Ali!! Omgggg I guess no one saw that coming, Save Me ended so suddenly! But still a great story, still my favorite. Thank YOU for your commitment, I know it's not easy to write with some kinda deadline and no inspiration. Also, I can't help but wonder what are your plans for this blog, will you focus on your request list? will you take a hiatus? Either way, you have my full support on everything. Love u! Don't be gone too long xx
Thanks, love! I'm finishing something offline (i.e., not being published). And then I’m going to regroup then perhaps work on the requests first. I’m also looking into the feasibility of a miniseries, I’m not sure I have it in me to do another long fic.
Fiena hasn't had a decent night's sleep in week's. You'd think that the demands of learning the ropes of her new job would knock her out as soon as she lay her head on her pillow late at night. But as soon as she closed her eyes, things that she kept a lid on during the day came rushing in full force.
No, not things. A person. Kevin fucking Trapp.
Placing her darkest sunglasses over her eyes, she grabbed her thermos of strong coffee and opened the door, only to practically trip over Kevin himself. Not only was he here in London, but he was down on one knee on her porch, looking up at her with wide eyes.
"Oh, no, no. You can't be serious!" she exclaimed. "No!"
Kevin frowned. "What? Wait..."
Realization dawned on him on what he looked like and he opened his mouth to explain, but a chortle came out instead, becoming a full blown laugh by the time he straightened out.
"Don't freak out, I'm not proposing," he said when he calmed down. "That would be even more stupid than my baseline of stupid... right? I dropped the keys to my rental, see?"
He jangled his keys in front of her face before pocketing them. Fiena crossed her arms, trying not to flush at her assumption. What was she supposed to think?
"I'm not sure there is a baseline to the stupid things you can do," she muttered.
"It's a pretty low baseline, but there is one," he said, grinning at her.
He looked longingly at her for a few seconds, not saying anything else. What was he even doing here? He better not have given Leroy the slip! He will call her up and whine to her.
"I'm going to be late for work," she lied. She had planned on getting to work early to at least get through the insane backlog her predecessor had so generously left her and it was an hour and a half before she really had to be at work-- which was like, 15 minutes away.
"Five minutes. Give me five minutes," Kevin begged.
She shrugged and pushed her sunglasses up over her head. "Fine. Inside. People might recognize you."
Fiena opened her door and dragged him to her living room, still not fully unpacked after all this time. Kevin glanced around and sat on the edge of the one couch that was fully set-up. She, herself, opted to stand. The thought of sitting that close to Kevin made her want to run back to her room and lock it.
"What is it, Kevin? What was so important you had to go all the way here to tell me," she asked.
He took a deep breath. "When you asked me if there was a reason you should say, I wasn't lying when I said there wasn't. As much as I wanted to be one."
"No, you were right. I was being a dunce. I was scared of so many huge changes, I was self-sabotaging," she said, trying to keep an even expression, as much as she wanted to wince at the pain of the memory of his rejection.
Kevin looked at his feet then back at her face. "Yes, yes, you were. I wasn't a good enough reason for you to stay. Not the way I was. You would have ended taking care of some juvenile asshole. And I would have gotten too dependent on you. I don't want that because... because I like you. I like you so much and I'm scared as shit. Jesus. Fuck it, see? I'm scared even now. What I mean is... I don't just like you, Fiena, I love you."
Fiena let his words wash over her, not fully digesting it until her mind repeated it to herself multiple times.
"What am I supposed to do with that information?" she asked, rubbing her face in a gesture of frustration.
"I'm not sure," Kevin said. "I thought that maybe you would either say 'I love you, too' or 'Get out and never darken my doorway again'."
It was a little bit of both, honestly. Maybe it was easy for Kevin to say that he loved her, but she had been forcing herself not to even think of him in that light for so long that it's hard to put a finger on what she really felt about him.
"I don't know," she answered.
He pushed himself off the chair with a determined look and strode over to her, taking her face in his hand. With a long enough pause to give her time to resist-- she didn't-- he bent down and kissed her deeply. Her eyes fluttered close, her hands looping around his shoulders for balance. A knot inside her chest untangled at the touch of his lips.
Kevin lost a little of the control he had once she started responding. His kiss became more urgent, like he didn't want to stop. They only paused when he threaded his hand through her hair and the sunglasses perched on her head clattered to the floor.
"Did that help? That was my last gambit," he asked.
"If I did have feelings for you, what does it matter? I'm still here and you're in Paris," she said weakly.
"I'm sort of rich and I can fly myself or you back and forth. And there's like, the train, if I must. I'll Skype every day. It's not really a big problem," Kevin said. "Look, we can take it slow. I have some growing up to do and you need to settle here. But I want to be with you, someday if not now."
"You'll wait?" Fiena asked.
"I will if you will. There's no doubt that you are what I want, and now that I know what I want, I don't settle for less. Kind of like you did when you wanted me as a client," he said in all sincerity. "So, what will it be, F.G.? Are you with me?"
His light tone was betrayed by the worry and desperation in his handsome face. Slowly, she cupped his face in her hands and stared into his eyes.
"If anyone in the world can make this work, it would be you and me," she said. "Why not? Let's do this."
Kevin broke in a huge grin and lifted her in the air in glee.
"That's all I needed to hear," he said, his voice breaking as he tried not to cry in relief. "God, I guess this is what happy feels like."
Wooh! Hello everyone, I’m updating Save Me If You Can today. It’s the last chapter of the main story, but I think I might do a one-shot, sort of an epilogue thing in the future. You’ll probably realize why after you read this update. :) Love you all, and thanks for the infinite patience.
Hello Ali! I've been re-reading your stories and I must tell you that my good ol' crush on Reus came back to life, so I'm feeling nostalgic, walking down memory lane, I miss 2013 so much. Hope you're doing great! Lots of love!
Haha, thank you. 2013 was a good year for fanfics, wasn’t it?
Hey I hope you're doing okay. You've been missing a while and I just hope ur alright. Love, x
I’m okay now, don’t worry! I’ve just been getting lazier and lazier, and maybe I’ve just ran out of inspiration. Let’s all hope the muses visit me more frequently!
I saw someone link you as a favorite author and I'm reading your oneshots one by one and my favorite is My Favorite Girl and The Year That Was. Are you planning on writing anything about Calum Chambers soon?
Thank you, anon! And thanks to whoever linked back here. :’) Probably when he comes back to Arsenal. :P
Hey! Sorry if I already missed the post but I couldn't find it, are you still planning on doing a Xhaka fic? :D hope you're ok and love your writing! <3
I was! But it’s not flowing as easily as I thought. I’m going to try very hard though. :)
Hi Ali! Randomly dropping by your ask box to say I LOVE YOUR STORIES SO MUCH!!! Such talent you have 💜🌻 Also, I was wondering if you are accepting requests right now? If yes, can you please - pretty please - write a one shot with Erik Durm/James Rodriguez on it inspired by Ed Sheeran's new song Happier?
There’s already a request for Durm, so I’ll probably integrate the song into that if it’s okay with you and the original requester? :)
You cannot pick whatever Gunner you like for the Aussie OS! xx
Okay then... who do you want it to be? (P.S. If the player in the existing request list, there's a huge chance it will be written soon, but if not, I'll add it to the provisional list)
Every short, blonde-haired girl looked like Fiena to Kevin. His logical mind knew she was in the UK, but he couldn't stop hoping that he was here in Paris. But why would she come back to him when he helped drive her away?
For her own good, he thought. If she stayed because of his unworthy ass, he would never forgive himself. Hell, she probably wouldn't have forgiven him either. Eventually. She'd see what a mistake it was to forsake the best career opportunity she had for a shallow shell like Kevin.
Actually, that short, blonde girl at the counter really did look a lot like her. Under the pretense of waiting for his name to be called for his cup of coffee, he moved closer to the girl and smiled at her.
"Having a good morning?" he asked, his heart skipping at the resemblance to her Fiena. Sure, different-colored eyes. Different lips and nose. But same hair, same face shape, even the same soft-looking skin he was crazy about. Maybe this was a sign.
"Oh my god," the girl uttered, eyes growing wide. "You're... you're..."
"Cute? Yeah, I like to think so," he said, forcing a playful tone.
"Kevin Trapp," she whispered almost reverently, then laughed too hard when she realized he made a joke.
He returned her eager grin with a wan smile. No, she wasn't like Fiena at all. She was too eager, too easily impressed. Her eyes bore none of Fiena's fortitude. She wouldn't call him out on his fuck ups; he wouldn't have to try so hard to make her smile.
In the deep recesses of his mind, he knew he was harshly and unfairly judging the girl just because she sort of looked like the love of his life, but not enough. Before he could say anything cruel or get the girl's hopes up, he nodded politely and walked out of the coffee shop as soon as the barista handed him his usual.
Fuck, he forgot to get sugar. Fiena would always get the sugar packets while he waited for their drinks. He took a tentative sip of his coffee.
Too bitter.
---
The locker room was empty when he got to the training ground. He got here way too early, he knew that, but there was nowhere he wanted to go anyway. He pulled his shirt over his head and reached for his phone, absent-mindedly flipping it in his hand. His deep sigh echoed on the tiled walls.
Two weeks. He's waited two weeks.
With renewed determination, he dialed her number but only got a message that it had been disconnected. Of course she would have a new number. Fuck. An idea popped in his head and he called her through WhatsApp. She answered on the fifth ring.
"Kevin," she said in an unreadable tone.
"Hey, um, so... how are you doing?" he asked.
"Good. Great," she answered.
"Saw you on TV the other day," he said.
He could almost see her eyebrows beetling in confusion. "How?"
"I was watching your team's game and the camera panned to the crowd and you were there," he said. "You didn't seem pleased with their performance."
"Oh."
"F.G..." he started.
"I have to go, Kevin. I have so much to do. Take care, okay? Don't give Leroy too much of a headache," she said.
The jokey reply he was formulating died on his lips when he heard the telltale click of Fiena hanging up. His stomach twisted and he tossed his damned phone back to his gym bag in frustration. Honestly, he didn't know what he was expecting to happen when he decided to ring her. It's like a stubborn part of him didn't want to completely let her go.
"There's nothing you can do, man. You're hopeless. Completely hopeless."
He looked up, thinking that someone had somehow read his thoughts. But it was only Rabiot talking to the Marco Verratti about some FIFA match they had last night. He watched them laugh, nodding at them to acknowledge their presence.
"I was off my game, okay! I'm not that bad. Usually," Verratti insisted.
"How about you? What was the great Kevin Trapp up to last night? Twin threesome? Epic underground party?" Rabiot asked.
"Both, maybe," Verratti added, laughing.
"I made lasagna," he said, shrugging.
Verratti frowned. "Is that code for something kinky or...?"
"No, I made actual lasagna. It was so bad I had to throw it out," he said.
"Okay. Guess I know who won't be cooking at my next house party," Rabiot commented.
They started talking about the FIFA game again, and then about girls as they were wont to do when they were that young-- in Rabiot's case anyway. Verratti was just horny. Not that Kevin was that much older. But he only wanted to talk about one girl. Correction, he didn't even want to talk about Fiena to these guys. He only wanted to talk to Fiena, and not like the brusque conversation they had just now.
"Trappie boy. You there?"
Belatedly, he realized that Verratti had asked him a question. "Yeah. Hold on a sec, I need to make a call."
He scrambled for his phone and dialed Leroy's number.
"Hey, book me a flight to London right after the game this weekend. Right after, okay?" he said, not even waiting for the guy to say hello.
"Kevin, we've gone over this, I'm not your assistant..."
"Um, you sort of are because I don't have one," he said.
He heard a sigh on the other line. "May I know what for?"
"Stuff," he mumbled.
"You have to be back by Monday night. You have training Tuesday early morning and a video shoot in the afternoon," Leroy reminded him.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm not going to miss training, come on," he said.
"Okay. I'll book you a hotel as well," Leroy said. "Check your email later."
Kevin grinned. That was easy. Fiena would have asked a million more questions and insisted that she come with him to ensure that he didn't get into shenanigans. But then again, he hadn't exactly given Leroy any trouble the past two weeks that he's been his PR manager. He'd been a) too depressed about Fiena and b) too busy with football. In fact, Leroy had jokingly commented-- with no little awe-- that Fiena had managed to tame him. Kevin had not known whether to punch him or agree with him.
He bit his lip. Kevin, what are you doing?
What's feels right.
He nodded at his reflection in an open locker. Never mind that he didn't know what he was going to say, or if Fiena would even meet up with him. He had to see her and apologize and lay it all out.
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