1. Kick (Thomas Muller)

in which Libby is terrified

It was as if time had frozen, and Libby whipped her head around, still slow from the pain that throbbed in her swollen ankle.

It was Philipp. Only Philipp and not Thomas. Thank goodness.

"Philipp!" Erik and Libby said at the same time, unsure if he had seen them kiss. 

"Are joo feeling better Liebe?" He said concerned, walking up to her with the food in his hand. Thomas trailed behind him, wearing a crooked grin with drinks in his hand. 

He hadn't seen it. He had not seen them kiss. Libby repeated this in her head, making awkward eye contact with Erik, who turned away, his face enveloped in a red blush.

And it was then that Libby vowed never to kiss Erik again. She felt like she was torn between Thomas and Erik, and that should not be a problem. It made her feel like some kind of slut.

"What happened? Is my ankle okay? Can I play?" Libby spit out all the questions that were on her mind since she woke up.

"Shh, just eat now!" Thomas gave her a hamburger, which made Libby realize how starving she was. She smiled at him in gratitude and dug into the juicy meat.

It was like every time she moves, a shock of lightening coursed through her ankle. She winced and Philipp got up trying to aid her, even though there was nothing he could do.

"What's wrong?" He asked. Libby shook her head, wincing again.

There was a silence, but Thomas cracked a joke and they laughed, Libby stiff in order to prevent pain.

How bad was her ankle? Libby was scared of not being able to play anymore. That meant she would go back to America and not be able to play in the game she came here to train for. She wouldn't be a part of this team anymore.

And that was terrifying.

______________________

As Libby sat in the doctor's office, she thought of how nice Philipp and Bastian had been to come with her. It was kind of weird to think of the situation she was in now.

With the best midfielder and captain of Germany's national team. She always had to do a double take on her situation. Especially when someone like Thomas Muller or Erik Durm took an interest in her stupid, lame, and now broken, self.

Bastian had wrapped her in a hug and said sorry about a million times and Libby had tried to act like she could care less, when in fact her whole life suffered from that one kick.

But even if Bastian stopped saying sorry, he could never forgive himself if Libby couldn't play. He felt absolutely horrible, and there was no way he could change it now. He was terrified of what the doctor would say.

The doctor spoke to Philipp and Bastian obviously in German, so Libby sat there feeling very unincluded as they looked back and forth from her to her ankle and back to the doctor.

The doctor shook their hands and left the room, giving Libby a pitiful wave.

"What? What did he say?" Libby pounced then with the questions. 

Bastian looked at Philipp, tears threatening to pour out of his eyes. Philipp crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, Bastian sitting in a chair.

Libby's stomach clenched as her eyes drowned in tears, she held her head in her hands and sighed, wiping away the tears.

It was over. It was the end. She wouldn't be able to play anymore. She was done.

"Only surgery, Liebe, surgery and three weeks recovery," Philipp smiled and patted her back. Libby's heart stopped.

"Really?" Libby's eyes widened, "I can play again?"