More Than a Game | Mason Mount

Twenty Five

Six-nil. The game still didn't feel real. Sure, Bulgaria weren't a fantastic team, but neither were Czech Republic and we lost to them. Six goals seemed excessive, but the team revelled in the triumph and there was never a point in the game when we dropped our standards, even when we were six goals up. 

It did feel strange playing without Mason: I didn't really know international football without him. I felt bad that he missed the match; he would have absolutely thrived in a game like that and would have for sure gotten on the scoreboard. Bella Rushmore had even scored, and she had gone about twenty games without a goal. 

It was clear that Gareth hadn't played our strongest team, choosing to keep bit players like Marcus and Harry Sutherland on the bench while giving John Watkins his debut and playing Zach Smith at right back. I felt like an entirely new player in the game, though. It was exactly the match I needed to get my confidence back and I was grateful to the gaffer for letting me play instead of resting me like he so easily could have. With two assists and a clean sheet, the Czech game was just about out of my mind afterwards. 

What wasn't out of my mind afterwards, though, was the situation between me and Mason. Since our encounter in the hallway, I hadn't spoken to him. He'd sat and sulked in the stands during our session at the stadium and before the game had disappeared into his room. Somehow, I'd pushed everything to the back of my mind to focus on the match, but with it successfully over, my mind was reeling once more.

We were on a late flight back to England so that we could head home from St George's after a final, farewell meeting the following morning. Climbing onto the plane, I snuck into a seat next to John after watching Mason stick close to and sit beside Zach. Sitting in the dimly lit cabin as we took off, the bleakness that came with the end of the international break hit me. It was a familiar feeling, but the stab in my gut was more intense that it had been in the past. This was certainly a break unlike one I'd had before and I couldn't help but think that with what had happened with Mason, things were going to be different back in London. 

The three and a half hour flight was uncomfortable in more ways than one. John passed out as soon as we'd left the ground, leaving me to my own devices. Opening up my laptop, I considered watching a movie to take my mind off things, but before I could even pick something to watch the battery died. Wondering if I could focus on reading something, I paged through an abandoned magazine in the pocket in front of me. But staring at pages of fashion catalogues seemed just as bad as getting lost in my thoughts. 

Finally, I took to putting my headphones on and staring past John out of the window, hoping my eyes would shut and I'd open them to find myself back on English soil. Unfortunately, I only sat in a heavy-eyed state, too aware of Mason sitting a few rows behind me and of John's soft snores beside me to get any sleep. 

I sought out Kyle as soon as we entered St George's. Halfway through the flight, I remembered the fact that Mason and I were meant to be sharing a car back to London in the morning. At first, it struck me that the drive offered a perfect time to have a conversation about what had happened and, hopefully, to put it all behind us. But the more I thought it through the more I realised how bad an idea it was: stuck in a car with a Mason as moody and silent as he had been all day wasn't what I needed. 

I followed Kyle to his room making small talk about the upcoming trip he had planned with Natalie. We made it to his door, where we stopped. Silence filled the space between us as he fished for his key in his jacket pockets. Looking up at me, he chuckled. 

"No offence, Beck, but why are you still here?" Inserting his key card, he pushed the door open but didn't enter his room. "Do you need something?" 

I took a deep breath, shoving my hands into my hoodie pockets to stop them fidgeting. 

"Um, yeah, kind of." Kyle leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. "It's not that big of a deal, but Mason and I had a bit of a fight last night," I said in a breath, my throat starting to ache. "And I'm sure it'll be fine but he's being kind of weird right now and we're meant to be sharing a car tomorrow and—"