football | one shots

Yours Truly > Antoine Griezmann

"You've been skipping training and you haven't told me anything?" Rosey questioned, staring down at the tired looking Antoine slumped over on the couch. A small sigh escaped his lips. "I must have forgotten," he breathed.

Rosey frowned at his seemingly futile response. "You've skipped training five times already, and you didn't tell me even once?" She lamented, agitation beginning to build up in her. Again, Antoine sighed. "I'm sorry I forget sometimes," he said, almost matter-of-factly.

At that she crossed her arms over her torso. "Where have you been going?" She demanded to know. Antoine shook his head, looking away from her, "just some personal matters."

"Antoine, I'm your girlfriend, you can share with me about these personal matters," Rosey pointed out, earning yet another sigh from the Frenchman. "I can't," he simply said in reply.

Rosey's mouth fell agape at his response. "Why not?" She asked, feeling the inevitable resentment rising in her chest. "I just can't, okay?" He repeated, his voice raised and his eyes filled with anger.

She furrowed her eyebrows at him, surprised as to why he was getting angry. "I can't believe you, Antoine," she exhaled. "Then leave!" He raised an open palm toward the door.

Rosey stared at him, taken aback by his sudden demand. He had never done this, before. "You're mad at me now?" She said sarcastically. She chuckled mockingly before heading for the door, "fine, I'll go home, take a bath then -"

Antoine shook his head, standing up from the couch. "Don't come back," he uttered, looking her straight in the eye. At that point Rosey was practically stunned in her position. "What?" She croaked, taken aback.

"You're right, you don't deserve any of this. You deserve so much better," he said, looking away from her as he spoke. Rosey exhaled sharply, "don't give me that bullshit."

"It's the truth, you deserve someone who won't lie to you, who shares everything with you, who doesn't make you worry so much," he spoke, holding her gaze as best he could. "No, Antoine, we'll get through this," Rosey said, as she reached for his hand.

But Antoine gently pulled away from her grasp, "don't you get tired of this?" Rosey looked up at him, as tears began brimming in her eyes. "Why would I get tired of fighting for someone I love?" She uttered, feeling the lump in her throat rising.

The couple merely stood there, arms length apart, staring into each others eyes when in truth all they wanted to do was be in each others arms. "It's not worth it, Rosey," he said, slowly pushing her backwards and towards the door, "I'm not worth it."

She obliged, staring into his eyes as she tried to speak. "But you are," she mumbled as the floodgates began to open. Antoine bit his lip, wanting nothing more than to wipe away the tears. But he couldn't.

"Find someone better, okay?" He flashed her a small smile, before closing the door between them. Rosey pressed her palm onto his door, not bothering to hold back the tears. She rested her forehead against the door and just let herself cry.

Devastation couldn't even begin to describe how she felt. Little did she know, on the other side of that door, Antoine had his back pressed against it, sobbing just as hard as she was.

☃

Rosey stared blankly at the open document on her laptop. She should be doing her work, but her mind was elsewhere. Despite having not heard from him for two months, she still couldn't resist thinking about him from time to time.

And that day was just one of the days. At that moment the doorbell rang. Quickly, she rose from her seat to answer it.

"Paul?" The last person she expected to see at her door was Antoine's best friend. The Frenchman smiled as they embraced each other in greeting. "What are you doing here?" She asked expectantly.

A small and seemingly sad smile formed on his lips as they walked toward his couch. "Exactly what you think," he said. Rosey took a seat beside Paul, "Where is he, Paul? I just want to talk to him."

"He's gone, Rosey," Paul said, his tone somber. "Where to?" She asked innocently.

Paul sighed, and holding her gaze, he answered, "he's passed away, Rosey."

Rosey found herself staring at him in disbelief. "No," she muttered, refusing to believe him. Paul gently took his hands into his to calm her down. "He had been sick, and he didn't want to tell you. But even in his last days, all he could talk about was you."

Tears were already beginning to well in her eyes, and she could hardly find her voice as it slowly began to sink in. "Why wouldn't he tell me?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Hurting you was the last thing he ever wanted," Paul said as he fished something out from his pocket.

"But he left this for you," he held out the letter, prompting a red-eyed Rosey to weakly unfold it.

Dear Rosey,
You were wrong; I'm not worth it. But you are. Every day that I spent fighting this disease, it was all for you. You gave me a reason to keep trying. But sometimes, we lose our battles, and I'm losing mine. It's surreal you know? Knowing that I'll never see you again.

But I want you to know that every second I spent with you was the best part of my short life. Thank you, Rosey, for everything. I love you.

Yours truly, Antoine

✕

Okay that's enough Antoine Griezmann for now. As requested by mrsjemsginoble! Hope you liked it ❤ Sorry if it's a little cliche 😅 Anyway thank you so much for reading! ❤

Have you guys seen my new Leon Goretzka story yet? :)