Kylian Mbabbe Story - What If

Pt 1 - Saint Kylian

'Little did I know he'd be my saviour...'

"I love you," he whisperred softly, cradling my sore face in his large careful hands.
I looked straight at him,
Straight into him,
Trying so hard to find the love that once was.

"I love you too."

"Alright," he gets up and grabs his bag, "I'm out. Make sure you're here when I'm back."

"Yes, Zidane."

"And make sure theres dinner."

"Yes, Zidane."

With that I hear the door slam shut.
I can finally breath.
I stand up - very slowly - and turn on the bathroom light. I look down at my short shorts and white t-shirt; painted with blood.

You'd think I'd be used to this by now; waking up every morning aching in pain barely able to move.
It hurts, but only when I move
Or blink...
Or breath.

It's been a while since it's been this bad. Usually he'd only throw a couple of punches, maybe strangle me just to scare me, but later on he'd apoligize and kiss me and tell me he loved me... but yesterday...
It was one of his worst meltdowns.
Im still in shock even now.
All I can do is sit in bed, reflecting.

On my life.
The choices I've made
And-

*Knock knock knock*

There's a knock at the door -
Hopefully they'll go away.

My life, a shambles.
I hated it.
I hate myself.
I hate Zidane... but I love him, also. Somehow.
Yet I can't love myself because I let myself love Zidane... how strange.

*knock knock knock*

How ironic, even.
I can love my source if pain, but can't love myself vecause I love the pain.

*KNOCK knock knock*

"I'M COMING!" I scream with anger as I charge down the stairs.

I open the door to my friend, with a psg coat on with a hat to match.

"Hey, sorry to bother you, I forgot my...
What happened?" He paused, staring at me in disbelief.

"What?"

"...your face..."

Shit!
I forgot to clean up my face - which was usually the first thing I did.
"Ummm.... yeah, I had an accident," I say with a chuckle at an attempt to lighten the mood.
He pushes me inside and turns on the light and lifts my head up to get a better look; his concerned expression only heightens, as I rack my brain for good excuses.

"Yeah, I was just walking down the street and this cat... out of nowhere starts scratching me..."

Kylian looks me dead in the eye and gives me a 'do i look like an idiot?' look like what your mother woukd give you.
I sigh, knowing he knows.
"Right, put on a coat and grab what you need."

"What? Where are you going?"

"Wé are going to the hospital. Right now."
My eyes nearly pop out of my head as the anxious thoughts start to rush in.
"NO! No! Ky, you don't understand, I-"

"NO! I do understand !, he shouts - which alarmed me because he very rarely shouts, especially at me - " I know this is Zidane. I've had my speculations but this... you know what, I don't have time to explain - just get in the car!

"But Kylian you don't understand! If I go to the hospital they'll start asking questions and Zidane.... will get angry..."

"Crystal Moremi Skyers, get in the car!" He shouts grabbing my coat and holding the door open for me, waiting for me to walk through. As worried as I was about the possible consequencies, I complied and went into the car.

The drive was silent and very tense.

I hated hospitals, yet I had to wait in one for 2 hours to get seen.
During that time we didn't speak much.
He asked me how often it happened.
"Every night or every other night," I spoke, like a child having to confess a white lie to their parents.
He nodded - which surprised me. I was expecting a long and tedious speech of utter condemnation, instead he lay a supportive hand on my shaking leg.
I stopped shaking.
I lay my head on his warm shoulder.
He moved his habd from my leg to around me.

They gave me sticthes and some medicine, and luckily not many questions and in no time we returned back to me and Zidane's house, sitting outside in the car in and awkward silence.
I wasn't quiet short what to say.
I don't think he was either.

I'm not sure how long we were sitting there before I started to have a breakdown, but I'd rather not remember...

"I just,
I just can't do it anymore", I sobbed, "I'm trying, I really am, but I just.
I feel like I'm not even living anymore, I'm just surviving.
I'm 19 for gods sakes.
I shoukd be having the time of my life; partying, going out with friends, university... I don't know...." I cry, trying to catch my breath.
Kylian say beside me watching me.
I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Are you gonna say anything or just watch me embarasse myself," I chuckle.

He sighed heavily before he spoke.

"Pack your bags and move in with me."

I paused.

I laughed.

"Are you serious?"

"I am. Very serious."

"Ky, I can't live with you," I laugh, as I wipe my tears.

"Why not?"

"Well... I don't know. For starters you're my abusive boyfriends best friend - he'd kill both of us."
"No he won't I'll sort him out."

"Alright Bruce Willis," I laugh, "it would never work though."

"So what? You're just going to keep this up. Getting beaten everyday. Until what? Until he kills you?"
I sat for a minuite.
"I'm scared, Ky."

He takes off his seatbelt now turning to face me. He grabbed my hand in his.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, looking straight into my soul.
I didn't even have to hesitate;
"Of course, more than anyone. But I don't trust Zidane. He-"

"If you trust me, then go upstairs and get everything you need and come back down."

I sat in thought forca second, weighing up the pros and cons.
If I stay nobody gets in trouble, everything remains the same, and Zidane is kept calm.

But if I go.... well who knows what would happen? Zidane woukd kill Kylian, then kill me, the whole group would be divided, I'd lose my friends - my only friends, and I'd be alone and worse than before.
But...
I could start a new life, without Zidane.
I wouldn't hace to be anxious all the time.
I could just be.
And it wasn't like Kylian was short of money, he'd definately help me get back on track.
I looked up at him.

"I've made my mind up..."