night's rest whenever he was around, or knowing that he cared for her.

though, in means of all this, she put this on herself. that argument spiraled way out of control, about the smallest of things, that neither of them could get out of the hole they each dug. they had to end it.

there was no other way, wasn't there?

he went off to the england camp, acting fine, and she returned to her normal training, as if nothing ever happened.

it killed her, the metaphorical knife stuck deep in her heart and it throbbed dearly for his touch, his scent, his everything.

she truly fucked up that night, but it was too late to turn around and run back like what they do in the films she watched with him. that was drama, made up, fiction.

this was the harsh reality.

"grace," katie zelem snapped her fingers with force, causing a small graze due to her fingernails digging into the palm of her skin. "you okay?"

"huh? what? yeah, i'm fine, just tired."

'oohs' rang around the room, with one girl wolf-whistling.  "have you two been putting your records on?"

"what?" grace spoke, wondering what they possibly could be intending, before it finally clicked. "what the hell! no! be fucking realistic."

"oh my god. don't say he's boring, come on, g. surely not,"

"me and marcus didn't fuck last night! full stop! end. of. story." her irritated self snapped at the snarky remark, knowing what he was like in the bedroom and how she missed it with all her life.

"someone's got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,"

"yeah, you know what, katie, that's fucking right. because i woke up on his side of the bed, knowing that he will never lay in it ever again."

"what do you mean?"

"me and marcus didn't fuck last night, we, as a matter of fact, broke up! so, stop getting into my business and kindly fuck off, thank you."

grace got up and stormed out of the room, going onto the training pitch, shooting at the empty net with as much power her body could physically produce. letting out the steam which had been building up inside of her for what seemed like an eternity but really was 14 hours, she let everything go.

every kiss, every hug, every "i love you", every date, every meeting the family, every single thing she ever did with him. she dropped him like a china ornament, going into smithereens on the floor, similar to her brain.

she didn't know how to feel, or act, or anything. all she knew was that she missed him, and regretted spending the past five years with him.