fresh air | pulisic

01.

England has always felt different to Germany and America. Christian doesn't quite know how to explain it, but it just does. After being around his American teammates-slash-friends in Qatar and having time to spend with his family made him forget about his life in England.

Maybe it's wanderlust– the feeling of being in a different environment and culture, or maybe it's the architecture. Maybe it's how busy this place feels, or maybe it's how quiet it is when the day starts. Maybe it's everything.

It's still early, still windy and still too cold to be out, it's already so different from home. Pushing his hands deep into his coat pockets, he follows the sound of the birds, burying his face into his scarf as the wind picks up the closer he gets to a spot in the park.

He never used to understand the appeal of boring empty parks, especially at times like this where it's minus God-knows-what-degrees outside, the sun now high in the sky and the only thing he can hear is the messy harmony of the wind and the leaves blowing. The wind whips his slightly grown out hair in every direction it can, the smell of freshly cut grass up his nose; all Christian can do is cross the road to squint at the scene in front of him, because what else do you do?

But somehow in all the chaos, his heart is calm, his head is clear and maybe this is why people liked coming to the river so much. Focusing on the sound of the water and wind, he inhales and moves to sit on the stone wall, watching people on across the river. Some people are rushing to work, others are taking a run. Some people are stretching and if he looks further out along, he can see people on boats.

And then there's someone else sitting on the shore facing the river, just like he is, and somehow Christian can't take his eyes off her because he feels like he's seen that back image before. The image of someone who's just as lost as he is.

His mind wanders back to the nightmare that woke him up and Christian has to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to stay calm. he'd come out all this way to forget about his problems, but his problems always find him anyway because he's Christian Pulisic, the worrier. The one who always has something to stress about, who is so very detailed when it comes to his work, who always works harder than anyone and the one who always lives in his head a little too much to be considered healthy. At least, that's what Mason says.

He doesn't know how long he's been staring, but eventually the stranger gets up and cups her hands around her mouth, letting the wind carry her scream away and Christian raises his brows.

What a strange woman.