interdit, ˚⊹ jules koundé

𝟎𝟎𝟕.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲

the score was 4-3 to barcelona against real madrid; with madrid on the prowl to equalise.

a few violent tackles had gone unnoticed by the referee, or rather the referee had been ignoring them on purpose.

but at exactly seventy-three minutes on the clock, real madrid's danish forward caroline moller, had taken it a step too far after being dispossessed in barcelona's penalty area had caused her to see nothing but red.

frustrated with how close she had been to the goal, she sprinted towards her opponent who had managed to steal her chance at a goal. it so happened to be aline amayou, the infamous barca captain who had regained posession for the catalonian side.

to barcelona's disconcertment, moller's comprehension of what was acceptable had long since left her conscience, and her body became a human harpoon that swiped the number five off her feet. aline watched in dread as the danish player's studs collided with her shins, before screaming out in pain.

jules stood up, a cloud of fury emanating from his stature. if the referee didn't declare a red card imminently, he decided he would physically go and rip it out of her pocket, and hold it up himself for the entirety of the johan cruijff arena to see. 

barcelona was avenged with the crimson card, and caroline moller sauntered off the pitch with such a wicked smile on her face that she resembled something of a dystopian villain. for what did she even have against aline, anyway?

the medics rushed over to the captain, as she weakly tore the armband from her body, and handed it to lucy who stood at her side wearing fervent concern upon her face.

bronze hesitated, before gravely nodding at her number five and wrapping the armband around her own bicep.

the medics tried to both flex and extend her leg, but she winced in pain and swatted at their sleeves.

aline felt ashamed, as tears began to spill from her beautifully dark eyes. jules felt a pang in his chest as he saw her tears fall on the big screen, knowing how she hated appearing vulnerable.

jules surveyed the scene unfolding behind him over his shoulder in horror, as he noticed paramedics emerging from the stadium tunnel, carrying a stretcher between them. was it really that bad?

before they knew it, aline had disappeared and f.c. barca feminino were forced to continue without the guidance of their best. 

jules waited around ten minutes, for the commotion surrounding the tunnel to die down, before he slipped past the women's manager and darted into the tunnel. he glanced at the floor, where it seemed like the wheels of aline's stretcher had left tracks of mud.

the french centre back followed these tracks elusively, until he reached a door with a sign that read, 'cuarto médico'.  he forced the heavy door open with his shoulder, and there his rival was, laying on a bed alone in the room.

she was staring at the ceiling, a forlorn look of regret on her face. but her head turned steadily upon hearing someone enter the vestibule.

"you came." she whispered when she saw jules; her voice shaky from the tears that continued to escape those intimidating brown eyes; that so beautifully haunted jules koundé every time he glanced into them.

"of course i came." he replied softly. "i had to make sure my captain was okay." he gingerly took a few steps towards her, as though she would bite if he fared too close.

"i don't know if i'll be anyone's captain for a while." she wept, and that was all jules needed to hear before he leaned over the girl and engulfed her in a tight hug. expecting retaliation, his entire body turned to molten lava as the fierce little full-back reciprocated his embrace equally as fiercely, if not more.

jules eventually pulled away, shaking his head at the bruises on her limbs. without realising, he had started to clench his fists. "remind me." his voice had began to shake with anger. "who did this to you?" his voice was stark, ricocheting between the clinical walls of the empty examination room.

"it doesn't matter." aline sneered, letting go of him as realisation washed over her face. "isn't this what you do to people? why you have so many red cards?" 

pain struck the french man in the chest, as he thought back to all the petty reasons he had been shown the scarlet cards. throwing the ball at his opponents in fits of rage, shouting profanities at the referee, and sometimes just sheer racism.

he broke his eye contact away from the pair that stung him with every gaze. "i've never received a red for dangerously injuring somebody, and if that's who you think i am, you don't know me." jules scowled, turning around to leave the examination room as to not utter a sentence he would regret.

to his surprise, a cold hand weakly grabbed his sleeve.

"wait, jules. please. i know that's not who you are, i'm sorry. i'm just stressed." aline sobbed. "please stay." her quivering voice had reduced to a whisper.

no matter how much he wanted to fight it, jules' entire demeanour softened.

"okay." he exhaled. "i'll stay."

──★ ˙ ̟🌷 !! 

andre onana didn't debut.

imma CRY

it's okay, he'll be playing tomorrow, 

cause we're playing real madrid