godspeed | marcus rashford

sixteen.

bittersweet reunion

Days passed with pace and any actvitity between Kyrie and Marcus was slow and dormant. Neither knew what to do or say—Kyrie didn't know how to cater a proper apology and Marcus didn't want to approach her yet—so no one took the first step towards the final resolution. They weren't handling the fate of fading away from something to nothing. Immaturity was present yet maturity was keeping the two afloat for the meanwhile. Something was there but they just weren't willing to show it just yet.

Marcus and Kyrie relied on natural time.

But everyone was impatient so everything had to move a bit faster.

Pressure and slim judgement fell on both shoulders with Marcus receiving the hard end of it. Not because he was the bad one in the situation—if one got the whole story then there wasn't one to begin with. It was more the fact that he could end the matter that he started. On his own accords, him and Kyrie weren't speaking so it would be him to speak to her rather than vice versa. That was a lot of self-pride to set aside but it didn't matter when he received a blurred overview on everything.

It took a bit of time for his immediate emotions to settle though Marcus finally came to a middle ground with himself. How did he do that: reflection and understanding even if it wasn't complete. At first glance, Kyrie's way of manoeuvring with their relationship and everything outside of it was suspicious to him. But what about at second glance, or at third glance? He lacked understanding of her side of the story and that's where his reaction was blind to sophisphated knowledge; it was solely based on what he saw instead of what he knew. He needed to step in and do the work.

There was the what but not the why—again, lack of knowledge. Marcus knew of what Kyrie had been doing but he didn't understand why. Her actions were public and unrestricted while her intentions were private and unquestioned, something he should have looked into beforehand. And that's where his friends with kids came into play. Some knowledge was learnt but understanding was still so slim and obsolete. It could only develop if Marcus went to the source of the matter.

So that's what he did. A bit of confidence was needed, sure, but eventually he came through.

With soft music playing from a speaker Kyrie lied comfortable under her sheets, falling in and out of consciousness. Not too long ago she got off a flight from Germany, and lazy actvities like sleep, not working and ignoring everyone beyond her house sounded appealing. Not to mention, Junior was under her mom's care so there were no essential responsibilities to worry about.

It didn't take long to get a hold of it but she was in a place of solace, and there was no need for anyone to disrupt it. Or she wanted to believe so.

Hearing a knock at the door she wanted to ignore it by believing she didn't hear it as she was sleeping. But she heard each knock with every tap against the door. They only grew with time and it didn't seem like they were coming to an end any time soon. The person on the other side wanted Kyrie's attention—they were determined for sure—and they proved it through the constant and repetitive knocks.

She didn't want to but she gave in, a low huff translating reluctance. Slowly, she rose from her bed and ran a hand over her face, the other adjusting the beanie over her hair. Then she took a moment to pause and glance around the bedroom in wonder and fatigue. There was so much pressure and demand you could put on a tired body with no functioning intent. Proper function was spontaneous and her body favoured the sense of sound over anything else.

Standing up, she took a sharp breath as her body was exposed to the open air; a tank top and shorts could only do so little for such a large inconvenience. Kyrie moved around the room and picked up a large dress shirt before exiting the room.