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𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒏𝒐𝒘. 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅.
~ Author's Note ~
This song seriously reminds me of Antoine in this fan fiction. Like, literally. Please listen to it. Unstoppable by Sia really reminds me of this. Here is a link to the song.
Just copy the link. Literally Antoine. And if you've already heard it, then tell me if you agree. It was just an idea, as it came on, since I listen to music literally while I write, so I figured I'd just leave an Author's Note saying it, because, like, why not?
Also, sorry if it feels like it is Antoine's perspective, like, a lot. It's just that I have a lot of groundwork to set and things to happen with Antoine, and less with Reese. But trust me... I AM WORKIN' HARD HERE TO WRITE EVERYTHING EXACTLY HOW I WANT IT, IN THE CORRECT ORDER AND ALL. I honestly write for my own fun, and post chapters on here, so other people can enjoy it, too. So for anyone who doesn't enjoy it, I guess they should just stop reading.
But I promise you, when I say this is the enemies to lovers trope, I mean it. Even if it doesn't seem like it, I will eventually get to the to lovers part of enemies to lovers. I will.
Anyways, I guess, enjoy reading this chapter!
Antoine's Perspective
It was after I got the letter saying that I would have to clean up a beach. That is when it happened.
I was exhausted, and fuming, and was so close to punching something... I had to do something. But I feel so guilty now, in hindsight, at what I did do.
Louis, my mother, and I sat down for our dinner of fried chicken and pasta quietly. Then Louis said, "Antoine, can you do me a favor?"
"What?" I asked, sighing.
"Sunday afternoon, I have to get to the ortho' office. The one the town over. My appointment is at, like, 5:00 P.M. Could you do that for me...?
I sighed. "Louis, I don't know!" I said, too loudly for my mother, who jumped, looking up, but in that moment it didn't register to me. "Listen, I have a busy life too, and things are hard for me too, and if you can't get your own self to the damn ortho' office, then too bad. I'm not going to try to fit that into my schedule, too!"
"Antoine, calm down," my mother said in a soft, shaky voice.
She was stressed but I didn't care. I raised my voice even more. I shouted. I yelled. I practically screamed. "I'm sorry that you can't deal with the slightest bit of discomfort, but that's not my problem! I've been going through so much lately, and have I been complaining? Do you know the community service I'm doing? Do you know what Papa did to me? Do you know about me missing football for three whole weeks?! Do you know about the nightmare of a girl, and what she did to me? Do you know why I was all bruised up? Do you know why there are still marks on my face? Do you know?! Huh?!" I was screaming, and tears were threatening to fall from my eyes. "Do you know what she said to me? Do you know who I am? Do you know? Do?! You?! Know?! Do you know how much I'm hiding? Do you f***ing know that everyday, I fight so hard just to get through it, without blowing up?! And then he comes along," I gestured to my younger brother, who's eyes were wide in worry at my strong reaction. There were tears now coming from my eyes. "And he asks me to f***ing take me to the f***ing airport! Oh my God! And then you! You can't hold yourself together at a little bit of shouting! That's why I've been hiding it all from you. I've been trying so hard, and for you to just tell me to calm down?! Calm down?!" I screamed, now right up in my mother's face, who was sobbing.
Louis grabbed me from behind, pulling me away from my own mother, saying, "Get off of her, Antoine!"
I turned around I punched my brother across the face, as hard as I could, with all my emotion and anger.
I saw the blood pouring down his face, but I didn't know where it came from. My vision was blurred, and red with anger.
"Antoine!" my brother screamed at me, looking fierce. "Get out of here! Get your sh**ty self out of here, away from us, you a**hole! Get out! Just get out of the house, and don't you dare come back!"
And I did. I ran. I ran out of the house, into the rainy night, sobbing, because I'm sure there must be the Devil inside me, possessing me. I'm not myself.
I don't know what to do.
I cry on a curb, far, far away from home, because the weak tears just won't stop. The angry, weak, awful tears.
Why would I do that to my mother? I love her so much. I care about her, and I'm always so delicate around her. I do that because I care.
But what I just did shows no care at all.
I'm selfish.
I'm awful.
I sob, because every single little awful word that Reese Mallory said to me on that rainy morning is completely true about me.
Here I am, once again, sitting outside, alone, in the pouring rain, tears pouring from my eyes.
Louis didn't do anything wrong. I blew up. The bubble holding all my emotion just popped, right in my family's face.
I have never hit my younger brother. I told myself that I would never, ever hit my younger brother. I have always cared for him. I have always watched over him. It was my job, as his closest in age older brother. I swore I would treat him as I would like to be treated. I would be good.
Not only did I hit my younger brother, but I punched him, across the face, with all I had. All my strength.
And despite that, with blood pouring from his face, my mother screaming and sobbing because of my loud, hurtful words, Louis still had enough strength to tell me who I am.
The awful person I am.
That I should just get out, and never come back.
Louis can take care of himself. He'd rather be alone than with me, and that's completely understandable. I don't know who would ever want to stay with me, if I keep doing this.
Reese Mallory was right.
Why did she have to be so, so right?
I cry more, and it hate it. Nobody can see me in the dark except me and God, and I'm sure he's just about as disappointed in me as everyone else. And he should be. I'm sure God gave up on Antoine Griezmann a long, long time ago.
Reese Mallory. My father. The coach. Louis.
Every bad thing they said about me is true.
I'm selfish.
Awful.
A lost cause.
Angry.
Insecure.
I think my dad might have been right, and he didn't even know it, when he said I'm insane.
Insane...
Cruel.
Unfair.
I'm worthless. Completely worthless.
Unlovable.
I feel like the Devil himself.
I guess that is why God gave up on me long ago, and let the curses come on me.
I deserve everything that is coming to me.
Because the Devil is inside me.
My soul is black, and I can't stop sobbing because of it.
I'm possessed by the Devil. I don't remember who Antoine Griezmann is. Who he should be. Because I am not what I should be.
