Football Oneshots

Gavi - Close

I started my day off quite peacefully, drinking my coffee while scrolling through Instagram. That was until my phone would not stop buzzing. I was getting tagged in hundreds of posts, and my dms now getting filled with messages and pictures. 

Worry fills me, but I decide to check anyway. My heart drops when I see the pictures that everyone is sending me. My boyfriend, Pedri, with his arms around another girl, kissing her outside a club.

I fling my phone across the room, anger flooding through me for the last time. 

This has always been an issue between Pedri and I. I grew up in a very strict family, I was always told to dress modest and act a certain way. Of course, I still had my experiences in school, so I wasn't missing out on anything. But I never really had the urge to fight them.

When Pedri and I started dating, it was like a dream. But the more time we spent together, the more things started going south. When I started hanging out with him and his friends, I started to become quite self conscious over the girls that they used to bring around.

Coming from the family that I did, I was never made to focus on my appearance. I was never even allowed to dye my hair a different colour. So seeing all of the models that they used to hang out with definitely made me question my own self-esteem.

I became the girlfriend that was labeled as the prude. I still dressed rather conservatively and never drank much when we went out. At first, Pedri never had a problem with it. He actually said that's what he liked about me. But as time went on, he started following those girls on Instagram, liking their posts, and giving too much attention to them when we went out. 

He spent a lot of time trying to convince me to wear more revealing clothes, to make more of an effort so that he has someone to 'show off.'

As much as I wanted to, I just couldn't. That's why I never fought him when we gave other girls attention, even though it killed me each time. Through all of this, he never cheated, though, which is why I always left it alone. 

But now he's taken it too far. Although my self-esteem and respect took a hit while I was with him, I know that I love myself too much to stay.

I go up to his room and pack all of the things that I had left here from the last few months. I go downstairs, hoping to leave before he gets home.

As I come downstairs, ready to grab my keys and leave, the door swings open, and Pedri stands in the doorway. He doesn't move or say anything when he sees the bag in my hand. I'd done a good job of keeping the tears at bay, up until I saw his face.

I can't stop thinking about how much I trusted him. He was my first boyfriend, my first everything. I gave all of myself to him, only for it to not be enough.

"Y/n," he says, stepping closer. "What's wrong?" 

Anger fills me once again when I think back to the picture. I pull out my phone and show him the picture, not saying a word. 

He doesn't move as he struggles to find the words to say. I take my keys from the table, pushing past him to get to my car. As I reach the door, his hand grabs mine, pulling me back. 

"No, wait. It was a mistake. It meant nothing to me." He begins to plead. "This was ages ago in Madrid, I've changed." 

Before I even realized it, my hand was across his face, slapping him with all the force I could conjure up. 

That time we went to Madrid was still quite early on in our relationship. To think that I was still with him after he had touched another girl. My first time was with him, just a week after this. And it was all a lie.