Synopsis: The worst pain that one can ever experience—and it all starts with a football and some rain on a random Tuesday.
Starring: Liverpool FC
Form: Oneshot
☀️Sunny says: that this brought up some trauma.
It had happened once before.
When you were younger; your face shiny from the petroleum jelly your mother had mercilessly smeared across your features and the drizzle that had been threatening far worse since you had finished up your cereal. You could almost still taste milk and cornflakes on your tongue whenever you so much as thought of that horrible, no-good morning.
You hadn't taken an umbrella with you that day—hadn't even bothered to turn back when your mother had called out to you from the doorstep with a warning that you would get wet and sick.
You were excited about the rain. You were also excited to see your best friend.
Looking back at it, it had only been a few weeks since he had joined the Liverpool Academy, but it felt like aeons to a little girl who had had to brave the playground alone without her bestie for the first time in her life.
You vividly remembered the way the drizzle had felt seeping through your school jersey and your stockings, but even the insistent chill against your skin couldn't dampen your exhilaration as you took a detour from your usual path. Instead of the habitual right turn that would lead you towards the school gates, you took an impromptu left that led you down a weathered path.
Your shoes thudded against the walkway, worn stone eventually making way for unkempt grass. Splashing through puddles as you went, you eventually made your way towards the wiry gates that very poorly cordoned off the neglected soccer pitch.
It was early, and it was borderline pouring at that point, but there were two boys kicking around a ball that had definitely seen better days. They still had their bookbags on as they took turns taking shots into the goal, the frayed netting just barely holding the ball in. You watched the two of them for a short while, with your fingers knitted through the wire mesh gates. Rain had been dripping off of your lashes, falling against your cheeks.
After a moment of admiring him—and with pure and unbridled enthusiasm—you had shouted out. "CJ!"
A young Curtis Jones, with unruly curls laid damply against his forehead, had turned around with a start. When his gaze landed on you from across the stretch of grass, his face broke out in a toothy grin. He had shouted your name out, excitedly waving you over like you couldn't get closer any sooner.
You had quickly run across the field, your bag jostling against your back. The smile on your face matched his, your cheeks hurting from how wide your grin had become.
In the background of your impending reunion, the older boy that had been practising kick-ups with the raggedy ball suddenly kicked it out towards the goal with all the power he could muster.
And running right in between the ball and the goal was you.
And so distracted by the prospect of running straight into Curtis's hug, you hadn't seen the ball flying straight towards you at bullet-train speed.
At least, not until the ratty ball so ungraciously interrupted you in your path—hitting you right in the face.
"OH MY GOSH!"
It had sounded like a wet slap across the face but had felt like an unexpected punch in the same moment.
It was almost comical.
They way you had jerked back after the hit, clotheslined by a sorry excuse for a sphere. The way you had shot backwards, falling onto your back with a breathless oomph!
Your cheek was burning, and not even the rain could cool it down in that moment.
Not to be dramatic or anything, but the entire left side of your face was aching.
Mud permeated through the layers of your clothes, and besides the pain your face was feeling, you had already been dreading the pain your bum would feel once you had to go home to your mother.
You hadn't even realised that your eyes had been squeezed shut the whole time—whether it was because of the pain or the humiliation or the daunting fear, you weren't entirely sure.
"Are you okay?!"
Now, almost fifteen years later, you were in the same dilemma.
Back flat against the soddy grass, cheek flaring painfully, left ear ringing.
When you opened your eyes, a handful of guys stood around your horizontal figure in yet another almost comical display. You would have laughed if you weren't worried that the ball that smacked you right in the face hadn't knocked one of your molars loose.
"Fuck..." You groaned, and the men around you winced in what was probably second-hand pain. Like they knew exactly how you felt.
You didn't resist when one of them held you by both of your forearms, pulling you so you were sitting up. Better that than laying on your back, quietly praying to disintegrate into the wet soil so you wouldn't be the centre of all of this pitiful attention.
"Daijoubu desu ka?" You could see the number 3 printed above the hem of his shorts. Looking up between wet lashes, you came face to face with an older East Asian man. Wataru Endo. Shit.
Afraid to say something that would embarrass you any further, you gave him a silent nod to appease his concerns.
"Oh my days! You hit her so hard, she started speaking Japanese!" Frimpong was standing behind you, yelling to somewhere across the pitch.
With one eye pinched close, you looked over the plane of grass to see that Curtis had wrestled their number 73 to the ground and had the young lad in a headlock.
"Agh! I'm– I'm so– sorry!" Ngumoha choked out, flailing in your best friend's vice grip. Although the rain had subsided, the pitch was still muddy and staining their training kit.
"Is she okay?" Curtis enquired, as if he didn't have one of his youngest teammates gasping for air against his forearm.
You flinched slightly when you felt a brush against your burning cheek. Glancing at the source, you internally groaned after realising Konate was carefully prodding your cheek with a look of concentration on his face.
This day was just getting better and better.
He brushed a thumb over your bottom eyelid. "Her cheek is swelling," he said lowly.
"Jones, the entire left side of her face is bruising, merde!" Hugo reported back in a sick game of broken telephone. Of course, the Frenchman and his Dutch alibi were using this as an opportunity to mess about with their teammates.
You could faintly hear Ngumoha's frantic sputtering become more insistent.
"We should get some ice on that." Oh, the universe was having a field day with you today. You recognised the authority in that voice anywhere.
"I'll be fine—"
"No." Virgil took hold of your hand and pulled you to stand up. The captain gave you a look that left no room for nonsense. "If you don't ice it now, you'll have a black eye on your hands." He paused for a moment, pursing his lips. "Well...on your face."
A sigh forced its way past your lips, but you nodded nonetheless. "Thanks, Skipper."
Your tongue ran over the inside of your bottom lip, stinging from how hard you had accidently bitten it upon the impact. The hand that you brought up to brush against your lip came back bloody and chaos broke out.
"She's bleeding?!" Mac Allister had announced it as more of a stunned question than a definitive declaration, and suddenly, a wake of Liverpool players were mercilessly descending upon Rio Ngumoha.
Virgil stood with his hands on his hips, watching his unfortunate circus collapse upon itself. He glanced off to Mo, who was trying not to double over in laughter. The Egyptian legend pursed his lips despite a very amused giggle slipping past.
"I'm going to take care of this one." The captain pointed towards you like you were actually a part of his herd. Then he pointed to where several players had piled on top of Rio while the young man pleaded for mercy. "Make sure they don't kill the boy."
Mo Salah gave his captain a lackadaisical salute. He then crossed his arms and watched the scene unfold further, not bothering to intervene just yet.
In the corner of your eye that wasn't swelling up, you could see Curtis ruthlessly scolding Rio amidst the many attacks from the other Reds.
i know everyone always talks about klopp being a dad or being trent’s dad but man he’s a bigger dad to alisson than anyone i feel like especially after him losing his dad and klopp being there for him and his family 🥺
