rosie | griezmann

20

Christmas had gone perfect for everyone, except Antoine. Gifts were exchanged, laughs and smiles shared, photos taken and memories made to last a lifetime—but after his holiday break, all that Antoine felt was a sense of regret so deep that the Atlantic and the pacific combined were envious.

He'd gotten the ring. The engagement ring, that is—then practiced, over and over, with Olivier, his father, and Theo how he was going to get down on one knee and ask Rosie the big question—but when the day and time came, he completely chickened out.

He didn't know why. It couldn't have been a matter of trust, because he trusted Rosie more than anyone, even though he knew there were things she wasn't telling him (he figured this out once Theo wouldn't stop being annoying and addressing Rosie as Özil's ex-girlfriend, which explained why Rosie used to have the Real Madrid keychain before Antoine convinced her to throw it away)—but he couldn't hold that against her, because he knew that there were things he wasn't telling her, too.

And it wasn't that they were keeping secrets, because if it was that important, they would know—but they just deemed these things that they weren't sharing  obsolete, thus providing them with no reason to share them.

Alas, whatever Antoine's reason was for not proposing marriage to Rosie, it got on him almost 24/7. It plagued his mind when they were together, and when they were apart; the only time his mind was clear was when he was playing football, and it wasn't long until even that couldn't save Antoine from his own psyche.

"Hey Antoine, let's go somewhere." At this point, the couple was nearing their first Valentine's Day. Rosie had her hair straightened and she wore a black t-shirt dress with knee high boots and Antoine thought that her outfit was a message which told him that if he didn't hurry up and do something, someone else would.

His big blue eyes, shiny like a child's, found hers. Rosie went and sat next to him, closing her eyes when he pushed her hair out of her face. "Go where?"

"To the movies, or something. Somewhere fun." Rosie smiled and grabbed his hand, slowly guiding him up and off the couch. "Doesn't it seem like forever to you since we've done something?"

"I guess, but—"

"No but's," Rosie led him to the door. "Let's go."

Antoine smiled and felt his eyes light up as he grabbed the car keys and followed her out of his apartment. Rosie walked speedily, as though she was in a hurry; Antoine laughed—he couldn't believe she was this excited to go somewhere—but down, he would admit how concerning it was; was it his fault that they never went out?

Antoine drove, while Rosie placed her elbow on the windowsill and stared at him for a few moments before speaking. "You're underrated."

Antoine smiled. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes, I do. I wish you could see in yourself what I see in you. Maybe you're not so underrated in the football world, because people say you're amazing—and they're right. But I think you underrate yourself, if it makes any sense." Rosie reached her fingers out to Antoine's cheeks, then ruffled his hair. "What's going on in here?" She finally inquired, tapping the top of his head before allowing her hand to fall into his lap.

Abruptly, Antoine pulled the luxury vehicle onto the side of the road. Rosie was surprised, but not terribly, and she rose her eyebrows as she looked to him for an explanation. He let out a small breath and then turned to face her. "Marry me."

Rosie's eyes, amused, lit up. Antoine's face burned, for that was possibly the worst marriage proposal ever recorded in the history of marriage proposals—in fact, he didn't even ask her; it came out as a command—and that was why Rosie thought he was joking. She chuckled, softly. Antoine breathed in her scent and rose his eyebrows.  "Well? Yes, no?"

Rosie froze. "Mein gott," she mumbled to herself. "You really meant it, didn't you?"

Vigorously, Antoine shook his head. He almost told her about how he'd been trying to ask for two whole months now, how every time he messed up because he could never get things right. That he usually carried the ring everywhere they went just in case—but of course, the one time he actually asked, he didn't have it on him—and before he could do any of that, Rosie fervently nodded.

"Yeah," she spoke, casually. "I mean—" she squeezed her eyes shut and facepalmed herself. "Yes, I mean yes." She smiled, childlike, and then spoke again. "I will marry you."

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a/n: rough chapter but it's a filler lmao