Soccer/Football Imagines

Mats Hummels [~] Maternal Problems

Growing up with an alcoholic father and an abusive mother was not how any kid should be raised. Unfortunately, you had to deal with such tribulations. You were scarred: mentally, physically, and emotionally. During such times, you had met Mats. He had taken you away from all of that. At the time, you had been eighteen, a legal adult. You hadn't had contact with them since.

Now a married woman with children of your own, you had tried to bury the past. To bury such a past was not so easy, however. Mats knew your past and whenever it came up, he knew exactly how to calm you down. You relied on him to calm you down sometimes. Cleaning the dishes as Mats started to give your kids baths, you answered the ringing phone. "Hello?" you asked, resting the phone in between your shoulder and your cheek.

"Is this Mrs. (Y/N) Hummels?" the voice on the other side of the phone asked.

"This is she. How may I help you?"

"This is Dr. Greg L. Grobowski. I'm calling from the Hannover National Hospital. I am calling to inform you that your mother has suffered from a stroke." You dropped the dish you were currently washing. It shattered into a million pieces at your feet.

"Is she okay?"

"Yes. She has recovered quickly as is doing great by herself at the moment. She asked me to call you," he replied.

"Oh. Well, thank you, Doctor," you stated.

"You're welcome. Are you going to come to see your mother? She's been asking," he informed you.

"I don't know. Good bye," you hurriedly choked out, hanging up the phone. Placing it on the counter, you stared down at your feet.

"What was that crash?" Mats questioned, coming up from behind you. He grabbed a broom and started to clean up the mess.

"That was Hannover," you sighed.

"Who in Hannover?" Mats raised an eyebrow, looking as confused as you felt.

"It was the hospital. My mother's had a stroke," you sighed, looking up at your husband. His expression looked concerned.

 "Are you okay? You look pale, (Y/N)."

"I'm fine. Just shocked is all," you gulped, playing with your fingers in an effort to sidetrack your thoughts.

 "I'd imagine. C'mon, let's sit down and you can tell me everything. The kids are already asleep," Mats assured you, sitting you across the table from him. You started to shake. "What did the doctor tell you about your mother?"

"She had a stroke but she's doing fine for now. And she wanted to see me," you quivered, playing with your fingers again. Mats held your shaking hands in his own and pulled you into a hug.

"Are you going to go see her?" Mats asked quietly.

"I don't know. Should I?" you gasped, memories flooding your mind.

"That's up to you. When was the last time you've seen or heard from her?"

"When I was eighteen, before we eloped," you chuckled lightly, trying to calm your nerves. Mats held you for the rest of the night. You decided to go visit your mother in the hospital. You dropped the kids off at a friend's house and set out with Mats for Hannover. On the way to the hospital, you passed your childhood home. It was boarded up and had a for sale sign in front of it. You turned your head so that you faced forwards.

Mats held your hand and rubbed it with his thumb reassuringly. Mats pulled into the hospital parking lot and parked the car. You got out reluctantly and with Mats by your side, started walking towards the entrance of the hospital. Waiting patiently in line, you and Mats eventually made it to the front desk. "How may I help you?" the woman behind the desk said, looking up at you through thick glasses.

"We're here to see my mother. Her name is (Y/M/N) (Y/M/L/N) and I was contacted by Dr. Grobowski about her condition."

"Just a moment," the woman scrolled through the computer. She printed out passes for you and Mats, handing them to you. "She's on the third floor. Room 319." You thanked the woman before walking towards the elevators. You and Mats walked into the elevator. You pressed the third floor button and waited for the doors to reopen on the third floor. Mats took your hand and led you out of the elevator. Walking down the long hallway, you looked at room numbers.

"Here it is," you sighed, reading the room number and patient name over and over again. With a reassuring squeeze from Mats, you knocked on the door.

 "Come in," a voice said from within. You slowly opened the door, stepping inside the hospital room. You walked slowly into the main part of the room where your mother lay on the hospital bed. A nurse sat next to her, taking care of her.

"Who is it?" your mother rasped, not being able to see you from your location in the room.

"It's me, (Y/N). Your daughter," you stated, stepping forwards. The nurse elevated your mother's top half so that she could see you and Mats.

 "Who's he?" your mother narrowed her eyes at Mats.

"My husband, Mats," you replied.

 "Oh I remember. That footballer you ran away with. Probably working at the dump like I predicted," your mother spat. You didn't respond and neither did Mats, not wanting to elevate your mother's blood pressure. "So why are you here?"

"Your doctor called me. He said that you were asking for me," you recited, like you had practiced that over and over again.

"Oh, yeah," your mother remembered. She shuffled around on her bed until she faced you again. "So, you actually came."

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," you sighed.

"I'm perfectly okay here. You on the other hand need to answer a few questions for me."

"Fine."

 "Why did you run away, huh?"

"I think you should be able to answer that yourself," you spat out, remembering your childhood in a dark light. "Where's Dad?"

"Oh, that pathetic loser. He disappeared about five years ago, found his body in a ditch. Probably one of his enemies from his gambling days caught up with him."

"You don't sound remorseful at all," you commented.

"He was cheating on me and spent all my money on alcohol."

"Money that I earned. Remember? (Y/N), take a pan and sit on the street corner. Beg for money and food," you mimicked your mother.

"Oh please. I made money too," your mother rolled her eyes. You recalled her bringing home strange men every now and again, shivering in disgust as you stared at your mother.

"Why did you even call me here?" you finally let out, exasperated.

"I was hoping you could pay the bill." You narrowed your eyes at your mother before turning swiftly and dragging Mats out of the room.

"Have a nice life. Mother," you cursed, shutting the door behind you. You marched over to the front desk and wrote a check for your mother's bill. Slamming it down on the counter, you dragged Mats to the car where you broke down. "I thought she was actually sorry, Mats. I'm so gullible!" you cried, tears starting to leak out as you entered the car.

"No you're not. She tricked you into coming. She's manipulative, (Y/N)."

"My very own mother," you sighed, wiping the tears away. Mats hugged you comfortingly. "I'll never be my mother, never," you vowed.

"You were never going to be," Mats replied, kissing your head.