stuck on you || draxler

vingt-six

samedi 21:21

The day of the second leg of the women's Champions League, PSG Féminines - FC Barcelona Feminí with the final score of 2-0. They were going to the final in Cardiff, and it was everything Marcelle could have asked for.

Well, almost everything.

Julian, unfortunately, couldn't make it. He had training that morning but trust me, he tried.

He wanted to go and watch, but this was what happens when you pair athlete and athlete. Busy schedules just don't add up. He learned that rather quickly, but he still tried nevertheless.

Instead, he texted her once he heard of the results, and that was it. She didn't text back, keeping her guard up.

He had a busy day ahead of him, and Marcelle didn't mind. It wasn't like it was her place to give a damn anyways.

She had the rest of the day to herself and no one else to spend it with. Laure was off doing individual training, Ève was off with friends, and of course, her brothers were off doing God knows what with football. Of course she was okay.

And of course she kept telling herself that until the hours of the evening because in all honesty, she felt so lonely. Bored.

It was no wonder she found herself wandering the streets of Paris this late. Alone.

She didn't care about the fact that it was a little dangerous to be out alone, but no one would dare to jump the Marcelle Vaugrenard. She was just...bored. Didn't know what to do. Lonely.

It wasn't until twenty minutes ago she asked herself why she wasn't out celebrating the win with people she knew. Like normal people.

But Marcelle wasn't normal. She wasn't this girl who knew what to do with the snap of a finger.

She didn't have a lot of friends, and whatever friends she did have, they were all busy with their plans or they just drifted apart over time. It just happened that her closest friend was Julian, and if he were here now, she would absolutely be attached to him, whining about the fact that they should get dessert.

(She didn't get dessert. Seemed a little depressing to do so by herself.)

As she walked down the street, heading towards the metro station some blocks down, she shivered and shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt. You know, might as well go home than be out here.

"Marcelle?"

Or maybe not.

She looked up, a glimpse of hope her eyes as she saw Julian right in front of her. Well, not completely right in front of her, but he was about to enter the building of his flat, car keys in one hand. He looked tired, maybe bored, or sad, she couldn't really tell. But one thing's for sure, he's alone, and the first person he noticed was Marcelle.

He stepped away from the door and Marcelle stepped up towards him. "What are you doing here? It's like...eight. Don't you have other things to do?" he asked, as if she had better things to do.

She looked at him like he said the most absurd thing ever. "You're funny, Juju."

"So I'm guessing you don't then?" He's actually freaking out right now because she called him that one nickname only she uses. Juju. "Well, you're going home, right?"

"To be completely honest with you, I have no idea what I'm doing," she admitted with a sigh.

That meant something. That created something.

A moment that Julian could take advantage of. He could let her go, or ask her to go somewhere. Maybe the Eiffel Tower since it's such a statement in their relationship. Or our for dinner, already assuming she hasn't eaten yet.