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He tries to quietly shut the door behind him.
Whether the noise alerts Martin or the man had been waiting just inside their house, Aaron doesn’t know.
“Where the hell have you been?” Martin’s voice is soft, but there’s heat behind his words.
“Driving.” Aaron can’t really get a read on what Martin is feeling. Knows it’s probably not good, considering they just lost the title.
“I needed you. The team needed you.”
“I was one of the last ones to leave after the match. I needed to get away for a while but I'm here now.” Aaron reaches out for Martin, feeling enormously guilty. Martin pulls away.
“You didn’t check on me at all. It’s not all about you, the whole team lost today.” Martin’s voice is quiet, hurt.
“I know, Martin, I was there.” Aaron’s voice is solemn. He knows exactly what they just lost.
“You don’t fucking get it though. And you ran as soon as you could.” Martin is argumentative. Aaron knows exactly what’s going to happen tonight. Supposes they were due for a fight anyway.
“I didn’t run away. I sat there until they were done tearing us apart. I was here for the team for all of that so don’t you dare call me selfish. I’m sorry you feel like I wasn’t there for you but I can’t change that.” He’s trying to beg his boyfriend to stop this. Has too much pride not to defend himself.
“Do you want a fucking award for not throwing a fit and running away like usual? Congratulations Aaron, you did the bare fucking minimum.” Martin says, shaking his head. “I fucking needed you.”
“I’m here now, Martin.” He reaches for his boyfriend again, and again Martin pulls away.
“Yeah, you’re here now, great. Where were you during the game again? Clearly not where you were supposed to be or we wouldn’t have lost the fucking title.” Martin’s voice is raised now. His words are meant to hurt.
And they hit their target.
Aaron stares at him. Hurt flashes in his eyes before being masked with indifference. He turns towards the door, which luckily isn’t far because he barely made it in the doorway.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Martin’s voice is even louder, and his hand is on Aaron’s wrist, pulling him back.
“I don’t want to be here right now, Martin. I’ll be back whenever you decide you want to actually talk.”
“You’re fucking running again, like always.” Martin accuses.
“Yeah. I am. What the fuck do you want from me? I try to comfort you and you pull away. I try to apologize and you blame me for us losing. Fuck, Martin, I fucking know I played shit today, okay? And I know I’m a pussy for running. I get it. I wasn’t there when you needed me, and I’m sorry. But I can’t do this right now.” Silent tears roll down Aaron’s cheeks.
“This is what I fucking mean, Aaron. It’s always all about you. Can you just take a fucking minute and think about someone else.” Martin yells.
“Fuck off.” Aaron yells louder.
“No. I’m fucking tired of you acting like you’re perfect all the time and blaming everyone else for your issues.” Martin says, regretting it as soon as the words come out his mouth. He won’t apologize, though. Sometimes he thinks Aaron needs to hear it.
“I know I’m not fucking perfect but I work my fucking ass off. I know I don’t always get it right but I’m fucking trying. You fucking know that better than anyone. We’re both fucking upset but you have no right to talk about my football.” The tears are falling heavier now.
“Yeah, you’re right. You work harder than everyone else. It’s everyone else's fault that we lost. We should all bow down to the great Aaron Ramsdale.” Martin’s voice is dripping with sarcasm.
“I never said that, Martin. I’m not going to apologize for fucking defending myself.” He suddenly feels the full weight of how tired he is.
“You never apologize.” Martin accuses him again.
“I’m so fucking tired, Martin. I can’t do this anymore.” Aaron has honestly never wanted to do anything less. He’s always been shit at defusing situations like this. Doesn’t know what else to do but leave. “I’m going. I’ll be back later.”
Martin doesn’t respond immediately. Aaron looks him in the eye and says:
“I love you.”
Aaron doesn’t really drink. Since coming to Arsenal, he has only been drinking during the off season. It’s not that he doesn’t like it. He does sometimes. But he likes to be in control, and to keep his body safe when he’s working. It sounds kind of dumb when he says it out loud but who cares.
If there’s ever a night to drink, he thinks this is it. The season might as well be over. And he has nowhere else to go. He wants to let loose, try to forget football and just be him for the night. That’s stupid though, cause who would he be without football.
He wants to drink. But he wants to do it with Martin. Wants them to both be able to let everything slip and just exist. Together.
He’s still driving. This time he’s not trying to be alone, or clear his mind. He doesn’t think anything could really clear his mind at this point. Won’t let himself think any deeper into that.
All he wants is home. And he had to go and screw it up. Should’ve just apologized or been better at calming the situation. Martin deserves better, really. Of course he started a fight, he’s upset. Aaron should’ve known that. Should’ve read him better or something.
And now it’s too late and things are a mess and he just needs his boyfriend.
Martin collapses on the floor as soon as Aaron slams the door shut.
Fuck.
Sobs wreck his body. He can’t even think anything other than how fucked he is. They lost the league. His team lost, the one he is captain of. All of Arsenal is falling apart. It’s all on him. And on top of that he can’t even keep his relationship together. He had to go and scream at Aaron. And what the fuck was he thinking. Insulting their goalkeeper. Bringing football into their argument. It’s just that he was so fucking angry. He could barely see straight. He knows Aaron needs to be alone on days like this. But that’s not what he needs. Martin just wanted his goddamn boyfriend. He’s just as self centered as he claims Aaron is.
And he’s also alone. He could’ve given Aaron his time alone, then let him come home and take care of him, like he knows Aaron would have. But he fucked it all up, as always, and now he’s alone.
The lights are off when Aaron gets home.
Upstairs, in the bedroom, Martin is a motionless lump on the bed.
Aaron sighs, and strips off his clothes before heading for the shower. He figured he was going to sleep awful tonight as soon as the final whistle had been blown. But he definitely wouldn’t sleep without fixing things with Martin. His boyfriend probably wouldn’t even want him to sleep in their bed. And Aaron definitely wasn’t going to wake him up to ask.
He turns the shower as hot as it will go. Aaron doesn’t usually even like it that warm, but it feels fitting tonight, like the scalding heat will wash everything away.
Reasonably, he knows everything will be okay. Everything happens for a reason or whatever. He’s survived being relegated enough times to know that his life isn’t over because of one bad season. Not that coming in second in the league can be called a bad season.
The shower helps. He feels slightly more alive afterward, even if he is dead tired. He’s standing in their shared walk-in closet when he feels small arms wrap around him and Martin’s cheek press to his back.
He tries not to breathe. Tries to just be there for Martin to lean on until he’s ready. Martin’s hot breath tickles Aaron’s back as he breathes in and out. After another minute of them standing in silence, Martin breaks away, and Aaron turns to look at him.
He’s wearing one of Aaron's obnoxiously oversized hoodies. Aaron thinks he's drowning in it. Really, he has never seen the man look so small.
“Hi.” Aaron is the first to speak.
“I’m sorry.” His shrinks even smaller, if that’s possible. The Norwegian accent is prominent in his tired voice.
“I’m sorry too.” Aaron opens his arms as he says it.
Martin all but trips over himself in the half step it takes for him to reach Aaron and bury himself in his arms. Aaron still has nothing on but the towel around his waist. Martin seems to be trying to pull Aaron impossibly closer. To cover himself with the other man.
Aaron closes his eyes and lets himself drift. His mind is finally calm whether it's from exhaustion or his boyfriend plastering himself to him like a human blanket.
Eventually, Martin pulls away, his eyes glassy and full of emotion. He moves around the closet and grabs some clothes which he shoves in Aaron’s hands and then steps back and looks down at the ground.
Aaron hastily gets dressed, before pulling Martin out of the closet. He lies down on the bed and opens his arms again. Martin immediately collapses onto his chest.
Aaron doesn’t notice at first, not until Martin’s tears start seeping through his shirt.
“Talk to me.” Aaron begs as he pulls the older man closer.
“I don’t fucking know what to say. I just feel so fucking alone. And it’s not your fault. I’m sorry for yelling. I’m so fucking sorry for everything I said. I didn’t mean it but it was really shitty and I just can’t stop fucking things up so I’m sorry.” Martin says all in one breath.
“I should’ve come straight home, or at least talked to you before. It wasn’t fair for me to avoid you. I’m sorry for that.” Aaron says before taking a deep breath. “What you said really fucking sucked. I get it, I do and I know I’m not perfect. That doesn’t give you the right to blame me for us losing. Or to insult my playing.”
“I didn’t mean it. I was hurt about the loss and I’m also an idiot. I’m sorry.” Martin is more tense now. He didn’t expect Aaron to forgive him right away but he’s on edge at the possibility of another fight.
“I know. It’s okay. You’re not an idiot and you didn’t fuck up during the game. You’re our captain for a reason and you did great. Don’t put all this shit on yourself. Losing happens, that’s football. All we can do is be better next time.”
Martin lets out a deep breath he had been holding and looks up at Aaron. He sits up and lightly kisses his boyfriend. Aaron knocks their foreheads together and they just share each other's air for a while. Kissing slowly, but passionately.
When they pull apart Aaron smiles.
“Glad I have you.” He says simply. Mentally shoots himself as soon as it comes out.
“I love you too.” Martin smiles and shakes his head.
He lays back on Aaron’s chest and before he knows it, there are soft snores coming from the other man.
“Jeg elsker deg.”