football imagines {premier league}

Trent Alexander-Arnold

- bottled up.

If there was one thing you hated it was being the centre of attention, and this coveted all forms of attention. You especially hated sharing your problems and things that had been playing on your mind for fear of coming across as an attention seeker or being viewed as weak and feeble. You knew that your family, friends and even boyfriend, Trent would never think of you in that way but it didn't stop you from bottling things up and it was getting dangerous.

Trent was a busy guy, it happened to be that way with professional footballers. Last season he won the Premier League with his boyhood club, the first time it had happened in thirty years and the season before he won the Champions League after falling short the year before.

Week in and week out, he was playing games, training daily and always having to be focused on the upcoming round of fixtures to make sure that he was always ready to try and grab the three points and finish the league in a strong position.

Your problems, no matter what they were, always felt so small in comparison to his. He had a whole team relying on him without mentioning the thousands of fans across not only Liverpool, but the world, that were also keen to see him at his best. It was a whole lot of pressure for a young man to carry but he did it well.

Lately, with the pandemic and everything being online to reduce face to face contact and the spread of the deadly virus, all of your university classes had been moved to online. At first, you loved it. You could get up five minutes before your lectures and watch them in your pyjamas. There was no mad rush and you had all the time in the world to complete the workload but as time went on, your focus and motivation started to leave you.

The lack of focus that you had was impacting your work. You were trying, you really were but staring at screens all day, every day, the words started to blur and jumble together and the content was no longer making sense.

Before you knew it, you had failed the latest module and you were entitled to a re-sit but it only added to the growing pile of work that you had complete and the stress with the entire situation.

Whenever Trent asked you how university was going, you never fully lied to him. You had told him that you had failed but you never told him how you was feeling about it. You didn't want to burden him when he had his own stuff going on.

But one day you snapped.

Trent was away at training and as you stared at the blank screen in front of you, the only thing written on it being the title and your student number. Without any warning, you burst into tears, your body shaking with the sobs that were leaving your body. You hadn't heard Trent come back over the noise you were making and when he entered the bedroom, his heart dropped.

He thought you had been coping. You hadn't said anything to him and now, he was blaming himself for not talking to you more.

"Y/N talk to me." He made his way over to the bed where you had been sitting, trying your best to demonstrate your understanding of the module but there was one problem. You didn't understand it. Not even in the slightest.

He wrapped his arms around your body tightly, making you feel safe and secure and when you finally got your breathing back to a normal pace again, you let everything out. You told him exactly how you had been feeling over the past few weeks.

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner? We could have worked something out." His scouse accent cut through the tension between you both and you automatically knew that he was beating himself up over it when he shouldn't be.

"I thought you was busy with football and-" you started but were interrupted less than halfway through your sentence.

"You'll always come first, everything else can wait." He kissed the top of your head and from then on, you vowed to never bottle up your feelings from Trent ever again.