perfume - marcus rashford

𝐨𝐧𝐞

the second marcus rashford entered st. george's park for international break, something about him seemed... off.

with the lads meeting up together for the first time since the unfortunate euro 2020 final loss, morale wasn't going to be the greatest in the first place. however, whenever it was international duty, he always had a smile on his face, even when manchester united were in a win drought.

"hey, marcus, are you alright?" the woman on arrival, who collected bags and ensured the players got there in a safe manner, asked him as his chauffeur opened his car door.

there, stood alongside the woman, was borussia dortmund's jude bellingham, wishing to see jadon sancho behind the black stained glass panes of the expensive car. once realising it was not him, he tutted and waved his arms in the air, praying for his ex-teammate to come along.

"yeah, i'm fine." rashford responded, bluntly. both people on the path were took back, expecting to hear the sweet, calm and kind version of the man.

this is where people started to speculate that something had happened to marcus over the course of time between the loss and returning to the training centre, but they could only be able to produce theories, as it was clear it was going to take a lot out of him for him to finally admit what was going on his mind.

at the team dinner that very night, some of the united lads asked him what was going on in his mind. they just assumed that he was missing grace, his girlfriend, but that was the case, though it was in a different scenario. this scenario, you, the reader, will find out later.

"rashy, everything okay? you just seem a bit... iffy. missing your bird?"

"oh my god! will everyone just stop pressing on whether i'm okay or not! i have said a million times today, i'm fine! stop getting on my case man, everything is perfectly fine." he snapped, having a continuous mental battle with himself the second he finished his little tantrum.

"fucking hell, rashy, chill out, man. he just asked if you were alright or not, you don't need to go out on him like that!"

"oh, all of you just fuck off. i ain't dealing with this," marcus got up out of his seat, shoving it to the floor, and stormed out of the room, ensuring he slammed the door with all his might. this action took the door off of its hinges, shaking everyone in the room in a mental manner.

"who can find out what the hell is wrong with him? jadon,"

"huh? what? i was just eating my garlic bread, man. what's up?"

"go find out what's up with marcus,"

"oh hell nah. i ain't dealing with his crap. fuck no. i just wanna eat my garlic bread in peace,"

"okay then, finish your fucking garlic bread and go after him!"

"a'ight, a'ight, i will do, let me enjoy and savour the food first, man."

"fucking hell," liverpool's jordan henderson snatched the piece of bread covered in garlic from his hands, and finished the piece off.

"what the fuck! you owe me a piece of garlic bread, mr henderson. i'll try and figure out what the fuck is up with him, you're all welcome."

"thank you," the rest of the group spoke collectively, while jadon shuffled past the now broken exit door.

in the meantime, the mancunian was in his room, throwing pillows over the place. then, seeing the state of destruction he had done to the space, a single tear rolled down his cheek. falling to his knees, he let out a loud sob. gripping the bed sheets, he let out everything which was building up inside of him, including everything about grace, the pressure of preventing child food poverty, and being a full-time footballer, trying to provide for his mother.

jadon knocked twice on the door, before allowing himself in. "oh, mate. what's up?" he spoke in a soft voice, before kneeling next to marcus.

"she left me," marcus choked out, before putting his head against jadon's shoulder.

"what? who left you?"

"grace. she's gone,"