Those Football Imagines

Bojan Krkic- Make Me a Sandwich Doctor Krkić

No matter how many times you get told how "perfect" you are, nobody is perfect. Maybe you don't like how long your legs are, or how obnoxious your laugh is, or how you can't keep up with your new years resolutions. It doesn't matter what it is or who you are, we all have flaws, imperfections that stick out like a soar thumb and seem unfixable in our own eyes, but are part of what makes us, us to everyone else. In the same way that we all have flaws, we all have someone that will come along and erase them for us, make us see past our own insecurities and imperfections and make us feel like we were the most flawless being to ever grace this earth.

That's how me and Bojan are. No matter how dark my days get, I'm always confident to say that he is the light that peaks through the clouds, the hand that guides me back to the grass on the other side. I knew he was always there for me, and i like to say that he thinks the same about me. As it is with mostly everything else about our personality's, we have the same character flaw in common. Competitiveness. It sounds silly, but even the simplest of daily tasks turns into a competition with us. Who could fold clothes quicker, who could take a shower the fastest, who could name the most movies in 30 seconds. All of our "competitions" are so petty yet we take them as seriously as winning the lottery. If I end up snubbing him for the win, he sulks and pouts about it the rest of the day, and if he won, I wouldn't speak to him for at least thirty minutes. That, is essentially how I ended up in this very position, a worried and guilt ridden Bojan biting his nails in front of me.

As per our usual Saturday routine, we were out for an early morning run through the neighborhood. This was usually the only time we pushed our competitive nature aside and simply enjoyed the relaxed aura the rising Sun and chirping birds brought. Usually. Today, Bojan was still feeling a particularly sour loss at an egg frying competition after winning the last few clashes and was hell bent on claiming his streak back.

"How about a quick race around this block." He suggested, breathing still completely normal despite the pace we'd been running for the past half hour. I shook my head, knowing  perfectly well what he doing.

"Is it because you know I'm gonna beat you?" He asked, an edge of teasing laced through his voice. He was trying to get under my skin

"Your soar loser is showing." I retorted lamely, because I was afraid of him beating me. I was pretty fast and had developed pretty good stamina from all the times we've gone running, but he practically did this for a living. There was no doubt in mind that he would  beat me, and I had too much pride - and maybe arrogance - to let that happen.

"Come on, wimp." He continued to taunt. I had too much pride to let him beat me, but I also had too much pride to let him taunt me in such a way. It was quite a harsh cycle of pride, but there was no backing out now.

"You're on, loser." I answered with determination. We both stopped, got into starting position and counted. As he said three, I shot off, going as fast as my body would let me. I didn't have to look to see that Bojan was right beside me, catching speed. We were neck and neck for a few seconds, and as he began to push ahead of me, I forced my feet to move faster. He was definitely not going to win this, not after all of that taunting he did just a minute ago. We rounded a corner and my feet almost slipped from under me, causing me to lose some speed and Bojan to get another foot advantage. I pushed my body to go impossibly faster. My feet were already aching, my joints were screaming, and I'm pretty sure I was one deep breath away from my lungs bursting, but my boyfriend was going to eat his words, one way or another.

We continued on the straight path, and I gained confidence as I noticed Bojans breathing begin to get heavy.

I don't know what happened. I don't know how it happened. I don't know how I could've possibly missed an object on the path big enough to trip me up. All I know is that one minute I was determined to win a race, and the next I was rolling on the concrete, screaming in pain. My hands and knees stung with deep scrapes, my body was already sore from bruises beginning to form and it felt like my right ankle was being sawed off.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God." Bojan chanted under his breath. He was sitting on his knees by my head and looking all over my body, panic evident by the look on his face. "That looks disgusting." He remarked, leaning to get a closer look at my hands.

"Just quit being a baby and help me!" I shouted at him in between cries of pain. He nodded furiously, grabbed my hands, then dropped them and stared in horror as screamed bloody murder. If looks could kill, I'm sure my glare would've turned him to dust in that very spot.

"Sorry, sorry, I forgot." He stuttered out quickly. This time he grabbed lightly around my wrists and slowly pulled me up. I winced, the hold still slightly hurting my hands, and put all my weight on my left foot as I stood up. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders for support and began trying to hobble around, a shock wave of pain shit through my left leg and, although slightly better than my other leg, it hurt a lot. So Bojan leaned down in front of me and helped me onto his back.

Neither of us talked as we walked back to the house, the silence disrupted only when I whispered in pain occasionally. My right foot was practically numb by now, but it still hurt whenever Bojan lifted me up too quickly when I started to fall.

We reached the house after ten minutes of walking, making me glad that we never strayed far from the neighborhood during our runs. He unlocked the front door with little difficulty considering i was still on his back and shuffled through, kicking the door shut. Once i was safely in our bed, my hurt leg propped up on some pillows, he began turning my ankle slowly and squeezing it lightly in some places. "Just some bad bruising" he had muttered after he was finished, taking the medical wrap out of the first aid kit. He hadn't said anything besides that the whole time he doctored, opting to keep his mouth shut.

"I am so sorry," he began, "this is my fault! I pushed you to race even though you didnt want to, i shouldn't have asked you..." He carried on with his worried rant, pacing in front of the bed.

"Hey," I called, trying to pull him out of his pity fest. He stopped talking, looked up at me guiltily and sat on the edge of the bed. "It is not your fault. You didn't physically force me to race you, and unless you magically put that branch there, I'm not blaming you. I am an absolute klutz, we both know that. And its just some bruises, right? I'm a tought girl." I reassured him. He looked at me and nodded, but i could tell he still wasn't convinced that i wasn't blaming him. I sighed and pat the spot beside me.

"Come here." I demanded. He stood up, walked around the bed and plopped himself down on the bed. I hugged him awkwardly, though it was the best I could do with the condition of my ankle and the position that we were in.

"I am going to be okay. I just need to rest and stay off of it for a few days then I'll be back to normal and we're gonna have a rematch. I'm not mad, and I'm definitely not blaming you for it."

"You promise you're not mad?" He asked. I held my pinky out to him and smiled.

"I pinky promise." He linked his pinky with mine and smiled for the first time. "Now, go make me a sandwich, Doctor Krkić." I commanded jokingly. He rolled his eyes, but stood up from the bed and walked out. He stopped at the doorway and turned around.

"Oh, and. whenever we have that rematch, I'm totally kicking your ass."

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 dedicated to personality_cvlt