mélancolie | giroud

-douze-

🍷🍷🍷

"Please call back mon copain, I am actually really worried about you. You don't have to talk to Elenie. But please talk to me. We used to be so close, please Olivier"

Antoine's voice enters one ear and floats out the other; his words seem so meaningless and unimportant to me although I don't have a clue why.

His voicemail appears as thin dust that's as transparent as the air; easy to ignore, to shut out.

The unsuccessful tries of his to meet up to talk and go back to the friendly stage came back after the whole nationalteam arrived in France again after their matches. I had honestly enjoyed the time when I hadn't had to worry about any calls of regretful people but now, that they all came back the voicemails returned.

Hugo also phoned me a couple of times but I only picked up once for a small, five-minute conversation with him before he realized how uneasy I felt and made up a stupid excuse to end the call which I am actually thankful for. Lloris has always been the one to avoid awkward situations whenever possible.

Elenie never phoned or texted me, she kept herself in the background hidden by her boyfriend as if she hadn't got anything to do with all the drama and the fight, almost as if she was afraid of confronting me.

These two weeks end rapidly and sadly too soon when my mobile rings loudly, causing me to look up from the newspaper I only bought this morning.

"Olivier Giroud: Injured Or Simply Too Violent For The Nationalteam?"

Stupid and careless as I am, I accept the call without checking the ID first, not being in the mood for long discussions or comversations.

"Allô?"

"Olivier" she breathes and I flinch at the softness of her voice, the mobile almost slipping out of my grip.

My chest tightens and it suddenly feels as if the room was capturing me, (einengen) me but I am not able to escape. The air seems to be too thin to inhale enough oxygen like usual as my face probably goes pale like I've seen a ghost.

"Olivier, are you still there?"

The mere sound of the voice rolling oh so easily off of her tongue is heavingly but so deathly and dangerous. Elenie is comparable to a siren; seducing man with her stunning looks but not really loving, only wanting to wrap them around her little finger and throwing them away to let them slide into their death then.

"If you are not going to talk to me then I'll simply do the work"

Elenie sighs and I feel my muscles tense as I am being reminded of several nights when only her and I mattered; when the whole world seemed to stand still and when we didn't care about anything besides us. Us that doesn't and won't ever exist anymore.

"Olivier, I know you will decline the offer I am telling you about now but I would like us to meet up. We need to talk"

First, I feel kind of gobsmacked by her strange idea to talk everything out when there's clearly nothing left to say. Elenie explained everything through her actions with Antoine that bothered me at that time; with only one kiss and one hug she signalized me that there is no hope for her and I, that alcohol is your best friend no matter what people who pretend to care about you tell you and that you should only trust in yourself not in others.