Requested by emmylk
It wasn't unusual for you to watch football games on TV with Mason. If he had a day off, like today, you'd watch the important games with him and always try to engage with him in conversations and ask questions. He loved that about you—the fact that you'd show interest in something he's so passionate about.
Tonight West Ham was playing against Arsenal; it was the last game of the day, and Mason was excited to watch his best friend, Declan, play.
You've known Declan for many years now, thanks to Mason. He's like an older brother to you, and you're happy that Mason has a best friend like him.
You two sat in front of the TV, watching the game unfold. You were both rooting for West Ham this game; they haven't had any luck this season, losing many games, and the fact that Declan plays there makes you both want to see him smile.
"YES, PENALTY!" Mason stood up from his seat, ecstatic that something interesting happened in the game.
"Who's going to take it?" You stood up with him, intrigued.
"Benrahma," he answered, paying full attention to the screen. "Surely he won't miss," he added.
You both stood there quietly, hearing the referee blow the whistle. Next second, Benrahma scored the penalty, making you and Mason jump out of excitement.
Just after halftime, the drama kicked off. Arsenal had managed to score three goals in the span of 15 minutes.
"How are Arsenal this good this season? It's pissing me off," you stood up from the couch to get some water from the kitchen.
"I know," Mason mumbled, sinking into the couch and sighing.
You put ice in a glass and poured water. You took a sip, and as soon as you were about to swallow, you heard a horrifying scream from Mason, who was still in the living room.
You felt your heart stop for a second, thinking something had happened to him. "Y/N!" You heard him scream again, but this time with more pain in his tone.
You dropped the glass in the sink and ran towards the living room, seeing him stand in front of the TV with his hands shaking.
"Mason, what's wrong?" You asked him in panic. He stood still, staring at the screen, not answering you.
"Mase!" You grabbed his hand, following his gaze to the screen. And there it was. You saw the West Ham players cover a player with their bodies, making some sort of wall. Medical attention ran to the scene; you could swear you saw some players even crying.
"Who got hurt?" You looked at Mason, hoping he wouldn't say Declan's name.
"Dec," he stood there, shocked. "He wasn't moving," he stuttered.
You looked at him; you've never seen him so lost and terrified. "What even happened? Did someone hit him?" You asked, starting to panic even more due to the fact that you have no information about what happened.
"He hit his head, Y/N...he hit it," he stuttered as he pointed at his own head.
You knew that whatever Mason saw on that screen, was bad. And things got even worse as you both saw the ambulance car that had somehow entered the pitch.
"He's in safe hands, Mase; he's going to be ok," you put your hand on his cheek, slowly turning his head away from the TV and not allowing him to watch more.
You turned the TV off and watched him walk away to call someone; you could tell he was trying his best not to cry. He never cried, especially not in front of people, even if it was you.
