football imagines [requests open]

jude bellingham.

half-life

in love, [half-life] is the time it takes for lovers to feel half of what they once did

Somewhere in the flower field, a setting graceful and niche in presentation, a space that ran for miles and miles with shades and styles in every foot and inch—somewhere in all of that, there was Jude and Y/N.

They were simply lost in the mass of everything, of all there was around them. Lost in their shared thoughts and reality, lost in the company one was able to give the other. 'Cause even though they were surrounded by such vibrant colours, wildflowers galore and nature itself, they instead chose to focus their sight on each other.

"For you," Jude said after he had crafted a flower crown as he held it out to his partner.

Tilting her head, her lips welcomed a grateful smile. Y/N took the delicate creation with care and support. Y/N observed it as she spun it between her fingers. "Thank you, but you didn't have to."

"I didn't but I wanted to." His words were spoken as if his intentions had been so evident.

"Alright, alright," she let out a breezy laugh, matching the evening winds. Soft and mild. Considering Jude's love languages were a mixture of giving gifts and acts of service, she shouldn't have been surprised. Suddenly, she frowned. "I didn't make anything for you though."

His eyes wandered their greenery surroundings before suggesting, "Pick something from the grass at random for me."

"Okay, let's see..." Inhaling a small breath Y/N reached her hand into the grass and when her hand came up, there was a four-leaf clover in her grasp. Her mouth fell open as a few laughs escaped. "Shit then. My gift to you: good luck."

"I mean this is amazing," Jude chuckled as he accepted the clover. Then he shrugged, "But I think good luck has already come my way." It was only uncomplicated words he spoke yet it had Y/N flustered and shying away from her partner's gaze all while grinning wide—happy, and that in itself by default made him happy too.

12 months into the relationship and this was the couple at their peak.

The two, and the relationship itself, were one's favourite love song, the living proof of true and ideal love and stood tall and proud with the foundation of love at first sight. They were feared by heartbreak, refreshing love cliches and in essence simply beautiful and inspiring and wonderful. That was Jude and Y/N.

Taking adoring pictures, pronouncing corny yet adoring words to one another, sharing their looks of affection when the other wasn't aware—this was them at their personal best and from there, they could only falter and fumble after that.

They were 18 months in when the cracks in the relationship began to appear in their eyes. In the privacy of their home, between their family and friends, in their messages. It was slow and steady yet they were for sure drifting, and drifting, drifting away from one another. It was subtle at first, like when their schedules began to not match up so they couldn't see one another that much, or getting in and out of bed at different times so they spent less time together.

But they were okay with that; it was an irregularity they were bound to face in their relationship. And there were a plethora of ways to manoeuvre around their problems, like talking on the phone or messaging when space was between them or when they weren't in arms' reach of one another.

But then the messages calmed down and calls were being missed, going to voicemail until they were eventually declined by the receiver. The explicit messages were the first ones to go, and they continued to fall flat until only essential calls were left between Jude and Y/N. And even when the two individuals were in arms reach of each other, when they were under the same roof at the same time, when they could share close and personal dialogue—they chose not to.