𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

almost losing you - jude bellingham

You heard the door before you saw him.

It didn’t just close it slammed.

You flinched from the couch, your phone still in your hand, the unread messages between you glowing on the screen.

jude walked in, jaw tight, hoodie half unzipped.

“So you’re home” you said quietly.

“Yeah” he replied, not looking at you as he kicked his shoes off. “I’ve been home.”

You swallowed. “You left training early.”

“And you didn’t answer your phone,” he shot back instantly.

There it was.

You set the phone down slowly. “I was busy.”

He laughed under his breath, humorless. “Right busy.”

The room felt smaller. The silence felt loud.

“Just say what you actually want to say,” you said finally.

His eyes lifted to yours. “Okay,” he said. “I will.”

He took a breath like he’d been holding it the whole day.

“I don’t like finding out from other people that you were out with him.”

You blinked. “Him who?”

He stared at you like the answer should’ve been obvious. “The guy from your class. The one who ‘just helps you study.’”

“He does,” you said, frustrated. “That’s literally all it is.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going,” he said, voice quieter now and somehow that hurt worse than the anger. “You tell me everything except that.”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” you whispered.

“That’s the problem,” he said, hand over his mouth for a second, like he was steadying himself. “It matters to me.”

Your chest tightened. “So what, you don’t trust me?”

“It’s not about trusting you,” he said instantly, too fast, like he’d been waiting for you to say it. “It’s about… not wanting to lose you.”

You stared at him.

He looked away.

For a second neither of you spoke and then the words you’d both been swallowing finally snapped.

“You can’t get mad every time someone else talks to me,” you said, standing now. “I’m allowed to have a life that isn’t just you.”

“I know that,” he said, matching your volume. “But it feels like I’m the only one who’s scared of losing what we have.”

“That’s not fair,” you shot back. “You act like I don’t care—”

“You walked out on our conversation last night.”

“Because you raised your voice.”

“Because I’m trying,” he said, his own voice cracking. “I’m trying to tell you when something bothers me instead of pretending it doesn’t.”

That made you go quiet.

His chest rose and fell. He scrubbed a hand over his face again.

“I’m not angry,” he said, softer now. “I’m… scared, alright? And when I’m scared, it comes out wrong.”

The fight drained out of you all at once.

You suddenly saw it, not jealousy, not control…just a boy who loved you enough to be terrified.

You stepped closer. “I didn’t tell you about studying with him because I thought you’d react exactly like this.”

He laughed weakly. “Yeah guess you were right.”

“And I didn’t answer my phone,” you continued, “because I didn’t want to argue through a screen.”

He looked at you like he was memorizing you.

Silence again.

But this time it didn’t hurt.

“I don’t want him,” you said, voice steady. “I want you. Even when you’re annoying. Even when you overthink. Even when we argue like this.”

His shoulders finally dropped.

“Say it again,” he murmured.

“I want you,” you repeated.

He closed the distance between you like gravity existed just for you and him.

“I hate arguing with you,” he whispered against your forehead.

“You started it,” you replied.

He huffed a small laugh. “Yeah. I’ll probably do it again.”

“I know,” you said. “And I’ll probably yell back.”

He tilted your chin up so you had to look at him.

“But we don’t walk away,” he said softly. “Not from each other.”

You nodded.

His lips brushed yours but it was not quite a kiss, just a promise hovering in the space between you.