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Thursday, 26th March, 6:02pm, Nick Pope’s house.
Nick was sitting curled up on his sofa, how he often seemed to these days. He didn’t know how to cope anymore. It all just kept getting worse, and worse, and worse, and worse… and when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, guess what? It fucking got worse.
He had been crying for so long that his eyes were numb, his cheeks were bright red and he couldn’t really see anymore. Most people would think he was being dramatic - he also thought he was - but he couldn’t control it. He knew he had fucked up. He knew he hadn’t been up to a good standard recently. Didn’t mean it didn’t hit him like a ton of bricks when Aaron bloody Ramsdale got called up ahead of him.
It just all piled up. He had already been struggling, not just in his games, but generally, in life. Kieran had been saying that he needed to get back on medication, that he thought Nick might have been relapsing. Nick didn’t believe him. He does now.
It started when he got dropped the first time, when he could tell everyone was turning on him. Or at least it felt like that to him. No one spoke to him at the training ground. (He spoke to no one even when they tried to speak to him.) No one tried to message him. (He stopped replying to messages.) No one came round. (He never answered the door.)
He could tell everyone hated them. It’s his fault for how bad the season is going. He might as well fucking end it all. What. Is. The. Point.
No one wants him here. Not even Kieran. He hasn’t seen him for what feels like weeks. (He saw him two days ago.) He misses Kieran. He somehow makes it all a bit easier… not better, but lighter, like he can ignore his mind for a bit.
He’d told Kieran he wouldn’t drink. And he hadn’t. He keeps his promises to Kieran. He gets too scared to break promises. He knows Kieran wouldn’t hurt him… doesn’t stop him from thinking about Jordan.
Speaking of Jordan, he could not deal with seeing him after the Everton match. Didn’t help his match was absolute shit in the first place. Basically being at fault for both goals is not great. And then to top it all off, Jordan tried to grab him after. Brought him to a cleaning cupboard Nick didn’t even know about despite it being his own stadium. Jordan dragged him in there, pushed him up against the wall. And then… he didn’t remember what happened, he blocked it out. Something hurt… but nothing happened. He didn’t think anyway. All of his clothes were on.
Jordan did hurt him, but barely. Will found them and punched Jordan in the face before shoving him back into the away dressing room with a kick. Nick remembers curling up on the floor when Will returned and hugged his body close, calling out for Kieran.
It was a bit better after that. His angel was holding him. His safe haven. Kieran was there. Holding him. Tending to him. Kieran took him home. Told Eddie that he wasn’t doing good. Eddie understood. Especially after the match Nick had had.
Kieran rushed him home, making him have a shower and changing his clothes. Kieran made him his favourite food, pizza, chips (only the chunky oven chips) and some brownies for pudding.
It was an awful day, but Kieran made it a nice evening. He loved Kieran. More than anything. He was his darling, his sweetheart, his boy, his angel. He made his heart warm, he made his world light up.
But thinking about this right now made it all worse. Because Kieran wasn’t here. Kieran couldn’t make it better. He was stuck here. All pathetic and depressed, his airpods stuffed in his ears blasting Radiohead at full volume. He couldn’t even tell what song it was at this point, he couldn’t focus.
Then, after a long time of an irritating knocking sound coming from behind him, only just getting through his headphones, he stood up, taking his airpods out. He placed them on the coffee table, shakily walking to the front door. He looked through the small window, wary that maybe Jordan had made a surprise visit… stupid thought. Jordan was at England camp. England camp… where he should be…
Nick zoned out for a few minutes, staring at the ground, thinking of the fun Rambo, Jordan, Trafford and Hendo will be having… even that fucking random keeper that Nick knows no one has ever heard of.
He came back when a loud knock came through the door, startling him, his hands flew to his ears, his head immediately bowing. He slowly opened the door, his face relaxing when he saw his angel standing there.
He felt Kieran’s arms automatically wrapping around him, walking into the house and shutting the door, keeping a firm grip on Nick. He guided him wordlessly to the living room, letting him curl up against him.
Kieran gently carded his fingers through Nick’s short, straight hair, softly scratching his scalp. He whispered soothing words while placing kisses on his face, his neck and his shoulders, whispering words of praise now too.
This would’ve never worked on Nick before, but it works now. He felt calmer. More relaxed, lighter. It didn’t mean he felt good, but he felt calm. Calm is better than breaking down in uncontrollable tears.
He watched as Kieran stood, whining softly at the loss of contact. Kieran reassured him quietly, explaining he would come right back. He gazed curiously as Kieran set up a speaker, connecting his phone, and Nick listened as he heard his Radiohead playlist softly begin to play.
He smiled weakly at Kieran, so thankful to have him. He stood, wrapping his arms tightly around Kieran’s small frame. He pressed his face into his hair, sniffling softly, gently moving him to the music.
Kieran reciprocated the hug, gently laughing and smiling, tears in his eyes too. He swayed to the emotional music, prepared for the rollercoaster that he knew this playlist would take him on like the multiple times before.
He knew Nick was upset, knew Nick was falling back into depression. But they didn’t need to talk about that now. Later. Later they would. Right now they just needed each other. To feel the music, to move to the music.
2 hours later.
Nick had finished his packet of Monster Munch that Kieran had brought over for him and was now cuddling into Kieran’s side as Sam Fender quietly played in the background.
Nick knew Kieran was going to talk to him, ask him what was on his mind. The idea scared him, of course it fucking did, but not as much as it used to. He found it miles easier to talk to Kieran now compared to a few years ago.
As he snuggled further into Kieran’s side, he could feel how tense he was. Nick swallowed thickly, bracing himself for the question.
“How are you feeling love? What’s on your mind?” Kieran murmured softly, brushing some unstyled hair off of Nick’s face.
Nick leaned into his touch, taking a moment to think before softly mumbling back to him, “Everything’s on my mind. How shit I’ve been, all my mistakes, how much everyone hates me, even the rest of the squad, the fact that… J- J-… bloody Jordan is having fun while I’m suffering and how much fun Trafford and Deano are having. It just… ugh. I’m so done. With everything. I’ve just been crying to Radiohead for the past few days.” Nick’s voice trembled once he mentioned Jordan, tears falling down his face by the end.
Kieran shushed him softly, placing a kiss on his forehead. “Yeah I- I can understand that… just… don’t think about that. Any of that. Fuck Jordan. Fuck Tuchel. Fuck anyone who hates you. Because you are the best person in my life. You are the most amazing, caring, loving man who is so strong for getting over the things you have. I love you so much, Nick. More than you’ll ever know. And keep crying to Radiohead. Just make sure I can do it with you.” Kieran finishes with a small sniffle, wiping away his own tears before wiping away Nick’s.
Nick sobbed softly, clinging onto Kieran tightly, crying into his chest. He loved Kieran so much. His angel. He loved him.
Kieran hugged him back just as tightly, placing a kiss on the crown of his head. They stayed there for hours. Clinging onto each other, cuddling, small kisses every now and then.
By 11pm Nick found himself in bed, Kieran right next to him, hugging him tightly. They both fell asleep like that, peaceful, calm, Radiohead once again playing in the background, Nick’s favourite music at the moment.
Neither of them were great, neither of them were perfect, but they were together. And they loved each other. That’s what mattered.