mélancolie | giroud

-six-

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Often- The Weeknd
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We won the match with me playing in the starting eleven.

A smile plasters my face as I am called to the sideline for interviews and I also can't stop as Deschamps pats me onto my shoulder after hugging me, saying that he always believed in me. My lips stay curled up the whole night that I choose to spend with my teammates, something I haven't done in weeks.

Antoine and Hugo tell me that they are glad the good old Olivier is back who jokes around the whole time and never fails to make everyone laugh.

Karim approaches me and congratulates me to a match magnifique, inviting me over for his birthday in two weeks.

I begin the next day with the same smile on my lips and greet Elenie by hugging her for what feels like an enternity, thanking her for helping me. Our therapy appointment only takes forty-five minutes today because she has to 'take care of something' which actually makes me a bit disappointed.

Nothing is able to destroy my good mood as Deschamps calls me right after I left the hospital, saying that I am going to be in starting eleven next week again.

Just as I am about to think that nothing could ever bring me down again, that I am invincible and able to maneuver myself out of that mess that is called my life, I bump into a young woman on the street.

She stumbles forward and all of her belongings, a Starbucks cup and her tiny bag, fall onto the ground.

"Merde, je suis desolé!" I apologize and bent down immediately, helping her gathering her things together.

"Don't feel ashamed Olivier"

Her gentle voice, sounding like I am embedded in feathers, is too familiar for my liking.

No, that's not possible...

I turn my head to face her and stare into Sofie's beautiful face, a shy smile playing on her lips.

"Hey" she says innocently and touches my arm softly but I jerk away from her.

How dare she?!

"Why do you pretend like nothing has happened?!" I whisper-shout, standing up again and bringing two steps distance between us.

"Olivier, I-I have been missing you" Sofie purrs and purses her lips after.

Don't. Look. At. Her.

Don't fall for her innocent façade again.

Don't let her seduce you again.

"No, you haven't" I argue and grit my teeth as I reach in pocket, taking out some money, "buy yourself a new Starbucks drink and leave me alone"

I throw the cash right infront of her feet to the ground as if she was a homeless person and turn on my spot, almost sprinting away from her.

"Olivier!" Sofie cries out but I choose to ignore her as tears fill my eyes.

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Luckily, Antoine and Hugo prevented me from buying any alcohol otherwise I would have fallen for Jack Daniels again.

The urge to drive to the closest supermarket and shove the best champagne in France into my shopping cart is hard to resist; it could be so easy to forget about Sofie's heavenlike features and the way she tried to change my mind.

My eyes travel to the shards of the broken vase on the floor; only one of at least ten things that have been connecting with my anger and the floor.