You Scared Me - Colston Loveland
A/N: Checking back in with our college sweetheart and Colston! I had SO many requests for some hurt-comfort inspired by the game over the weekend, so I hope this lives up to expectations. I did so much research on concussions and how to look after someone with one. Wasn't quite sure whether to end it in the car or follow them home, so if you guys wanted a follow up of them at home then let me know. Hope you guys enjoy!
WC: 3.6k
Warnings: Nothing major, Colston sustains a concussion, college sweetheart comforts him
Part of the 'You're Still The One' universe - Masterlist | Colston Loveland Masterlist
The Chicago Bears season has been a whirlwind, to say the least. From finishing the previous season five-and-twelve and missing out on the playoffs, to making the playoffs and finishing the season eleven-and-six, you couldn’t really have asked for a smoother start to Colston’s professional football career.
Until now.
Now, you’re stood in the suite, utterly helpless as Colston is led to the medical tent.
How the tables have turned.
Nausea fills your stomach. Blind panic has made your vision hazy from the second he went down and didn’t get up straightaway like he always does after diving for a catch. You’ve been pacing the floor in front of the window.
The hit he took, the way his head hit the ground and the sight of him lying on the turf, not getting up, still replays in your head.
Nobody’s said anything. You know it’s standard procedure. You know that phones aren’t allowed in the medical tent. You know he’s in the best hands possible.
It doesn’t help your anxiety.
You check your phone for what must be the hundredth time since he went down.
Still nothing.
Not even an update from the Bears app.
This has always been your worst fear.
It’s part of the life you’ve chosen.
But when you think back to that night in April last year, when Colston got the call saying that the Bears had drafted him, you’ve had this small hope, this ideal world in which he never has to pay a visit to that dreaded blue tent.
It could happen to any player in any game. It just had to happen to Colston in the last minute of a divisional playoff game.
A text tone coming from your phone nearly makes your heart jump out of your skin. Your hands are so sweaty that they fumble the device as you check it, hoping it’s Colston or one of the staffers on the sidelines giving you an update.
It’s your group chat with your friends, asking for updates.
From: Daisy
Saw Colston go down, he okay?
From: Jay
He’s been in the tent for a while. Hope he’s okay. ❤️
From: Cici
Let us know if you need anything, babe 🫶
There are other messages. Other friends. Family members checking in.
You don’t have the heart to reply. You will, once you know that Colston is okay.
‘Come on, Colst, give me something, babe,’ you mutter more to yourself than anyone around you.
The pacing continues. Your hands rub your face, ignoring the makeup that you put on this morning. It feels like a lifetime ago that you were putting on your LOVELAND 84 jersey on, excited to watch your boyfriend in his first ever NFL divisional game.
Seconds feel like hours. Time seems to crawl forward.
At last, at long, long last, the tent flaps open and Colston shuffles out. There’s a split second where you hope he’s been cleared, but when he passes his helmet to a nearby staffer you recognise as the equipment manager, your heart sinks when you realise the reality.
Almost at the same time, a graphic comes up on the overhead board and the PA system announces:
‘Colston Loveland has been declared out. Concussion.’
Tears spring to your eyes.
You watch on, completely helpless, as Colston is walked off the turf, down the tunnel and towards what you know is the medical room where he’ll be having further assessments. His head is down, gait is awkward and sluggish. One of his hands, huge even from the distance you are away from him, comes up to the point of his head where he made impact. Your heart gives a jolt of something, something like I’m right here, baby.
At that moment, he looks straight up at the suite. His eyes are squinting at the effort of it through the obvious pain in his head, but he does it all the same.
He’s looking straight at you. Then, he gives his chest two taps.
Two taps.
His sign since sophomore year at Michigan that he’s okay and he’ll see you soon.
Your hand reaches up to the glass and you rest a hand on your heart. You don’t know if he can see you, but you do it all the same. It’s for your sake just as much as it is for his.
He disappears into the tunnel and down towards the backrooms of the stadium.
The absence is felt sorely in your body.
There’s still over a minute left on the clock. You know you can’t see him until the game is over.
You hardly focus through any of it. Not the field goal, not through overtime, not even the final whistle blaring out and declaring the game a win for the Rams.
Even though your heart is heavy for the team, all you want is Colston. You need to see him with your own eyes so your body can finally process that he’s going to be okay.
You’re not quite sure what the procedure is from here, but before you can think about it too much, there’s a knock at the door.
‘Miss Y/L/N?’ a voice asks quietly through an opening in the door to the suite.
You turn around to see a woman in her thirties, wearing Bears team gear and a radio, leaning on the door.
‘Y-yes?’
She steps in closer to you.
‘My name is Sheri, I’m with player operations. I wanted to give you an update on Colston. He’s okay, he does have a concussion. It appears to be mild but we will need to do some more checks to be sure.’
Mild.
The word lingers in your brain like a slice of hope.
Sheri continues.
‘Normally, we would wait until after these checks are completed to allow family and partners down, but Colston asked specifically for you. Several times, actually.’ Her mouth quirks into a soft smile. ‘He wanted you to know that he’s okay, and he’s sorry you had to see that.’
A soft sob of relief chokes out of your chest before you can stop it.
‘So, so I can see him? Now?’ You ask through tears.
She nods, almost reassuringly.
‘Yes. I’ve come to take you down.’
Her words release just some of the tension that your body has been holding since the minute Colston went down.
‘Is he okay?’ you ask as Sheri leads you down the corridor and then into a back staircase. You know that this is where fans aren’t allowed, and you’re grateful that you won’t be asked questions by fans. As well-meaning as they may be, you just don’t have the energy for it.
Sheri pauses to consider her words, but keeps walking. She knows how to handle things like this by now, knows how to talk to partners who are scared and saw their boyfriends or husbands go down the way Colston did. It never makes it easier, though.
‘He’s going to be okay,’ she begins. Your heart loosens. ‘The initial checks weren’t overly worrying. He knew his name, knew where he was and what quarter the game was in. What concerned the med team was some slightly delayed processing, slurred speech and slowed eye movement. It was enough to rule him out there and then.’
Delayed processing.
Slurred speech.
Slowed eye movement.
Even from your limited medical knowledge, the clear signs of concussion were enough to make your heart rate spike once again.
‘Okay. And… when I see him, what should I expect?’
‘He’ll probably apologise. He’s been apologising to everyone since he got to the tent. He feels guilty, responsible for the way the game ended.’
You can’t help but smile, despite the situation.
‘Sounds like Colston.’
‘Agreed. In terms of immediate and longer term aftercare, no screens, no driving and no bright lights. He also shouldn’t be left alone.’
You nod, mentally noting down her words and already making adjustments in the house.
‘And warning signs to be aware of?’
She falls in step with you, looking at you with a small smile on her face again.
‘Not many are this… involved in the care of their partners, you know.’
You shrug, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
‘We’re in this together.’
‘That’s a nice thing to hear. Refreshing.’ She draws herself back up, all business once again. ‘If he starts to get confused, if his headache gets worse or nausea sets in, you call.’ Panic flares in your stomach. As if she can feel it, she steps closer. ‘But right now, this is manageable. I’ve seen far worse, and I know that doesn’t seem like much right now. But Colston’s tough, and he’s got you by his side. Having someone like you with him is a lot more than many NFL players can honestly say they have.’
The rest of the walk passes by in companionable silence. You’re internally preparing yourself for what lies ahead, for how to act around Colston, to bring up your walls so you can be the tough one.
At last, you reach a door that says MEDICAL ROOM A.
‘He’s in here. Hugging is fine, just don’t pull him too hard. Don’t speak too loudly. Just remember that his brain’s taken a bit of a hit, so he might be a little emotional. Not quite the Colston you’re used to. He’ll come back, though.’ She pauses to allow you to prepare yourself. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Yeah,’ you say softly. ‘Just want to see him.’
‘Okay. You can knock, let him know it’s you. I’ll be back in ten minutes to take you to the locker room to collect his personal belongings. Equipment team have already taken his pads and helmet up to the storage. You’re doing really well.’
Sheri reaches out to squeeze your hand, and then walks off.
Your hand raises and pauses by the door as the last of your resolve builds up. Then, you knock twice, softly.
‘Colst? It’s me.’
The answer comes a second later than it should.
‘Come in, baby.’
When you turn the handle and open the door, the first thing you see is the sterility of the room. It’s white. Too white. The lights are too bright despite the injury sustained by the patient in the room.
Colston is sat on the training table. His shoulders are slightly hunched and he’s too still, as if he’s been told not to move too much and is obeying that instruction to the letter.
He blinks up at you, eyes not quite focusing on you, and your heart shatters when he squints at you through the headache. Then he bows his head again as the light becomes too much for him to process. His body language alone screams guilt; slumped shoulders, hands fidgeting in his lap and posture weak, not the strong, statuesque stance you’re so used to.
For a second, you just stand and look at him.
‘Oh, baby,’ you whisper. Tears are already threatening, but you know you have to keep strong.
‘I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry.’ It comes out softer than usual, even though his voice is wrecked from being on the field for nearly a full game.
You cross the small room in just a few short strides and stop in front of him, thighs brushing his knees. He leans into your touch when you cradle his face in your hands, his hands reaching up to hold your forearms to anchor himself on you.
The two of you are silent for a few moments. He still smells of turf, sweat and grime. He’s yet to shower, which you’ll no doubt help with once you’re home. His eye black is mostly wiped off but a few patches remain. Your thumb absently swipes away at them, trying to rid his face of what’s left of the game.
He’s the first to wrap you up in a hug, pulling you closer to him as if he’s trying to assure you that he’s real, he’s there.
You take that as permission to wind your arms around his neck.
‘I’m okay,’ he repeats in a murmur into your ear. ‘Took a bit of a hit, I know that, but they said it’s a mild concussion.’ His eyes lock on yours, wanting you to believe his next words. ‘Should be just fine in a few days.’
You hold his gaze for another second, before you rest your head on his broad shoulder, exhale into his neck and press a kiss to the damp skin there.
‘You scared me.’
He tightens his grip on you, reassuring but gentle.
‘I know,’ he sighs heavily. ‘‘M sorry, love bug.’
You pull back from him just slightly and hold his face again.
‘Just glad you’re alive. You’re here.’
He leans up to kiss your forehead.
‘We both are, sweetheart.’
You step back into him. You’re holding him just as much as he’s holding you.
Not many words are exchanged after that. You just hold each other. Colston’s heart is still thrumming in his chest, but the more you hold onto him, the slower it gets. His huge hand rubs up and down your back in soothing strokes, while your thumbs brush gentle circles into his shoulder blades.
It’s only when your shoulders gently heave with a sob that he taps you on the back.
‘Hey,’ he says softly. ‘Look at me.’
His eyes are still slightly out of focus when you look at him, but you know he’s lucid and meaning what he says. It’s his turn to cup your cheek in his large hands. One of his thumbs brushes away a stray tear that’s fallen down your cheek.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cry, I just…’ Your shoulders shake as another sob bursts out of your chest before you can stop it. Colston’s hand immediately rubs soothing circles into your back. ‘I feel bad for crying, you’re the one with the concussion, but I… I saw you go down, you didn’t get up, Colston, I was… I was so scared, nobody told me what was happening… I’m sorry…’
He pulls you closer so your faces are inches apart and his hands cradle both sides of your face, thumbs brushing away tears as they fall.
‘Darlin’, I need you to look at me when I say this. Don’t ever apologise for feelin’, baby. Especially when it comes to things like this.’ His hands that are resting on your hips tighten their grip just slightly. The tone is firm, but the words are said quietly, reverently. ‘I went down, it wasn’t pretty. You’re allowed to cry. You’re allowed to be scared.’
You nod weakly. It will take a while for the words to become true in your heart, even though your head realises it now. Being scared is normal. You saw the love of your life go down and not get back up straightaway. That will mess with anyone’s head.
He kisses you gently, unhurriedly, to bring you back to him. Colston can always tell when your head is running away with you. He’s getting quicker at catching you before you disappear.
The kiss continues in that sweet, gentle way it always does when either of you need to remember that you’re here, you’re with him, you’re where you’re meant to be right now. You’re stood so close to him that your chests are touching.
His lips pull away from yours and trace gentle kisses to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, your forehead and then your temple.
He takes your hand and brings up to his chest where you can feel his heart beating. It’s slower, now that the adrenaline and shock have both worn off.
‘Feel that, sweetheart?’ You nod again. ‘See, I’m right here, my girl. Right here. Not goin’ anywhere, promise. Neither are you.’
You shuffle closer to him again, not wanting to stray more than a foot away from him. Both of you are going to be clingy tonight, you know that much. He chuckles softly and winds his arms around your waist.
‘I love you, baby. Thank you for being here.’
You kiss his cheek.
‘Nowhere else I’d rather be, Col. I love you more than anything.’
The moment is broken by a knock on the door, and you automatically step back from Colston, suddenly very aware that you’re still in his place of work. He keeps your hand in his, craving physical contact, like always.
One of the medical team steps in, followed closely by Sheri.
‘We just need to do a few more tests before he can go home,’ the med staffer explains quietly.
‘Y/N, I’ll take you to the locker room to collect the last of his belongings, like we talked about.’
You turn back to Colston, suddenly not wanting to leave his side. He nods encouragingly at you, a small smile flickering across his face, and squeezes your hand.
‘I’ll be okay, baby, go.’
You hesitate a moment longer, enough time for him to pull you back in for a sweet kiss, making both staff in the room look away pointedly, before he murmurs, ‘go, honey, I’ll be just fine, I promise’ against your lips.
Finally, with one last squeeze of his enormous hand, you extricate yourself from his arms and exit the room, but not without a glance over your shoulder as the medical staffer holds a light out in front of Colston’s eye.
It’s another quiet walk to the locker room.
‘Here’s his locker,’ Sheri announces when you arrive at the locker bearing his number and team photo above the cubby hole. ‘Like I said before, the equipment team took all his pads, helmet and mouthguard back to Halas Hall. All that’s left is his duffle and backpack.’
You nod and busy yourself collecting everything to go into his backpack.
It’s a backpack you’ve seen probably hundreds of times, but it still feels strange in your hands. It feels like you’re handling something that doesn’t belong to you. Colston makes everything look tiny, and this bag is no exception.
His phone is beeping with messages, lighting up every few seconds. You recognise a few names; JJ McCarthy, a few friends from Gooding, coaches… He’ll respond to them eventually, when the concussion has eased. For now, though, you pocket his phone and shoulder his bag, carrying his duffle in your other hand.
‘I’m ready,’ you say when Sheri comes back in.
‘Okay. They’re still doing the last of the tests, but you’re welcome to wait outside. They won’t be long.’
The wait outside the room while they complete the last of the checks seems just as long as the wait for the game to finish.
You can hear muffled voices from inside the room, Colston’s low timbre rumbling through the walls right to your bones. There are chairs for you to sit, but you don’t. That anxious energy is back again, worrying that they’ll find something, worrying that he’ll take a turn for the worse…
But then the door opens and he’s there. Tired eyes and shoulders still slightly lower than usual, but he’s there. His huge frame fills the entire doorframe, broad shoulders almost touching either sides of it.
He reaches out a hand towards you the second he sees you.
‘All good to go home, babe,’ he smiles gently, as if he could sense that a spiral was imminent. ‘Long as you’re drivin’.’
You return his smile, relief finally flooding your body for the first time since seeing him go down, and cross the distance to him once more. When you stand close enough to him, he immediately pulls you in for a hug, holding you so close it’s like he’s scared you’ll float away if he loosens his grip even slightly. He kisses you again, softly and reassuringly, huge hands cupping your face to keep you close.
‘Let’s take you home, superstar,’ you mumble against his lips.
The two of you walk towards his car, keys in your hand because there’s simply no way he’s driving for at least a few days. It’s quiet, peaceful and reflective.
Even with a concussion, Colston opens the door for you and holds out his hand to help you in. He leans in to press a fleeting kiss to your cheek as you pass him. You pretend not to notice, but your flaming red cheeks betray you.
‘So this is it? No games until September?’ You ask as you buckle up inside the car.
‘Yeah. Feels weird.’
‘Good weird or bad weird?’
He tilts his head in thought.
‘Weird in a way that will take a while to get used to, but will be nice once I’m used to it.’
You giggle and lean across the centre console to kiss him, wanting to be close to him.
‘Look at you, all mature after your first proper NFL season.’ He laughs back at you, then winces when his head pangs. ‘Okay, no laughing for at least twenty-four hours.’
‘Kind of impossible with you around, darlin’.’
You scoff, laughing, and shove his chest playfully.
‘Charmer.’
He doesn’t back down. He looks across at you, still slow in his movement but determined, even now, to make you blush as he fires a wink over at you.
‘How do you think I pulled you, sweetheart?’
You look across at him after pulling out of the parking lot, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.
‘The half a bottle of vodka I’d had when we met certainly helped.’
It’s his turn to scoff and laugh, the first slice of normality returning.
And you know from the second he reaches across to kiss your cheek, you know he’s going to be just fine.
He’s got you. You’ve got him. You’ve got each other.
And that’s enough.
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