earpskeeper

[earpskeeper]

sensitive topics could be a player with an eating disorder, an injury, abusive relationships, a younger player drinking/partying and hiding it. or goofy too, like older players walk in on younger players hooking up and everyone is scarred hehe! just some ~ideas~ no pressure

i really love some of them ideas!!

i will definitely try and incorporate them into future fics, would you have anyone in mind for them or a team in mind??

[earpskeeper]

you handled such a sensitive topic so well in secrets you keep! would you ever write about someone suffering from an eating disorder or tackle any other sensitive topics?

ahh thank you anon!!! that means a lot as i tend to write from past experiences etc

i would definitely be up for writing something like that

if you have any ideas about what you would like written just send them in and i’ll do my best to get that out 🥰🥰🥰

[earpskeeper]

word count - 1.7k second part of the secrets you keep - sad version - part one can be found here trigger warnings - self harm, suicide attempt, very bad mental health please prioritise your own mental health before choosing to read this and as always my requests are open :)

Kyra’s goodbye hug still lingered on your skin. She’d finally agreed to go back to her flat for the first time since you came home from the hospital. You’d convinced her. Told her she needed rest. That you were okay. She believed you.

Katie and Caitlin had gone to bed shortly after. You waited. Counted the minutes. The silence.

The pills were in a drawer in the guest room. You had clocked them in Katies ensuite bathroom drawer days ago. Probably leftover from an old injury and forgotten about. And so you took them, counted them, planned it and waited. 

Now, you sat on the bed of the guest room and swallowed them one by one. Your hands shook. Your eyes burned. But your face stayed blank.

You waited.

It didn’t take long.

The room swayed first. Then your limbs felt heavy. Slow and numb. Then you felt fear, pure unfiltered fear as you realised there may be a part of you that didn’t want to die. So you forced yourself up and stumbled down the hallway like something already half gone. Your legs barely moved the way they should, and when you pushed Katie’s bedroom door open, you barely had the strength to keep standing.

“Katie,” you croaked. "Kate…"

She jolted awake instantly, her arm shooting out across Caitlin’s stomach to steady herself. Caitlin stirred beside her, blinking at the sudden motion.

“What? Rowan?”

You were already collapsing as you muttered out the words, ‘took pills’ and ‘sorry’. 

Katie leapt from the bed and caught you before you hit the ground.

"Jesus Christ!... Caitlin! Call an ambulance! Now!"

Caitlin was already scrambling for her phone, her voice shaky as she gave the address, her accent thick with panic. Meanwhile, Katie lowered you to the floor, holding your head in her lap, her hands trembling.

"Stay with me, Rowan," she begged, brushing your hair back. "Come on, come on, please."

You tried to say something. Tried to answer her. But the darkness was rising fast.

When the paramedics arrived, Caitlin directed them in, her face pale, eyes wide. Katie refused to let go of you until they had to move you onto the stretcher.

"I’m riding with her," Katie said, not asking.

Caitlin nodded quickly, then pulled out her phone again, already calling the others.

"Beth, it’s Caitlin. It’s Rowan. She’s… she overdosed. We’re at the hospital. You need to come. I’m coming to get Kyra now."

Katie sat stiffly in the back of the ambulance, your hand clasped in hers, her thumb stroking your knuckles even as your skin turned colder, your pulse weaker. Her eyes never left your face.

The lights of the hospital came into view.

Meanwhile, in the car behind, Leah was driving fast, one hand on the wheel, the other clenched tight. Beth sat in the passenger seat, her face streaked with silent tears. Steph was in the back, arms folded tightly, trying to hold herself together.

In Caitlin’s car, Kyra hadn’t spoken since she got in. She was in the hoodie you’d worn earlier, fingers tangled in the sleeves, staring straight ahead.

She didn’t cry.

Not yet.

Because she couldn’t believe it was happening.

Not again.

Not you.

The hospital was too bright, too sterile as Kyra sat in the waiting room. Shoulders hunched and hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were turning white. Her leg bounced restlessly. The others sat nearby in a heavy silence: Katie, Caitlin, Leah and Beth. None of them spoke. They didn’t know what to say.

When the doctor appeared, everyone stood.

“Miss Cooney Cross?”

Kyra stepped forward. “Yes, that’s me.”

The doctor didn’t waste time. “I’m very sorry. We’ve done everything we could. But unfortunately, the overdose caused catastrophic damage. Rowan is no longer responsive. She’s being kept alive by machines. I’m afraid it’s time to say goodbye.”

Kyra blinked. “I… what?”

The words didn’t register.

The doctor repeated them, gentler this time, but they still didn’t make sense. Kyra turned around, eyes wide, and walked back to the waiting group.

“They said she’s gone?” Kyra said, her voice cracking. “You need to go talk to them. That can’t be right.”

Katie's hand went to her mouth. Leah looked down. Beth immediately started crying, her face crumpling. Caitlin moved instinctively toward Kyra, reaching for her.

“Ky,” she said softly. “Kyra, honey, I…”

But it hit Kyra then. The silence. The way no one moved to correct her. No one ran for the doctor. No one questioned it.

Her knees buckled.

Katie caught her before she hit the floor, and Kyra broke. The sobs that tore out of her chest were raw and ugly. Her hands fisted in Katie’s hoodie. She shook as if the grief could rip her apart.

Eventually, they made their way into your room that was heavy with the kind of silence that only comes before a final goodbye. 

One by one, the girls said their farewells. No cameras. No noise. Just the hum of machines and the suffocating weight of grief.

Katie went in first along with Caitlin. She sat beside the bed and took your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I was supposed to look out for you,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Since you were fifteen. Remember?” Her accent was thicker with emotion. “I told your mam I’d keep you safe.”

She broke off then, lowering her forehead to your hand. “I failed you.” Katie stayed there for a long time. Silent. Shoulders shaking in silent heartbreak as Caitlin took her turn to speak. 

“I should’ve done more” she whispered finally. “I should’ve noticed.” She leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Love you, kid.”

Beth was next as she pulled up a photo from her phone. One from a goofy team bonding day, with you smiling in the middle. “You were light, even when you couldn’t feel it yourself,” she said, voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t make you believe it.”

Leah didn’t cry at first. She just sat and stared at you, her jaw tight. “I was angry,” she finally muttered. “Not at you. At the world. Or at myself maybe.” Then, softer, “I wanted to save you. I should’ve saved you.” When she did cry, it was quiet. Fierce. She didn’t wipe the tears away.

And then there was Kyra, still outside, frozen in place, dreading the final step of walking into that room to say goodbye to the one person she didn’t know how to live without.

The others had gone in and out, their grief raw and quiet and shattering. Katie hadn’t said a word since leaving your room, her knuckles white around the strap of her bag as she disappeared down the hall. Leah sat with her head in her hands. Caitlin had cried herself silent. Beth just stood there, hollow eyed.

Kyra hadn’t moved.

The doctor had touched her shoulder gently. “It’s time.”

The hallway felt like it shrank around her. Her feet dragged against the linoleum floor like her legs didn’t know how to carry her anymore. But still, she walked. Still, she stepped inside.

You were so still.

The machines hummed and beeped and kept you breathing. But it wasn’t you. Not really. You looked like you were sleeping. You looked like you should wake up any second. But you didn’t. You wouldn’t.

And something inside Kyra shattered.

“You lied to me,” she said, her voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “You told me you were okay. You looked me in the eyes, Rowan. You smiled. You held my hand. And all the while you were planning this.”

Her voice rose. She stepped forward, chest heaving.

“Why would you do that? Why would you make me believe you were getting better? Why would you leave me like this? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you let me help you?!”

She was yelling now. Loud enough that a nurse peeked in before Caitlin gently closed the door behind her.

Kyra's fury cracked.

Her knees buckled and she grabbed the railing on the bed for support.

“Why?” she whispered, voice trembling, her fingers curling in the sheet by your arm. “Why didn’t you just tell me it still hurt this bad?”

She leaned her forehead to your shoulder, her tears soaking through the thin hospital gown.

The doctor came in quietly.

Kyra looked up.

“We’ll begin the process in a moment,” they said softly. “Take your time.”

Kyra nodded slowly, blinking through the blur.

Then, without another word, she climbed into the bed.

She tucked herself behind you, like she used to on nights when your nightmares were too loud, when your breathing turned shallow and you flinched at every sound. Her arms wrapped around you. Her cheek rested against the back of your neck.

“You always hated being alone,” she whispered.

The machines continued their hollow rhythm.

And Kyra held you, trembling, crying, breaking, as the world quietly let you go.

The hallway outside your hospital room was eerily quiet.

No one spoke.

The only sound came from inside.

Kyra's voice. Raw. Ripped open. Cracking with the kind of grief that sounded too deep to ever heal.

The rest of the girls stood just outside the doorway, clinging to each other like they were the only thing holding the world up. Katie’s arm was around Leah’s shoulder. Beth held onto Caitlin’s hoodie sleeve like a lifeline. None of them moved. None of them dared to speak.

They watched through the thin slit of the door as Kyra curled herself around your body, cradling you like she could will life back into you if she held you tight enough. The machines had already been silenced. Your chest no longer rose. Your skin had begun to lose its warmth.

But Kyra wouldn’t let go.

Her sobs filled the sterile air. Guttural. Shattering. She pressed her forehead to yours, whispering things none of them could hear. Apologies. Promises. Pleas.

It was Caitlin who broke first, turning into Beth’s arms and letting out a quiet cry. Beth held her tightly, her own tears silent as they slipped down her face.

Leah’s jaw was clenched, eyes red, but she didn’t look away. Didn’t blink. Like if she did, she might miss the last pieces of you.

Katie just stood frozen. Motionless. She had promised your mam she would look out for you, that she would protect you but now all she could do was watch. And break.

Inside, Kyra’s voice cracked again as she let out another broken wail. Her whole body shook with it.

No one stopped her.

No one looked away.

They just stood there, a line of grief outside your room, bound by the silence you left behind and the love you couldn’t stay to see.

[earpskeeper]

word count - 1.4k second part of the secrets you keep - hopeful version - part one can be found here trigger warnings - self harm, talk of suicide, very bad mental health please prioritise your own mental health before choosing to read this and as always my requests are open :)

That night, the house slowly settled into a quiet calm. The usual hum of the city outside had softened to a distant whisper, and inside, everything felt still, almost too still. The light from the hallway had been dimmed long ago, leaving the guest room bathed in soft shadows. The kind of shadows that seem to hold their breath, waiting.

Kyra stayed behind, curled up beside you on the narrow bed, her body a warm, comforting presence against your side. Her hair brushed your cheek, faintly scented with shampoo, and every now and then her shoulder pressed lightly against yours, as if afraid to let go. She shifted occasionally in her sleep, the faint rise and fall of her breathing soft against your skin, a fragile rhythm that kept the darkness from swallowing you whole.

The room was small but safe, and the silence between you felt fragile - like the quiet right before a storm breaks loose. You lay there, eyes tracing the dark shapes of the ceiling, your hands resting limply on your stomach. Your fingers twitched slightly, but you didn’t move. The silence wrapped around you like a heavy blanket, suffocating and familiar. You wanted to speak, to say something, anything, but the words felt stuck somewhere deep inside your throat.

Your mind raced, spiraling through memories, regrets, and fears you’d tried so hard to bury. You thought about the pills. The ones you had taken without anyone knowing, despite Katie’s efforts to lock everything away. The pills hidden in the top drawer of Katie’s bedside table - how you’d found the lock broken open one day when no one was looking. How easy it had been to slip them into your pocket. How you’d told Kyra you’d thrown everything out, hoping she’d believe you.

You swallowed hard and finally broke the silence.

“I was going to kill myself tonight.”

The words hung in the air like a shattering glass, jagged and raw.

Kyra stiffened beside you. Her breath hitched. “What?”

You didn’t turn to her. Your voice was robotic, devoid of emotion, distant and numb. “I had the pills. I had it all planned. After tonight. I was ready.”

Kyra’s body tensed, a cold shock running through her. She blinked, confused, disbelief flooding her eyes.

“Pills? What pills?” Her voice cracked. “Where did you even get them? Katie made sure… she told me she did a deep clean of her house. Locked up anything sharp, every bit of medication. To keep you safe. You said you didn’t have any pills.”

You said nothing. The silence was louder than words.

Kyra’s jaw clenched so tight it ached. Her eyes flicked away, then back, searching your face as if hoping to find some clue, some lie that might explain this betrayal.

“You lied to me,” she whispered, voice breaking. “You said you were feeling better.”

Finally, you turned your head slowly to look at her, your eyes dull and tired, like they were trying to hide from the truth. “I needed you to believe me. Otherwise… I wouldn’t have been allowed to go through with it tonight.”

For a long moment, Kyra closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose, trying to suck all the anger and panic back inside. She swallowed the scream she wanted to let out, the scream that threatened to shatter everything.

“Tell me the whole plan,” she said, voice hollow and broken.

“I was going to wait till you were asleep,” you said quietly, voice flat and measured, “so I could have one more night with you. Just one. And then… then I wouldn’t wake up. But it’s okay, because my final moments would be with you.”

You paused briefly, as if weighing each word carefully before continuing.

“I picked just after midnight. It was the quietest time, the house asleep, no distractions, no one to hear or stop me.”

“The pills… I took them from Katie’s bedside table. The top drawer. I knew she’d been locking up anything sharp or dangerous. But that drawer was unlocked. I didn’t have to break anything or make noise. I just slipped them out.”

You spoke as if reading from a script, every word deliberate, every detail laid out with unsettling calm.

“I counted them carefully, enough to make sure it would work, enough so I wouldn’t wake up again. The plan was simple: take the pills, lie down, and wait.”

You looked at the ceiling, your tone hollow, “I thought about how you’d find me in the morning, how you might try to stop me, but by then… it would be too late. I thought about the silence, the finality.”

You swallowed hard but kept your voice steady. “I was ready.”

Kyra sat frozen, one hand pressed against her mouth to stifle the gasp she wanted to let out. The bile rose in her throat as she listened to you describe your own death so clinically. It was almost unbearable.

When you finished, her face had drained of all color.

“Okay,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Okay, I… Katie needs to be here. Katie needs to hear this.”

Without hesitation, she called out, her voice trembling and loud enough to echo down the hallway, shaking the silence. “Katie! Caitlin! Come here! Now!”

The sound of hurried footsteps filled the stillness. Katie appeared first, eyes wide with concern, Caitlin right behind her, calm but clearly alarmed.

“What’s wrong?” Katie asked, her gaze flickering between you and Kyra.

Kyra slowly pushed herself upright from the bed, her entire body trembling as if caught in the grip of a storm she couldn’t control. Her hands didn’t leave yours, they clung tightly, as though holding on to you was the only anchor keeping her steady. Her eyes were wide, searching, flooded with a mix of fear, disbelief, and heartbreak.

“She… she’s not okay,” Kyra’s voice cracked, barely more than a whisper at first, raw and fragile. She swallowed hard, struggling to keep the panic from overwhelming her. “She told me… she told me she was going to kill herself. Tonight. She said it - all of it. The plan, the pills… everything.”

Her breath hitched as she struggled to keep calm, but the weight of the confession was crushing her. “I didn’t know… I thought she was getting better. I thought we were all helping her.”

Kyra’s voice cracked, tears welling up, her words barely more than a whisper. “We have to do something. We have to help her.”

Katie’s face tightened, confusion quickly twisting into heartbreak. “But… I locked everything away. I checked twice. How did she even get them?”

Your eyes flickered down toward the drawer, the shame and fear pooling inside you like a storm.

Caitlin stepped further into the room, her voice gentle but steady. “Where are they, love? The pills?”

You hesitated, swallowing hard, the weight of the moment pressing down. Your gaze shifted (first to Kyra, then to Katie) before you finally pointed wordlessly toward the drawer.

Without hesitation, Caitlin moved quickly and pulled out the bottle. Her breath caught as she saw it was still nearly full.

Katie sat down on the edge of the bed beside you, reaching out to gently brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her touch tender and grounding. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Your voice cracked, fragile as a thread. “I didn’t want you to be mad.”

Katie’s eyes welled with tears, but she kept her voice steady, filled with fierce love. “We’re not mad. We’re scared. We love you. And we’re going to help you.”

Caitlin nodded firmly, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “This doesn’t end here, alright? We’re going to figure it out. Together.”

Kyra sat back down beside you, pulling your hand into hers again. Though her own body still trembled, her grip was steady, anchoring you in the storm.

Katie exhaled slowly, meeting your eyes with a soft intensity. “We think it’s best if we go back to the hospital. Just for now. To keep you safe.”

You didn’t argue. You didn’t have the strength to.

You just nodded, a small, fragile hope flickering inside you.

You were still here.

And for now, that was enough.

[earpskeeper]

what if i told you there are ready to post little rat 🥰

@lvnleah helped me come up with this so thank you rat word count - 6.5k trigger warnings - self harm, possible attempt, very very shit mental health please please prioritise your own mental health before choosing to read as always my requests are open :)

You had been deflecting for weeks.

Every time Kyra asked how you were, youd shrug it off with “I’m tired” or “Just school stress” “It’s nothing.” And Kyra, trying so hard not to push, would nod and believe you. Or at least pretend to.

Because Kyra remembered what it looked like the first time, when you first moved to arsenal breaking through into the first team at 18. The way you would wear sleeves too long for the weather or the way you would smile without it reaching your eyes. 

And now it was happening again. Only this time, you were older, better at hiding it and more determined to push Kyra away.

When Kyra had asked directly, quietly, one night after training - “Are you hurting yourself again?” - you didn’t even flinch.

“No.”

Kyra stared at you, voice thick. “Are you lying to me?”

“No.”

But Kyra couldn’t quite believe you as she asked once more. “I’m gonna ask you one last time Rowan, and I won’t be mad honest.”

“I promise Ky, I’m fine.”

Kyra wanted to believe you. She needed to. So she nodded, let it go, even though her gut screamed something was wrong.

The team bonding night was supposed to be fun. A chance to relax, laugh, and remind themselves they were more than just teammates. But you weren't there to unwind.

You were there to forget. To let loose without the pressure of deadlines and expectations.

Drinks flowed, music played, teammates crowded around the dartboard and pool table. Laughter spilled out into the night like steam.

Kyra didn’t drink much. She was too focused on watching you.

And you, well you were a mess. Stumbling over your words and laughing too hard at nothing. You downed shot after shot like you were trying to chase something off your chest. Kyra had tried to stop you after the second one, but you had brushed her off with a grin.

“Relax, Ky. I’m fine. You’re always so serious.”

Kyra’s stomach twisted. “You’re drunk.”

“Exactly,” you smirked. “So stop hovering and go vibe or whatever.”

You turned away before Kyra could say more, pulled into a drinking game by Lotte and Katie. Kyra sank back into the sofa beside Beth, jaw tight, fingers clenched around her glass.

“She’s not okay,” Kyra whispered.

Beth glanced over. “No. She’s really not.”

It all fell apart an hour later.

Katie was trying to get you to sit down, joking that you were “one tequila away from dancing on the table.” But when she grabbed your wrist to guide her toward a chair, you yelped, not from the grip, but from the sudden contact.

Katie pulled back instantly. “Shit! Did I hurt you?”

Everyone turned.

And then your sleeve slipped up.

It wasn’t high. Barely an inch or two. But enough to see it: a fresh, red cut. Jagged and raw.

The room went quiet.

Like quiet.

Kyra stood up so fast her chair scraped against the floor.

“Ro?” she said softly.

You froze. Realized. Pulled your sleeve down too late. Your whole face went pale.

Kyra stepped closer. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s nothing,” you slurred, voice cracking. “It’s… it’s just a scratch.”

Kyra looked gutted. “You lied to me.”

Everyone was still. No one said a word. Not Caitlin, not Kim, not even Leah, who had been halfway through a pint when the world suddenly tipped sideways.

“You promised me,” Kyra whispered. “I asked you a week ago, and you looked me in the eyes and told me you weren’t hurting yourself.”

Your eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t mean to lie?” Kyra’s voice broke. “Or you didn’t mean to get caught?”

You stepped back, but there was nowhere to go. The whole team was watching. Judging. Worrying. You looked small. Ashamed. Like you’d been stripped bare.

And then you did something nobody expected.

She laughed.

A sharp, brittle laugh. Forced and wild.

“Oh come on,” she said, waving her arm and yanking the sleeve back down. “It’s not that deep.”

No one laughed with her.

Kyra had gone pale. 

You grinned, wide and desperate. “It really isn’t that big of a deal, shit happens ok this is just how I deal with it!”

Still silence.

She turned to Katie. “Bet I’ve got better technique than your last sliding tackle.”

Katie didn’t smile, in fact she looked sick.

Caitlin looked down at the table. Lotte’s jaw was tight. Leah had that silent, still anger in her eyes - the kind that said this is worse than we thought.

And Kyra, well Kyra looked like she couldn’t breathe.

You tried again, voice more high pitched now. “Seriously, you guys look like someone died. I’m not jumping off a cliff or anything, alright? Chill out.”

Then you looked at Kyra who hadn’t moved.

And that’s when you saw the tears.

Not yours, Kyra’s.

Big, quiet ones, sliding down her cheeks as she stared at you like she didn’t recognize you.

“Stop it,” Kyra whispered.

Your fake smile faltered.

Kyra shook her head, her voice trembling. “Stop laughing. Please. You’re scaring me.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, smile gone now, tone suddenly sharp. “It’s not a big deal.”

Beth exhaled shakily, eyes red. Katie reached for a drink and missed the glass. Even Steph, calm and composed as ever, looked broken.

You laughed again (but it cracked halfway out) like it got stuck in your throat.

“I didn’t mean for you to see it,” she said, suddenly too quiet. “It’s just easier when I don’t talk about it. I didn’t want to make it… real.”

Kyra’s voice broke like glass. “It is real.”

And that’s when your legs gave out (not literally, nor dramatically) but something inside you gave out and you collapsed onto the sofa. Face in your hands and laughter gone, all the bravado from earlier crumbling.

Kyra moved then, taking you into her arms and holding you tightly like the world depended on it. 

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t pull away either as Kyra whispered over and over into your hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You barely noticed the conversations happening around you. But somewhere, underneath the storm of your panic, you caught murmured voices, serious and quiet.

“…she can’t be alone.”

“No way she’s going home by herself.”

“Who’s she going with?”

“Kyra’s going. That’s not up for debate, Rowan feels safe around her.”

You were too out of it to really register whose voices were saying what, but Leah’s cut through the fog like a knife. Calm, certain.

“She’s staying with someone tonight. Somewhere safe.”

You didn’t fully wake up until you were in the backseat of a car, head slumped against the window, Kyra’s hand gripping yours like a lifeline. The motion of the car rocked you gently, but your body felt stiff, heavy with exhaustion and embarrassment and dread.

Up front, Katie was driving. Caitlin was in the passenger seat, her voice low as she and Katie talked - not about you, not directly, but you could hear the tension in their words.

Kyra shifted closer in the back, wrapping her arm around your shoulders without a word.

“Where… where are we going?” you murmured, your voice hoarse.

Kyra’s thumb brushed over your knuckles. “You’re staying with Katie and Caitlin. Just for a little while.”

You blinked slowly. “I thought I was going home.”

“You’re not being alone tonight,” Kyra said firmly. “No way.”

You didn’t argue.

You couldn’t.

You only fully processed it when the car pulled up outside the familiar front door of Katie and Caitlin’s house. Caitlin turned around in the passenger seat and gave you a soft smile.

“You’re alright, love,” she said. “Come on in. We’ve got you.”

Kyra helped you out of the car, never letting go of your hand. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t need to. Her silence was steady, grounding, a soft hum underneath the chaos still rattling in your chest.

Inside the house, the lights were low. Warm and Safe.

Caitlin disappeared down the hallway, calling softly over her shoulder, “I’ll get the spare room ready.”

Katie ducked into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water, then sat across from you on the armchair, her gaze steady, unflinching but kind.

You were curled up on the sofa with Kyra, wrapped in a blanket someone must’ve thrown over you. She was holding you, not like you were broken, but like you were real. Solid. There. She pressed a kiss to your temple like it was instinct.

You stared at the water in your hands. Tried not to think about the way your sleeves were still damp with sweat and tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Katie shook her head. “Don’t be.”

“I lied to you all.”

“I know,” Katie said gently. “And now we know the truth. That’s what matters.”

You looked at Kyra, whose eyes were still puffy but clear. Strong.

“I don’t want to be like this anymore.”

Kyra tucked your hair behind your ear. “Then let us help.”

You didn’t say anything for a long time. You just leaned into her chest, listening to her heartbeat. Caitlin came back a few minutes later, rubbing her hands on her joggers. “Room’s ready when you’re up for it. Clean sheets and everything.”

You nodded, still dazed. But your hands trembled slightly as you set the water down on the table, untouched.

“Come on,” Kyra whispered, easing herself up and coaxing you with her. You followed her like muscle memory, steps slow and unsteady as if each one weighed more than it should.

Caitlin stood to the side, offering you a soft smile as you passed. You tried to return it, but your lips wouldn’t quite move the right way.

The room was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that swallows you whole if you let it.

You paused in the hallway, just outside the spare room. Kyra stopped with you, her hand still in yours.

“I don’t know how to be okay,” you mumbled. “I don’t even know if I want to.”

Kyra didn’t flinch. “Then don’t be okay. Just be here. That’s enough for now.”

You nodded like you believed her. Like that wasn’t the worst part, being here. Still here. Still breathing when everything inside you felt like it had stopped weeks ago.

Inside the spare room, everything was clean and neat. Too neat. Like a guest room that didn’t know what kind of chaos was about to bleed into its walls.

Kyra helped you sit on the edge of the bed, but you didn’t lie down. You just stared at the floor.

“Are they mad at me?” you asked quietly, your voice sounding like it belonged to someone else.

“No,” Kyra said without hesitation. “They’re scared. Worried. But not mad.”

You nodded again, but it didn’t stick. Your hands began to shake again, this time harder. Your fingers clutched at the edge of the bedspread like it could hold you together.

It was quiet for a while. The kind of quiet that makes your thoughts louder.

You were still sitting on the bed, your knees now pulled up to your chest, Kyra next to you. Her arm was still around you, fingers drawing soft circles on your back. It helped, but not enough.

Nothing helped enough.

“I think I just broke something inside myself,” you said after a long time. The words came out soft, matter of fact. Like you were reciting a fact about someone else. “And I don’t think I can fix it.”

Kyra didn’t speak. Just listened.

“I don’t want to die,” you added, barely louder than a whisper. “But if I didn’t wake up tomorrow… I wouldn’t really care.”

The second it left your mouth, you felt Kyra go still beside you.

You turned your head just slightly. She was staring at you. Staring through you, almost. Like your words had cut through her skin.

“I didn’t mean…” you started, panicking. “I mean, it’s not like… not in a bad way, it’s not like I’m going to do anything…”

“Ro,” Kyra said, her voice low and trembling. “Stop.”

“It’s not as serious as it sounds,” you lied, again. “It’s just… a thought. Sometimes. But it’s not that bad, it’s not…”

Kyra sat back slightly, her hand dropping from your back. Her eyes were glassy, and something inside her had shifted.

She was scared.

“Please don’t do this,” she whispered. “Not again.”

You tried to smile, tried to brush it off like you always did. “I’m just tired. That’s all I meant.”

“Stop lying.” Kyra’s voice cracked, sharp this time. “Just stop, Rowan. Please. I’m begging you.”

You looked away. “I don’t even know what the truth is anymore.”

“Then start from the part that hurts the most,” Kyra said, quieter now. “The part you’re too scared to say out loud.”

You looked at her. Really looked. And her eyes were so full of love and terror at the same time, you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I feel nothing,” you said, voice shaking. “All the time. Like I’m watching my life through glass. Like I’m in the room but not in it. Like I’m pretending to be alive.”

You took a breath, your voice trembling now.

“And when I wake up in the morning, the first thing I feel is dread. Not because of anything bad… just because it means I have to get through another day pretending. Pretending I care. Pretending I’m real.”

Kyra’s face crumpled, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I don’t want to die,” you said again, and this time it sounded more like a confession than a reassurance. “But if I didn’t wake up… I wouldn’t be upset. I think part of me would feel… relieved.”

Silence followed. And it wasn’t peaceful.

It was heavy. Suffocating.

Kyra reached for your hand again, clutching it like she was afraid it might slip away. “I need you to be honest with me now. No jokes. No pretending.”

You nodded.

“Do you have a plan?”

You shook your head and you could visibly see some tension leave Kyra’s shoulders.

“Ok, have you felt this way for a while?”

You nodded again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You looked down. “Because if I said it out loud, then it would be real. And I didn’t think I could handle that.”

Kyra blinked hard, wiping at her face. “But you’re not handling it now.”

You exhaled, broken. “I don’t know how to ask for help when I don’t even know what I need.”

“You don’t have to know,” Kyra whispered. “You just have to let us in.”

Your throat closed up. Your body ached with the weight of the truth finally being out.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“You won’t,” Kyra said firmly. “Not forever. We’re going to get you help. Proper help. And I’ll be there every step of the way.”

You shook your head weakly. “You shouldn’t have to fix me.”

“I’m not trying to fix you,” Kyra said. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

Kyra didn’t leave your side after that.

After everything you’d admitted Kyra didn’t flinch. She didn’t try to solve it, or offer hollow reassurances. She just held you tighter, buried her face into your hair and whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”

And she didn’t.

Not even when Caitlin quietly poked her head in and asked if she wanted a proper bed. Kyra just shook her head and stayed wrapped around you, one arm under your shoulders, one hand laced with yours, like letting go might shatter you.

Eventually, after hours of lying there in silence, your body gave out to exhaustion again.

But sleep didn’t come easy.

You woke up around 3AM with your pulse pounding, heart beating too fast. There were no screams, but Kyra stirred instantly beside you.

“Hey,” she whispered, voice thick with sleep. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Just a dream.”

You didn’t say anything, just stared at the ceiling, forcing your breathing to slow as her fingers traced slow, grounding lines over your back. She whispered nonsense until your jaw unclenched. It took time. But eventually, you settled again.

Kyra stayed awake long after you drifted off.

The next morning was supposed to be quiet. There was no training scheduled, which was a blessing in disguise when Leah arrived around 8, followed shortly by Beth and Lotte, then Steph, Kim, and Alessia.

They didn’t mean to cause a scene.

They tried to keep it down.

But tension doesn’t whisper.

“Heard anything yet?” Beth asked quietly as Katie handed her a coffee.

“She’s still sleeping,” Katie said, glancing at the stairs. “Didn’t settle until the early hours. Nightmare.”

“She should see the club therapist,” Lotte said, arms folded tight across her chest. “Sooner rather than later.”

Steph exhaled slowly. “I don’t know if that’s enough.”

“What are you saying?” Alessia asked gently.

“I’m saying maybe she needs more than weekly chats in a glass office.” Steph looked at Leah. “Maybe something more structured. Safer.”

“You mean a facility,” Beth said bluntly. “Just say it.”

Leah didn’t answer immediately. Her jaw tightened.

“I’m not against it,” she admitted. “She’s not okay, and I think keeping her around everything like normal might make it worse.”

“She’s already terrified everyone’s going to treat her differently,” Caitlin said, leaning on the counter. “Throwing her in a hospital will only prove her right.”

“She nearly laughed her way through a breakdown,” Beth said, voice sharper now. “That’s not normal coping. That’s... terrifying.”

“I don’t think pushing her out of her comfort zone helps,” Lotte argued. “She needs stability. Not to feel like a patient.”

Kim’s voice was quiet but firm. “We can’t keep doing nothing. Watching her waste away while pretending team hugs will solve it.”

“She’s not a burden,” Caitlin snapped. “She’s our teammate. Our kid.”

“She’s 20,” Leah said evenly. “And she’s been lying to us for weeks about hurting herself. I don’t care how much she’s loved, she needs professional help.”

They were trying to whisper, but tension doesn’t stay quiet.

And then came the sound of fast, angry footsteps thumping down the stairs.

Kyra appeared in the kitchen doorway, eyes blazing, wearing your hoodie, her hair a mess from sleep and frustration.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” she snapped.

Everyone froze.

“I spent the whole night trying to get her to believe she isn’t alone,” Kyra went on, voice rising. “She finally slept, finally calmed down after waking up shaking at 3AM, and now you’re all down here shouting about facilities and what’s best for her like she’s not a person sleeping ten feet away!”

“Kyra…” Beth tried, hands raised, but Kyra cut her off.

“No. You don’t get to have this conversation here. Not here. Not with her upstairs. You think she’s not going to hear you? You think she won’t come down and feel like a fucking case study?”

“She needs…”

“She needs to feel safe,” Kyra growled. “She needs to wake up and know she’s loved and not some broken thing you’re trying to fix in a committee meeting.”

Leah’s face softened slightly. “We’re scared, Kyra. You’re scared too.”

Kyra’s voice cracked. “Of course I am. But you don’t get to wake her up with your fear. Not today.”

No one argued after that.

The kitchen went silent, shame and concern hanging in the air like smoke.

Katie cleared her throat after a beat. “I’ll make more tea.”

And Kyra (still furious, still shaking) turned back toward the stairs, whispering under her breath like a prayer.

“Just let her sleep.”

You didn’t mean to wake up.

You didn’t mean to hear it.

But the voices downstairs cut through the walls like blades, sharp and urgent.

You stirred under the heavy blanket Kyra had wrapped around you the night before, your body still sore from the hours of tossing and turning, still trembling from the nightmare you’d only just escaped.

At first, you didn’t understand what you were hearing. Just muffled words.

Then they started making sense.

“...I’m telling you, she needs a facility. Something proper. This is beyond us.”

“She’s barely sleeping. She’s lying. We’ve seen her wrist…”

“She’s shutting down. That’s not something a few therapy chats fix.”

“She could hurt herself. Or worse.”

The blood drained from your face. Your heart pounded like it wanted out of your chest.

They were talking about you.

They were planning something. And Kyra… where was Kyra?

You curled into yourself, eyes wide, barely breathing as the panic bloomed in your chest like wildfire.

They’re going to lock you away. Put you in a hospital. Take you away from everything. They think you’re broken. You are.

The walls were closing in.

You bolted upright, limbs heavy and shaking as adrenaline surged through your veins. The room spun for a second, your breath hitching in short, panicked bursts.

You have to go. Now.

You staggered to your feet and turned toward the window, hands trembling as you yanked the curtain aside. It was still early, grey light filtering through. Cold.

The latch was stiff, and for a moment you thought you wouldn’t be able to open it. That they’d locked it, maybe. That you were already trapped.

But it gave with a sharp click.

Your fingers curled around the frame as you shoved it open, icy air rushing in. You could barely breathe.

You weren’t thinking. Or maybe you were thinking too much.

Your heart thundered as you climbed onto the window ledge, one leg swung outside into the biting morning air, the other tucked just inside the room. The drop below was steep, two full stories down to the pavement, a garden fence and patchy grass breaking up the concrete.

But that wasn’t what scared you.

What scared you was the idea of being taken away. Locked behind white walls. Watched. Assessed. Judged. Put somewhere because you weren’t safe anymore.

You stared out at the cold grey sky, wind whispering around your ears, breath sharp in your throat. Everything felt too much. The air. The voices downstairs. The idea of being gone.

And then…

“Rowan?!”

Kyra’s voice cracked like thunder through the room.

You didn’t turn around. Just squeezed your eyes shut.

“No no, no, no… what are you doing?” she gasped, rushing forward but stopping dead when she saw how precariously you were perched. “Jesus Christ, Ro… don’t move.”

Her voice was shaking. Pure terror.

You opened your eyes slowly, still facing the outside. “I wasn’t gonna jump,” you said quietly, not believing it yourself. “I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”

“That’s not…” Kyra’s voice cracked. “You’re on a… Just come down please.”

You shook your head, eyes stinging. “They were talking about sending me away. I heard them. A facility.”

“I know,” Kyra said. “I heard it too. And I’m dealing with it. But this…” her voice trembled, “this isn’t the answer.”

You said nothing.

Kyra took one cautious step forward. “Please, Ro. Come back inside.”

You looked over your shoulder, finally, and the sight of her broke something in you. Her face pale, soaked with tears, hands trembling but held out as if she could catch you from there.

“I don’t want to go somewhere alone,” you whispered. “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know, love.”

You blinked, your vision blurring. You didn’t know what you were waiting for. Maybe someone to tell you what to do. Maybe the wind to push you one way or the other, for it to make the decision for you. 

Then Kyra swallowed hard and said, “Okay. I need you to listen to me now.”

Your stomach clenched.

“If you don’t come down right now,” she said softly, “I’m calling emergency services.”

Your breath hitched.

“And if I do that… if they come and find you like this, they won’t let you stay. They’ll section you, Ro. You’ll go to a facility whether you want to or not.”

You stared at her, heart thudding so loudly it was all you could hear. “You’d do that?”

Kyra nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Because I love you too much to lose you.”

You felt something collapse inside you, some final fight. All of it crumbling under the weight of her words.

You looked down one last time, at the drop below.

And then you shifted. Slowly, painfully, you pulled your leg back inside and slid down onto the floor, your hands trembling so violently you couldn’t stop them.

Kyra was on you in a second, pulling you into her chest, holding you like you were still on the edge.

You were sobbing. Violently, brokenly. “I didn’t want to die,” you cried. “I just didn’t want this.”

“I know,” Kyra whispered, over and over again into your hair. “I know. I’ve got you now.

Kyra’s voice trembled as she sat beside you on the floor, your back resting against the edge of the bed, her arm still looped protectively around you. You’d stopped crying, but only because there was nothing left. Just a blankness in your eyes, your body heavy, sagging into her.

She looked at you like her heart was breaking in real time.

“Ro,” she whispered. “I think we need to talk.”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t look at her.

“You need more than just me. More than late night talks and club therapy sessions.”

The silence between you crackled with tension.

“I think… I think you need intensive help. Somewhere safe. Somewhere professional. A facility.”

And just like that, the emptiness shattered.

You jerked away from her arm as though burned.

“No,” you said flatly, voice low but shaking.

Kyra’s eyes widened slightly. “Just listen please, just listen to me…”

“I’m not going anywhere!” you snapped, scrambling to your feet so fast the room spun.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage like it wanted out. The word ‘facility’ repeated in your head like a warning siren, an alarm that you were going to be locked away, out of control, forgotten.

“I’m fine! I don’t need that. I don’t need to be locked up.”

Kyra stood, slowly, hands held out like she was approaching a wounded animal. “Ro, no one’s locking you up. It’s not like that, I promise. You’d still have control…”

You were already halfway to the door.

“No. No, you don’t get it. If you think that, then you don’t know me at all.”

You flung the door open, your body on autopilot now, adrenaline fueling you through the panic. Somewhere you could hear Kyra calling your name, the edge of fear bleeding into her voice.

Then her voice turned sharp, commanding. Desperate.

“BLOCK THE DOOR! SOMEONE, PLEASE!”

Your feet hit the hallway hard and fast.

Katie rounded the corner from the kitchen just as you reached the front door. Her eyes widened in shock as she instinctively stepped in front of it, arms spread slightly.

“Ro, what are you…?”

“Move!” you screamed.

“Don’t do this,” Leah said from behind you. You hadn’t even noticed her coming from the other end of the house. She was calm. Always calm. But her eyes, her eyes were pleading.

You tried to shove past them. You were fast, but you were exhausted, and Katie braced for it, grabbing your forearms as gently as she could, trying to keep you from hurting yourself, or her.

“Let me go!” you screamed, writhing like a wild thing. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Ro, please,” Katie gritted through her teeth. “You don’t want to do this.”

“I’m not going!” you sobbed. “I’m not going! I’m not crazy, I’m not, I don’t want to go…”

Leah came up behind you, slipping one arm around your waist to keep you from running or falling. “You’re not crazy,” she said quietly, heartbreakingly tender. “But you’re not okay either.”

You clawed at the doorframe. Kicked out. Hit your shoulder against the wall. Anything to get free.

“Let me go!”

And then you just… gave in. Your legs folded beneath you, your body sinking to the floor in Katie’s arms. You weren’t even fighting anymore. Just crying.

Big, heaving sobs that shook your chest. That made your throat raw. That left you gasping.

“I’m not crazy,” you repeated like a prayer. “I’m not crazy.”

And from the other end of the hallway, Kyra just watched.

Her hands had fallen uselessly to her sides. Her lip trembled as she took a half-step forward, then stopped.

Because there was nothing else she could do.

Katie and Leah had you restrained. You were safe. Physically, at least.

But emotionally? That was a different story.

And watching it unfold (watching you scream and beg and collapse) was more than Kyra could handle.

Tears fell freely down her cheeks. She didn’t try to wipe them away.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

You didn’t hear her.

Or maybe you did, and couldn’t process it.

Leah held you from behind, gently rocking you. Katie rubbed slow circles on your arm, trying to ground you, to keep you from slipping further into the abyss.

And Kyra stood there watching over you. Not beside you. Not close enough to be in the way. Just far enough to cry where you couldn’t see her fall apart too.

The first few days at the facility felt like limbo.

Everything was white. Still. Too clean to feel real. Nurses came and went. Meals were slid onto trays like offerings you never asked for. Group therapy happened every morning, but you never spoke. One on one sessions followed, but you sat in silence, arms crossed, eyes blank. The therapist's voice sounded like static after a while.

They didn’t push. Not really. Just asked. Gently. Patiently. Over and over. But you didn't give in.

What was the point?

You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t ask to be saved. You didn’t want to talk about the night with the window, or Leah’s face when Katie grabbed your arm, or the sound of Kyra crying behind you.

You hadn't seen Kyra since.

But she was still there, sort of. On the outside.

You overheard a nurse one day, whispering in the corridor. “Still no progress. A Miss Cooney Cross is listed as next of kin. We’ve been updating her every day.”

Your heart thumped. Then sank.

You hadn’t spoken to her. You didn’t even know if she wanted to speak to you. But she was still asking. Still listening.

Still waiting.

You weren’t sure if that made it better or worse.

The gym was buzzing with the rhythmic thuds of weights and treadmills. Kyra dropped into her deadlifts, trying to force her body to focus even if her mind refused. Every rep felt like she was lifting the weight of her own fear, dense and unrelenting.

Then her phone buzzed.

She didn’t finish the set. Didn’t even rack the weights properly.

Kyra grabbed the phone off the bench and saw the number: withheld. Her stomach turned.

She was out of the gym in seconds, the door swinging shut behind her.

“Hello?” she answered, breathless.

“Hi, is this Miss Cooney Cross? I’m calling with another update on Rowan Miller.”

She pressed her back against the corridor wall, heart pounding.

“Yes, yeah. I’m here.”

“She’s still refusing therapy. No significant changes, but she’s eating. Stable physically.”

Kyra closed her eyes.

“Okay,” she said softly. “Thanks for letting me know.”

She didn’t go back inside. Just stayed there for a while, staring at the floor, silently begging for something to shift

After training, the girls sat around the canteen, the gentle hum of distant conversations lingered softly in the background as the focus drifted towards you. Again. 

“She’s still not talking?” Leah asked, her voice low.

“No,” Beth replied, glancing towards the far table where Kyra was seated. “Kyra’s getting calls every day. It’s always the same.”

“She’s trying to hold it together,” Caitlin murmured. “But she’s barely sleeping. Barely eating.”

Katie was the next to speak. “She hasn’t trained properly in a week. She comes in, goes through the drills, then leaves. Doesn’t say a word.”

“They should’ve let her visit,” Beth muttered.

“They can’t,” Leah said gently. “Not until Rowan makes some progress. It’s policy.”

They fell silent, letting that hang in the air.

“She’s waiting for her to get better,” Caitlin spoke gently. “But what if she doesn’t?”

The first few days at the facility felt like limbo. Everything was white. Still. Too clean to feel real. Nurses came and went. Meals were slid onto trays like offerings you never asked for. Group therapy happened every morning, but you never spoke. One-on-one sessions followed, but you sat in silence, arms crossed, eyes blank. The therapist's voice sounded like static after a while.

They didn’t push. Not really. Just asked. Gently. Patiently. Over and over. But you didn't give in.

What was the point?

You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t ask to be saved. You didn’t want to talk about the night with the window, or Leah’s face when Katie grabbed your arm, or the sound of Kyra crying behind you.

You hadn't seen Kyra since.

But she was still there, sort of. On the outside.

You overheard a nurse one day, whispering in the corridor. “Still no progress. A Miss Cooney-Cross is listed as next of kin. We’ve been updating her every day.”

Your heart thumped. Then sank.

You hadn’t spoken to her. You didn’t even know if she wanted to speak to you. But she was still asking. Still listening. Still waiting.

You weren’t sure if that made it better or worse.

Eventually, something shifted. One morning, your therapist asked the same question she always did: “Do you want to talk about what happened that night?” And for some reason, your mouth opened.

The words were small. Quiet. Shaky. But they came out.

You cried. She cried. You talked about the ledge, about the noise in your head that wouldn't stop, about feeling like a ghost in your own life.

After the first breakthrough, the staff had hope. They gave you books, worksheets, meditations. You did them all. You nodded through sessions. You gave just enough truth to be convincing. Enough pain to seem real. Enough hope to seem safe.

And then they let you video call Kyra. it wasn’t much but seeing her face on the screen made you feel something. Possibly for the first time in weeks. 

But that feeling didn’t last. But it showed you something. It taught you that saying the right things gave you control, and it didn’t take long to learn what they wanted to hear. 

“I understand now,” you said. “I have coping mechanisms,” you said. “I know I’m not alone,” you said.

You mirrored the words that seemed to bring relief to others. You smiled more. Talked more. Even laughed sometimes, and the staff noted your progress. They marked your charts. They praised your resilience.

Maybe part of you wanted it to be true. Maybe part of you thought you could fake it long enough that it would become real. That if you were good enough, careful enough, healed enough, you could go home and things would just click.

It was a week later when they discharged you, Kyra was waiting at the front desk with your favourite hoodie and a bag of your things. Her eyes were red from crying, but her smile was real.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered.

You didn’t say anything. You just let her hug you. Let her believe.

Back at Katie and Caitlin’s, they made space for you. Quiet. Gentle. Nobody asked too many questions. Leah brought essentials. Beth left flowers. The team gave you space to breathe.

Kyra never let you out of her sight for more than an hour.

For a little while, you even pretended you were okay.

But pretending takes energy. And eventually, you ran out.

The first few days back at Katie and Caitlin’s were quiet.

Everyone tiptoed around you like you were glass. But it wasn’t pity. It was care. The quiet kind. The patient kind.

It was decided early on that you’d stay with Katie for a while. She was your national team captain, yes, but she was more than that. She knew how to hold space for you without making it feel like a cage. She let you sit in silence. Let you cry without asking why. Made sure you ate, but never forced it. Gave you room to breathe without leaving you alone.

Caitlin left little notes on the fridge. Jokes. Memes. One morning you woke up to find a post it stuck to your cup that said ‘hydrate or die straight!.

It made you smile. Barely. But it was something.

Then one night you were settling in for a chill day in front of the tv with Kyra and Katie at Katie's house when you gently asked the question if the rest of the girls would want to do a team night. 

“Something lowkey,” you said. “Just some food. Everyone hanging out. Like old times.”

Kyra looked surprised, then cautiously hopeful. “Yeah. I mean… I’m sure they’d love that.”

You nodded, avoiding her eyes. “Maybe everyone could come over tonight?”

It was the most you’d asked for in weeks, and Katie was in agreement instantly about hosting it before Kyra went to message the group chat. Everyone said yes. People sent emojis. Beth promised wine. Daphne offered to bring food and Leah said she’d bring card games. It was too easy.

Too easy to make them believe it meant progress.

Kyra leaned over and kissed your temple when she got off her phone. “They’re excited. So am I.”

You smiled. A real one. Or at least you were good at pretending.

You kept thinking: at least they’ll get to see me once more. Happy. Present. Laughing. That’s how they’ll remember me. Not pale in a hospital bed. Not silent in a therapy room.

Just Rowan.

Just once more.

You spent the rest of the day helping Katie get the place ready. Vacuumed. Picked the playlist. You put on jeans and mascara and even braided your hair the way Kyra liked. When Kyra came in and saw you, she smiled so wide her cheeks flushed pink.

“You look like you,” she whispered.

You pretended not to flinch.

The evening passed like something from a memory. Everyone was there. They laughed. Drank. Talked about training and tactics and inside jokes. Someone played cards. Alessia dropped a drink over Daphne leading frantic apologies from her and swearing in multiple languages from Daphne.

You laughed so hard your ribs hurt. And for a second, you let yourself believe it could last.

You hugged each of them a little too tightly when they left.

[earpskeeper]

@lvnleah helped me come up with this so thank you rat word count - 6.5k trigger warnings - self harm, possible attempt, very very shit mental health please please prioritise your own mental health before choosing to read as always my requests are open :) second part can be found here sad or hopeful

You had been deflecting for weeks.

Every time Kyra asked how you were, youd shrug it off with “I’m tired” or “Just school stress” “It’s nothing.” And Kyra, trying so hard not to push, would nod and believe you. Or at least pretend to.

Because Kyra remembered what it looked like the first time, when you first moved to arsenal breaking through into the first team at 18. The way you would wear sleeves too long for the weather or the way you would smile without it reaching your eyes. 

And now it was happening again. Only this time, you were older, better at hiding it and more determined to push Kyra away.

When Kyra had asked directly, quietly, one night after training - “Are you hurting yourself again?” - you didn’t even flinch.

“No.”

Kyra stared at you, voice thick. “Are you lying to me?”

“No.”

But Kyra couldn’t quite believe you as she asked once more. “I’m gonna ask you one last time Rowan, and I won’t be mad honest.”

“I promise Ky, I’m fine.”

Kyra wanted to believe you. She needed to. So she nodded, let it go, even though her gut screamed something was wrong.

The team bonding night was supposed to be fun. A chance to relax, laugh, and remind themselves they were more than just teammates. But you weren't there to unwind.

You were there to forget. To let loose without the pressure of deadlines and expectations.

Drinks flowed, music played, teammates crowded around the dartboard and pool table. Laughter spilled out into the night like steam.

Kyra didn’t drink much. She was too focused on watching you.

And you, well you were a mess. Stumbling over your words and laughing too hard at nothing. You downed shot after shot like you were trying to chase something off your chest. Kyra had tried to stop you after the second one, but you had brushed her off with a grin.

“Relax, Ky. I’m fine. You’re always so serious.”

Kyra’s stomach twisted. “You’re drunk.”

“Exactly,” you smirked. “So stop hovering and go vibe or whatever.”

You turned away before Kyra could say more, pulled into a drinking game by Lotte and Katie. Kyra sank back into the sofa beside Beth, jaw tight, fingers clenched around her glass.

“She’s not okay,” Kyra whispered.

Beth glanced over. “No. She’s really not.”

It all fell apart an hour later.

Katie was trying to get you to sit down, joking that you were “one tequila away from dancing on the table.” But when she grabbed your wrist to guide her toward a chair, you yelped, not from the grip, but from the sudden contact.

Katie pulled back instantly. “Shit! Did I hurt you?”

Everyone turned.

And then your sleeve slipped up.

It wasn’t high. Barely an inch or two. But enough to see it: a fresh, red cut. Jagged and raw.

The room went quiet.

Like quiet.

Kyra stood up so fast her chair scraped against the floor.

“Ro?” she said softly.

You froze. Realized. Pulled your sleeve down too late. Your whole face went pale.

Kyra stepped closer. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s nothing,” you slurred, voice cracking. “It’s… it’s just a scratch.”

Kyra looked gutted. “You lied to me.”

Everyone was still. No one said a word. Not Caitlin, not Kim, not even Leah, who had been halfway through a pint when the world suddenly tipped sideways.

“You promised me,” Kyra whispered. “I asked you a week ago, and you looked me in the eyes and told me you weren’t hurting yourself.”

Your eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t mean to lie?” Kyra’s voice broke. “Or you didn’t mean to get caught?”

You stepped back, but there was nowhere to go. The whole team was watching. Judging. Worrying. You looked small. Ashamed. Like you’d been stripped bare.

And then you did something nobody expected.

She laughed.

A sharp, brittle laugh. Forced and wild.

“Oh come on,” she said, waving her arm and yanking the sleeve back down. “It’s not that deep.”

No one laughed with her.

Kyra had gone pale. 

You grinned, wide and desperate. “It really isn’t that big of a deal, shit happens ok this is just how I deal with it!”

Still silence.

She turned to Katie. “Bet I’ve got better technique than your last sliding tackle.”

Katie didn’t smile, in fact she looked sick.

Caitlin looked down at the table. Lotte’s jaw was tight. Leah had that silent, still anger in her eyes - the kind that said this is worse than we thought.

And Kyra, well Kyra looked like she couldn’t breathe.

You tried again, voice more high pitched now. “Seriously, you guys look like someone died. I’m not jumping off a cliff or anything, alright? Chill out.”

Then you looked at Kyra who hadn’t moved.

And that’s when you saw the tears.

Not yours, Kyra’s.

Big, quiet ones, sliding down her cheeks as she stared at you like she didn’t recognize you.

“Stop it,” Kyra whispered.

Your fake smile faltered.

Kyra shook her head, her voice trembling. “Stop laughing. Please. You’re scaring me.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, smile gone now, tone suddenly sharp. “It’s not a big deal.”

Beth exhaled shakily, eyes red. Katie reached for a drink and missed the glass. Even Steph, calm and composed as ever, looked broken.

You laughed again (but it cracked halfway out) like it got stuck in your throat.

“I didn’t mean for you to see it,” she said, suddenly too quiet. “It’s just easier when I don’t talk about it. I didn’t want to make it… real.”

Kyra’s voice broke like glass. “It is real.”

And that’s when your legs gave out (not literally, nor dramatically) but something inside you gave out and you collapsed onto the sofa. Face in your hands and laughter gone, all the bravado from earlier crumbling.

Kyra moved then, taking you into her arms and holding you tightly like the world depended on it. 

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t pull away either as Kyra whispered over and over into your hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You barely noticed the conversations happening around you. But somewhere, underneath the storm of your panic, you caught murmured voices, serious and quiet.

“…she can’t be alone.”

“No way she’s going home by herself.”

“Who’s she going with?”

“Kyra’s going. That’s not up for debate, Rowan feels safe around her.”

You were too out of it to really register whose voices were saying what, but Leah’s cut through the fog like a knife. Calm, certain.

“She’s staying with someone tonight. Somewhere safe.”

You didn’t fully wake up until you were in the backseat of a car, head slumped against the window, Kyra’s hand gripping yours like a lifeline. The motion of the car rocked you gently, but your body felt stiff, heavy with exhaustion and embarrassment and dread.

Up front, Katie was driving. Caitlin was in the passenger seat, her voice low as she and Katie talked - not about you, not directly, but you could hear the tension in their words.

Kyra shifted closer in the back, wrapping her arm around your shoulders without a word.

“Where… where are we going?” you murmured, your voice hoarse.

Kyra’s thumb brushed over your knuckles. “You’re staying with Katie and Caitlin. Just for a little while.”

You blinked slowly. “I thought I was going home.”

“You’re not being alone tonight,” Kyra said firmly. “No way.”

You didn’t argue.

You couldn’t.

You only fully processed it when the car pulled up outside the familiar front door of Katie and Caitlin’s house. Caitlin turned around in the passenger seat and gave you a soft smile.

“You’re alright, love,” she said. “Come on in. We’ve got you.”

Kyra helped you out of the car, never letting go of your hand. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t need to. Her silence was steady, grounding, a soft hum underneath the chaos still rattling in your chest.

Inside the house, the lights were low. Warm and Safe.

Caitlin disappeared down the hallway, calling softly over her shoulder, “I’ll get the spare room ready.”

Katie ducked into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water, then sat across from you on the armchair, her gaze steady, unflinching but kind.

You were curled up on the sofa with Kyra, wrapped in a blanket someone must’ve thrown over you. She was holding you, not like you were broken, but like you were real. Solid. There. She pressed a kiss to your temple like it was instinct.

You stared at the water in your hands. Tried not to think about the way your sleeves were still damp with sweat and tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Katie shook her head. “Don’t be.”

“I lied to you all.”

“I know,” Katie said gently. “And now we know the truth. That’s what matters.”

You looked at Kyra, whose eyes were still puffy but clear. Strong.

“I don’t want to be like this anymore.”

Kyra tucked your hair behind your ear. “Then let us help.”

You didn’t say anything for a long time. You just leaned into her chest, listening to her heartbeat. Caitlin came back a few minutes later, rubbing her hands on her joggers. “Room’s ready when you’re up for it. Clean sheets and everything.”

You nodded, still dazed. But your hands trembled slightly as you set the water down on the table, untouched.

“Come on,” Kyra whispered, easing herself up and coaxing you with her. You followed her like muscle memory, steps slow and unsteady as if each one weighed more than it should.

Caitlin stood to the side, offering you a soft smile as you passed. You tried to return it, but your lips wouldn’t quite move the right way.

The room was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that swallows you whole if you let it.

You paused in the hallway, just outside the spare room. Kyra stopped with you, her hand still in yours.

“I don’t know how to be okay,” you mumbled. “I don’t even know if I want to.”

Kyra didn’t flinch. “Then don’t be okay. Just be here. That’s enough for now.”

You nodded like you believed her. Like that wasn’t the worst part, being here. Still here. Still breathing when everything inside you felt like it had stopped weeks ago.

Inside the spare room, everything was clean and neat. Too neat. Like a guest room that didn’t know what kind of chaos was about to bleed into its walls.

Kyra helped you sit on the edge of the bed, but you didn’t lie down. You just stared at the floor.

“Are they mad at me?” you asked quietly, your voice sounding like it belonged to someone else.

“No,” Kyra said without hesitation. “They’re scared. Worried. But not mad.”

You nodded again, but it didn’t stick. Your hands began to shake again, this time harder. Your fingers clutched at the edge of the bedspread like it could hold you together.

It was quiet for a while. The kind of quiet that makes your thoughts louder.

You were still sitting on the bed, your knees now pulled up to your chest, Kyra next to you. Her arm was still around you, fingers drawing soft circles on your back. It helped, but not enough.

Nothing helped enough.

“I think I just broke something inside myself,” you said after a long time. The words came out soft, matter of fact. Like you were reciting a fact about someone else. “And I don’t think I can fix it.”

Kyra didn’t speak. Just listened.

“I don’t want to die,” you added, barely louder than a whisper. “But if I didn’t wake up tomorrow… I wouldn’t really care.”

The second it left your mouth, you felt Kyra go still beside you.

You turned your head just slightly. She was staring at you. Staring through you, almost. Like your words had cut through her skin.

“I didn’t mean…” you started, panicking. “I mean, it’s not like… not in a bad way, it’s not like I’m going to do anything…”

“Ro,” Kyra said, her voice low and trembling. “Stop.”

“It’s not as serious as it sounds,” you lied, again. “It’s just… a thought. Sometimes. But it’s not that bad, it’s not…”

Kyra sat back slightly, her hand dropping from your back. Her eyes were glassy, and something inside her had shifted.

She was scared.

“Please don’t do this,” she whispered. “Not again.”

You tried to smile, tried to brush it off like you always did. “I’m just tired. That’s all I meant.”

“Stop lying.” Kyra’s voice cracked, sharp this time. “Just stop, Rowan. Please. I’m begging you.”

You looked away. “I don’t even know what the truth is anymore.”

“Then start from the part that hurts the most,” Kyra said, quieter now. “The part you’re too scared to say out loud.”

You looked at her. Really looked. And her eyes were so full of love and terror at the same time, you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I feel nothing,” you said, voice shaking. “All the time. Like I’m watching my life through glass. Like I’m in the room but not in it. Like I’m pretending to be alive.”

You took a breath, your voice trembling now.

“And when I wake up in the morning, the first thing I feel is dread. Not because of anything bad… just because it means I have to get through another day pretending. Pretending I care. Pretending I’m real.”

Kyra’s face crumpled, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I don’t want to die,” you said again, and this time it sounded more like a confession than a reassurance. “But if I didn’t wake up… I wouldn’t be upset. I think part of me would feel… relieved.”

Silence followed. And it wasn’t peaceful.

It was heavy. Suffocating.

Kyra reached for your hand again, clutching it like she was afraid it might slip away. “I need you to be honest with me now. No jokes. No pretending.”

You nodded.

“Do you have a plan?”

You shook your head and you could visibly see some tension leave Kyra’s shoulders.

“Ok, have you felt this way for a while?”

You nodded again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You looked down. “Because if I said it out loud, then it would be real. And I didn’t think I could handle that.”

Kyra blinked hard, wiping at her face. “But you’re not handling it now.”

You exhaled, broken. “I don’t know how to ask for help when I don’t even know what I need.”

“You don’t have to know,” Kyra whispered. “You just have to let us in.”

Your throat closed up. Your body ached with the weight of the truth finally being out.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“You won’t,” Kyra said firmly. “Not forever. We’re going to get you help. Proper help. And I’ll be there every step of the way.”

You shook your head weakly. “You shouldn’t have to fix me.”

“I’m not trying to fix you,” Kyra said. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

Kyra didn’t leave your side after that.

After everything you’d admitted Kyra didn’t flinch. She didn’t try to solve it, or offer hollow reassurances. She just held you tighter, buried her face into your hair and whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”

And she didn’t.

Not even when Caitlin quietly poked her head in and asked if she wanted a proper bed. Kyra just shook her head and stayed wrapped around you, one arm under your shoulders, one hand laced with yours, like letting go might shatter you.

Eventually, after hours of lying there in silence, your body gave out to exhaustion again.

But sleep didn’t come easy.

You woke up around 3AM with your pulse pounding, heart beating too fast. There were no screams, but Kyra stirred instantly beside you.

“Hey,” she whispered, voice thick with sleep. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Just a dream.”

You didn’t say anything, just stared at the ceiling, forcing your breathing to slow as her fingers traced slow, grounding lines over your back. She whispered nonsense until your jaw unclenched. It took time. But eventually, you settled again.

Kyra stayed awake long after you drifted off.

The next morning was supposed to be quiet. There was no training scheduled, which was a blessing in disguise when Leah arrived around 8, followed shortly by Beth and Lotte, then Steph, Kim, and Alessia.

They didn’t mean to cause a scene.

They tried to keep it down.

But tension doesn’t whisper.

“Heard anything yet?” Beth asked quietly as Katie handed her a coffee.

“She’s still sleeping,” Katie said, glancing at the stairs. “Didn’t settle until the early hours. Nightmare.”

“She should see the club therapist,” Lotte said, arms folded tight across her chest. “Sooner rather than later.”

Steph exhaled slowly. “I don’t know if that’s enough.”

“What are you saying?” Alessia asked gently.

“I’m saying maybe she needs more than weekly chats in a glass office.” Steph looked at Leah. “Maybe something more structured. Safer.”

“You mean a facility,” Beth said bluntly. “Just say it.”

Leah didn’t answer immediately. Her jaw tightened.

“I’m not against it,” she admitted. “She’s not okay, and I think keeping her around everything like normal might make it worse.”

“She’s already terrified everyone’s going to treat her differently,” Caitlin said, leaning on the counter. “Throwing her in a hospital will only prove her right.”

“She nearly laughed her way through a breakdown,” Beth said, voice sharper now. “That’s not normal coping. That’s... terrifying.”

“I don’t think pushing her out of her comfort zone helps,” Lotte argued. “She needs stability. Not to feel like a patient.”

Kim’s voice was quiet but firm. “We can’t keep doing nothing. Watching her waste away while pretending team hugs will solve it.”

“She’s not a burden,” Caitlin snapped. “She’s our teammate. Our kid.”

“She’s 20,” Leah said evenly. “And she’s been lying to us for weeks about hurting herself. I don’t care how much she’s loved, she needs professional help.”

They were trying to whisper, but tension doesn’t stay quiet.

And then came the sound of fast, angry footsteps thumping down the stairs.

Kyra appeared in the kitchen doorway, eyes blazing, wearing your hoodie, her hair a mess from sleep and frustration.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” she snapped.

Everyone froze.

“I spent the whole night trying to get her to believe she isn’t alone,” Kyra went on, voice rising. “She finally slept, finally calmed down after waking up shaking at 3AM, and now you’re all down here shouting about facilities and what’s best for her like she’s not a person sleeping ten feet away!”

“Kyra…” Beth tried, hands raised, but Kyra cut her off.

“No. You don’t get to have this conversation here. Not here. Not with her upstairs. You think she’s not going to hear you? You think she won’t come down and feel like a fucking case study?”

“She needs…”

“She needs to feel safe,” Kyra growled. “She needs to wake up and know she’s loved and not some broken thing you’re trying to fix in a committee meeting.”

Leah’s face softened slightly. “We’re scared, Kyra. You’re scared too.”

Kyra’s voice cracked. “Of course I am. But you don’t get to wake her up with your fear. Not today.”

No one argued after that.

The kitchen went silent, shame and concern hanging in the air like smoke.

Katie cleared her throat after a beat. “I’ll make more tea.”

And Kyra (still furious, still shaking) turned back toward the stairs, whispering under her breath like a prayer.

“Just let her sleep.”

You didn’t mean to wake up.

You didn’t mean to hear it.

But the voices downstairs cut through the walls like blades, sharp and urgent.

You stirred under the heavy blanket Kyra had wrapped around you the night before, your body still sore from the hours of tossing and turning, still trembling from the nightmare you’d only just escaped.

At first, you didn’t understand what you were hearing. Just muffled words.

Then they started making sense.

“...I’m telling you, she needs a facility. Something proper. This is beyond us.”

“She’s barely sleeping. She’s lying. We’ve seen her wrist…”

“She’s shutting down. That’s not something a few therapy chats fix.”

“She could hurt herself. Or worse.”

The blood drained from your face. Your heart pounded like it wanted out of your chest.

They were talking about you.

They were planning something. And Kyra… where was Kyra?

You curled into yourself, eyes wide, barely breathing as the panic bloomed in your chest like wildfire.

They’re going to lock you away. Put you in a hospital. Take you away from everything. They think you’re broken. You are.

The walls were closing in.

You bolted upright, limbs heavy and shaking as adrenaline surged through your veins. The room spun for a second, your breath hitching in short, panicked bursts.

You have to go. Now.

You staggered to your feet and turned toward the window, hands trembling as you yanked the curtain aside. It was still early, grey light filtering through. Cold.

The latch was stiff, and for a moment you thought you wouldn’t be able to open it. That they’d locked it, maybe. That you were already trapped.

But it gave with a sharp click.

Your fingers curled around the frame as you shoved it open, icy air rushing in. You could barely breathe.

You weren’t thinking. Or maybe you were thinking too much.

Your heart thundered as you climbed onto the window ledge, one leg swung outside into the biting morning air, the other tucked just inside the room. The drop below was steep, two full stories down to the pavement, a garden fence and patchy grass breaking up the concrete.

But that wasn’t what scared you.

What scared you was the idea of being taken away. Locked behind white walls. Watched. Assessed. Judged. Put somewhere because you weren’t safe anymore.

You stared out at the cold grey sky, wind whispering around your ears, breath sharp in your throat. Everything felt too much. The air. The voices downstairs. The idea of being gone.

And then…

“Rowan?!”

Kyra’s voice cracked like thunder through the room.

You didn’t turn around. Just squeezed your eyes shut.

“No no, no, no… what are you doing?” she gasped, rushing forward but stopping dead when she saw how precariously you were perched. “Jesus Christ, Ro… don’t move.”

Her voice was shaking. Pure terror.

You opened your eyes slowly, still facing the outside. “I wasn’t gonna jump,” you said quietly, not believing it yourself. “I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”

“That’s not…” Kyra’s voice cracked. “You’re on a… Just come down please.”

You shook your head, eyes stinging. “They were talking about sending me away. I heard them. A facility.”

“I know,” Kyra said. “I heard it too. And I’m dealing with it. But this…” her voice trembled, “this isn’t the answer.”

You said nothing.

Kyra took one cautious step forward. “Please, Ro. Come back inside.”

You looked over your shoulder, finally, and the sight of her broke something in you. Her face pale, soaked with tears, hands trembling but held out as if she could catch you from there.

“I don’t want to go somewhere alone,” you whispered. “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know, love.”

You blinked, your vision blurring. You didn’t know what you were waiting for. Maybe someone to tell you what to do. Maybe the wind to push you one way or the other, for it to make the decision for you. 

Then Kyra swallowed hard and said, “Okay. I need you to listen to me now.”

Your stomach clenched.

“If you don’t come down right now,” she said softly, “I’m calling emergency services.”

Your breath hitched.

“And if I do that… if they come and find you like this, they won’t let you stay. They’ll section you, Ro. You’ll go to a facility whether you want to or not.”

You stared at her, heart thudding so loudly it was all you could hear. “You’d do that?”

Kyra nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Because I love you too much to lose you.”

You felt something collapse inside you, some final fight. All of it crumbling under the weight of her words.

You looked down one last time, at the drop below.

And then you shifted. Slowly, painfully, you pulled your leg back inside and slid down onto the floor, your hands trembling so violently you couldn’t stop them.

Kyra was on you in a second, pulling you into her chest, holding you like you were still on the edge.

You were sobbing. Violently, brokenly. “I didn’t want to die,” you cried. “I just didn’t want this.”

“I know,” Kyra whispered, over and over again into your hair. “I know. I’ve got you now.

Kyra’s voice trembled as she sat beside you on the floor, your back resting against the edge of the bed, her arm still looped protectively around you. You’d stopped crying, but only because there was nothing left. Just a blankness in your eyes, your body heavy, sagging into her.

She looked at you like her heart was breaking in real time.

“Ro,” she whispered. “I think we need to talk.”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t look at her.

“You need more than just me. More than late night talks and club therapy sessions.”

The silence between you crackled with tension.

“I think… I think you need intensive help. Somewhere safe. Somewhere professional. A facility.”

And just like that, the emptiness shattered.

You jerked away from her arm as though burned.

“No,” you said flatly, voice low but shaking.

Kyra’s eyes widened slightly. “Just listen please, just listen to me…”

“I’m not going anywhere!” you snapped, scrambling to your feet so fast the room spun.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage like it wanted out. The word ‘facility’ repeated in your head like a warning siren, an alarm that you were going to be locked away, out of control, forgotten.

“I’m fine! I don’t need that. I don’t need to be locked up.”

Kyra stood, slowly, hands held out like she was approaching a wounded animal. “Ro, no one’s locking you up. It’s not like that, I promise. You’d still have control…”

You were already halfway to the door.

“No. No, you don’t get it. If you think that, then you don’t know me at all.”

You flung the door open, your body on autopilot now, adrenaline fueling you through the panic. Somewhere you could hear Kyra calling your name, the edge of fear bleeding into her voice.

Then her voice turned sharp, commanding. Desperate.

“BLOCK THE DOOR! SOMEONE, PLEASE!”

Your feet hit the hallway hard and fast.

Katie rounded the corner from the kitchen just as you reached the front door. Her eyes widened in shock as she instinctively stepped in front of it, arms spread slightly.

“Ro, what are you…?”

“Move!” you screamed.

“Don’t do this,” Leah said from behind you. You hadn’t even noticed her coming from the other end of the house. She was calm. Always calm. But her eyes, her eyes were pleading.

You tried to shove past them. You were fast, but you were exhausted, and Katie braced for it, grabbing your forearms as gently as she could, trying to keep you from hurting yourself, or her.

“Let me go!” you screamed, writhing like a wild thing. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Ro, please,” Katie gritted through her teeth. “You don’t want to do this.”

“I’m not going!” you sobbed. “I’m not going! I’m not crazy, I’m not, I don’t want to go…”

Leah came up behind you, slipping one arm around your waist to keep you from running or falling. “You’re not crazy,” she said quietly, heartbreakingly tender. “But you’re not okay either.”

You clawed at the doorframe. Kicked out. Hit your shoulder against the wall. Anything to get free.

“Let me go!”

And then you just… gave in. Your legs folded beneath you, your body sinking to the floor in Katie’s arms. You weren’t even fighting anymore. Just crying.

Big, heaving sobs that shook your chest. That made your throat raw. That left you gasping.

“I’m not crazy,” you repeated like a prayer. “I’m not crazy.”

And from the other end of the hallway, Kyra just watched.

Her hands had fallen uselessly to her sides. Her lip trembled as she took a half-step forward, then stopped.

Because there was nothing else she could do.

Katie and Leah had you restrained. You were safe. Physically, at least.

But emotionally? That was a different story.

And watching it unfold (watching you scream and beg and collapse) was more than Kyra could handle.

Tears fell freely down her cheeks. She didn’t try to wipe them away.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

You didn’t hear her.

Or maybe you did, and couldn’t process it.

Leah held you from behind, gently rocking you. Katie rubbed slow circles on your arm, trying to ground you, to keep you from slipping further into the abyss.

And Kyra stood there watching over you. Not beside you. Not close enough to be in the way. Just far enough to cry where you couldn’t see her fall apart too.

The first few days at the facility felt like limbo.

Everything was white. Still. Too clean to feel real. Nurses came and went. Meals were slid onto trays like offerings you never asked for. Group therapy happened every morning, but you never spoke. One on one sessions followed, but you sat in silence, arms crossed, eyes blank. The therapist's voice sounded like static after a while.

They didn’t push. Not really. Just asked. Gently. Patiently. Over and over. But you didn't give in.

What was the point?

You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t ask to be saved. You didn’t want to talk about the night with the window, or Leah’s face when Katie grabbed your arm, or the sound of Kyra crying behind you.

You hadn't seen Kyra since.

But she was still there, sort of. On the outside.

You overheard a nurse one day, whispering in the corridor. “Still no progress. A Miss Cooney Cross is listed as next of kin. We’ve been updating her every day.”

Your heart thumped. Then sank.

You hadn’t spoken to her. You didn’t even know if she wanted to speak to you. But she was still asking. Still listening.

Still waiting.

You weren’t sure if that made it better or worse.

The gym was buzzing with the rhythmic thuds of weights and treadmills. Kyra dropped into her deadlifts, trying to force her body to focus even if her mind refused. Every rep felt like she was lifting the weight of her own fear, dense and unrelenting.

Then her phone buzzed.

She didn’t finish the set. Didn’t even rack the weights properly.

Kyra grabbed the phone off the bench and saw the number: withheld. Her stomach turned.

She was out of the gym in seconds, the door swinging shut behind her.

“Hello?” she answered, breathless.

“Hi, is this Miss Cooney Cross? I’m calling with another update on Rowan Miller.”

She pressed her back against the corridor wall, heart pounding.

“Yes, yeah. I’m here.”

“She’s still refusing therapy. No significant changes, but she’s eating. Stable physically.”

Kyra closed her eyes.

“Okay,” she said softly. “Thanks for letting me know.”

She didn’t go back inside. Just stayed there for a while, staring at the floor, silently begging for something to shift

After training, the girls sat around the canteen, the gentle hum of distant conversations lingered softly in the background as the focus drifted towards you. Again. 

“She’s still not talking?” Leah asked, her voice low.

“No,” Beth replied, glancing towards the far table where Kyra was seated. “Kyra’s getting calls every day. It’s always the same.”

“She’s trying to hold it together,” Caitlin murmured. “But she’s barely sleeping. Barely eating.”

Katie was the next to speak. “She hasn’t trained properly in a week. She comes in, goes through the drills, then leaves. Doesn’t say a word.”

“They should’ve let her visit,” Beth muttered.

“They can’t,” Leah said gently. “Not until Rowan makes some progress. It’s policy.”

They fell silent, letting that hang in the air.

“She’s waiting for her to get better,” Caitlin spoke gently. “But what if she doesn’t?”

The first few days at the facility felt like limbo. Everything was white. Still. Too clean to feel real. Nurses came and went. Meals were slid onto trays like offerings you never asked for. Group therapy happened every morning, but you never spoke. One-on-one sessions followed, but you sat in silence, arms crossed, eyes blank. The therapist's voice sounded like static after a while.

They didn’t push. Not really. Just asked. Gently. Patiently. Over and over. But you didn't give in.

What was the point?

You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t ask to be saved. You didn’t want to talk about the night with the window, or Leah’s face when Katie grabbed your arm, or the sound of Kyra crying behind you.

You hadn't seen Kyra since.

But she was still there, sort of. On the outside.

You overheard a nurse one day, whispering in the corridor. “Still no progress. A Miss Cooney-Cross is listed as next of kin. We’ve been updating her every day.”

Your heart thumped. Then sank.

You hadn’t spoken to her. You didn’t even know if she wanted to speak to you. But she was still asking. Still listening. Still waiting.

You weren’t sure if that made it better or worse.

Eventually, something shifted. One morning, your therapist asked the same question she always did: “Do you want to talk about what happened that night?” And for some reason, your mouth opened.

The words were small. Quiet. Shaky. But they came out.

You cried. She cried. You talked about the ledge, about the noise in your head that wouldn't stop, about feeling like a ghost in your own life.

After the first breakthrough, the staff had hope. They gave you books, worksheets, meditations. You did them all. You nodded through sessions. You gave just enough truth to be convincing. Enough pain to seem real. Enough hope to seem safe.

And then they let you video call Kyra. it wasn’t much but seeing her face on the screen made you feel something. Possibly for the first time in weeks. 

But that feeling didn’t last. But it showed you something. It taught you that saying the right things gave you control, and it didn’t take long to learn what they wanted to hear. 

“I understand now,” you said. “I have coping mechanisms,” you said. “I know I’m not alone,” you said.

You mirrored the words that seemed to bring relief to others. You smiled more. Talked more. Even laughed sometimes, and the staff noted your progress. They marked your charts. They praised your resilience.

Maybe part of you wanted it to be true. Maybe part of you thought you could fake it long enough that it would become real. That if you were good enough, careful enough, healed enough, you could go home and things would just click.

It was a week later when they discharged you, Kyra was waiting at the front desk with your favourite hoodie and a bag of your things. Her eyes were red from crying, but her smile was real.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered.

You didn’t say anything. You just let her hug you. Let her believe.

Back at Katie and Caitlin’s, they made space for you. Quiet. Gentle. Nobody asked too many questions. Leah brought essentials. Beth left flowers. The team gave you space to breathe.

Kyra never let you out of her sight for more than an hour.

For a little while, you even pretended you were okay.

But pretending takes energy. And eventually, you ran out.

The first few days back at Katie and Caitlin’s were quiet.

Everyone tiptoed around you like you were glass. But it wasn’t pity. It was care. The quiet kind. The patient kind.

It was decided early on that you’d stay with Katie for a while. She was your national team captain, yes, but she was more than that. She knew how to hold space for you without making it feel like a cage. She let you sit in silence. Let you cry without asking why. Made sure you ate, but never forced it. Gave you room to breathe without leaving you alone.

Caitlin left little notes on the fridge. Jokes. Memes. One morning you woke up to find a post it stuck to your cup that said ‘hydrate or die straight!.

It made you smile. Barely. But it was something.

Then one night you were settling in for a chill day in front of the tv with Kyra and Katie at Katie's house when you gently asked the question if the rest of the girls would want to do a team night. 

“Something lowkey,” you said. “Just some food. Everyone hanging out. Like old times.”

Kyra looked surprised, then cautiously hopeful. “Yeah. I mean… I’m sure they’d love that.”

You nodded, avoiding her eyes. “Maybe everyone could come over tonight?”

It was the most you’d asked for in weeks, and Katie was in agreement instantly about hosting it before Kyra went to message the group chat. Everyone said yes. People sent emojis. Beth promised wine. Daphne offered to bring food and Leah said she’d bring card games. It was too easy.

Too easy to make them believe it meant progress.

Kyra leaned over and kissed your temple when she got off her phone. “They’re excited. So am I.”

You smiled. A real one. Or at least you were good at pretending.

You kept thinking: at least they’ll get to see me once more. Happy. Present. Laughing. That’s how they’ll remember me. Not pale in a hospital bed. Not silent in a therapy room.

Just Rowan.

Just once more.

You spent the rest of the day helping Katie get the place ready. Vacuumed. Picked the playlist. You put on jeans and mascara and even braided your hair the way Kyra liked. When Kyra came in and saw you, she smiled so wide her cheeks flushed pink.

“You look like you,” she whispered.

You pretended not to flinch.

The evening passed like something from a memory. Everyone was there. They laughed. Drank. Talked about training and tactics and inside jokes. Someone played cards. Alessia dropped a drink over Daphne leading frantic apologies from her and swearing in multiple languages from Daphne.

You laughed so hard your ribs hurt. And for a second, you let yourself believe it could last.

You hugged each of them a little too tightly when they left.

[earpskeeper]

disgustingly cute

serendipity (part 2) - kika nazareth

word count - 5.9k | summary - a ray of sunshine stumbles into your quiet cafe one morning, with heart shaped latte art and the added bonus of gaining a new english teacher, she decides to make it her everyday stop, even when your ex decides to pull a stunt.

this is part 2 of serendipity, part 1 can be found here.

-

a few days went by, kika never failing to show her face at the cafe, even if it was for 5 minutes or an hour and a half of an ‘english lesson’ that had no real objectives. 

the two of you had a routine, to the point where she knew your days off and the two of you would exchange a few texts instead. her excuse for asking questions was always being ‘my english needs to get better’, and you couldn’t help but entertain it, especially when there was a smile etched across your face. 

you were sitting in your flat, legs up on the sofa, your phone on your lap as it lit up. her name flashed across the screen, and as if it was routine.

kika - are you driving to the match tomorrow? or i can pick you up?

you - i can get the metro, thank you though

kika - no i’m going to pick you up, be ready for 4, the match doesn’t kick off for a while so i’m gonna find someone for you to sit with

you didn’t really know how professional matches worked. growing up you went to a handful of your brother’s 7-a-side tournaments but you were mostly focused on whatever toy your parents had packed to keep you occupied. but you knew this didn’t compare to that, at all. 

you honestly thought kika would turn up in her kit, wait a few minutes and then start playing, but clearly there was far more to it. so much so that she was finding you someone to sit with. 

you - oh, yeah sure okay

kika - ellie is injured, she's from england like you, so you can sit with her 

your heart picked up, suddenly something you thought would be a light hearted outing with a girl you had grown to really… really like had became meeting her team, her second family, her world outside of the cafe that felt so familiar. sure you kinda met two of her friends already, but that ended up in your ex showing up and tearing you apart piece from piece. 

but you couldn’t show her how anxious you were. 

you - okay, are you sure she’d be okay with that? 

kika - sí, claro, ellie loves to talk so it’s perfect

your fingers hovered over your screen for a second, thumb tapping just below the message. you chewed the inside of your cheek. part of you wanted to make an excuse, say something came up, that you were feeling off, but then another message popped through before you could type a word.

kika - don’t worry, she already said she’ll look after you

and she made me promise to tell you she’s funnier than me

also, do you own a barcelona top?

you laughed softly under your breath, relaxing ever so slightly into your cushions. your heart fluttered at the way she went out of her way to look after you, something that you hadn’t really felt before. 

you - i’ll pretend to laugh at her jokes, but i’m sure they won’t be as good as yours

but no, i don’t own one, or anything football related

the three dots appeared, disappeared, then came back again.

kika -  i’ll make sure to tell her that ;)

you’re important to me, so i want you to feel like you belong there too

you stared at the message for a moment, warmth rising in your chest in that now-familiar way. she never said too much, just enough, always the right words to soothe the previous pounding in your chest.

you - you’re making it hard to play it cool, stop being sweet

kika - can’t help it, see you at 4 cariño

your heart practically exploded at her casual use of the nickname, something so simple, a small ‘spanish’ touch on the end of her message yet you couldn’t hide the slow stunned smile tugging at your lips.

-

you checked the time again - 3:56.

you had checked the time at least 7 times in the last 20 minutes, sitting on the very edge of your sofa as you twiddled your thumbs with anticipation. you’d already put your shoes on 15 minutes ago, then taken them off again and put on another pair. your coat hung by the door, waiting, you clutched your phone tight, even reapplying lip balm for no real reason other than keeping your hands moving. 

then, right on time, the buzz of your phone cut through the silence that was eating away at your mind.

kika - i’m outside :)

you swallowed the sudden nerves and gave yourself a quick once-over in the hallway mirror, before grabbing your coat and heading down to meet her.

the cool air hit your face as you stepped outside, the late afternoon barcelona sky was still bright. kika’s car was parked right by the curb, engine idling, window down. one hand lazily resting on the wheel, the other pushing her hair behind her ear as she spotted you.

she smiled, wide and easy, the kind of smile that tugged at your nerves but made them settle.

kika leaned over to push the door open for you, “i have a present for you.”

you slid into the passenger seat, the warmth of the car wrapping around you instantly. the soft sound of music played in the background, low, slightly jazzy, unexpected but somehow very her.

your eyes flickered over to her, a small gift bag in her lap, a delicate bow tying together the handles. your gaze widening as your face flashed with a sense of fear as your eyes met hers with an apologetic look,  “but i didn’t get you anything.”

a light smile spread across her face as she laughed slightly, “it’s not a proper gift, only something small, to commemorate the first time you get to watch me play.”

“kika you really shouldn’t have.” you shook your head adamantly. 

“just open it.” she insisted, pushing the bag into your lap. 

you looked at her hesitantly, her sending you an affirmative nod before you carefully pulled at the strings of the bow, the paper rustling softly as you opened the bag, your heart thudding louder with every second. 

nestled inside was a folded football shirt, deep blue and garnet, the unmistakable colours of her team. you lifted it carefully, the fabric still holding a faint warmth, worn but clean. you held it up in front of you, your eyes raking it as your mouth dropped open slightly. 

then you saw the back.

kika #18. 

your breath caught for a moment, thumb grazing over the printing of her name. the shirt was clearly match-worn. there was a faint grass stain near the hem, and the neckline was slightly stretched. but it wasn’t just a gift, it was a piece of her.

“you didn’t…” you started softly, words catching in your throat.

“i did,” she interrupted, smiling, nodding again. “it’s from a champions league game against st polten, i scored and got an assist in that game.”

you looked at her, wide-eyed. “kika, this is- this is not small, this is special.”

“so are you,” she said simply, putting the car in gear, “i told you i wanted you to feel like you belong.”

you looked back down at the shirt in your lap, the weight of it suddenly much heavier than just a mix of fabric and thread, “i don’t know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” she replied, voice quieter now, “just wear it.”

you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “okay, but only if you sign it after you win.”

she smirked, giving you a playful nudge, “maybe i’ll even dedicate a goal to you.”

you relaxed into the seat, smiling at her words as she pulled off in the direction of the stadium. 

the drive was filled with kika’s light humming along to the songs, tapping the steering wheel in rhythm with the music before she spoke again, “ellie’s already excited to meet you.”

you tilted your head slightly, “should i be worried?”

she glanced at you, then shook her head. “no, but maybe i should be.”

you looked out the window briefly, laughing to yourself and by the time the stadium came into view in the distance, your nerves had softened into something warm and steady. 

kika said her hello’s to the security guard as they opened the barrier to allow you into the players’ car park, the gravel crunching softly beneath the tyres. you glanced around nervously, eyes catching on the sleek cars, mostly cupra’s, all of it a little more real now.

“don’t look so nervous,” kika said, reaching across to briefly squeeze your hand before easing into a parking space, “ellie’s annoying, but she’s really nice.”

you gave her a weak smile, gripping the t-shirt in your hand a little tighter.

as the engine cut off, you spotted a figure leaning casually against the low wall near the entrance, blonde ponytail, hoodie pulled up despite the mild weather, arms crossed and clearly scanning for someone.

kika sent you a look, one asking if you were ready. “let me just put this on.” you smiled lightly, referencing the shirt. you awkwardly pulled your coat off, slipping the blaugrana over your own t-shirt, looping your coat over your arm. 

you sent kika a nod, before slipping out of the car after her. kika rounded the front of the car, hand grazing your back for the briefest second before she waved toward the figure waiting.

“ellie!” she called.

the blonde perked up, grinning when she spotted the two of you. as you got closer, her eyes flicked to you, her smile widening with a kind of mischief that made your stomach tighten.

“this is the famous barista?” ellie asked, already teasing.

kika rolled her eyes affectionately, “ellie, this is the very patient barista i’ve been annoying for weeks. and this,” she added, turning to you, “is ellie. professional asshole, injured, so she’s free to keep you company tonight.”

ellie held out a hand, clearly amused, “nice to meet you. i’ve heard a lot, mostly about your coffee but she likes to talk about how pretty you are.”

“ellie, shut up.” kika groaned, her hands covered her face as she averted her gaze to the floor. 

you shook her hand, chuckling nervously as your cheeks automatically turned red, “hopefully I live up to the hype.”

ellie winked, “well you’re wearing her shirt, so you’ve already won over half the team.”

kika sighed as ellie slung an arm casually around your shoulders and began leading you toward the stadium doors, “don’t let her embarrass me too much.”

“no promises!” ellie called over her shoulder, and kika could only shake her head, watching the two of you go with a grin she couldn’t hide if she tried.

ellie guided you through the stadium’s inner corridors with the ease of someone who knew exactly where to go, talking the whole way. something about how weird it was to be sidelined again, how annoying physios could be even when they were right, how kika had definitely never acted this nervous about someone before. you laughed along, slightly dazed and definitely nervous, clutching the hem of her shirt like it was anchoring you.

eventually, you reached a private section of the stands a few rows tucked behind the dugout with perfect views of the pitch. ellie flopped into her seat with a dramatic sigh and patted the spot beside her. you sat down carefully, eyes scanning the growing crowd, heart still hammering.

“she’ll be out to warm up soon, you can usually spot her by her scrunchie.” ellie adjusting her hoodie once again. 

you smiled at the image, you often saw the same scrunchie wrapped around her wrist, occasionally looped round her ponytail. maybe it was a good luck charm, or a reminder of home, whatever it is, it was her. 

after a moment of comfortable silence, ellie glanced sideways at you, “so, how long have you lived here?”

“not long, nearly 4 months.” you shrugged lightly. 

“do you plan on staying long?” she asked, it seemed like an intimidating question but it didn’t feel like an interrogation. 

you thought for a moment before answering, “hm at least till the end of my visa, maybe longer depending on how life goes.” 

she nodded before speaking again, “so where’s home home then?”

“uh sheffield, close to manchester basically.” 

“no way, which town?” she blinked. 

you told her and her eyes widened. 

“shut up,” she said, turning toward you fully now. “that’s literally where I grew up, like, i’m not kidding, down the street from the corner shop that sold those really cheap slushies”

your jaw dropped, “no way, i went there all the time after school.”

“those were elite, i’d ask my mum for some money everyday before school just to get one,” ellie agreed, grinning, “you didn’t go to st. mary’s, did you?”

“i did! oh my god.” you shook your head in disbelief. 

“no. shut up. i was in year eleven when the entire art block flooded.”

“that was your year? we got stuck in the temporary classroom for months because of that!”

ellie burst out laughing, leaning into you as the two of you reeled from the weirdest coincidence either of you had experienced in ages.

“world’s too bloody small,” she grinned, “and kika thought she was doing you a favour introducing you to someone ‘from england’, little did she know.”

“that she introduced me to someone who probably saw me dressed as a christmas pudding in my primary school play,” you muttered.

“oh, you are never living that down now, wait were you the one who fell off the stage?”

the two of you dissolved into a fit of laughter just as the players started to file out onto the pitch to warm up. and when your eyes found kika, focused with her scrunchie in. you swore she glanced your way, just for a second. just long enough for you to notice the smile that appeared on her face.

-

the match began with a sudden burst of energy, the pitch flickering alive under the stadium lights as the roar of the crowd settled into a steady hum around you. the barcelona players moved like clockwork, fluid and fast, each pass threaded with precision and trust. 

kika’s presence was clear, demanding, running defenders in circles as if it was the easiest thing in the world. whilst the game itself was entertaining, your eyes were focused on kika, the way she’d fall into open pockets of space, eyes constantly scanning the pitch as if she could see 5 plays ahead, it was mesmerising. 

“she’s always like this,” ellie said, nudging you with her elbow, “quietly terrifying.”

you grinned, eyes still fixed on the field, on her, “she looks like she’s thinking about fifteen things at once.”

“she is,” ellie nodded, “and one of them is definitely you.”

you flushed, the words catching you off guard, but the smile that tugged at your mouth came naturally.

as the match continued, so did the conversation between you and ellie. whatever nervous energy had knotted your stomach earlier had started to melt away, you felt comfortable around her, in a sense she felt like home. you found yourself leaning in, asking questions about positions and plays, laughing at ellie’s dramatic commentary and overly passionate rants about referees.

“number eight on the other team has been diving like she’s auditioning for eastenders,” ellie muttered.

all you could do was laugh in response, her northern attitude really shining through. 

the crowd gasped as barcelona made a break forward. your eyes snapped across the pitch just in time to see kika collect a long pass, take a neat touch, and split two defenders. the ball stayed glued to her feet. one step, then another. and then.

a shot. clean. sharp. perfectly timed. the net rippled with the impact.

the stadium erupted.

your mouth fell open as you surged to your feet without thinking, your heart leaping to meet the moment.

“oh my god, she scored, she scored!” you breathed, the awe obvious in your tone.

ellie jumped up beside you, “of course she did!”

your eyes were fixated on her, watching as she didn’t just turn to her teammates or jog back to the centre circle like most of the others. she looked up, right at you.

even from a distance, the intent was unmistakable. she pointed to the crowd. to you. her smile was wide and warm, as she held her hand to her heart and tapped twice, slow and deliberate.

your breath hitched.

“she’s…” you blinked rapidly. “was that-”

“oh yeah,” ellie confirmed, smirking, a slow teasing nod in your direction, “that was defo for you.”

you sat down slowly, a little stunned, your cheeks warm and hands frozen mid-air.

“she’s going to ruin me.” you muttered.

ellie laughed, “i think she already has, mate.”

you sank back into your seat, heart thudding wildly, the cheers of the crowd muffled beneath the sound of your pulse. your eyes never left the pitch, but your thoughts were miles away. 

back to the girl who used to second-guess everything, who used to shrink herself to fit into someone else’s idea of love. and now here you were, sitting in a borrowed shirt that still carried the faint scent of kika’s perfume, watching her dedicate a goal to you in front of a crowd of people.

the rest of the match passed in bursts, moments where you were completely absorbed by the rhythm of the play, and others where ellie and you swapped stories about growing up back home, from dodgy chip shops to awful school uniforms.

by the time the final whistle blew and the crowd erupted again, barcelona securing a solid win, your voice was slightly rough from cheering and your cheeks ached from smiling. 

players began trickling off the pitch, waving toward the stands, and your eyes scanned for kika.

you spotted her easily. sweat-slicked yet still radiant, her hair pulled back, smile as wide as the pitch itself as she exchanged high fives and hugs. but then her gaze found you again, and that smile softened. there was something quieter in it this time, it felt like it was just for you. her hand raised in a beckoning motion towards you.

“you’re coming down with me,” ellie said, already pulling her lanyard from her bag.

your brows lifted, “am i even allowed?”

“she’ll kill me if i don’t,” ellie smirked. “come on, you’re not getting out of this part.”

as you followed her toward the players’ entrance, nerves fluttered low in your belly. gone was the quiet hum and safety of the cafe you had learnt inside and out, the regulars you memorised the orders of and the bell that gave you familiarity. now here you were, walking through the hallways of one of the most decorated clubs in the world, surrounded by people of a certain status, one you weren’t as familiar with. 

kika was there, just outside the locker room, still in full kit, a towel around her neck, her hair damp but now pulled out of the ponytail. her gaze flicked up at the sound of footsteps, and the moment she saw you, her whole face changed. her grin widened, eyes lighting up like she’d been waiting for this moment the entire match.

“there’s my lucky charm,” she grinned, stepping forward, ignoring the chaos around her.

your cheeks flushed immediately, a red blush quickly spreading as you rolled your eyes, “that was all you.”

she shrugged. “not denying, but it was definitely for you.”

ellie groaned playfully, “you two are disgustingly cute already, you need to tell her about our discovery.” she smirked, nudging your arm. 

kika’s eyes widened, “oh god what’s happened?”

“we basically live round the corner from each other, we even went to the same school.” you explained, a sweet smile on your face, watching as kika’s jaw dropped slightly. 

“we’ve also exchanged numbers so we are going to get a whole lot more annoying.” ellie sent kika an annoying grin, her arm slung around your shoulder as she pulled you into her side slightly.

kika looked between the two of you with a slow blink before letting out a delighted laugh. “of course you are, this makes total sense. you’ve both got so sarcastic and speak far too quickly.”

you and ellie shared a grin before she disappeared momentarily as kika stepped closer to you, lowering her voice.

“did you like it?” she nodded toward the pitch.

you tilted your head, “you mean the goal you scored and then how you pointed at me after scoring?”

“hmm maybe,” she shrugged, a teasing glint in her eyes.

you smiled, softer this time, the noise of the corridor fading for a second. “yeah,” you said honestly, “i really did.”

she bumped her shoulder into yours, “i’ve got to go shower and pretend to listen to the coach talk about things we already know. but will you wait for me?”

you nodded, almost instantly, “of course, i’ll wait.”

as kika turned, she glanced back with one last smile. it was soft and lingering, yet it made your stomach flutter all the same. 

you leaned against the cool concrete wall as kika disappeared down the corridor, still smiling to yourself like some kind of idiot. ellie reappeared from around the corner a few moments later.

“she likes you,” ellie mentioned casually, as if she was telling you something simple like the weather.

you raised an eyebrow, before shaking your head slowly. 

ellie snorted, “no, like, she really likes you. she talks about constantly, as if you hung the stars yourself.”

you glanced down at the match-worn shirt you were still wearing, fingertips brushing the edge of the badge, “i don’t really know what I am to her yet.” you muttered. 

“well,” ellie tilted her head slightly, “you’re wearing her name on your back, she scored and pointed directly at you in front of half of barcelona, and she asked you to wait after the game. i’d say you’re at least halfway to girlfriend.”

you laughed quietly, “we haven’t even been on a date yet.” you sighed, your nerves slowly unwinding into something softer. “it’s just kind of scary. not her, not her at all, it’s just letting someone be this good to me.”

ellie’s teasing softened as she looked at you, “let her be, trust me. kika doesn’t give a lot of people this version of herself, and if she’s offering it to you, it’s because she wants you to have it.”

you nodded, eyes drifting toward the hallway again, sitting with what she had said like a weight on your chest.

fifteen minutes later, kika emerged, hair damp, her duffel slung over her shoulder. she was wearing a team hoodie and joggers now, her kit packed away, but the glow of the match hadn’t left her. she looked instantly toward where you stood, a warm smile tugging at her mouth as she made her way over. 

ellie took that as her signal to leave, giving you a small wave as she walked in the direction kika had come from.

“you waited.” she said, like she was genuinely surprised that you had been out there the whole time.

“of course i did.” you said quietly, with a small nod.

“there’s a team dinner tonight, alexia has asked if you want to come with us? it’s just a small local place round the corner that we go to sometimes,” she was quiet for a moment before speaking again, “i’d really like it if you could come.”

your eyebrow raised slightly, anxiety laced into your words, your voice quiet, “with the whole team?” 

she nodded, a small smile across her face, “a few extras with peoples partners, but the whole team knows a lot about you so they’d love to meet you.”

“okay, i’d really like that.” you smiled slowly.

“let’s go, pretty girl.” she reached out for your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, her fingers laced with yours as she pulled you through the halls back in the direction of her car. she was so casual yet your heart thumped in your chest.

- 

the restaurant was tucked away on a quiet side street, all warm lights and terracotta walls, the kind of place locals loved because it didn’t try too hard. as you walked in beside kika, the low hum of conversation drifted out from the open windows, along with the scent of garlic and something slow-cooked and rich.

“mira quién ha llegado!” someone shouted, yet you weren’t entirely sure who it was. (look who has arrived.)

the tables had been pushed together into one long stretch down the middle of the restaurant. glasses clinked. cutlery scraped. there were half-empty bottles of red wine and plates meant for sharing already scattered across the table.

kika reached for your hand again, giving your fingers a gentle squeeze before leaning toward you.

“you okay?” she asked, her voice low, just for you.

you nodded, smiling, heart still racing but not in a way that made you want to run and hide, in a way you wanted to push through and be a part of her world, “yeah, nervous, but okay.”

she led you over to the group, and suddenly all the attention shifted your way. there were smiles and a chorus of hellos that came in half-english, half-spanish, all of them curious but kind.

ellie caught your eye from down the table and gave you a little wave, lifting her glass. “hey! look who survived her first barca match!”

“barely,” you called back with a grin, causing a few people to laugh.

you took a seat beside kika, her thigh brushing against yours under the table, and slowly, one bite of pan con tomate and a question about your favorite football chant, the nerves started to ease.

the conversation flowed. jana teased kika about her goal celebration, patri argued passionately about who made the best paella, and ellie declared you had to come to the next home match, no excuses.

between the shared tapas and the soft curl of kika’s smile every time she looked at you, your nerves settled. 

you felt a sense of safety, familiarity, being with kika felt like home. something you hadn’t felt since moving to barcelona. 

as the night rolled on, the energy shifted into something warmer. the previous bustling of the dinner table had changed into a group of people who were full of food, smiles plastered onto their faces, whilst soft laughter carried its way across the room.

kika stood up for a second to chat with someone at the far end of the table, and patri leaned across to you, eyebrows raised with a grin.

“so chica, you like her back right?” patri smirked.

“h-huh?” you stuttered, your eyes widening at the sudden question, your cheeks a little warm.

ellie laughed, “it’s so obvious mate, i’ve only been with you a few hours and i’ve caught you eyeing her multiple times.”

your eyes briefly travelled to kika laughing with vicky, the two of them stood either side of alexia, nudging either side of her as she simply rolled her eyes. 

you shook your head, the heat in your cheeks continuing to rise, a short burst of confidence hit you, “well yeah, it’s hard not to.”

ellie and patri smiled at each other, sharing a nod. you looked at the two confused, you were about to question their motive until your head glanced, a smiling kika walking back in your direction. 

when kika sat back down, her hand naturally brushed yours again under the table. she didn’t say anything, it was quiet, casual, and yet more intimate than anything spoken. she dropped her arm along the back of your chair, her fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder as she leaned in.

“are you tired?” she asked, her voice close.

you shook your head, “not yet.”

“good,” she said, tilting her head with a soft smile, “you’re definitely coming to the next match.”

you smiled, bumping her shoulder lightly, “guess i’ll need another shirt.”

kika leaned in just a bit closer, her voice almost a whisper, “you can have all of them.”

you turned to look at her, and something about the way she was watching you, open, steady, unguarded, made your chest flutter.

before either of you could say more, ellie clapped loudly from across the table, “alright, lovebirds, group photo time.”

groans and laughter rose from the table as everyone shuffled into position. you started to stand, unsure where to go, until kika caught your hand. “aqui, come stand next to me,” like it was the obvious answer.

and so you did, fitting yourself beside her, her arm wrapping around your waist like it belonged there. when the camera flashed, you smiled like it was the most natural thing in the world, because it felt exactly like that. 

-

the night air was cooler now, a gentle breeze replaced the previous sun that shone over barcelona. the team filtered out onto the pavement in clusters, saying their goodbyes, before you and kika took a short walk back to her car. 

kika’s hand found yours without much thought as the two of you walked to her car. it wasn’t dramatic, just a quiet, simple thread between your fingers, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. but it still made your heart stutter.

the drive was filled with a kind of content silence, the streets of barcelona slipping past. the radio played faintly again, kika’s music filling the silence as your eyes flickered between the road and the way her face shone every time you passed a streetlight. 

you didn’t need to talk. not really. the comfortable quiet between you was everything you needed in that moment.

kika pulled up outside your building, parking just slightly crooked like she had more important things to focus on, like turning to look at you. her hand stayed on the gearshift, thumb tapping once before she finally spoke.

“thanks for coming tonight.” 

you smiled at her, unbuckling your seatbelt but making no move to open the door just yet. you were quiet for a moment before speaking, “do you want to come up?”

kika’s eyes met yours, she exhaled a small breath, her eyes scanning your face as if she was double checking your question was real, “only if you want me to.”

you smiled again, quiet but sure, and nodded once, “i do.”

-

the apartment door closed with a soft click behind you. kika was now firmly in a space that was yours, your home, your safety, now wrapped up with the girl you were falling head over heels with. 

kika’s eyes scanned across your apartment, as if she was trying to piece together every part of your world she was yet to have seen. 

the family photos that hung proud of your wall, the photos of family pets that your parents would send daily updates about, or the little parts of your personality that were scattered across your apartment. 

“i like your apartment, it’s very you.” she smiled, as if she liked what she found, eyes focusing on the family portrait one of your nieces had drawn for you before you made your move. 

you gave her a soft smile, “thank you.” you instinctively moved around your living room, turning on the warm lighting that was scattered around, you were never a fan of big white lightening. 

kika’s eyes followed you, you could feel her eyes tracking your movements across the room, and somehow it didn’t make you nervous. the air in the apartment was still, like it was waiting for something to happen. when you finally turned around, kika was still watching you, leaning against the back of the sofa.

you gave a half smile, a breath of laughter behind it, “you’re staring.”

she tilted her head slightly, “i know.”

that was all she said yet it had butterflies bursting in your stomach. 

“come on,” you said softly, nodding toward the couch, “we can put something on.”

you settled in side by side, and at first there was space between you, friendly and polite. but as the minutes ticked on and the show played without either of you really watching it, that distance closed. 

her thigh grazing yours. your shoulder pressing lightly against hers. her arm casually falling across the back of the sofa, ever so slightly grazing across your shoulder as she moved. 

your heart thudded loud beneath your skin, you could feel every vibration across your body, and part of you was convinced she could hear it too. you turned towards her, knees just about touching, then she mimicked your movements. she looked at you with that soft, unreadable gaze she seemed to save just for you.

“i don’t know what this is yet,” you said, barely above a whisper, “but i really like… this.”

her hand reached up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “me too,” she said, her voice steadier than yours despite the weight behind her words.

she searched your eyes for a moment, like she was checking if it was okay, not just to kiss you, but to want this at all. 

and then she leaned. so you followed. 

the kiss came slowly, hesitant at first, like neither of you wanted to scare it off. but it deepened quickly, instinctively, her hand finding the side of your face, yours curling in the fabric of her t-shirt. 

you kissed like you had time. like you weren’t rushing toward anything but finally meeting in the middle. 

when you pulled away, breath mingling, your forehead resting against hers, she let out the smallest laugh.

“that was much better than the offside rule explanation.” you laughed softly.

“i’m just glad i didn’t have to explain how i felt about you with sugar packets and spoons.” she grinned, her thumb moving across your cheek slowly. 

“oh there is still time for that.” you teased, pulling away slightly as if you were about to get up before she grabbed your hand pulling you back into her embrace. 

“no no, there’s no need, not when i can just kiss you instead.” 

her words were warm against your skin, her voice low and playful. you couldn’t help the way your smile spread, tugging at the corners of your lips as you let yourself sink back into her arms.

you relaxed into her, the soft weight of her hand moving to settle on your waist, her thumb brushing slow, soothing patterns against your side.

“you really do think you’re smooth, don’t you?” you whispered, nose brushing against hers.

kika tilted her head, eyes gleaming, “only when it works, serendipity, remember?”

you laughed quietly again, your forehead pressing to hers. something about her made it feel simple, effortless. as if being this close, letting yourself fall, piece by piece, was the most natural thing in the world.

maybe barcelona had the potential of becoming home. or at least being with kika was going to feel like it. 

a/n - thank you for reading, any feedback/requests can be left in my inbox. sorry that part 2 took it's sweet time, i hope it lives up to the wait <3

[earpskeeper]

Will there be a past 3?of the spirallin series because I am in love

there absolutely will be a part 3!!!

i have plans to make it into a full series and things are upcoming for bailey (both good and bad)

i have been quite ill the past few days but i am hoping to get back to writing for our bails very soon!!!

as always i’m very open to anyone’s ideas or requests for YSA or anything else 🥰🥰🥰

[earpskeeper]

love the ”your spiraling again” series!! 🫶🏼

awwww thank you anon!!!!

❤️ ❤️ ❤️

[earpskeeper]

you arrive for another England camp expecting to have fun and work hard but end up being told some difficult news which you struggle to deal with wc - 1.5k trigger warnings - sad mazza :(

You were mid-unpacking when she knocked.

Two soft taps. Familiar. Not rushed.

You knew it was her before you turned. You always did.

“Hey, trouble,” Mary said, stepping into the room without waiting for an answer, like she always had. But her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Something about the way she stood (shoulders a little too stiff, hands buried in the sleeves of her jumper) told you this wasn’t just a casual visit.

“You need to get a new nickname,” you muttered, smirking as you dug through your suitcase. “I haven’t broken anything yet.”

“Yet,” she repeated, but it came out flat. She closed the door behind her.

You paused. “What’s going on?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just crossed the room and sat down on the bed opposite you, elbows on her knees. It was the way she always sat when something serious was coming.

“I wanted to tell you before the meeting,” she said quietly. “Before the rest of the girls find out.”

The world stopped.

Mary had never used that voice with you before. Calm. Deliberate. Final.

She inhaled, then… “I’m retiring from international football.”

Everything in you froze. Your hands stilled on the half folded hoodie in your lap. Your chest went hollow.

“What?” you whispered. “You’re joking. This is a joke.”

Mary shook her head slowly. “I’m not. I’m sorry.”

You stood up suddenly, heart thudding in your ears. “So you’re just going to leave? Just like that?”

“It’s not just like that,” she said, standing too. “This decision took me a long time to make.”

“You said you’d always be here,” you snapped. “You said I wasn’t alone. That I had you.”

Mary looked like she wanted to cry. “You do have me. I’m not disappearing…”

“Not disappearing? You won’t be here. You won’t be at camp. You won’t be in the changing room. You won’t be next to me when everything feels like it’s falling apart!”

“I’m still going to be in your life. This isn’t the end.”

But you didn’t believe her. You turned away, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Anger boiled in you, then drained just as fast. It left you hollow. Empty.

You sat back on the bed, staring at your open suitcase.

Mary moved toward you, but before she could reach you, a knock interrupted.

“Mary?” a staff member called gently. “It’s time. You said you wanted to make the announcement now.”

Mary hesitated, glancing back at you before turning back to the staff member. “Yeah, thanks I’m coming now.”

The meeting room was full. The usual noise. Laughter. Banter. You sat in the back.

You kept your hood up and your hands buried in your sleeves, fingers digging into raw skin. The metallic tang of blood hit your tongue when you bit too hard on your thumbnail. You didn’t care.

Mary stood at the front. Hands trembling. Her eyes a little red.

“I have something to share,” she began. “It’s not easy. But I wanted to say it to you all face to face.”

Your stomach turned.

“I’m retiring from international football… Effective immediately.”

A collective gasp. Some muttered what’s. Others looked around, stunned.

You didn’t move.

You kept picking at your fingers until the blood stained your cuff.

Mary looked at you. She always looked at you. But she didn’t move toward you. She couldn’t. She just stared, heartbreak in her eyes as you sat there breaking apart.

The one time you needed her to reach out, she didn’t.

Couldn’t.

The moment the meeting ended, you bolted up, weaving through the crowd. All you wanted was to get out.

“Hey, wait!” Mary caught up to you outside the room. “Please, can we just talk?”

You turned, eyes burning.

“You lied to me.”

Mary winced. “I didn’t lie, I just…”

“You said I wasn’t alone. That you’d always be here. You were the first person who ever made me feel like I mattered and now you’re just…”

Your voice cracked. Your whole body was shaking.

“You’re just leaving like the rest of them.”

Mary reached out. “Please, kid!”

You screamed.

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!”

Everyone in the hallway froze.

“I needed you! And now you’re just… you’re just another person who gave up on me!”

You shoved her. Not hard. But it felt like everything in you splintered at once.

And then you ran.

Ella and Alessia found you first.

You were close to both of them even though Lessi had moved to Arsenal. 

You locked your door. Sat on the floor with your back pressed to it, knees pulled to your chest. You could hear them outside, pleading.

“Come on, just open the door,” Ella said softly. “We don’t have to talk. Just… let us in.”

“You don’t have to go through this on your own,” Lessie added.

You stayed silent. Everything inside you ached. You wanted to scream, cry, break something. But you just sat there, tears silently trailing down your face.

Minutes passed. Then Leah’s voice joined them.

“She’s hurting too,” she said gently. “Mary’s not okay either.”

You pressed your palms to your ears.

You didn’t want to hear that.

You didn’t want to believe it.

Because if Mary was hurting, it meant she still cared.

And that made everything hurt worse, so without warning you stood up and opened the door. 

You stumbled out, gasping like you couldn’t get air in, sobbing so violently your whole body shook. Alessia was the first to react, pulling you into her arms with no hesitation.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered fiercely, holding you against her chest. “I’ve got you.”

Downstairs, Mary sat in the common room with a few of the girls. Millie, Lucy, and Rachel sat around the lounge area, trying to distract her with casual conversation.

Mary was pretending to listen, nodding occasionally. But her eyes kept flicking toward the stairs.

She hadn’t stopped worrying.

“You okay?” Millie asked quietly.

Mary gave a short shake of her head, then opened her mouth to say something, just as Leah came sprinting down the corridor.

“Mary!” Leah called, breathless. “She opened the door. She’s not okay. You need to come. Now.”

Mary was on her feet before Leah finished the sentence, bolting for the stairs.

Upstairs, Ella was now rubbing soothing circles on your back whilst Alessia kept a firm securing hold on you when Mary came flying round the corner. 

She didn’t say anything.

She didn’t ask, she just pulled you from Alessia’s arms and into hers, like if she held you tight enough, everything might stay together. 

And you just collapsed into her arms, fists twisting in her jumper. Sobs shaking through your spine. She lowered you both to the floor and sat there, her back against the wall, your body curled into her like it always belonged there.

She stroked your hair. Held you tighter every time your breath hitched.

"I’m here," she whispered. "I’m here. I’m not going anywhere tonight."

And this time, you believed her.

Eventually, your tears ran out. Your body went limp, the exhaustion of it all dragging you under.

You fell asleep in her arms.

Mary didn’t move. Not for hours.

The Euros. One month later.

The stadium was thunderous, packed to the rafters. You didn’t hear any of it. Not really. Not until the ball hit the back of the net and your name exploded through the noise.

You'd scored. In a semi final.

You'd scored. For England.

Your teammates swarmed you, cheering, grabbing at your shirt, your arms, your face. It was a blur of adrenaline and sound and disbelief.

When the final whistle blew, you didn’t think about the cameras or the crowd. You were just in it. Present.

Until someone said, "Player of the Match presentation."

You walked toward the camera setup on autopilot, still catching your breath.

And then you saw her.

Mary.

Standing just behind the official with the trophy. In the crowd. Somehow close enough for you to see that her eyes were wet. Smiling.

You froze.

She stepped forward to hand you the award. Up close, you could see the pride all over her face. And something else. Something quieter. Like watching someone you love become exactly who they were meant to be.

"Told you you didn’t need me to fly," she murmured.

You took the trophy, blinking quickly.

"I never said I didn't stop needing you," you whispered.

She laughed through her tears. "I’m still here. Just from the stands now."

And for the first time, that didn’t feel like a goodbye.

[earpskeeper]

part 2 of the your spiralin again universe is out now!

[earpskeeper]

part 2 to the you're spiralin again series - part 1 can be found here

trigger warnings remain the same for this whole series and are posted on the masterlist

word count - 3k

Beth didn’t sleep that night.

Not properly. Not with the way her stomach had twisted into knots and her heart beat in patterns she couldn’t settle. She kept refreshing your Instagram, scanning every post and story. Looking for clues. For answers. For proof that Leah was wrong. But her mind kept replaying Leah’s voice over and over again. “She’s not right Beth.”

She tried to dismiss it, told herself Leah was being dramatic, that maybe you’d just had a bad night, or maybe you were just tired. But the pit in her stomach said otherwise.

So she scrolled through your socials obsessively. Every post curated, every story loud and upbeat. You in training. You on matchday. You smiling with teammates she didn’t know. All of it too polished. Too bright. Too wrong.

Then she tapped into your Close Friends story by mistake.

A mirror selfie. Flash on. Glassy eyes. A wide, forced smile. A drink in one hand, another bottle on the table behind you. “celebrating the grind 🥂💪”

It wasn’t the post that got her. It was what was in it - your knee visibly swollen in the reflection, the dark circles under your eyes, the way your body slumped just slightly.

Beth stared for a long time, heart thudding. She took a screenshot and sent it to Arsenal’s head physio.

Twenty-four hours later, your loan was terminated.

When you were told of your loan being cancelled you were full of feelings you weren’t quite sure how to express. You just knew you wanted to get out of there as fast as you could. You couldn’t quite face the embarrassment of failing at your loan club so you quickly packed a bag and got on the next train back to london. 

But not before you messaged Kyra. 

Told her you were back from loan and needed a place to crash. You were meant to be staying with Beth, had always planned on it, but when she texted to confirm, you panicked. Your chest had gone tight, your thoughts spiralled, and you couldn’t face being around her. Not like this. So you sent her a weak excuse about not wanting to be kept up by her dog, Myle. Said you needed quiet. Said you didn’t want to be a burden.

Sure, you’d shared a flat with Kyra briefly before you went off on your loan, but in your mind, that was more of an extended sleepover than a flat share. So you weren't even sure she would say yes. But she did. No hesitation. No questions.

When you arrived, the sky had turned slate grey, casting the flat in heavy shadows. It was so still inside, so quiet, it made your knock sound louder than intended.

Kyra opened the door in socks, blinking like you’d caught her mid-scroll. When she looked up and saw you standing there - hoodie up, duffel bag slack at your side, the faint trace of alcohol still clinging to your clothes - her face shifted instantly.

“Hey,” she said, gentle and concerned.

You didn’t answer. Just stepped past her, eyes on the floor. You didn’t have the energy to fake a smile, to lie, to be anyone but this version of yourself, exhausted and fragile.

Kyra didn’t push. She closed the door quietly behind you, took your bag without a word, and led you to the spare room. Heater on. Hoodie left folded at the end of the bed. Glass of water placed beside the nightstand.

She didn’t ask anything.

Not yet.

You hadn’t responded to any of Beth or Leah’s messages after dragging yourself in late last night. No call answered. Not a single text opened. Your phone might as well have been switched off. You’d been too wired to sleep, then too numb to function.

Beth had barely slept. She’d stared at her phone all night, stomach twisted, convinced you were angry at her (furious, even) for being back at Arsenal after your loan had been suddenly cancelled. She’d expected tension. Silence. Maybe even shouting.

So when she turned up first thing in the morning, earlier than any reasonable person should, she’d come bracing herself for impact. She knocked for ages - relentless and urgent - until Kyra finally stirred from sleep, rubbing her eyes as she opened the door in a haze.

“She’s... up,” Kyra said, brows furrowed. “She’s in her room. She’s been... well, she’s moving furniture?”

Beth blinked. “What?”

Kyra just stepped aside, still baffled.

Beth stepped into the flat, expecting to find you face-down in bed, curtains drawn, dead to the world like you’d been yesterday. But instead…

You were wide awake. Standing in the middle of your temporary room with flushed cheeks and too bright eyes, dragging the bed frame toward the opposite wall.

“Just thought it’d look better over there,” you chirped, breathless. “Feng shui, right?”

Beth froze in the doorway, completely thrown. “You’re… what?”

“Rearranging! Feels good to reset the space, you know?” You grinned, too big and too quick, eyes flicking from one thing to the next. Your limbs moved like you were trying to outrun your own thoughts.

Kyra hovered behind Beth, watching like she was witnessing something she couldn’t quite name.

Beth stepped further in. “Why didn’t you answer the door?”

You shrugged, still smiling. “Didn’t hear it.”

Beth blinked. “You didn’t hear that?”

“I had headphones in. Music helps me concentrate.”

Kyra shot Beth a glance. Beth frowned.

“I think we need to talk,” Beth said, her voice gentle but firm.

You kept that same smile on your face, but it didn’t touch your eyes. “Let’s do lunch after physio, yeah? Me, you, Kyra and the other girls too. Everyone’s been wanting to catch up.”

Beth hesitated. “You sure?”

“Positive,” you said brightly. “We’ll do a proper catch up. You have my word.”

Then you turned back to your half-shifted furniture, still moving like you were running out of time.

Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

You had swung your legs on the edge of the physio table, trying not to let the tremors show. Your knee hurt like hell. Your head throbbed. The fake, buzzing energy from earlier had already begun to nosedive, and you could feel the comedown sinking in beneath your skin. Everything around you felt louder. Closer. Too close.

Grace, one of the physios, had scrolled through her notes with a calm smile. “How long’s the swelling been there?”

“A couple of weeks,” you had said, tossing it out like it was nothing.

She glanced up. “You didn’t tell anyone?”

You shrugged. “Didn’t seem urgent.”

“It looks pretty inflamed. Are you taking anything?”

“Nope. Just ice.” The lie had tasted like metal in your mouth.

Grace didn’t react. Not right away. She just nodded slowly and typed something into her tablet. “Alright, we’ll need a urine sample today. Just routine.”

Your stomach had dropped. Something cold had prickled along your spine. “Uh... can I do it after the physio session?”

“Best to do it now while we’re already logged in.”

“I just went before I came down.”

“You’ve been here less than ten minutes.”

You had forced a grin. “Bladder of steel.”

Grace’s fingers paused over her tablet. She looked at you properly then, really looked. “Bailey, you seem... jittery. Have you eaten today?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. “Had a protein bar earlier.”

She didn’t look convinced. “You’re sweating. Your heart rate’s high. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine.” It came out too fast.

She narrowed her eyes a little. There’d been a flicker of something (suspicion, maybe) before she opened her mouth again.

But then the door had banged open, and Lotte limped in, wincing in pain.

“She rolled her ankle,” Emily Fox explained, rushing in behind her, eyes wide.

And just like that, you had seen your chance.

You’d hopped off the table, snatched up your water bottle, and backed toward the door. “I’ll be back in a bit, yeah?”

And you had been gone before anyone could stop you.

Your hands had shaken so hard it was difficult to keep your bottle steady. Your vision had swum. You’d barely registered the corridor around you until you slammed straight into someone coming the other way.

“Bailey?”

Katie McCabe.

She’d lit up instantly. “Welcome back, love.”

You couldn’t meet her eyes. Couldn’t let her see you like that. You’d muttered something (maybe a greeting, maybe an apology) and rushed past her, trying not to stumble.

Your throat had been sandpaper. Your skin had itched and buzzed. All you’d wanted was to vanish into a quiet corner.

Katie had watched you go. Her smile had faded almost immediately, concern etching deep across her face. She stood in the hallway for a moment, as if she was weighing up whether to make a big deal out of this.

She hesitated.

You’d looked… off. Not just tired or jet-lagged or overwhelmed. Wrong. Twitchy. Like your skin didn’t fit quite right. But still, she second-guessed herself. Maybe it wasn’t her place. Maybe you were just adjusting. Maybe Beth or Kyra already had it handled. 

But in the end she decided to question Beth and she opened her messages and typed:

Just saw Bails. She rushed past me. Didn’t look great. Wasn’t she supposed to grab lunch with us?

She stared at the screen, thumb tapping absently at the edge of her phone.

Should she tell someone? Should she follow you?

She didn’t move. Not yet. Just stood there in the corridor, caught between instinct and uncertainty, frowning hard as the unease curled tighter in her chest.

Something was definitely wrong.

Katie watched you walk away, her arms folded tight across her chest. Something itched beneath her skin. Something that she couldn’t quite put a name to yet, but you weren’t okay. Not even close. She knew it in the way your shoulders curled inward, how you couldn’t hold her gaze.

But you were already gone.

You found a pub not far from the station. The kind with stained carpets and drawn blinds, stuck in some half forgotten time. You didn’t even hesitate. You walked straight to the bar like you belonged there.

The bartender didn’t ask questions. Just raised a brow as you muttered your order and slid a crumpled note across the counter.

Vodka, straight. Then more.

No one noticed the shaking. No one cared.

You drank until your skin felt numb. Until your thoughts stopped colliding. Until everything turned soft and slow.

You got home just before sunset, keys fumbling in the lock, footsteps uneven.

Kyra was on the sofa, half-watching some series, half scrolling on her phone when she heard the door creak open. Her head turned. She expected… something. Conversation. Excuses. Maybe even an apology.

But you didn’t say a word.

Just kicked your shoes off with a clumsy thud, hoodie still pulled low, and moved straight past her.

She blinked. “Hey, you alright? You missed lunch today.”

You mumbled something that might’ve been a “yeah,” then disappeared into your room. The door shut softly behind you.

And that was it.

But Kyra sat up straighter.

She could smell it.

Not just from your breath (though that had been sharp, metallic, unmistakable) but in your room, too. It clung to the air like static: sour and sad and hard to ignore.

Still, she said nothing.

She’d told herself not to push. Not yet. told herself you were probably just trying to get used to being back.

Every day was the same.

You’d vanish after physio or training (assuming you showed up at all) then come home just late enough to avoid proper conversation. Your smile was always too wide. Your eyes always too red.

And every night, you disappeared into that room like it was your only safe place.

Kyra never saw you eat.

She rarely saw you sleep.

But the smell - God, the smell - kept getting stronger. Not just on you, but in your room, soaked into the fabrics and corners like mould.

She knocked a few times. Lightly. Asked how you were doing, if you wanted tea, or dinner, or to sit on the couch for five damn minutes.

You always answered through the door.

“Just tired.”

“Long day.”

“Tomorrow, yeah?”

Always “tomorrow.”

It was barely past seven when Kyra woke to the sound of something hard hitting tile.

A sharp thud. Then silence.

She sat up in bed, heart racing. The silence dragged - too long, too still.

Then came the groan. Low. Choked.

She was out of her room in seconds.

The bathroom door was ajar, the light flickering from inside.

You were slumped on the floor - legs tangled, head lolling against the wall. Pale, sweating, barely conscious. One of your arms dangled uselessly over the toilet. The other was pressed against your ribs like you couldn’t quite breathe.

Kyra froze. “Bailey?”

Nothing.

She dropped to her knees beside you, panic spiking so fast it made her nauseous. “Bailey. Hey…hey, stay with me, alright? Come on.”

Your breath was shallow. The stink of alcohol filled the space. It was sharp, fresh.

She found herself checking your pulse, her own hands shaking.

You stirred with a weak noise. Tried to speak.

She held your face between her hands. “Hey. You’re okay. I’ve got you. Just stay with me.”

It took nearly twenty minutes to get you conscious enough to move, and even then, you were barely coherent.

She helped you to your room. Pulled the blankets around you. Sat at your side for the rest of the morning with her phone clutched tight in her lap, hovering over Beth’s number.

But she didn’t call.

Not yet.

The smell of instant coffee clung to the air. Rain tapped the windows in a steady rhythm, too soft to drown out the sound of you rifling through the cupboard. You were moving like your limbs were full of sand: slow, heavy, drained.

You hadn’t left the flat in two days. Not since Kyra found you crumpled in the bathroom, cheeks grey, lips cracked, vomit on the floor. The team had scheduled a rest and recovery day after a heavy training block, so there was no excuse to escape the flat. No training, just an opportunity to hide.

You’d spent the entire day and night either asleep or locked in your room with the door shut, curtains drawn. Kyra hadn’t pushed. Not yet. But today (matchday minus two) you were due back at training.

Full training with the rest of the team to get your fitness levels back up. 

And Kyra had made breakfast.

You shuffled into the kitchen, hoodie pulled low over your face, eyes shadowed and sunken. You hadn’t showered. Hadn’t really eaten, either.

Kyra stood at the kitchen counter, arms folded, her face pale with worry and sleep deprivation. She’d barely left you alone since finding you collapsed in the bathroom days ago. You hadn’t said a word about it since. In some ways you were hoping if you didn’t bring attention to it then it could be forgotten about. Like it never happened in the first place. 

But you were foolish to think that.

She set a bowl of porridge on the table, careful, tentative. “I thought we could eat before training,” she said softly.

You didn’t respond. Just filled a glass with water, your back to her.

“Bailey,” she tried again, “can we talk about what happened?”

Your hand tightened around the glass. Slowly, you turned.

Kyra caught the flicker in your eyes - not pain, not shame. Something darker. Sharper. A defense mechanism disguised as a smile.

“Talk about what?” you said lightly, voice like ice. “That I got dizzy and needed a lie down?”

Kyra’s stomach twisted. “That wasn’t dizzy, Bailey. You collapsed. You were…your skin was freezing. You could barely speak.”

You gave a hollow laugh. “I was tired. It happens.”

“Bailey…”

You slammed the glass down. “I said it happens.” The smile slipped. Your eyes were wild now, cornered.

Kyra flinched at your tone, but held her ground. “I should’ve called Beth. Or the physios. Or someone. You need help, Bails. This isn’t…this isn’t okay anymore.”

That did it.

You stepped in close. Too close.

Your voice dropped to a near whisper, deadly calm. “If you tell anyone what happened… if one word leaves your mouth…”

You leaned in. “We’re done. You hear me? I’ll pack my shit, and I’ll be out before you’re back from training.”

Kyra froze, wide eyed. “Bailey…”

“You owe me.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You owe me,” you repeated, slower this time. “Don’t forget who was there for you when you first came here. When you were crying every night in that god awful shared flat. When you couldn’t get through a single week without wanting to go home.”

“That’s not fair.”

“You begged me not to let anyone see how homesick you were. Begged me to cover for you. To sit with you at meals. To make it look like you had friends.”

Her eyes welled. “That was different.”

“Was it? Because I didn’t tell a soul. I protected you. I kept your secret. And now I’m asking you to return the favour.”

Silence.

“That’s what friends do, right?” you whispered. “They look out for each other. They don’t run their mouths when things get messy. They don’t call in help when someone just needs a day to breathe.”

She looked so small then. So unsure.

“If you tell anyone, Kyra,” you said, soft but venom laced, “we’re done.”

And with that you turned and walked out, grabbing your kit bag off the hook like nothing had happened.

The door shut behind you. Quiet. Final.

And Kyra was left stood in the kitchen, her stomach in knots.

[earpskeeper]

thank youuuuuuuu 🥰🥰

one shot given to me by the lovely @lvnleah - hope you enjoy!

It had been a scorcher at the Arsenal training ground, the kind of heat that made the air feel syrupy and your limbs heavy. Renee had already cut the session short, but you had something to prove. To her. To yourself. To the voice in your head whispering that getting benched meant you weren’t enough.

So you stayed. Pushed harder. Too hard.

Kyra noticed. She always did. From the sidelines, she chewed on a fingernail, eyes tracking every step you took. She saw the tremble in your hands, the unnatural flush in your cheeks, the shallow rise and fall of your chest. She knew the signs.

Then, mid run, your legs buckled. One second you were sprinting, the next you were on the ground, collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Kyra ran.

“MOVE!” she shouted, shoving past Caitlin and Lotte, ignoring Renee’s whistle and the medics who hesitated just a moment too long. She dropped beside you, pale and breathless, cradling your face like it was made of glass.

“Hey. Hey, baby, wake up. I’ve got you,” she whispered, brushing sweat from your brow with a trembling thumb.

“Baby?”

Caitlin’s eyebrows shot up. Katie exchanged a look with Beth. Even Renee froze.

The physios arrived, taking over with protocols and pulse checks, but Kyra stayed put, her hand clutching yours, unwilling to let go.

“Kyra,” one of them said gently, “we’ve got her now.”

It took a second, but finally, reluctantly, she backed away, watching as they loaded you into the ambulance. She was already stepping forward when a paramedic stopped her.

“Are you immediate family?”

Kyra’s mouth opened, then closed. No words came. Only the sound of the ambulance doors slamming shut echoed in her ears.

She didn’t wait. She stormed to the locker room, threw her things into her bag, and left without a word. Straight to her car. Straight to the hospital.

She had to see you. Had to know you were okay. Because if this stupid secret meant she wasn’t even allowed to sit beside you in the ambulance, then what was the point?

At the hospital, her voice cracked when she spoke. “Y/N Y/L/N. She collapsed during training.”

“Are you family?” the receptionist asked.

Kyra paused. “I’m someone who cares about her. A lot.”

The receptionist softened. “Take a seat.”

Kyra sat. Time moved so slowly that when a nurse finally called her name, she nearly tripped over her own feet.

“She’s stable,” the nurse said. “You can see her, just for a few minutes.”

Kyra walked into the dim room like she was holding her breath. You were pale, bandaged, hooked to an IV - but awake.

“Hey,” Kyra whispered, stepping close. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Ky?”

“I’m here.” She took your hand, grounding herself. “You passed out. Heatstroke and a mild concussion.”

You groaned softly. “I was pushing too hard.”

“You do that,” she murmured, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You don’t need to prove anything. Not to me.”

Silence settled. Then, with eyes half lidded, you said, “They know now, don’t they?”

Kyra chuckled dryly. “Yeah. Pretty sure calling you ‘baby’ gave it away. Caitlin’s jaw hit the ground.”

You laughed, barely, but it was enough.

“They’ll deal,” Kyra said. “Just get better. I can’t lose you.”

“You didn’t.”

Kyra lingered at the door after the nurse reminded her it was time to go.

“I love you,” she said.

You didn’t hesitate. “I love you, too.”

Returning to training felt surreal, like stepping into a life that had moved on without you. The drills were the same, the grass familiar, but Kyra was different. Loud. Fierce.

“Careful! She’s just back!” she barked during warm-ups, positioning herself like a human buffer between you and the rest of the squad.

“Kyra,” you warned gently.

“What? You gonna break if someone breathes too hard next to you?” Katie joked from the back of the group.

Laughter rippled around the pitch. Beth nudged Leah and murmured something under her breath. Leah rolled her eyes but smiled.

You tried to shake off the tension in your shoulders, get back into rhythm. It felt good to run again. To move again.

The ball rolled your way during a small-sided game. You broke left, took it on the run. Leah slid in - cleanly, perfectly timed. Nothing reckless.

But Kyra saw red.

“LEAH, WHAT THE HELL?!”

Leah got up calmly, brushing grass off her shorts. “I got the ball, Kyra.”

“She’s recovering!”

“She’s not made of glass.”

Renee’s whistle cut through the air. “Kyra, go cool off. Now.”

Kyra looked like she might explode. Her fists clenched, jaw tight. But she didn’t argue. Just turned on her heel and stormed off the pitch.

You stood frozen for a moment, everyone’s eyes flicking between you and the direction Kyra had gone. Something twisted in your chest - guilt, maybe. Or something closer to worry.

You jogged off without a word, ignoring the glances, ignoring Renee’s raised brow.

You found Kyra behind the equipment shed, pacing. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, eyes fixed on the gravel. She didn’t look up when you came near.

“Kyra.”

“Don’t,” she said sharply. Her voice cracked on the word.

You took a breath. “I’m not mad.”

“Well, you should be. I’m acting like a lunatic.”

You stepped closer. “You’re scared.”

Her head snapped up at that, and for a second, her bravado faltered. Her mouth opened, then shut again. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Of course I’m scared,” she said, barely above a whisper. “You collapsed in front of me. You weren’t moving. And now everyone just expects me to pretend like it’s all fine again? Like I’m fine?”

“You don’t have to pretend,” you said gently.

She turned away from you, hands on her hips, fighting for control. “But if I don’t hold it together, who will? Everyone was looking to me when you were gone (when you were back at home recovering) like I had answers… Like I knew what was going to happen.”

You stepped up behind her, placing a hand softly on her back. She didn’t flinch, just stood there, trembling slightly.

“I watched them load you into that ambulance, and I didn’t even know if I’d see you again,” she said, her voice breaking completely. “And I didn’t cry. I didn’t let myself. Because if I started, I thought I’d never stop.”

She turned then, finally, and before you could say anything, she collapsed into your arms.

You caught her easily, wrapping her up, holding her as her walls crumbled.

She sobbed quietly into your shoulder, fists bunching in the back of your shirt.

“I was so fucking scared,” she whispered, again and again. “I thought I lost you.”

You rocked her gently, your hand stroking her back, grounding her.

“I’m here,” you said. “I’m okay. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You held her like that for what felt like forever - until her breathing slowed, until her grip loosened and her body leaned into yours, softer now. Lighter, in a way.

When she finally pulled back, her face was tear streaked, her eyes puffy. But there was something calmer in her expression.

“You’re allowed to feel it,” you said, brushing your thumb under her eye. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

She let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Just… don’t scare me like that again, alright?”

“I’ll try not to. But I will get tackled again, you know.”

She huffed a laugh, weak but real. “Yeah, well. Leah can still piss off.”

You laughed softly and pulled her into a hug again, tighter this time.

And for the first time since everything happened, Kyra held you not like someone trying to protect you, but like someone who was finally letting herself be held, too.

[earpskeeper]

Ideas wise: what if Beth turns up at baileys flat/house and finds her alcohol stash or finds her passed out.

Or Bailey runs out of pain killers and the regular doctor is away and she can’t get anymore until they are back so she starts lashing out in training/games and gets sent off

i actually do have something very very similar in my plans from something on the list that has been written into a rough draft 🤭🤭

but now all these will be going on the list for sure because i love them!!

if anyone has anymore requests or suggestions send em my way!!!!

[earpskeeper]

I fucking love the your spirallin’ again fic

ahhhhhh thank you so much anon!!!!!!

i have to say it doesn't get better for Bailey anytime soon but there are plans in place

i am also open to any suggestions or requests anyone may have for the spirallin again universe or any other things you wanna read :)

[earpskeeper]

hehehe

one shot given to me by the lovely @lvnleah - hope you enjoy!

It had been a scorcher at the Arsenal training ground, the kind of heat that made the air feel syrupy and your limbs heavy. Renee had already cut the session short, but you had something to prove. To her. To yourself. To the voice in your head whispering that getting benched meant you weren’t enough.

So you stayed. Pushed harder. Too hard.

Kyra noticed. She always did. From the sidelines, she chewed on a fingernail, eyes tracking every step you took. She saw the tremble in your hands, the unnatural flush in your cheeks, the shallow rise and fall of your chest. She knew the signs.

Then, mid run, your legs buckled. One second you were sprinting, the next you were on the ground, collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Kyra ran.

“MOVE!” she shouted, shoving past Caitlin and Lotte, ignoring Renee’s whistle and the medics who hesitated just a moment too long. She dropped beside you, pale and breathless, cradling your face like it was made of glass.

“Hey. Hey, baby, wake up. I’ve got you,” she whispered, brushing sweat from your brow with a trembling thumb.

“Baby?”

Caitlin’s eyebrows shot up. Katie exchanged a look with Beth. Even Renee froze.

The physios arrived, taking over with protocols and pulse checks, but Kyra stayed put, her hand clutching yours, unwilling to let go.

“Kyra,” one of them said gently, “we’ve got her now.”

It took a second, but finally, reluctantly, she backed away, watching as they loaded you into the ambulance. She was already stepping forward when a paramedic stopped her.

“Are you immediate family?”

Kyra’s mouth opened, then closed. No words came. Only the sound of the ambulance doors slamming shut echoed in her ears.

She didn’t wait. She stormed to the locker room, threw her things into her bag, and left without a word. Straight to her car. Straight to the hospital.

She had to see you. Had to know you were okay. Because if this stupid secret meant she wasn’t even allowed to sit beside you in the ambulance, then what was the point?

At the hospital, her voice cracked when she spoke. “Y/N Y/L/N. She collapsed during training.”

“Are you family?” the receptionist asked.

Kyra paused. “I’m someone who cares about her. A lot.”

The receptionist softened. “Take a seat.”

Kyra sat. Time moved so slowly that when a nurse finally called her name, she nearly tripped over her own feet.

“She’s stable,” the nurse said. “You can see her, just for a few minutes.”

Kyra walked into the dim room like she was holding her breath. You were pale, bandaged, hooked to an IV - but awake.

“Hey,” Kyra whispered, stepping close. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Ky?”

“I’m here.” She took your hand, grounding herself. “You passed out. Heatstroke and a mild concussion.”

You groaned softly. “I was pushing too hard.”

“You do that,” she murmured, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You don’t need to prove anything. Not to me.”

Silence settled. Then, with eyes half lidded, you said, “They know now, don’t they?”

Kyra chuckled dryly. “Yeah. Pretty sure calling you ‘baby’ gave it away. Caitlin’s jaw hit the ground.”

You laughed, barely, but it was enough.

“They’ll deal,” Kyra said. “Just get better. I can’t lose you.”

“You didn’t.”

Kyra lingered at the door after the nurse reminded her it was time to go.

“I love you,” she said.

You didn’t hesitate. “I love you, too.”

Returning to training felt surreal, like stepping into a life that had moved on without you. The drills were the same, the grass familiar, but Kyra was different. Loud. Fierce.

“Careful! She’s just back!” she barked during warm-ups, positioning herself like a human buffer between you and the rest of the squad.

“Kyra,” you warned gently.

“What? You gonna break if someone breathes too hard next to you?” Katie joked from the back of the group.

Laughter rippled around the pitch. Beth nudged Leah and murmured something under her breath. Leah rolled her eyes but smiled.

You tried to shake off the tension in your shoulders, get back into rhythm. It felt good to run again. To move again.

The ball rolled your way during a small-sided game. You broke left, took it on the run. Leah slid in - cleanly, perfectly timed. Nothing reckless.

But Kyra saw red.

“LEAH, WHAT THE HELL?!”

Leah got up calmly, brushing grass off her shorts. “I got the ball, Kyra.”

“She’s recovering!”

“She’s not made of glass.”

Renee’s whistle cut through the air. “Kyra, go cool off. Now.”

Kyra looked like she might explode. Her fists clenched, jaw tight. But she didn’t argue. Just turned on her heel and stormed off the pitch.

You stood frozen for a moment, everyone’s eyes flicking between you and the direction Kyra had gone. Something twisted in your chest - guilt, maybe. Or something closer to worry.

You jogged off without a word, ignoring the glances, ignoring Renee’s raised brow.

You found Kyra behind the equipment shed, pacing. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, eyes fixed on the gravel. She didn’t look up when you came near.

“Kyra.”

“Don’t,” she said sharply. Her voice cracked on the word.

You took a breath. “I’m not mad.”

“Well, you should be. I’m acting like a lunatic.”

You stepped closer. “You’re scared.”

Her head snapped up at that, and for a second, her bravado faltered. Her mouth opened, then shut again. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Of course I’m scared,” she said, barely above a whisper. “You collapsed in front of me. You weren’t moving. And now everyone just expects me to pretend like it’s all fine again? Like I’m fine?”

“You don’t have to pretend,” you said gently.

She turned away from you, hands on her hips, fighting for control. “But if I don’t hold it together, who will? Everyone was looking to me when you were gone (when you were back at home recovering) like I had answers… Like I knew what was going to happen.”

You stepped up behind her, placing a hand softly on her back. She didn’t flinch, just stood there, trembling slightly.

“I watched them load you into that ambulance, and I didn’t even know if I’d see you again,” she said, her voice breaking completely. “And I didn’t cry. I didn’t let myself. Because if I started, I thought I’d never stop.”

She turned then, finally, and before you could say anything, she collapsed into your arms.

You caught her easily, wrapping her up, holding her as her walls crumbled.

She sobbed quietly into your shoulder, fists bunching in the back of your shirt.

“I was so fucking scared,” she whispered, again and again. “I thought I lost you.”

You rocked her gently, your hand stroking her back, grounding her.

“I’m here,” you said. “I’m okay. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You held her like that for what felt like forever - until her breathing slowed, until her grip loosened and her body leaned into yours, softer now. Lighter, in a way.

When she finally pulled back, her face was tear streaked, her eyes puffy. But there was something calmer in her expression.

“You’re allowed to feel it,” you said, brushing your thumb under her eye. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

She let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Just… don’t scare me like that again, alright?”

“I’ll try not to. But I will get tackled again, you know.”

She huffed a laugh, weak but real. “Yeah, well. Leah can still piss off.”

You laughed softly and pulled her into a hug again, tighter this time.

And for the first time since everything happened, Kyra held you not like someone trying to protect you, but like someone who was finally letting herself be held, too.

[earpskeeper]

one shot given to me by the lovely @lvnleah - hope you enjoy!

It had been a scorcher at the Arsenal training ground, the kind of heat that made the air feel syrupy and your limbs heavy. Renee had already cut the session short, but you had something to prove. To her. To yourself. To the voice in your head whispering that getting benched meant you weren’t enough.

So you stayed. Pushed harder. Too hard.

Kyra noticed. She always did. From the sidelines, she chewed on a fingernail, eyes tracking every step you took. She saw the tremble in your hands, the unnatural flush in your cheeks, the shallow rise and fall of your chest. She knew the signs.

Then, mid run, your legs buckled. One second you were sprinting, the next you were on the ground, collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Kyra ran.

“MOVE!” she shouted, shoving past Caitlin and Lotte, ignoring Renee’s whistle and the medics who hesitated just a moment too long. She dropped beside you, pale and breathless, cradling your face like it was made of glass.

“Hey. Hey, baby, wake up. I’ve got you,” she whispered, brushing sweat from your brow with a trembling thumb.

“Baby?”

Caitlin’s eyebrows shot up. Katie exchanged a look with Beth. Even Renee froze.

The physios arrived, taking over with protocols and pulse checks, but Kyra stayed put, her hand clutching yours, unwilling to let go.

“Kyra,” one of them said gently, “we’ve got her now.”

It took a second, but finally, reluctantly, she backed away, watching as they loaded you into the ambulance. She was already stepping forward when a paramedic stopped her.

“Are you immediate family?”

Kyra’s mouth opened, then closed. No words came. Only the sound of the ambulance doors slamming shut echoed in her ears.

She didn’t wait. She stormed to the locker room, threw her things into her bag, and left without a word. Straight to her car. Straight to the hospital.

She had to see you. Had to know you were okay. Because if this stupid secret meant she wasn’t even allowed to sit beside you in the ambulance, then what was the point?

At the hospital, her voice cracked when she spoke. “Y/N Y/L/N. She collapsed during training.”

“Are you family?” the receptionist asked.

Kyra paused. “I’m someone who cares about her. A lot.”

The receptionist softened. “Take a seat.”

Kyra sat. Time moved so slowly that when a nurse finally called her name, she nearly tripped over her own feet.

“She’s stable,” the nurse said. “You can see her, just for a few minutes.”

Kyra walked into the dim room like she was holding her breath. You were pale, bandaged, hooked to an IV - but awake.

“Hey,” Kyra whispered, stepping close. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Ky?”

“I’m here.” She took your hand, grounding herself. “You passed out. Heatstroke and a mild concussion.”

You groaned softly. “I was pushing too hard.”

“You do that,” she murmured, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You don’t need to prove anything. Not to me.”

Silence settled. Then, with eyes half lidded, you said, “They know now, don’t they?”

Kyra chuckled dryly. “Yeah. Pretty sure calling you ‘baby’ gave it away. Caitlin’s jaw hit the ground.”

You laughed, barely, but it was enough.

“They’ll deal,” Kyra said. “Just get better. I can’t lose you.”

“You didn’t.”

Kyra lingered at the door after the nurse reminded her it was time to go.

“I love you,” she said.

You didn’t hesitate. “I love you, too.”

Returning to training felt surreal, like stepping into a life that had moved on without you. The drills were the same, the grass familiar, but Kyra was different. Loud. Fierce.

“Careful! She’s just back!” she barked during warm-ups, positioning herself like a human buffer between you and the rest of the squad.

“Kyra,” you warned gently.

“What? You gonna break if someone breathes too hard next to you?” Katie joked from the back of the group.

Laughter rippled around the pitch. Beth nudged Leah and murmured something under her breath. Leah rolled her eyes but smiled.

You tried to shake off the tension in your shoulders, get back into rhythm. It felt good to run again. To move again.

The ball rolled your way during a small-sided game. You broke left, took it on the run. Leah slid in - cleanly, perfectly timed. Nothing reckless.

But Kyra saw red.

“LEAH, WHAT THE HELL?!”

Leah got up calmly, brushing grass off her shorts. “I got the ball, Kyra.”

“She’s recovering!”

“She’s not made of glass.”

Renee’s whistle cut through the air. “Kyra, go cool off. Now.”

Kyra looked like she might explode. Her fists clenched, jaw tight. But she didn’t argue. Just turned on her heel and stormed off the pitch.

You stood frozen for a moment, everyone’s eyes flicking between you and the direction Kyra had gone. Something twisted in your chest - guilt, maybe. Or something closer to worry.

You jogged off without a word, ignoring the glances, ignoring Renee’s raised brow.

You found Kyra behind the equipment shed, pacing. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, eyes fixed on the gravel. She didn’t look up when you came near.

“Kyra.”

“Don’t,” she said sharply. Her voice cracked on the word.

You took a breath. “I’m not mad.”

“Well, you should be. I’m acting like a lunatic.”

You stepped closer. “You’re scared.”

Her head snapped up at that, and for a second, her bravado faltered. Her mouth opened, then shut again. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Of course I’m scared,” she said, barely above a whisper. “You collapsed in front of me. You weren’t moving. And now everyone just expects me to pretend like it’s all fine again? Like I’m fine?”

“You don’t have to pretend,” you said gently.

She turned away from you, hands on her hips, fighting for control. “But if I don’t hold it together, who will? Everyone was looking to me when you were gone (when you were back at home recovering) like I had answers… Like I knew what was going to happen.”

You stepped up behind her, placing a hand softly on her back. She didn’t flinch, just stood there, trembling slightly.

“I watched them load you into that ambulance, and I didn’t even know if I’d see you again,” she said, her voice breaking completely. “And I didn’t cry. I didn’t let myself. Because if I started, I thought I’d never stop.”

She turned then, finally, and before you could say anything, she collapsed into your arms.

You caught her easily, wrapping her up, holding her as her walls crumbled.

She sobbed quietly into your shoulder, fists bunching in the back of your shirt.

“I was so fucking scared,” she whispered, again and again. “I thought I lost you.”

You rocked her gently, your hand stroking her back, grounding her.

“I’m here,” you said. “I’m okay. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You held her like that for what felt like forever - until her breathing slowed, until her grip loosened and her body leaned into yours, softer now. Lighter, in a way.

When she finally pulled back, her face was tear streaked, her eyes puffy. But there was something calmer in her expression.

“You’re allowed to feel it,” you said, brushing your thumb under her eye. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

She let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Just… don’t scare me like that again, alright?”

“I’ll try not to. But I will get tackled again, you know.”

She huffed a laugh, weak but real. “Yeah, well. Leah can still piss off.”

You laughed softly and pulled her into a hug again, tighter this time.

And for the first time since everything happened, Kyra held you not like someone trying to protect you, but like someone who was finally letting herself be held, too.