Runaway affair

Hot Blooded

Hot Blooded- Foreigner

No One POV:

The brunette was pulled backwards. His feet still planted to go at the darker-haired man again. He was quickly restrained with the help of two teammates who stood in front to prevent him from pursuing his actions any further.

Bradley rolled on the ground, growing in pain that etched his facial features. His nose was visibly broken as blood poured out from it. The red liquid trickled down onto the green grass, coating it with the darker pigment.

Two of the training staff rushed to his aid and he hissed in agony. Bradley's hands remained at his sides, his legs propped up against his chest. To say he was in rough looking shape would be an understatement.

"Hey man, you okay?" one of the staffers asked. Bradley hummed, acknowledging their presence. Ford leaned forward, only to be pushed back and taken to the other side of the field. His fists were bleeding themselves, skin torn from the forces of the punches.

"What the hell was that, Ford?" a teammate asked. The soccer player refused to make eye contact, his focus remained on the group that surrounded his opposite across the pitch. The once neon jersey he wore, now raked a dark shade.

"Hey!" he asked again, another poor attempt to catch his attention. Reaching out, he went to touch his shoulder, only for it to be smacked away. "Don't fucking touch me" Ford remarked.

The gathered teammates took a step away from him, glancing at one another with horrified looks. "Go home, all of you!" one of the coaches shouted, remaining at the injured man's side. Ford wanted another go at him, the one didn't do justice for what he had done.

"Except you Grant, my office now!" he exclaimed. The training staff followed behind, aiding a bruised Bradley. Ford and his former friend were restrained by two others as they sat opposite one another in the large room.

Pictures lined the walls, reflecting the dim light that bounced off of them. Erik ten Hag was the head coach of the club's team. He led the team to very successful seasons the last few years, his players were stars.

He also made sure they maintained a good image for the team, or else things would fall out of sorts. While the two players waited their fate, Bradley gave a weak smirk to Ford. It enraged him, wondering how he could sit there all smug with himself.

The older man was overly hung over for the first few practices, accounting for his absence. Each night, he would plant himself at the tabletop of the nearest pub trying to attract the girls that sat beside him.

A door to the office was flung wide open, hitting the wall. The noise caused the two men to jump in their seats. "What the fuck was that?" his prominent British accent rang out. Ford's head lowered upon his gaze.

"This shit- whatever it is, needs to end now. I'm not tolerating children when you are supposed to be professionals, got it?" Erick shot out. "Yes sir" Bradley sarcastically responded with a grin. The coach turned upon his remark, bubbling over with anger.

"You think this is funny? This isn't the first time you've done something like this so I suggest you watch it" he reminded. Bradley shrunk in his seat, his confident self now dissolved.

"And you. This is a team, not fight club. For Christ sake you could go to jail for assaulting him" Erick moved to Ford. The coach rubbed at his temples, trying to bring himself a sense of comfort.

"Don't worry coach, I won't press charges" Bradley shot back at the man. Erick sighed, looking between the two men from a distance. Ford scoffed at the comment, attempting to push past the staff at his side.