feels like french kisses - a jobe bellingham story

chapter 20

➪ iwantchu - tyde

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Maëlys' pov:

"Okay, first question. What's something you have never told anyone?"
"Wow, starting of strong", he chuckles and thinks about my question for a moment,
"Every now and then I seriously consider quitting football."
I wait for him to tell me it's just a joke thinking he wouldn't actually be serious about it, but he just stays quiet.

"Wait, you're not messing with me?", I ask.
As a response he just shakes his head.
"Why? What makes you think you should quit football?"
"Sometimes I just feel like I'm never good enough. And people keep comparing me to Jude. It's already hard enough for me to have a big brother playing for one of the best clubs in the world. But constantly getting messages or fans yelling at me 'Jude's better' or 'you'll never be as good as your brother' during games makes it even worse.
It sometimes gets to the point that I actually believe them. I also have these phases where it gets really bad and I just want to give up on everything."

I stare at him taking in what he just told me. I can't believe he really thinks that. I take his hand in mine making him look up at me. His eyes have slightly filled with tears.
"Don't you dare think of yourself that bad. You're an amazing player. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I hate to admit but you're higher on my ranking than some of the Liverpool players, and you know I love that team with my heart. And yes I have a ranking", I say making him let out a small laughter.

"And stop letting those stupid people comparing you to your brother get to you. You and Jude are nothing alike, well apart from the way you look, I guess", I chuckle, "But you guys are two completely different players. And who are all the newspapers writing about that Premier League clubs are basically fighting over him? That would be you. If everything works out you could play in the Prem, the best league, next year. Who cares about La Liga?"

"Wait, did you google me or something", Jobe asks with a smirk on his face.
"What? No! Well, maybe. But that's not what we're talking about. Back to you."
My rambling makes him laugh again.
"Stop laughing", I tell him trying to hide my smile.
"I'm not laughing", he claims, "Anyways, thank you for saying that. I keep trying to remind myself not to let this stuff get to me, but sometimes it's just hard, I guess."

"Have you ever thought about therapy", I ask him.
"To be honest, not really", he returns with a shrug.
"Maybe you should. It really helps talking to someone about problems like that. And I'm speaking from an almost nine years experience, so I know what I'm talking about."
"I didn't know that you're in therapy."
"Yeah, well, it's not really something I tell everyone the moment I meet them, you know", I laugh.

"I can give you the contact information of my therapist if you want. She's such a sweet person and has seriously helped me through some stuff", I offer him.
"Can I get back to you on that at another time? I'd need to think about first", Jobe says.
"Of course, you do you. Just ask me when you need it."

"Okay, my turn now", he tells me switching the topic, "Why don't you like your own birthday?"
I stay silent at first not knowing what to say.
"You don't have to answer, you know. I can just think of another question", Jobe says calmly. "No, I want to answer. I just don't know how to start."
"Take your time."

"Birthdays always remind me of my birth-father Caleb. It's not that I miss him, I hope that asshole rots in hell. I'm just always reminded that I never really had a good birthday before he went to prison. He always managed to mess up my birthday, no matter if it was intentional or not. That's basically it, I guess. I just don't like talking about it", I tell him in all honesty.
"Damn, he sounds like a bitch. Why would you ruin your own daughter's birthday?"
"That's what I've been asking myself for years."