Creepin | Kylian Mbappé

Chapter thirty-nine

(Y/n)'s POV

"Are you mad at me?" Kylian asked as I was cleaning up the blood that continued to gush from his nose.

Was I angry with him? Absolutely. An hour had gone by since the whole incident, and on our way back to the apartment, I barely spoke three words to him. "Yes," That was all I said.

And Kylian didn't like my response at all, "Come on, don't be like that with me." Although I wasn't directly looking into his eyes, I could tell he had intentionally widened them, hoping to get some sympathy from me.

I guess I'm a sucker for puppy eyes after all.

"I wish you would trust me," My eyes shifted from his bloody nose to his eyes. I was getting tired of him always sending Pierre to spy on us.

"I do trust you. It's him that I don't trust."

Kylian's eyes narrowed, as they often did at the slightest mention of Neymar. His puppy eyes were gone, "Were you scared?"

What? His question caught me off guard, "Scared of what?" And in that instant, his eyes were no longer narrowed. Instead, they stared directly into mine, with a look I hadn't seen from him in a long time. Those eyes were staring at me with a deadness behind them, just like he used to look at me back then. Now, he has no reason to stare at me like that. Maybe back then, when he wanted to hide his feelings for me, but now, it's not necessary.

"You know," Kylian, hinting at whatever he was trying to tell me, had the scariest smirk I'd ever seen.

"No? I don't." I have no idea what he is trying to say.

Completely oblivious, I stood there, waiting for his explanation. Kylian grabbed my hand, the one that had just wiped his bloody nose, and held it with his own. "When you saw that I couldn't stop," His words, unlike the warmth of his hand, were cold. Normally, I would have found his response cringey, but there was nothing cringey about his words. The way his smirk reached his eyes proved he was serious.

"No. I wasn't scared," I lied to him.

But he knew I was lying, I could see it in his face. After all, I was a terrible liar. That didn't matter, though. I felt scared by the way he was acting at that moment. So I looked away, blinking from the discomfort. "Alright. Whatever you say," Kylian chuckled.

"Can you stop?" I angrily shoved his hand off mine.

Now he stared at me, confused. "What?"

"You shouldn't see beating up Neymar as a flex."

"Never saw it that way," Kylian, the smartass, answered back.

But they always say people can never see past their pride, "You looked at me in such a scary way when you asked if I was scared. And then I told you I wasn't scared, so that's—"

"You don't think I can tell when my girl is lying right to my face?" Kylian cut me off before I could finish, and now he was standing, looking down at me. Fuck, I'm such a bad liar. Rather than coming up with another lie to tell him, I stayed quiet, and did my best to avoid looking into his eyes. "Hm?" A soft noise escaped his mouth, urging me to answer his question.

"I was scared. You wouldn't stop and I never expected you to act that way. Seeing you become violent for no reason, I-I just. You shouldn't have done that." I spilled out how I felt about everything in one breath, feeling my eyes tear up as I relived my emotions from the whole fight. Kylian meant a lot to me and seeing him show signs of anger and violence fucking sucked. His previous fights with Neymar were not physical, yet witnessing that side of Kylian was scary. And then there was the time he yelled at me when Ale, Neymar, and I attempted that prank on the PSG players.