The Loneliest [2] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader
[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Epilogue]
Summary: The transition period after calling off your engagement has broken both you and Kylian. He needs to have you back, but you can’t handle having your heart broken again.
Warnings: pure angst, heartbroken reader, heartbroken Kylian, cussing, lots of crying. I switched perspectives between the reader and Kylian. — English is not my first language —
Kylian had racked up quite a large amount late fees the following month after your breakup. He never used to have issues going to sleep at night or waking up to go to training before this, but he just let himself scroll through his camera roll for hours on end.
He would emerge himself in that reality, smiling, giggling whenever your digital image did something goofy. He remembered which outfits he helped you pick out, fixating his thoughts on the ‘K’ necklace that he gave you shining around your neck in every frame. Then, due to the fault of a notification or a car alarm going off, he would snap back into the reality of his new life.
These are just memories now. He wouldn’t be able to take your picture again, hear your grainy morning voice, make your coffee so perfectly that you’d hum in gratitude.
Achraf knew about the breakup, but Kylian asked him to keep it hush since he didn’t feel like talking about it most of the time. Some nights, though, he finds himself on the phone with his mother without thinking about the fact that it’s past 2 o’clock in the morning. She (of course) picks up every time, being there for her little boy with a broken heart, her own heart breaking with the thought of you not coming around anymore.
Today, he made it to training just on time, barely smiling at the PSG camera crew that follows them around. Usually if somethings bothering him, football is his medicine. He goes out, distracts himself by making goals and perfect tackles, but it wasn’t until you were gone that he realized he needed you there to bring it all together. He hated how codependent he had become, sometimes subconsciously wishing he’d never met you at all. Maybe then his heart wouldn’t feel like it was being ripped out piece by piece.
“Okay, seriously?” Glatier grunted, blowing the whistle after Kylian had missed yet another easy goal. “Kylian!” He called over. Kylian cussed under his breath and jogged over to the frustrated coach, his teammates just as frustrated with him for his performance recently. “What the hell is going on with you? Where’s your head at?!”
Kylian looked at his feet, hands resting on his hips. “Sorry, coach.”
“No, not ‘sorry’, Kylian. You’ve been somewhere else for weeks. I need you to explain yourself before we start benching you.”
Kylian bit his cheek, still focused on the pitch under his feet, begging his body to suck the lingering tears back in. He looked up at his awaiting coach, nodding. “There’s no excuse, coach. I’m right here, I’ll do better.”
Glatier looks at him apprehensively, expecting to hear how the pass wasn’t placed right or some other bullshit that Kylian used to blame his shortcomings on, but notes that something is definitely off with the star player. “Alright, then.” He says, keeping eye contact, blowing the whistle twice, sending everyone to do a different drill.
Kylian sniffles as he runs back toward his team, Hakimi pats him on the back upon seeing his glossy eyes.
You had been a mess yourself, occupying yourself with your own job. Coworkers started calling you a hard ass once you decided to take charge of the group meetings, having to have control of something ever since your love life vanished. They were also oblivious to the fact of you and Kylians breakup, feeling as if the news was better off left to his PR team.
You’d settled nicely into the hotel life, enjoying complimentary breakfasts and free valet parking, but finally found a move-in ready apartment close to the office. It’d been a nightmare having your entire life packed into your car, taking up every ounce of room you had in there. There were times you convinced yourself that you were fine, but realized it was just a lie every night when you popped a sleeping pill and craved looking into Kylians eyes. You resorted back to his Instagram so often, clicking the same post every time.
The night you left, Kylian posted something for your birthday. At first, you ignored the notification, deleting the app altogether. That lasted about an hour. You redownloaded it once your curiosity took control of your body, having to know what the hell your newly-ex fiancé tagged you in. You assumed at some point he’d take it down, but it’s been thirty four days and it’s still the last thing on his feed.
You laid in the neatly made hotel bed, your fingers doing their own thing, rereading his caption until you heard your heart crack — like it did every time you found yourself here.
@k.mbappe: To the love of my life; you’re the best things that’s ever happened to me. Sometimes I can’t even believe how lucky I got. Getting to know you and getting to love you was the biggest privilege of my whole life. I hope this year gives you everything you need. I will love you always. — Ky.
You think back to the night that photo was taken a lot. It was at Neymar’s New Years Eve party, a few months before he proposed. Kylians hand was permanently attached to your waist. He looked at you every time something funny was said, wanting to laugh with you. He bragged about your accomplishments to everyone there — as if anyone in the room wasn’t more impressive than you, seeing models and athletes around every corner. At some point, you’d lost him and the clock was ticking down, five minutes until midnight. As you turned down a hallway, you heard his voice coming from one of the rooms.
“She’s the one.” Kylian stated, a giggle following right after. You never meant to eavesdrop on him but now you had to — back pressed against the wall as you tipped your ear closer to the open door.
“Man, she’s awesome.” Neymar’s voice responded.
“I know. I can’t ever stop smiling.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s creepy.” They both laugh, you bit your lip to keep yourself from squealing. Neymar continues. “You deserve someone great like her.”
Kylian pauses, you wait for him to say something. “What if I fuck it up?”
You feel your heart tug at his insecurity, but stop yourself from running in there and kissing him until the silly thought leaves his head. “You won’t. I can tell that she loves you a lot. Just, show her how you feel about her every day and you can’t fuck it up.”
The lull in the conversation gives you time to skip into the room. They both look at you and smile, Kylians eyes shining with love as you make your way to sit on his lap by the window.
“There you are.” You kiss his crinkled cheek. “Been looking for you. It’s almost midnight.”
He hums and pulls you closer to him.
“Aww!” Neymar teases in an exaggerated tone, standing from his place and whips out his phone, snapping a candid picture of the two of you. “What a cute couple.”
You quickly closed the app, throwing your phone far away from you on the bed.
“Fuck that.” You cried, stuffing your face in the mattress to collect your tears. You were so angry at him, but you wanted to talk to him. Slap him. Kiss him. Make him regret everything.
Your feelings have never been so crossed in your life. Of course you knew ending your relationship would be hard, but not debilitating. You didn’t expect to have to find new ways to not think about Kylian. How are you going to do this forever? Will this crippling coldness ever leave you alone? The signs all point to Kylian, but you don’t even know if he’ll be up to talking.
Blocking his number was an easy decision. While you were confident that you made the right move at the time, it doesn’t feel that way anymore. You reached back and grabbed your phone, settling down and wiping any remaining tears from your face.
The amount of times you’ve unblocked Kylian probably has broken some sort of record. You’ve been to really low places in the past few weeks, but the fake it ‘till you make it mantra somehow found it’s way into your system, hearing it buzzing in your ears like an annoying fruit fly.
Clicking the unblock button was simple. Trying to find something to say was beyond difficult.
You typed and backspaced and typed and backspaced until you were ripping your hair out. It was either too weird or too forward, but all of it was too scary.
Almost half an hour had passed, still trying to manage some sort of communication with him. Everything felt wrong, maybe today wasn’t the day. Just as you were about to reblock him, your phone buzzed.
Shit. Of course he decided to text you right when you unblock him.
While you were freaking out about this turn of events, Kylian was holding his breath. When he saw the three dots appearing and disappearing on his phone screen over and over again, he felt like he struck gold. He just needed some way back into your life. And although small, this was an opportunity he couldn’t ditch out on.
You stared at the message, trying to take deep breaths. You should be chill. You’d texted Kylian a gazillion times in your life, but considering the circumstances, panic seemed fitting.
“Okay, (Y/N). Pull it together.” You mumbled to yourself, clearing your throat.
You sent the message quick with no time to think twice. You facepalmed, now overthinking those two little letters. You waited impatiently for his reply. He was taking too long for your liking, but the time displayed at the top of your screen hadn’t moved. Not even a minute passed before he said something back.
Kylian: so you decided to unblock me?
He didn’t give you a chance to really respond to his first question, so it was easy to ignore it. But the second question had much more weight behind it.
You were tempted to type back ‘like my soul was sucked out and repeatedly backed over by a semi truck full of loaded diapers’, but that seemed like a bit much.
(Y/N): I’ve definitely been better.
You waited again, wondering if you should ask him how he’s doing, too. You saw the typing bubbles, but they disappeared. Once, twice, three times until he finally messaged back.
Kylian: did you want to talk?
You sighed, throwing your head back and staring at the ceiling. Fuck. Why did he have to ask that? Of course you wanted to talk — but this seems like the beginning of a very slippery slope. Going back to him was exactly what you wanted. You wanted to take him back and hug him and kiss his stupidly plump lips until you couldn’t anymore.
At the same time, you’re so vulnerable right now. You knew that taking him back this quickly would definitely cause an issue; whether it just be second guessing yourself or realizing you were wrong, and leaving him twice was something your heart absolutely could not handle.
Kylian: im sorry if that was too forward
You didn’t realize how long you were lost in thought for. You looked down at the message taunting you in your lap, sighing.
You didn’t know it, but Kylian, Hakimi, and Ramos all jumped up and cheered when you sent that message. They shook his shoulders around in excitement, all too invested in the young couples relationship.
“Vamos!” Screamed Ramos, hugging the group.
“Okay, okay, shut up!” Kylians smile wrinkled his eyes shut for the first time in forever, sitting back down on the training bench.
Ramos happened to walked by when Kylian was crying to Hakimi, which Kylian was super embarrassed about, but Ramos was a genuinely good friend of the two of you, so now he felt personally affected by this breakup.
“Come on, quickly. What do I say?”
“That you are free tonight. Dios mío.” Ramos tusked like it was the most obvious thing in the world… and it was.
Kylian: tonight after training?
Kylian: I can pick you up, we can go get some dinner?
(Y/N): how about I just meet you at the training center?
There was no way you’d allow for this to be a date. If you let him wine and dine you, your heart would melt into a puddle that spelled out his name.
Kylian: perfect, cant wait
Kylian: I’ll see you later
You smiled down at your phone, putting a thumbs up to his last message and shut it off. Allowing your smile to finally spread across you face, you breathed out a giant huff that weighed down your lungs.
The happiness passed quickly, your mind remembering the way he was before. Aloof, distracted, snappy… You we’re still holding onto the old Kylian. The one that took you on spontaneous picnics, the one who would pull over on the side of the highway on his way home and hand-pick you a bouquet because the wildflowers looked pretty, the one that never forgot to kiss you goodnight, even if he was already asleep when you crawled in next to him.
The expectations for tonight were all over the place. Your mind raced with the possibilities of how it would end. Would you lower you walls for him again? Are you even capable of that? He hurt you down to your core, his actions broke you down into an insecure shell of yourself.
The end of the day came, and by now, the word had spread to the rest of the team about the breakup. Glatier patted Kylian on the back in sympathy, giving him a wise coach speach about life and love — one that didn’t really help Kylian. It was actually rather confusing. Nonetheless, he thanked his elder, mentally noting it’s best if he just sticks to coaching football.
Neymar was shaken by the news, having taken a liking to you early on in your relationship with Kylian. When he asked Kylian what was bothering him so much lately, he breathed out a heavy, “nooo!”. Comforting his teammate felt nostalgic for them both because their own relationship went through a sort of breakup at one point.
Kylian felt the end of the day inching closer and closer. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he saw you. It was important for him that he doesn’t say anything to scare you away. He wants you to see that he’s sorry and that he’s ready to prove it to you. He wants to make you laugh, make you remember that he is capable of making you happy again.
Kylian smelled better right now than he ever did after practice. He scrubbed like a maniac, fixing his hair with precision, shaving and applying after shave. He finished off with some cologne that Verratti suggested, a cool jacket that Kimpembe let him borrow. He drew the line when Sergio came for his eyebrows with tweezers, doing a nervous final check in the full length mirror. Breathing deep, he opens up his messages.
Kylian: im almost done :)
Kylian: let me know when ur here
He watched the screen, waiting for you to respond with anything. The three dots popped up again, halting his breathing when your message appeared.
(Y/N): I’m here. Come meet me by the maintenance entrance.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was rushing out of the locker room with anticipation taking over his veins, his knuckles turning white against the material of his duffle bag. He felt like he was going to throw up from nerves, but the good kind of nerves — the kind he has before an important match.
Where you were meeting him was his little hidden area. The maintenance crew got an upgraded break room with a patio, so no one ever came out this way, leaving the picnic tables open for when he needed a sneaky break. He brought you out here multiple times when you came and visited, always insisting on making out before he would go back inside.
This door always got stuck. He remembers having to shoulder it every time. He prepared himself, stepping back before lunging his body forward. Next thing he knows, he’s landed on the cold cement, letting out a loud “oof” when he went down.
“Oh my god!” He heard your sweet voice from a distance, looking up and seeing you, sideways from his position. The wind was already knocked out of him, but wow, watching you running in his direction took his breath way. “Are you okay?”
He got himself up when you approached him, he brushed himself off cooly. “When the hell did they oil that door?” Kylian points.
You stare at him before you let a small laugh bubble out, immediately getting Kylian to join in. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed by his less than cool entrance, but mentally checks off the make her laugh box in his head.
Damn, he looks good, you thought to yourself. You kept it at bay, but you noticed how he cleaned up extra nice, tugging at your heartstrings. You can’t lie, you also spent way too long on your appearance.
“Hello,” he smiles, raking his eyes adoringly over your frame. He didn’t even notice himself inching closer to you, but you did. It made you hot under the collar just being around him again. You’d been away from him longer than a month before, but this was hard.
He set his duffle bag down on the picnic table. You had his full attention, every word he’s wanted to say to you just on the tip of his tongue. You made your way over to the bench and slowly sat down, him following suit, sitting a little closer than you wanted him to.
You scooted away slightly. “Let’s talk.” You say. He nods, turning his body toward you. “I have to be at work soon so I can’t stay long.”
His leg bounces. “Can I start?”
His gaze locked on your delicate hands, wanting nothing more then to hold them tightly. He breathed deep, his nerves felt electric in his veins. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I fucked up and realized it too late. I should have noticed, but I didn’t. And I’m so sorry for that. For everything.” His words were slow and gentle, his eyes not knowing where to look as they bounced from your eyes to you hands to your lips, then back to your eyes again. “I’m miserable without you. I miss you. I miss you so fucking much, (Y/N).”
You sigh. “I miss you too, Kylian. Believe me, this hasn’t been easy for me, either. But, I’m not here to get back together with you. I can’t let myself do that.”
“Because…” You really wished you planned this talk out better because right now, you were letting your emotions run on autopilot. Yet, you kept your logical side steady on the breaks in case your heart decided it needed his comfort more than it needed peace. “Because, Kylian. I just can’t.”
You felt the anger inside of you rising to the surface. You stood up and began pacing. Kylian stood too, but his feet were frozen in place.
“You know, I didn’t even know you still loved me until I was leaving?” You stated, facing his ashamed demeanor. He opened his mouth to respond but you didn’t let him. “You made me feel like shit. For months. You drove this… this weird insecurity in me that was never there before. I couldn’t even talk to you about it because you’d just spin it on me. Do you know how shitty that feels?”
His head hung low, guilt overriding his every sense. For whatever reason, he had high expectations for how this was going to go, and it’s already not at all how he thought. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry. You never deserved that.”
“You’re fucking right, I didnt.” You snapped, brows knit tightly in anger. “Why did you change? What happened? What did I do to you that made you so angry at me?”
Kylian opened and closed his mouth, stuttering. “I…” Seeing the tears gloss your eyes brought his own forward, but he bit them back. “… I don’t know. Nothing, you did nothing wrong.”
You stared at him, sighing. You ran a hand over your cheeks once you felt some stray tears run down your face. Nodding, you sat back down, Kylian cautiously joined you further down the bench. His elbows were on his knees, eyes facing the pavement. Silence used to be comfortable with Kylian. You two could sit together for hours and not say a word, and it would feel so natural. Now, the air was thick with tension, every depressing emotion running full speed inside your loud mind.
“You remember that benefit dinner we went to in November? The one held by that super rich Fortune 500 guy?” You asked softly, breaking the silence. “That week was when I started doubting if we were even good together anymore. You hadn’t payed attention to me, touched me, listened to me in weeks. I thought it was me. That I was somehow fucking up everything we had.” Kylian listened through the sound of his pounding heart, not daring to look up. He could hear in your voice how deeply upset you were, he couldn’t take the look on your face. “I tried talking to you about it that morning. I was going to ask if you wanted to take a break… have some time to ourselves. Instead, you just turned it into a fight about me leaving the dishwasher open, or some shit like that. I ended up apologizing to you.” You chuckled, but it really wasn’t funny.
Kylian remembered, having been stressed about his difficult new physical therapy sessions. He took out his frustrations on you unfairly, but he didn’t realize that he was doing that until it was too late.
You continued. “I dressed up so nice for you that night. I wore that gorgeous blue dress you got for me, heels that absolutely killed my feet, I got my hair and makeup done by real professionals… I thought maybe I could at least get you to want me again. But, all night long, you pretty much ignored me. You only smiled at me when other people were around and you didn’t want to look like a dick. I loved it, though. It felt like the old days, when you would actually smile when I was around.”
His lip quivered, still not being able to lift his head toward you. You wanted to keep going, but knew what you were going to say next was going to hurt him and it was never about getting even. You didn’t want to put him through what he made you feel. Reluctantly, you knew you had to tell him. You had to do it for you.
“That whole night, you kind of ignored me. I had the thought that you wouldn’t even notice if I disappeared… so I did. I was on the balcony for like, an hour. All by myself. Watching you from the outside to see if you started looking for me, and you never did.” You paused to take a breath, fiddling with your thumbs. “I didn’t think I would ever tell you this, but what do I have to lose, right?” He looked up, eyes red. You looked away. “It wasn’t on purpose, but… that night, Erling Haaland and I had a great time.” You locked eyes with him when he shifted, his whole demeanor changing from apologetic to full protection mode.
“What? What do you mean?” He attempted to keep his voice clear of obvious anger, but you knew him too well.
“No, no. Not like that.” You clarified. “He came out there for a breather and saw me. I don’t think he knew who I was or that we were together—”
“Bullshit.” He mumbled, but you ignored him.
“We just laughed and talked about the last season. Nothing happened, I wouldn’t do that to you.” You weren’t going to mention how he asked for your number at the end of the night because that would send him into a spiral. “Look, I’m not telling you this to be cruel, or anything, but it’s just an example of how alone I felt… that I would spend an entire night talking with Erling Haaland of all people. He payed more attention to me that night than you did for months. It made me remember how much fun we used to have. It made me realize that you might not be that person for me anymore.” Your voice wobbled and Kylian squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his tears back in with a sharp and deep breath.
He couldn’t believe you never told him about this, but reminded himself that he wouldn’t let you. He was too cold, too defensive.
“I promise you, (Y/N) — even if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get you back.” He swore through his wavering voice, still attempting to hold back his cries. You saw his twitching face, surfacing your own emotions.
You couldnt hold it back anymore, placing your face in your palms, letting the sobs go freely. “You’re a stupid fucking dickhead, Mbappé.” It was vulgar, but it’s just what shot out of your mouth.
Kylian knew he deserved that and more, just nodding at the new nickname, beginning to let himself cry as well. “I’m gonna change. If you let me show you, I’ll never stop proving to you how much I love you.” He grabbed your hand, tightly grasping it and kissing your knuckles.
“I think…” you sniffle, watching Kylian as he squeezed your hand in his, resting it on his face. “I think I need more time, Kylian.”
Immediately he nods, scooting closer to you. “We have time, baby. I’ll wait for you to be ready. I don’t care how long it takes.”
You and Kylian continue to cry, together. This kind of vulnerability is what you’ve been craving from him, this is the kind you had before.
“Kylian, I can’t handle having my heart broken again.” You choke. He holds you close now, forehead resting on the side of your head.
“I won’t ever be that person again.” He promised, sniffling. “I’ve never hurt this badly before. I’m not putting either of us through this torture again.”
You nod, wiping your tears and trying to calm down a little before standing up, leaving Kylian sitting alone on the bench.
“If I’m even going to entertain the idea of getting back together… we’re starting over completely. Right from the start.” You point, feeling yourself stop crying and using your sleeve to get rid of any proof that you were an absolute trainwreck.
He nods, standing up. “Okay. I can do that.” It looks like a burst of good energy just shot it’s way into his body, but the nervous demeanor stood above it, cautiously watching your every move.
“This doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. I need to know it’s the right decision. It’s too hard.”
“Of course. I’ll do anything.” You can tell Kylian is holding back from hugging you by the way his feet tap toward you, his body swaying in your direction.
You look him over, breathing in the crisp air. “Okay.” You check your watch, noticing you’ll be late if you don’t leave in the next five minutes. “I have to go now.” You say, nodding an awkward goodbye to Kylian; hugging felt like it would be weird… a handshake even weirder.
“Wait.” He stops you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and quickly pulling it back. “Am I allowed to ask you on a date now?”
You chuckle, a real one this time. “Um. Let’s wait a couple of weeks. I need some more time to process all of this. Besides, I’m moving on Friday so I’ll be pretty busy unpacking, so…”
He’s taken aback, quirking an eyebrow and trying to not looked too freaked out. “Wait… moving? Where?”
“Some place I found. It’s fine… close to the office.” You honestly didn’t love it, but it was cute. It had character. “The hotel life was getting too expensive.”
“No. Non-couples don’t do that.” You say, checking the time again, walking backwards toward you car. “Look, I really have to go. Wait for me to text you, alright?”
He nods, watching your figure disappear in the dark parking lot. “I will.”
He didn’t take his eyes off your car until it was out of his sight, turning back the way he came in.
The time has come for him to cheer, celebrate, tell all of his friends… but he won’t. He might’ve managed his way back into your life, but he’s nowhere near out of the woods yet. Everyone knows how embarrassing early celebrations are, especially when they they miss the goal in the end. He’s not making that mistake. He’s just grateful for the new opportunity to prove to you that it’ll be worth it… that he’s worth it. You’ll be treated better than ever… as soon as you’re comfortable with him again.
So, no celebration for Kylian Mbappé… not counting the giddy grin and small fist pump he did when he was alone in his car.
He couldn’t stop himself. He really couldn’t.
