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𝑺𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒃𝒚 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕.
Reese's Perspective
"Hey, Antoine, how was practice?" I ask as soon as Antoine answers the phone.
"Awful," sighs the teenage male on the other end. "Reese Mallory, I just don't know how I'm going to keep doing this. I can't. I literally can't."
"Antoine," I say his name gently, like as if it is the sweetest sound ever to be heard. And I'm starting to think maybe it is. "What do you mean by that?"
"I don't know... Today was awful. I know I deserve it all because of how awful I've been, but I literally can't bear it anymore. I have no break now. Literally no where I can go to feel happy. And safe. I hate home and I hate school. In both places I'm abused. I can't take it anymore. I wish I could just die."
"Antoine, listen," I whisper, feeling a lump form in my throat at the forlorn tone in his voice. "I wish I could help you. I really do. But I want you to be alive. You have so many hopes and dreams and potential. You've shared what you want to do in life with me. Now I'm expecting you to do that. Please, Antoine. You have more to live for than the present and the past. You have the future to live for, which is the brightest."
"I know," he says, and I hear him sniff. "But... I just... I don't know how I'm going to get through all this so that I can meet the future. I don't know. I don't know if I can."
"I know that you can, Antoine. I have faith in you."
"You shouldn't. You're wasting your faith."
"You think I can run out of faith?"
"I have."
"In what have you run out of faith in?"
"Myself. My life. God."
"Antoine, stop. Please. You need to have faith in yourself. Don't you remember what you told me? I want you to be a professional footballer. I want to be able to sit on my couch someday and point at the boy on the screen and say 'That's Antoine Griezmann! I know him!'"
This gets a sad little laugh out of him, which is better than nothing. "Alright... I just also wanted to let you know that... You're so... I think... Or... U-hm..."
"Yes?" I prompt him gently.
"Thank you so much. For being perfect. Because you somehow managed to make my terrible day ten times better."
This makes me smile. "Well, I'm glad, Antoine. Anything for you."
Anything for you.
Just such a phrase, huh?
Antoine's Perspective
"I don't think we should care, Antoine. I know you care so much, but I think that you caring so much will be the death of you."
"What do you mean?" I ask the girl. We're off going for an evening walk together again. "I don't quite understand, Reese Mallory."
"If you don't let them know it has a toll on you, they calm down."
"Oh. Yeah. I see you. You're so confident. And... happy. Even when people are terrible to you. How do you do it?"
"I chose that I wasn't going to let anyone break my stride at the beginning of this year, Antoine. I think you should try the same thing."
"But my stupid emotions, Reese Mallory..."
Suddenly, she stops walking. "Antoine, look at me in the eyes."
And for some reason, that isn't as hard to do as I would have thought it would have been.
"When they do that to you, don't let them see your emotions. Just walk like you're the king of the world and act like you're in a good mood. Like they don't get to you. Like they can do whatever they want to you. That's how you act in the moment, right? Even if you're feeling crushed. If your thoughts start buzzing, think of something that makes you happy. What makes you happy? What about football?"
I shrug, unsure. "No... I mean, yes, but I play football with them, so I would just start thinking and dreading about that..."
"Alright... Well, what makes you happy?"
And I barely get out, in the softest of soft whispers, "You."
"What? I'm sorry, I didn't hear," she says in confusion, leaning in closer to me, which I guess I don't mind.
"You, Reese Mallory," I say slightly louder, meeting her eyes again. "You make me happy."
"Oh, Antoine..." she breathes. "Right... U-hm, so think of me, then."
"Just what I like about you?"
She nods her head, and I think I see that her cheeks are a little pink. Am I... making her blush? Obviously I am. I'm so stupid. That's such an awkward thing to say. Obviously she'd be embarrassed. "So, think about that to get you through it. And then later, Antoine, you can punch something or cry or do whatever you do to get emotions out. But do that later, after the fact. You know?"
I nod, understanding now. "Right. Sure. I understand... Is that what you do?"
"Yeah..."
"Did you cry yesterday?" I ask. I don't know why I'm getting into these more personal things with her. Maybe because I want to know her more personally. Maybe I want to know her closer, and she seems at least comfortable enough.
"Yeah, a little bit... But you did, too, didn't you?"
"I guess if watering eyes counts, yes."
She nods at this in understanding. "Listen, Antoine, I just want to be able to be your friend. Do you want to be my friend?"
I even find myself chuckling at this question. "Isn't it obvious? Of course I want to be your friend now. I like going for these walks with you. You always brighten my mood."
"O- Oh, thanks," she says quickly. "U-hm, either way, what I'm saying is that if we want to be friends and everyone is making fun of us for it, we shouldn't let that stop us from being friends, right? Who cares what they say. And since we're friends, of course we can vent about what happened, but... You know, it's not fair to fall into their trap. I think you've been doing this for years, but you can't change yourself, how you want to behave, and what you want to do with your life just so that others see you as valuable. Because, obviously, Antoine, you are value, no matter how much you refuse those words and don't believe them. But you are."
I swallow, nodding. "Right... I will try to do what you say. And thank you, Reese Mallory."
