football imagines [requests open]

trent alexander-arnold.

anagapesis

There once lived a time when she could say she was in love with Trent.

Heavenly, deeply, innocently in love with him. That she could find everything in him—trust, partnership and affection. He let her place her trust in him, through physical and emotional times. In this relationship did Trent make sure that partnership, voice and equity thrived. In everything they shared, from the starting point of the friendship to the relationship in the long run, did he let her experience love through physical affection and personal feelings.

Trent did everything for Y/N, for their relationship. Going beyond everything the two comfortably were, there never really was any reason for Y/N to search for any faults.

But a few years down the line, a bit spontaneous, she began to fall out of love with Trent. She felt love for him, appreciating him for all he was came with ease; she wasn't outwardly heartless. She, however, soon came to understand that feeling this or that way for Trent meant nothing when the idea of being in love with him was slowly becoming a fact of the past. So far down the line she couldn't remember what it looked like, to be in love with Trent.

And with everything being so unforeseen, the feeling of unloving your partner came quicker than one could react to it. It left Y/N stuck; she felt obliged to something that now seemed no longer genuine but also to Trent.

He glanced between himself and Y/N. In their bedroom the two were sitting on opposite sides of the bed. He wanted to reach out for her touch, but he couldn't; she made it evident she didn't want to be physically available to him. Already was he beginning to feel lonely in the relationship. He sighed, his eyes falling on his fingers fidgeting. "There's something we can do, right?"

Despite the evident lows they were facing, he wasn't about to give up on their relationship so fast. In truth, he loved it oh so much, and he felt the same for Y/N. Sure, there was a bit of mistrust and loneliness that came with wanting a dying relationship to thrive, but he wanted it back nonetheless, even if it meant going back to the beginning—when everything was okay.

Her gaze moved towards the open windows, acknowledging the cool breeze moving around the room. Perhaps more than Trent. "I don't know." Let the dying relationship die or drag the dying relationship along in hopes of a revival? She wasn't too sure about what to do, both options had their pros and cons.

But in this present moment, she felt significant love for Trent. It wasn't as firm as what she initially felt for him, but at least something remained for the meanwhile. There was hope somewhere in the scraps of it all. For the relationship, for Trent– she would try to keep the hope alive. Looking away from the windows, she offered a smile, one welcoming and gentle yet heartbreaking. "But we can try, of course."

So they tried, all ways and avenues.

Trent and Y/N returned back to their relationship memories, turning back the clock a bit. Revisiting their favourite spots and places where milestones were hit. Places where they first met, where the first date took place. Destinations where the feelings started to come into play, where the first 'i love you's were uttered, where they officially fell in love. There was a lot to go through, but they took their time; they were patient with it as they made their way through memory lane.

And it was a fun experience. To wonder through each and every memory they shared, to revise how their relationship came to be. Why they fell for one another, why they were so into each other, seeing where all these inside jokes came from. Laughter, smiles and pure solace followed Trent and Y/N through the experience, those positive emotions so vibrant and visible. It was almost a form of therapy.

Yet there was still a clear lack within it all; and both of them felt it, no matter how hard they wanted to avoid the obvious realisation. The title of the dying relationship was slowly living up to its name.

Holding hands, their fingers no longer linked together perfectly. As they walked together, they would slowly find themselves drifting away in different directions. Silence that should be peaceful now remained awkward. The smiles, the laughter– they were present and genuine and there, but it just wasn't the same as before, perhaps too far gone.

At their final destination through memory land, Trent and Y/N found themselves at the park, both occupying the swings. The sun was falling into the sky, kids were slowly moving out of the park with their parents, and the night was carefully replacing the day with its dark tint. It was crazy; everything went on about their regular routines like all was okay, like all was the same too.

But that wasn't the case. It was unfair that everything could move on about their business as if nothing was wrong– as if a couple wasn't in the acceptance state of grief.

Trent leaned his head against the swing chain. With the swings resting on the hillside of the park, he had a clear view of the sunset. He had no energy to glance at his girlfriend(?)'s way. "I don't think I have to ask but I'm guessing there's nothing we can do?" Or maybe one person wasn't so accepting of the situation, perhaps still stuck in awful denial.

It was Y/N's turn to look at her partner(?). She inhaled deeply, her face containing pure dejection. "I'm so sorry, Trent. I really am." Y/N tried to keep the hope alive, she tried to keep going. For herself, for Trent, for their relationship. Because the potential was still there. Everything was still there. It was just her—the lack was her, the lack was because of her. She couldn't love Trent as she did before.

It was an honest tragedy, but it was official. She has completely fallen out of love with Trent.

Trent nodded slowly into the night, biting down on his lip. Words couldn't register in his mind, yet alone on his tongue. He just didn't understand, he was distraught. He was patient and encouraging and respectful in the process of everything. He gave her time, space, his time and all—everything she needed for a clear mind, to fall back into the relationship or him. The task seemed so simple, and maybe it was. But Y/N couldn't find herself falling back in love with him.

"It's just—" Trent looked away from the sky and quickly wiped under his eye. She told him everything, and he couldn't seem to hold back. Even if it was by the slightest. His hands gripped the swing chains for extra security. "What did I do wrong?"

His voice remained soft and silent. Nonetheless, his tone voiced confusion, anger, and doubt. In his eyes—through his perspective—everything seemed fine, perfect if you wanted to go that far. So for his partner to place no reason behind their three empty words hit him with such intensity and disbelief. And the worst part was he just had to accept it; the relationship no longer held any substance to it.

There always was a slim possibility to walk away with nothing, to walk away without Y/N—he knew that from the very beginning, but he didn't rely on that possibility and instead remained positive throughout. Now in the position where that possibility was alive and real, Trent realised that he hadn't prepared himself for this feeling of rejection striking him directly in the heart.

There was a lot to question, but Trent didn't want to search for them. Why didn't she love him anymore? She didn't cheat, her gaze never fell on someone else. From her lack of response, there wasn't a clear answer to her lack of love and Trent didn't think he wouldn't be getting one any time soon.

Her face fell watching his demeanour fall flat beside her. Though there wasn't much she could do. He had lost trust in her; if she tried to offer physical affection he now would expect it to be insincere. The lack of physical touch between the two was caused by more than just Y/N's inability to say I love you. He was upset, and she couldn't blame him for something she had caused.

Shaking her head with a small and unsure—more unsure than small—frown, she said, "Nothing. Nothing at all."

Witnessing Trent take in her words made Y/N question whether she brought more bad than good, question whether there was more wrong than right between the two now. She had pushed Trent into a state where he was questioning his role in their relationship, questioning whether he could be considered a good partner (whatever that meant now).

He previously confided in her, trusted her with everything that made him vulnerable. And in return, left broken was his trust, his confidence in himself and his want to look for another relationship.

Not much remained of a relationship and everything beyond one. Not only because one partner left before she could end it; the other partner stayed before he could leave it.

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[a re-write]