football imagines {premier league}

Jadon Sancho

- the good; part 2.

In his heartbreak the sun didn't shine the same, songs didn't play the same- but this, this felt normal, like it once was, before his life was torn in two.
-
You stumbled through the door of his house, running and jumping onto the sofa as if it was a bouncy castle, humming and the familiar smell of his belongings. This was your home- that's what he always told you. But it never felt like it... not until now. Kicking your one remaining heel onto the cream carpet, spraying mud across the clean floor. He watched you for a second, part of him was begging to let the tears fall from his eyes. The sight of you in his home is one he dreamed of since the breakup, he craved nothing more then to lay down by your side on the sofa again. He was leant on the doorframe whilst admiring your beauty, wondering how he ever let you go. The truth was you were scared, and he knew that long before you ended it. His 'fuck boy' image was something you could never escape, the relentless hate and pressure to fit into a societal mould. He couldn't blame you, he'd have been scared too. But you were the best thing that had ever happened to him, only for you to disappear in a heartbeat.

"c'mon" he helps you of the sofa with one hand, "lets get you to bed" his voice an almost whisper, knowing the bed he's leading you too isn't the one you'd spent countless nights in. The one that still has the familiar smell of you lingering. The left hand side of the bed completely untouched in a fear that if he'd slept on it he'd down the remaining remnants of you. "Naughty" you giggled and winked, one single word enough to make him go bright red, embarrassment running through his veins "kidding" you hit his arm gently, only coughing in response to your statement. Helping your wobbly legs climb the mountain of stairs. An awkwardness to his touch as he helps you out of your dress.

You're thinner, your stomach completely flat, he tried to hard not to stare but he wished you still had the tiny mound of belly you once had. Your boobs had gotten smaller- not that he was looking- but he'd never seen that bra before. Jadon stop.

He threw you an old t-shirt of his, one you'd worn to bed before. He wished his mind would stop clinging onto these memories, this whole heartache would be easier if he'd remove the past. He knew he didn't want too. But he had too.

You were asleep quicker than he could rip himself out of his own thoughts. Hair sprawled across the freshly washed pillow, mascara smudged under your eyes, lipstick smothered on your chin. You still looked beautiful. It hurt to walk away, close the bedroom door and return back to his empty bedroom. Laid up all night, scared he'd hear the door slam how he had before. Up at 6am, endlessly roaming around the kitchen, pacing back and forth waiting for you to wake up, wondering what he hell he was going to say to you.

He almost jumps out his skin when he hears your footsteps approaching gradually, walking down the stairs slowly as you patter into the kitchen, hand rubbing at your left eye as you groan at the light coming through the window. "Morning" you murmur, voice hoarse from a sore throat, still dressed in one of his t-shirts, hair a mess and residue of mascara smudged under your eyes. "How do you feel?" he smirks, the sight of you very amusing, knowing your head will be all over the place. "Like shit" you chuckle, filling up a glass with some water and passing it to you, watching you gulp it down in a desperate attempt to get rid of the huge headache. "I-uh sorry about last night" you mutter out, trying to avoid eye contact, the awkwardness evident in the air. You were in his kitchen again, where so many memories were made, you can almost hear the infectious laughs made in this very room, the home cooking, the passionate kisses, the moan- nope, nope, nope. Stop it Y/N. "It's alright love, it's not the first time you've told me that" he smirks, quickly realising you had recollection of what he was talking about. Your eyebrows knitting together as you try to study his face for clues. "Oh uh, um" he coughs awkwardly, trying to find a way of breaking the news subtly "you told me, last night that-ur -you, well that you wanted to suck my dick" he spits out, your eyes almost falling out of their sockets at the shock of your own actions, guess alcohol really is the devil, ey? "Shit sorry" you giggle playfully, coming to slap his arm as you put your empty glass in the sink. His eyes watching you intently with such care, your body holding enough memories for him to last a lifetime. His heart turns heavy within a split second, the reality of the present day hitting him like a ton of bricks. 'I miss you' he wishes he could say, but its only silence, an uncomfortable safety in each others presence, wondering why you ever let each other go..

"I uh-" the silence is broken by your gentle voice, Jadon not even giving you time to finish before his whole body jolts into action, nodding his head rapidly, knowing you'll tell him you need to get going.  "How are you?" he's frozen once again, your question taking him by surprise. Swallowing down the lump in his throat that had formed from the heartfelt question. "I'm good", Lie. He hadn't been 'good' since you'd left. The best part of him is you, its hard to be 'good' when half your heart is missing. You nod in response with a weak smile- you knew he was lying, you'd learned the ins and outs of him throughout your relationship, able to read him like a book, you knew him better than he knew himself. You knew he wasn't 'good'... and neither were you.