#the lack of will trent content made me make gifs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

princessdemo · 2 years

Text

i do, i love you - trent alexander arnold

damn havent written in a long time LMAO. i stole the ending from HSMTMTS because it’s too cute <3 enjoy sexy peeps. also HAVENT proof read lol

There was no doubt in you saying, a tingly, euphoric feeling laid inside your stomach when you saw the sight of the scouser. His cheesy grin when you needed his help to reach the food item placed at the back of the cupboard out of your dismay.

Or the way he styles his hair which always causes you to slip a vague insult at the fact he looked comparable to a cheese string. His mannerisms unfailingly made you blush without an attempt. The daily check up’s on your well-being, to the delivery of flowers every two weeks because “flowers make everyone happy.” Concluded with you smiling on days end. The truth was, you’d always loved this Scouser, but your mind was awfully senseless.

You and Trent had been best friends since you both started preschool. Throughout the ages, you both shared masses or memories which you’d often recall and giggle about. He was by your side the first time you cut your knee open and needed a cuddle to take the pain away. And you was there for him when he first signed for the academy of Liverpool, where you held his hand during his medical journey.

The parents only ever saw Trent and Y/N together, with various times spoken about the details of the wedding they imagined. Almost everyone who knew Trent and Y/N stated the future of them both being in partnership with kids and a warm home. But in spite of that, not everyone’s judgements were accurate.

Once Trent had signed a full contact with Liverpool, Y/N had been over the moon. During this time, she was of to study at a university 4 hours away from their hometown. With the long distance, and lack of frequent contact, their friendship faded. The timings commonly didn’t work out, with you messaging him in the time of his training sessions or matches. And Trent seemed to communicate when you’d be studying or out with your friends.

“You think you have everything?” Trent poses, taking a seat on the comfort of your bed.

You sigh, your stance crouched on the floor folding up a pile of clothes sprawled along the floor. “I think so,”

Trent’s eyes wonder around the room, boxes and bags filling the floor. His sight fixes onto a box full of photo frames, edging closer to take a peek at the load. As he rummages through the contents, he stops to hold up and take a better looking at a picture of you both. It had been the night of your prom. The picture examined you standing alongside Trent in a dress, with him formally suited in his tuxedo.

A smile appears on his face at the memory, his heart warming at the sight. “Look at this, Y/N.”

You peer over your shoulder at Trent, to see him holding a photo in his arms. With a grunt, you pull yourself up off the floor, and take a sit beside the scouser. “Aww, you look so young.” Giggling at his height.

Taking a look deeper into the box of photographs, you spot a picture revealing Trent and yourself holding up a LFC scarf between you both. Cheesy grins plastered upon your faces.

“Oh wow, look at us here.” Sliding the photo into Trent’s hands.

“That was when me mum took us to our first Liverpool game.” He smiles, finger treading over the stain plastered in the corner.

You turn to his direction, “Bet you didn’t expect at that age to now be playing for the first team.”

Trent shakes his head at your statement, a deep sigh passes his lips at the thought of it. “Not at all, cannot believe I’m just a lad from Liverpool whose dreams have come true.”

The words that pass his lips cause a slight sadness to rise upon you. The idea of missing Trent perusing his dream in order for you to go to university often made you have immense feels of sorrow.

Furthermore, you and Trent had already passed a few discussions with you explaining how it saddened you to not be there watching him live his dreams. However, Trent was quick to make certain that you were going to seek your future goals without him getting in the way.

Without thinking, you slide your palm inside the warmth of the scouser’s sat in front of you. Your thumb gently rubs against the soft skin. “I’ll miss you, y-know.”

Trent’s vision shoots up towards the sound of your faint tone, his eyes interlocking with your own. “I’ll miss you too, always.” He swallows.

Chuckling, you ask, “You’re going to dedicate your first goal to me, right?”

Trent joins you with a smile, “Of course baby. You know I won’t let you down.”

Of course, when you had time, you’d message each other. Checking up to see how you had both been doing. On the days Liverpool played, you would always make an effort to watch the men in red.

It did undoubtedly take a toll on your well-being, you missed going to support your best friend on the weekly. You longed for his silly jokes and to hear his accent full-toned in your ears. But the one thing that hurt you most was the Scousers silence.

You’d been watching the game on a Saturday, a quick text of support and appreciation sent to the Scouser as a ritual. With the game ending at 3-0 to the reds, you could already sense the joy from your Best friend. Paired with a goal to his name, you expected a message of satisfaction returned, including multiple videos of the boys celebrating inside the changing rooms.

Until nothing came, Trent hadn’t responded to you, nor acknowledged your message of any kind. There was no notifications from any of the players, given that Andy Robertson typically sent you a few videos of your best friend for your entertainment.

You’d grown slightly confused, with the distance and interruption of your current statuses you wasn’t fully surprised that there was no response back to your words. But with time, it did cause you to question if the Scouser was okay. You’d also began to think about the possibility that he’d been busy after the game with interviews and the analysing of his goal, which in particular was time consuming.

A few hours had passed, a response still awaiting. Logging onto your phone, you decided to load up Instagram to pass the time, scrolling through your media before you noticed something out of the old.

On your screen displayed a picture of Trent smiling with a girl, whom had her arms wrapped around his waist. You stared at the screen for a few seconds, your mind comprehending the new information. The caption stating, “So happy to capture a goal for you at Anfield, roll on many years of more. With a few more glances, you sigh to yourself. That bubbly, butterfly feeling which gobbled your stomach at the sight of Trent, disappeared permanently.

A year had passed since the occasion of you finding out Trent had found a significant other. Unquestionably, you was hurt. To see the man who you been through thick and thin with, who had seen you at your worse, and most definitely seen you at your best which came from himself, did hurt. You wasn’t saddened by him, it wasn’t his flaw for meeting someone who made him happy.

You was saddened with yourself. Guilt rose upon you from not owning up to your feelings and expressing how you truly felt towards the man. Each day you wished you could go back to Liverpool and shout to supress your expression of strong emotion towards the Scouser. But you knew, nothing was going to change.

It wasn’t until the current circumstances. With a well-deserved break from university for a few weeks, you settled to return back to the city of Liverpool to spend your time freely with your family and friends.

A 4 hour train journey later, you found yourself inside a small, but comforting coffee shop. Many hours here were spent studying, listening to music, whilst a coffee was at hand. A small part of you felt somewhat alone, inside the shop. Usually, you were joint by Trent. He would always buy you a gift of a cookie for you both to share, arguing that you needed food to keep you energised to study. And with your disagreement, he still continued to buy you one.

However, on this occasion, you was joint by not the expected Alexander Arnold. As you had stepped foot inside the shop, the delight of Trent’s brother, Tyler Alexander Arnold was in your presence. With a tap on your shoulder, breaking your glance from your view of the coffee machine, you turn to be delighted with Tyler.

You let out a gasp of surprise, it was most definitely not in your thoughts that you would be seeing the brother of your long-term admiring best friend. Nevertheless, you smile at his showing.

“Y/N?” Tyler questions.

You are still in an utter state of amazement, “Tyler? Hi.” You respond, arms widening to bring him into a friendly hug.

“Y/N, how are you? I thought you are at University?” He unwraps his arms from yours, his curiousness booming.

Nodding your head at his words, “Yeah I am, but I’m visiting home for a few weeks. How’s you?”

Tyler grabs his coffee from the counter, thanking the barista in return. “I’m good thank you, just been working and looking after family.”

You shake your head at his words, before replicating the actions of Tyler’s beforehand grabbing your coffee of the counter, and politely thanking the barista. “That’s good to hear, how is everyone?” you question.

Sipping his coffee, Tyler responds, “All good thank you-“ And before he can finish, his speech is cut of by the ringing of his pocket. He slides his hands inside to unleash the mobile, eyes scanning the text message displayed upon the screen.

“I’m sorry, as much as I would love to talk to you-“ He shakes his head at his awful gesture and welcoming to seeing you. “I really need to go,”

“Hey, its no worries. You take care, Say hello to the family for me.” You smile, assembling your belongings to leave the café. As you begin to walk away, Tyler briskly grabs your attention.

“Hey, Y/N. I have a spare ticket to the Liverpool game this weekend. You could come if you’d like. Everyone would love to see you.” Tyler grins.

His words come as a shock to you, your mind running blank at the information given. “Oh um..”

“Message me, you have my number right?”

Sent. Your fingers had just finished from trembling across the screen. Your mind had been playing on the inquest Tyler had asked you earlier. Undeniably, you had many second thoughts about making an appearance in company with the Scouser. You’d wondered if everyone would have been angered with you not keeping in contact with them. Or, the fact that you hadn’t spent your off time visiting. Despite those judgements, the biggest thing that jogged your brain, was of course, the man who ran round with the number 66 on his back.

Beyond the shadow of doubt, you’d be happy to see Trent. He’d been, and always your best friend, even if you both had lacked and lost the comfort of each other. Doubtless, you’d wanted to tell him how proud you are of him living his dream and how far he has come winning major trophies. Though, your heart ached at the sight and thought of seeing him in the arms of another.

Observing him making another girl laugh by tickling their sides, the way he did with you when you were younger. Or the way he argue about tying your shoelaces but still end up on the ground fiddling his fingers with your shoes. Those little moments, made you miss the Scouser more and more everyday and you wasn’t certain if seeing him on Saturday would change everything for the worse.

With your Liverpool beanie placed on the top of your head. You’d questioned whether to wear the Scousers Jersey he’d given you before you left for university. Fingers delicately smoothing over the creases of it hanging up inside your wardrobe, before you are quickly shut down by negative attitudes. Establishing a conclusion of wearing the beanie you had brought a few years ago, paired with the honoured red scarf flaunting “you'll never walk alone.” Which you and Trent had captured in the photo of you both at your first ever football game.

Arriving at the stadium gave a rise to a bundle of nerves. Your throat attained a tight pressure with the addition of a feeling of nausea. Your stomach was also churning with each step, your head bouncing with the lights. The anthem of you’ll never walk alone roaring through your ear drums, goose bumps poking up on your skin. This was home for many, and you wished you could say the same.

Finding the seating dedicated to the Alexander Arnold family, you find Tyler and Marcel seated wearing the prominent Red shirts for their brother. As you catch their attention they holler you over with the shake of their hand, their eyes lighting up with joy.

The game ended with a win for the reds. Certainly, it was an immense battle between the two teams, but the Egyptian King managed to seal the deal with a 80’ screamer, assisted by no other than Trent Alexander Arnold.

As everyone was packing up their things, gearing for their departure of the stadium, Tyler mentioned to you that he was heading to the changing rooms to congratulate a certain scouser.

With each footstep, your heart began to beat a second faster. This was your first time seeing the man who you’d loved since you could walk. The thought of seeing him made you full of sickness.

At approach to the changing rooms, you felt yourself wanting to turn back and not face the man. Your mind worrying that he’d be annoyed with you for not staying in contact with him, or maybe the thought that he’d forgotten you forever. Those perspectives gobbled at your mind.

As Tyler performed his brotherly handshake and hug with the Scouser, you trailed softly behind with the crowd full of LFC staff in front of you. You gathered that the brothers had finished their conversation due to the reasoning of Tyler bearing off to the direction of Jordan Henderson, leaving you at approach to Trent.

With your gaze interlocking with the familiar beady pupils you’d forever missed, you gulp at the impact, your chest tightening in the moment.

“Y/N? Hey,” Trent starts, a small smile resting on his face.

You swallow, not confident your words would form. “Hi, Trent. Nice to see you. How have you been?”

“I’m good thank you. You alright? How’s university going?” He responds.

Memories sprawl back to you picking up the stance of the boy in your presence. His hands tucked warmly away in his pockets, a problem to his mother’s dismay, given from a young age he’d be warned to remove them for being unpolite. “It’s been good thank you.” You shake your head positively. “Noticed you signed another contract, must be proud of yourself.”

“For sure,” And as he answers, you find yourself gaining a sense of comfort from picking at the loose threads of the scarf wrapped around your neck in attempt to gather some warmth. “Oh uhm,” Trent stutters, watching your actions. “Is that the scarf we wore to our first ever match?” he points.

Your head shoots back in the direction of his own, eyes piercing back to his shiny, but sweaty build. “Oh this?” Your hands swiftly move back down to your sides before reaching to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Yeah,” head shaking in wonder, “Yeah it is.” You smile.

He smiles back at you, before finding a relief in the sight of the floor, vision pairing to your shoes. You too, join him, eyes darting at his muddy sliders he wore after games.

The silence feels the room thick and fast, neither of you aware of what to express next. Deciding to cut the tension short, you bid your goodbyes to the scouser.

“Hey, uhm, I should go.” Your head points towards the door of the exit, your hand pointing as though Trent wasn’t aware of the place he knew almost like the back of his hand.

He coughs in response, “Yeah me too, should probably shift Tyler out of here.” He chuckles.

You laugh as too with the Scouser, your face beginning to turn a slight shade of red. “I, uhm, sorry.” You stammer, shaking your head. “See you, around, I guess. Take care.” With the conclusion of a word vomit, you with speed, shift off towards the direction of the exit of Anfield stadium.

Leaving Trent on his own, “You too.” He whispers. His head quickly becomes connected with the ceiling, eyes tightly closing concerning frustration. His palms grow damp with the assistance of a nervous sweat, and his mind puzzled fiercely.

“Fuck it.” Before his mind can think of his next act, his body is moving in the direction of your exit, legs darting in aim to catch you.

“I love you.” Trent breathes.

Your head hastily turns to the voice of the man stood a few feet from you. Your head was mentally duplicate to his, confused and puzzled with yourself. Your body turns to angle him, hair swaying over your shoulder.

Trent edges himself closer to you, a deep breath echoing down the corridor. “I’ve loved you since the first time you picked up a pack of pens and drew me a picture of some flowers. A silly little picture of flowers.”

You gulp at his words, hand tightening around the bag resting on your shoulder. Trent continues, “I love you. And that night in your room, when we were packing your things for Uni, looking at those pictures of us when we were younger, I meant to say it. I meant to say it, and I've kicked myself everyday since then.” His voice deepening with irritation from his previous behaviours. “Because I didn’t say it. But I do, I love you.”

Your heart swells an abundance of love and happiness. You fear yourself breaking down at admiration of the man swooning over you.

“I’ve loved you since primary school, when I made you ride front row of wicker man at Alton towers, and you told me you sometimes get a little sea sick on rides and rollercoasters.” Trent chuckles as you shake your head at his dialogue. “And I said, come on, live a little.”

Tears threaten to spill from your waterline, your throat tightening from his impact. “I remember,” You chuckle, biting your lip.

Trent adds, “And then, I puked all over your shoes,” listening to you chuckle at the memory you often brought up between you both. “And you didn’t even make me feel bad about it.” The scouser shakes his head, “No, you said uhm..”

“No worries, been wanting to get rid of these shoes for a while,” You sniffle your nose to avoid the introduction of brand new salty filled teardrops.

Trent nods, “Because you out-grew them. The thing is, I never out grow you.”

Your smile, wider than a piece of land, swallowing through the gratefulness, you continue to listen to his words, watching as he used his hands to express his emotions.

“And, I don’t really know what happens tomorrow, or in 2 minutes when you walk out that door back to university. All I know is, I love you. I really do.”

Your head soon glances towards the ground, a deep sigh escaping your lips. “I know I haven’t been the best. Pictures definitely don’t always have a meaning behind them. The lack of contact was such an idiotic move from me.” Trent shakes his head. “But I want a chance to prove to you, my love, how much you mean to me.”

And with the ending of Trent’s love poem, you shuffle yourself towards the scouser, hand reaching to stroke the softness of his cheek, before you connect your lips with his own. His fingers are brought up to your hair, sliding through the locks with ease. You enjoy the bliss of the moment for a few seconds before pulling away and letting out an audible moan.

“I love you too, Trentski. Forever.” You smile sweetly at him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “But, I have one objection.”

He chuckles at your seriousness, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Yes?” he questions.

“Do I get to wear your shirts to the matches?”

Trent’s head shakes in amazement, chuckling forcefully at your words. “Yes, you certainly do.”

You smile, “I think we can make it work.”

294 notes · View notes