𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭

THIRTEEN

"Who do you reckon would win in a fight? A sheep or a chicken?"

Berkley could hardly make out the structure of Mason's face in the darkness as she faced him in bed that night, laying on her side and scarcely keeping her eyes open to occupy the boy. "Mmm maybe a chicken," she spoke tiredly, yawning in between her words, "they've got those claws yeah. Sheep are too soft."

"I feel like sheep are underrated," Mason shrugged, "like under all that wool is a beast."

"Do you think about this a lot then?" She asked him, a light laugh escaping her lips.

Mason smiled at her in the darkness, and she could faintly see the tiredness as he bared his teeth and shrugged again. "Only when I'm nervous."

"I can tell," Berkley told him.

A sigh escaped the Chelsea player's mouth as he tried to flutter his eyes closed to get some rest, knowing his rambling must've tired out the girl next to him, but his mind was much too preoccupied with the match the next day to even fall asleep. His legs felt jittery and he struggled to stay still, and while Berkley was tired and exhausted looking at the clock saying 1:27 am, she couldn't seem to fall asleep until he did too.

"Mason," she spoke to him softly as she stared at how he shifted around in bed. She could hear his light grunts as he shifted closer to her, opening his eyes to be faced with her look of concern. "You can keep talking, it's okay."

Her hand found it's way to his as she scooted closer to him under the covers. She could hear how his quiet breathing started to slow down as she found her way to rest her head on his bare chest. His arm found its way to wrap around her, and all she could do was smile as she felt his once tense body calm as she laid in his arms.

"I'm sorry for keeping you up," Mason told her, looking down as one arm draped found his torso while her head used his chest as a pillow. She could feel the vibrations of her chest against his side abdomen as she laughed.

"It's just a game," she said. Berkley turned slightly and flipped over to look at his face as she spoke, resting her chin on him. "I know it sounds stupid but, it's what my dad used to tell me when I still played, and if you think about it, it really is just a game."

"It's the fucking champions league," Mason replied with a small laugh of bewilderment, making Berkley roll her eyes playfully.

"And do you know how bloody insane it is that you even got here?" She smiled at him as her eyes now focused more on his face. They could see each other more clearly now because how close they laid, and he felt a sense of belonging with her sitting there, almost to the point where he forgot what he was even stressing about at all.

"I know you want to win. But Mase, if you told your younger self ten years ago that you'd be laying here right now, the night before you play the champions league final stressing your arse off, that boy would shit his pants at the simple fact that you even play professional football. He would be ecstatic." Mason snorted a laugh as he visualised Berkley's words. She watched as he grew more calm and tired, just soft chuckles coming out in response to her whispers.

"My point is," she continued, "whatever happens tomorrow, happens. Stressing will just make it worse because in the end, whether you win or not, the fans will still love you. Your parents will still love you and that little boy whose utterly in love with football will still be the happiest boy alive... and if you get some rest now, it'll better your chances of making him even happier."

Mason looked at her for a moment before breaking out into a smile. He chuckled tiredly as his arms swung around to engulf her in a tired hug, feeling her face get buried into his chest as she chuckled in his embrace. Mason sighed as he leaned down, placing a soft kiss on her forehead before the girl looked back up at him again.

They stared at each other for a moment, calming at one another's simple touch.

"And what about you?" Mason asked, watching her eyebrows furrow as she tilted her head slightly at him, "win or lose tomorrow, what does it mean for you?"

Berkley shrugged, staring at him with a small smile playing at her lips. She didn't quite know how to answer his question if she were being honest. "I'm not a Chelsea fan so it doesn't affect me much now, does it."

"But you're a me, fan, aren't you?" Mason said with sincerity, "what does it mean for me and you?"

Berkley's face fell more serious as she saw the genuine expression on his face. She gave him a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand as she held it. "Well..." she began, looking him in the eye so he knew her words were true, "I'll still be wearing that Mount 19 on my back, won't I?"

Mason's face lit up at her words, "you brought the shirt?"

Berkley rolled her eyes at the excitement on his face, scoffing as she shook her head playfully. "You brought me to fucking Portugal, of course I brought the shirt."

Mason smiled tiredly, feeling more and more secure with everything the longer she laid in his arms. Berkley turned back around, still staying in his grasp as she began to drift off. A silence passed between them, before Mason spoke softly again. "You're a Blue," he whispered quietly to her.

Berkley rolled her eyes playfully. "You're annoying."

She could feel Mason's light chuckles as she vibrated against his chest. "You are a blue," he whispered again, more confident this time.

The girl didn't even have to turn to see the amused smile on his face, and he didn't have to look at her to know that she was withholding her own.

He knew, deep down, that part of her heart did bleed blue now, and he liked to tell himself that it was mostly because of him; and perhaps Berkley wouldn't admit it out loud, but she would be a bit more bummed if Chelsea didn't lift that trophy tomorrow.

"Goodnight, Mason," she spoke finally as she closed her eyes. She allowed herself to drift along with Mason's slow and calming breathing, using the sound of his heartbeat to let her drift off.

Mason looked down at the girl once more, the smile on his face not disappearing as he drifted off himself. He liked the feel of her head on his chest and her arm over his stomach, and he knew that she was listening to the beating of his heart being synchronised with hers to let herself fall asleep.

He smiled thinking about it — about her. He didn't know what he did to meet Berkley Beckham, but he knew at that moment that everything he would do from this moment on would be for her. Every thing on the field was for her and everything off the field was for her. So, he laid there, allowing his heart to beat and let her fall into her dreams. It only ever beat for her anyway.

brynn speaks

I'm legit so late for practice I can't proof read this rn, pls tell me what spelling mistakes I have so I can edit it after trainibg. Love u all

update: in my car! bit early for training after all but just proof read and this is fuckibg terrible 🤣 but I can't be assed to change it so I hope u guys sorta like it.

ALSO PROUDNESS FOR ME my football team won the league last night WOOT WOOT LETS GET IT