Shadows of the Pitch- a Virgil Van Dijk Fan fiction

Chapter 7: Lonesome.

Celebrating my first Christmas without my dad felt super strange to me. He insisted I travel to Estonia with him to celebrate with my aunties and uncle's family, but I told him I couldn't afford it. Even though Virgil had offered to pay for my tickets around 700 times, I still said no. I wanted to do things on my own, be completely independent. And I still can't tell if that was a big mistake.

Hearing my dad chuckle over the phone, the buzz of the chaos from my cousins playing with their toys in the background, running up to show me what 'jõuluvana' got them for Christmas. It made my chest tingle from happiness, but I still missed him.

I had sat down to pick at a ready made roast dinner I had ordered, because I simply did not possess the skills it takes to make an English Christmas dinner, when my phone rang again.Not really checking to see who it was, I rolled my eyes assuming my dad had accidentally called me again after drinking some more with our family.

'Hello?' I spoke, sarcastically, putting my fork full of food into my mouth.

'Hey, Connie, Happy Christmas.'

I almost choked on a roast potato in that moment. It was Virgil. He was calling me.

'Oh my god, hi! Happy Christmas to you too! I really didn't expect you to call me.' I composed myself, laying down my fork on my plate. 'Hows Holland? Cold?'

'Snowing a lot,' He chuckled, sending my heart rate through the roof almost instantly. 'Did you go home?'

'No, I didn't in the end.' I sighed. He just reminded me how lonely I truly was.

'you know I fly back tonight, right?' His voice rung through the speaker of my phone, as my eyes widened.

'So soon? Do you play tomorrow?' I questioned, tapping my nails on the plate, tiny clinking noises seemed to fill up my entire flat.

'We play Man City tomorrow. It'll be at their grounds, I can get you a ticket if you'd like? I love when you can come to the games.'

My breathing seemed to stop.

'Virg, I'd love to but... I don't know if the busses will be running on Boxing Day and I get nervous-'

'I know. Don't worry, you won't have to. I'll sort it all I promise. Be ready in the early morning, and I'll come get you. Ok?'

I gulped.

'Okay.'

The last time Virgil had stayed at my flat, he had got me my own Liverpool shirt. It was their gorgeous home kit, the dark, bold rouge red with yellow sewn accents throughout the seams. On the back was the number 4, and 'Starr' in big letters. I didn't dare to wear it, knowing I would have probably spilt something down it. But I knew I had to wear it for that game, he would want me to.  Day dreaming, I imagined what his reaction would be when he saw me wearing the shirt; in my head he would be flustered, or maybe he'd just simply compliment me, or passionately rip the shirt off me. I shook my head with my hands over my eyes in embarrassment, feeling the hum of heat flowing from my cheeks. To distract myself, I covered the remnants of my dinner with some cling film, popped it in the top of my fridge before slumping down onto my bed. My fingers spread across the duvet sheet, envisioning the soft fabric was Virgil's arms, I wanted to be with him.

That next morning, I felt as if my body was frozen. Stiffly reaching over to my phone propped up on a small box on my bedside table,  with my arm only barely sticking out of bundled up blankets, I saw on my screen: 6:30 am, and a text that read-

"Good morning tenants, unfortunately the heating has been reported out of use in the entire building and will take up to two weeks to be fixed. Sorry for the inconvenience!"