unbearable, trent alexander-arnold

¹⁸the mess

november, twenty-seventh.

IT WAS A SIMPLE NIGHT. tosca had gone out with giulia to the club to have some fun, drink a little but mostly dance. as usual, all eyes were on her, and she couldn't walk two meters without being stopped to flirt with her. she wasn't going to lie, if it was well done, a couple of little compliments here and there were not unpleasant, especially in her mother tongue. nevertheless, when some became too insistent, she regretted that trent was not there to come to her rescue.

however, with a bit of alcohol in her blood — and while trent was slipping from her thoughts — the young woman was somewhat prone to do anything. so when a tall dark-haired man with dark eyes came to stick to her in a rather sensual way, she let herself go to his touch, laughing. they danced for long minutes during which tosca completely abandoned herself, without suspecting that these actions would have consequences.

now totally drunk, the proposal to accompany the handsome young man to his table did not seem so bad to her, and she called giulia to come and join them. tosca sat down next to the man whose first name she did not even know, and he smiled widely at her. by talking to him, she learned that marco was his first name, that he was twenty-two years old and that he was studying business.

his kindness towards her was not unpleasant, on the contrary, it had been a long time since someone had been so gentle with the young woman, so she let her barriers fall, but probably a little too much. without paying too much attention, she let him put his arm around her waist tightly and stick her to him on the seat while he whispered sweet words in her ear, sweet words that had the effect of making tosca giggle and let herself go against the young man's chest.

giulia watched them as she laughed, for her, trent and tosca were ancient histories. the italian girl might have omitted to tell her best friend all the details. for no such reason, she just wanted to keep it secret for now since she used to say that she hated trent and that she and he could never happen.

so maybe if giulia had known all this, she wouldn't have pulled out her phone to capture the beautiful evening she was having as a memory, and she certainly wouldn't have posted it in her story afterward. no, she wouldn't have done any of that. only she didn't know, so she had put her screen to sleep before raising her glass to clink it with tosca's with a laugh, unaware that her story was going to provoke more than memories.

the hours had passed, and the two friends had gone home. tosca had not followed the young man to his apartment, even though he had asked her so, a semblance of lucidity that had come back to her had prevented her from doing so. so arm in arm, they walked in a zigzag fashion down the street laughing, the adrenalin of the night still in their veins.

no sooner had she slumped on giula's bed than tosca fell asleep, smiling because it had been a long time since she had enjoyed herself like that. no doubt crossed her mind, no fear. for her, she had done nothing wrong, and in the end, wasn't she right?

-,

trent, happy with their victory earlier against southampton four to nil, had no idea that clicking on giula's story would soon knock him off his high horse. now in the middle of his second film, and as midnight passed, he felt his face break down and his throat tighten. he could see her clearly laughing with a stranger who was whispering in her ear while his arm was firmly around his waist, and it made him crazy.

in denial, he was just replaying the story over and over again, hoping that it wasn't her, that she wasn't with this man and that she wasn't laughing at what she was saying to him, and yet, after a few moments, he had to face the evidence. but the evidence hurt, it tore his heart into a thousand pieces and forced him to stay glued to his couch for long minutes.