protocol | antoine griezmann ✓

Chapter Twenty Eight.

«You took your suitcase, I took the blame. Now I'm trying to make sense of what little remains.» 

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"You look like shit" Paul Pogba told him as soon as he sat down next to him during breakfast. "No seriously, you look awful Grizi"

"And that just enlightened my mood, thank you Pogs" He sarcastically said and shoved into his mouth a spoonful of cereal.

"Sorry mate but you look like shit and I can't lie" Paul repeated and Antoine sent him a death glare before getting back his attention to the cereal bowl. "So you are not going to talk about it? Because really I don't want to take that cereal bowl away from you as a threat"

That at least made him laugh a little bit. Antoine knew Paul was right; he looked miserable. Not only because he saw it himself –a lot of time looking at himself in the mirror– but because he wasn't the first person to tell him his face was awful.

"Still down for the Champions League final; you know, the failed penalty and shit" Antoine lied. That painful memory was washed away completely thanks to Alexandra. Oh Alexandra. Even remembering her name made him feel like a douchebag. Alex, Alex, Alex. We should be texting each other, not avoiding each other.

"Bullshit, this is not about the final" Pogba smacked his hand in the table. "You were listening to I Heard It Through The Grapevine on our way here; losing you would end my life you see, cause you mean that much to me" He hummed a part of the song.

"I like that song" He shrugged, trying to downplay the issue even when it was impossible.

"Is it the girl from the pictures?" Antoine almost choked with the cereal when Paul said that. "Chi è il nuovo amore di Antoine Griezmann? It was all over Italy man. Press is not stupid; you know they steal things from each other" The pictures were even in Italy. Damn Alex was right about that whole thing.

"What girl?" He tried to sound nonchalant but it wasn't working.

Paul chuckled loudly, getting the attention of a few of their teammates. "Short hair, nice profile, for what I could see she was wearing a wine-colored dress and you seemed to be enjoying the kissing act with her way too much my friend"

"Oh that girl" As much as he tried, Antoine couldn't hide the smirk from forming on his lips. "Yeah, that's Alexandra Westorn and the dress was red; not really that important" If I keep saying that, I might actually believe it.

"Then I shall ignore that glint in your eyes when you mentioned her name" To be fair he didn't expect it to be so notorious. Okay he did, Antoine knew he looked like an idiot when someone mentioned Alexandra. "Will you tell me why this woman, who looks like she wouldn't kill a fly, has you looking so depressed?"

At least he didn't say like shit this time.

It wasn't just Alexandra –mostly it was her and her stupid theory about long distance– but it was them. It was what he told her before she left. Antoine knew his last words to her before her trip to Manchester should've been: I love you, take care mon amour, not: maybe this, us, was a mistake. He hated that, he hated Alexandra had to do things so complicated. Antoine hated he couldn't talk to her.

"Alex, she's a–she's a complicated person dude" He wearily sighed and rested the spoon on the bowl. Suddenly the aim for cereal disappeared. "She literally walks away from problems, or from people I don't know, when the situation gets complicated" Two impulsive flights wouldn't go unnoticed.