gag reel | trent alexander-arnold³

eleven.

22

Walking into her closet, Wynter paused in her place when she found Bryce pulling stuff out of her suitcase. "Bryce!"

"Hi, Auntie Winnie!" Bryce exclaimed, waving with his small hands.

"Hi, Brycie." Letting out a small laugh, Wynter bowed her head as she exhaled. She was trying her best to keep her cool with the toddler. She was already stressed enough as it was, having a crying Bryce from yelling wouldn't diminish her stress levels. She approached Bryce and took his small hand in her own, moving him away from her suitcase. "How did you get in here? I swear I locked it. Here, let's go over here."

Soon, Trent entered the bedroom. "And why exactly are we yelling in here?" he asked with a laugh, watching Wynter help Bryce climb onto her bed.

"Little Brycie thought it would be a good idea to go through my stuff and destroy everything," Wynter explained, moving her hair out of her face. "I don't know why he's up here anyway." Considering that the rest of the kids and Peyton were downstairs, she was still clueless as to how the two-year-old made his way into her room with such ease.

"How about this: I'll watch him and keep him away so you can organise your suitcase again. That work for you?"

Getting up from her bed, she approached Trent and kissed his cheek. She let out a small chuckle watching him cave in a bit. "Thank you."

Considering that Bryce was a rather calm and collected toddler, there wasn't much for Trent to do to keep him at bay; his favourite stuffed animal and a phone to watch cartoons were enough to keep Bryce's focus away from his aunt. And because of that, Trent let his focus fall on Wynter, watching her collect items of clothing in her closet, watching her organise her clothes as she sang, hummed and spoke random words to herself. Nothing was interesting about the task, to what she was doing, yet Trent still managed to find some enjoyment from witnessing it all happen.

As he continued to watch her—continued to witness Wynter sing, hum and speak these random words—he started to wonder what she was packing for. Their final Liverpool game before the break was the following day, but it was at home; the least one needed was a bag, not a whole suitcase. Wynter wasn't an excessive packer, always packing with reason. She would only need a suitcase or more if it was necessary. In his eyes, packing so much would only be necessary for her next match with France.

And his thoughts were soon confirmed when he noticed the two stars on one of her suitcases.

"Hey, Winnie?" Trent called out, his eyes falling on Bryce who was having fun jumping on Wynter's bed. He took in a deep breath. Trent was nervous to approach the question—approach the whole conversation with Wynter. But he knew that he had to be the one to bring it up because Wynter wouldn't, already knowing her stance.

She zipped up a suitcase, moving it to the side where Bryce wouldn't touch it. "Yes, Trent?" There was a bit of irritation in her voice. Having avoided the conversation and the questions so many times, she knew that eventually, she would have to confront them. She'd just hoped that maybe, Trent would've let it go. But clearly, the conversation remained fresh in his mind.

"When are we gonna talk about it?" Wynter didn't respond as she entered the room. "The World Cup?"

"I don't know what you want me to say," she said, quite defeated. "I mean what is there to say? I think we shouldn't talk about it." Besides, they were playing for different teams. In her eyes, what good would it do to talk about the World Cup when they were playing for such different teams? What would they talk about? Their predictions? She saw no point in this discussion and wanted it to end real quick.

Trent frowned. "I just don't understand, like, I hear you talk about it with Virgil and Darwin and Ibou—"

Wynter inhaled a low breath. "He is my teammate after all." A smile, one loving and whole, appeared upon her face, a show of contentment. Not for Trent, but for Bryce who made his way towards his aunt.