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coolemmasulivan · 10 days

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Love Wins (Even in Red) | 2

Pairing: Mason Mount x Reporter!Reader

Summary: Fate reunites them under the red lights of Old Trafford. Interviews are frosty, leaving people wondering why. Can Mason forgive Reader for something that happened in the past? Can she win Mason's heart and prove love wins even on red?

Word count: 2631

Read part 1 here

Author's note: Third part is going to be the last. My first language is not English.

And if it's right I don't care how long it takes As long as I'm with you I've got a smile on my face Save your tears, it'll be okay All I know is you're here with me

The stolen kiss hung heavy in the air, leaving you breathless and confused. You practically fled the club, a whirlwind of emotions battling inside you. Lost in the chaos, your feet carried you away from your friends. After who knows how long, the ache in your legs jolted you back to reality. Miles from home, you surrendered and hailed a cab. Twenty minutes later, you were back in your apartment, tumbling into bed and burying yourself under the covers.

After an hour or two, the sound of the front door unlocking made you shut your eyes. Clare's familiar footsteps echoed down the hall, stopping at your bedroom door. The knob turned, and the next thing you knew, the sheets were ripped away, revealing you bathed in the moonlight streaming through the window.

"Where the hell were you?" She demanded, her forehead etched with concern. "I've been calling you non-stop. You just left-- wait, were you crying?" The last question hung in the air as she saw your face illuminated by the moonlight. "What happened?" she asked gently, settling onto the edge of the bed beside you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the memory of the stolen kiss replaying in your head. "Mason," you whispered, your voice thick with unshed tears. "We run into each other in the club."

"Oh, honey!" She reached out and placed her hands on your arm, offering you comfort. "What happened? Did he say something? I swear, if he hurt you..." Her voice trailed off, a low growl rumbling in her throat.

You finally opened your eyes, meeting her worried gaze. The harsh light of reality sunk in – you couldn't hide behind the sheets forever. Taking a shaky breath, you sat up, the movement pulling a fresh wave of tears.

"He kissed me." You blurted out.

Clare blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. "Wait, what? He kissed you? And that's… bad?"

Taking a shaky breath, you blurted out, "Of course, it is, Clare. What if someone saw us? Whad if they use the kiss against me? What if it jeopardizes Lily?"

"Hold on," Clare said, her voice firm but laced with concern. "We thought they didn't have anything left after Lily's graduated from Cambridge."

You ran a hand through your messy hair, dread clenching your stomach. "They might not care. They might just want to hurt me. And the video can still cause damage to Lily's professional life."

Clare's gaze softened. "Listen to me," she said, taking your hands in hers. "This is your life, Y/n. You can't let them control you anymore. Maybe this kiss with Mason..." she trailed off, a hopeful glint in her eyes, "maybe it's a sign. Maybe it's time to take back your happiness."

When Mason opened the door, you could smell the scent of the food floating through the air, a warm invitation into his home.

"Hi," he said, his smile radiating warmth as he held the door open. He was wearing a black apron with splashes of flour, giving him a charming domestic look.

"Hi," you replied, your cheeks flushing slightly. "What's cooking?"

"Just trying to impress you with my culinary skills," he chuckled, a hint of nervousness in his eyes. "Come in."

Following him inside, a sudden wave of nervousness washed over you as the door shut behind you. This was the first time you'd been to his house, and the intimacy of being alone with him was setting off butterflies in your stomach.

"Let me take your coat," he offered, extending a hand.

You shrugged off the coat, and as he reached for it, you felt him brush against you. He hung your coat on a nearby hook behind you and instead of stepping back, he lingered close. His gaze dropped to meet yours, a hesitant smile playing on his lips

Then, in a move that stole your breath, he leaned in slowly and so did you. The kiss was sweet and tender and as he pulled away, his eyes sparkled with a playful glint.

Just as he leaned in again, you interrupted him. "Uh, Mason?" you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours.

"I… I think something's burning," you stammered, pointing towards what you assumed was the kitchen.

Mason's eyes widened comically. "Burning?" He shot a panicked glance towards the direction you indicated and with a mumbled curse, hurried towards the kitchen, the scent of slightly burnt food growing stronger with each step.

As you watched him panic and run away, you couldn't help but stifle a giggle. With a teasing smile already playing on your lips, you couldn't resist the curiosity that tugged at you as you slowly followed.

The sight that greeted you in the kitchen was pure comedy gold. Mason, clad in his flour-dusted apron, was glancing into the oven with a spatula in his hand. Inside the oven, you could see a burnt mess that was supposed to be a romantic dinner.

"Oh no." you drawled, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Looks like someone overestimated their culinary skills."

Mason turned around quickly, his face turning a delightful shade of crimson. "It's… it's under control!" He stuttered as he carefully removed the burned food from the oven. "It didn't burn that much. Right?"

Unable to hold back any longer, you burst into laughter. The sound filled the kitchen, chasing away the awkwardness. Mason, unable to maintain his flustered facade, joined in, a sheepish grin replacing his earlier panic.

"Well, Chef Mason," you said once the laughing died down. "I think takeout might be the safer option tonight."

Mason chuckled, relief flooding his features. "Agreed. How does pizza sound?"

"Sounds perfect." As he scrolled through menus on his phone, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him. The domestic chaos, the shared laughter, it all felt strangely comforting. "Hey?" you said softly, catching his eye. He looked up, his gaze warm and questioning.

Taking a deep breath, you closed the distance between you. With a gentle hand on his cheek, you leaned in and planted a quick, sweet kiss on his lips.

Mason's eyes widened in surprise before melting into a smile. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Maybe takeout... and a movie?" he suggested, his voice a husky whisper.

You grinned back, your heart fluttering in your chest. "Sounds like a plan."

The post-practice rush had subsided, leaving only Mason, Marcus, and Garnacho in the locker room. The stillness in the air was palpable, broken only by the steady sound of water droplets falling from the showers. Marcus, being wise as ever, noticed that Mason was behaving distantly.

"Seriously, mate, everything alright?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Mason jumped slightly, as if startled from a dream. He tried to smile, but it didn't last long as they kept looking at him. "Yeah, just haven't slept well."

Garnacho chuckled. "So it has nothing to do with Y/n?"

Mason's throat tightened. "Y/n? What? No, of course not." A flicker of annoyance crossed his features.

"Uh-huh," Garnacho drawled, raising an eyebrow. "Funny thing. I saw her this morning and she looked like she hadn't slept a wink either. Bags under her eyes, the same distracted vibe you got going on."

Mason's smile completely faded away, and was replaced by a look of sudden realization.

"She's here?" he blurted out, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah! She's interviewing Bruno."

Mason sank onto the bench, burying his face in his hands. He let out a defeated sigh. "The last time we went to the club… I run into her." he started, his voice barely a whisper.

Marcus and Garnacho exchanged a curious glance. "She was there?" Garnacho blurted, surprised. He knew Amelia wouldn't be caught dead in the loud, thumping chaos of a nightclub. She was very homie and very workaholic, a stark contrast to the flashing lights and booming music.

Mason's face flushed a deep red. "Uh, yeah," he stammered, avoiding their eyes. "The thing is… I kissed her."

The locker room went silent. His teammates stared at him, their amusement replaced by genuine surprise. "You kissed her?" Marcus finally managed, his voice incredulous.

Mason ran a frustrated hand through his still-damp hair. "Look, it was stupid. I'd had a couple too many drinks, saw some douchebag flirting with her at the bar, and…" He trailed off, unable to meet his teammates' eyes.

"And you lost it because you were jealous!" Marcus finished his sentence with a smirk.

Mason scowled. "No! It wasn't like that. We just… bumped into each other in the back hallway, and things happened."

Garnacho let out a suspicious snort. "Mate, come on. Don't try and deny it. It's written all over your face. You still care about her, even after what went down between you. Whatever it was."

A heavy silence descended upon the room, broken only by the distant voice of the staff working nearby the locker room. Mason finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

"The thing is, what she said after."

Both Marcus and Garnacho leaned in, their playful behaviour replaced by genuine curiosity.

"What did she say?" Marcus pressed gently, urging Mason to elaborate

"When I finally asked why she left, why she just walked away from everything we had… she said 'They made me.'"

Marcus and Garnacho exchanged a confused glance. "They made her?" Garnacho echoed, his brow furrowed in thought. "Who's they?"

"That's what I want to know." Mason said, his voice tight with frustration and a hint of fear.

You slumped back in your chair, the recorder switched off. The interview with Bruno had been insightful, but it felt like a distant echo through the fog of your worries. Bruno, a kind friend with gentle eyes, noticed the way your smile faltered and your shoulders slumped.

"You alright, Y/n?" He asked, his voice laced with concern. "You seem a bit… off today."

You attempted to smile, but it was clear that the smile was forced and insincere. "Everything's fine, Bruno. Just a bit tired, I guess."

Bruno wasn't convinced. He knew you well enough to see the worry etched into your features. "Is it Mason?"

"Why would you think that?"

"I know you have a history with Mason. Though he didn't tell me what happened, I can see that whatever it is, it's causing pain for both of you all over again."

The mention of Mason's name was like a dam breaking. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. Before you could stop yourself, a sob escaped your lips. Bruno reacted instinctively, reaching out and pulling you into a hug. His embrace was warm and safe.

"It's okay," Bruno murmured. "Let it out."

You clung to him, the tears flowing freely. Bruno didn't pry, he just held you until the sobs subsided into shaky breaths. When you finally pulled back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, a raw vulnerability shone on your face.

Taking a deep breath, you poured out your heart to him. You told him about the blackmail, Lily's fear, and the impossible situation it had placed you in. You confessed your guilt over leaving Mason without explaining the real reason behind it, the burden of the secret a constant weight on your chest.

Bruno listened intently, his expression a mixture of sympathy and understanding. When you finished, a thoughtful silence settled between them.

"I think it's time you spoke to Mason, Y/n." Bruno said, his voice gentle but firm. "Keeping this from him is only going to make things worse. He deserves to know the truth, and maybe, together, you can find a way to make everything right."

You considered his words, a flicker of hope igniting in your eyes. The thought of facing Mason, of reliving the pain and tell him the thrut, was terrifying. But Bruno was right. The weight of the secret was suffocating, and honesty, however painful, was the only path forward.

The piercing sound of your phone shattered the peaceful silence of your apartment. Your heart thumped against your ribs as you glanced at the screen. An unknown number. Hesitantly, you answered.

"Hello?" Your voice was cautious. You hated answering calls from unknown numbers.

A low, distorted voice crackled through the receiver, sending shivers down your spine. "Y/n Y/l/n! Been enjoying Chelsea?"

Y/n's breath hitched. "Who is this?" You managed, forcing yourself to appear calm.

"Someone who knows a little secret about your beloved sister!" The voice exuded malice. "A little something that could ruin her life."

You felt a sudden surge of panic rising in your throat. Lily. "What are you talking about?" You demanded, your voice trembling.

"Oh, come now, Y/n," the voice scolded. "You don't know about that little video, the one of Lily… shall we say, being a little too carefree with a certain professor in his office?"

Your mind and heart were racing. Lily had never mentioned a video before, but being a rebellious teenager she didn't share much with you these days. "What… what do you want?" You whispered, your voice thick with fear.

"Simple, really," the voice replied with amusement. "We want you out of Chelsea. Pack your bags, say your goodbyes to your precious footballer boyfriend, and disappear."

"No!" The denial ripped from your lips. You couldn't leave Mason. You couldn't abandon your dreams and job.

"Then let's hope your sister appreciates your loyalty." The voice mocked. "Because if we see you anywhere near Mason again, that little video makes a surprise appearance online. Think about it! What would happen to Lily's future if everyone saw that?"

The call ended abruptly, leaving you struggling to cope with the silence. You cradled the phone to your chest, the weight of the threat crushing your heart.

The sting in your eyes couldn't compare to the nervous fire burning in your stomach. It had taken you a week to finally face the reality and gather the courage to talk to Mason. Today was the day, and nothing would stop you.

Practice would end earlier today, the perfect opportunity to catch him before he disappeared into Manchester's vast maze. You had changed your number a while back, and Mason's number wasn't on your contact list anymore, and you didn't know his new address. The training centre was your only opportunity.

Your anxiety had turned your stomach upside down. The lunch that you had earlier, which was already of questionable quality, made a fast and unwelcome reappearance in the toilet as you found yourself unable to keep it down. Wiping the cold sweat from your palms after you brushed your teeth, you muttered a mantra, "It's now or never."

"It's now or never, Y/n!" he boomed. "Swim with me, or be a pool princess forever!"

You pretended to scoff. "Princess? I like the sound of that, thank you very much."

He grinned wider. "Come on! The real fun's inside. You in? Give me your hand."

You hesitated. Taking a breath, you looked at him. "Now or never, right?"

He held out a hand, eyes bright. "Now or never."

You nodded and grabbed his hand. Water closed in, fear replaced by his warm touch. Maybe it wasn't just about swimming. Maybe it was about taking a leap of faith, with him.

Just as you grabbed your jacket, the sound of the doorbell shattered the fragile calm of the apartment. With a hopeful smile, you flung open the door, only to watch it quickly fade away.

"Lily?" There, standing on the doorstep, was none other than your sister.

"Surprise!"

Your stomach lurched. The familiar face triggered a fresh wave of nausea, and the last remnants of breakfast found a new, unwelcome home – on your sister's shoes.

Tags:

@bibissparkles @girlidekanymore @marialikescherries

#footballer imagine #footballer imagines #footballer x reader #mm7 #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #mason mount #mason mount fluff #mason mount x reader

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coolemmasulivan · 26 days

Text

Love Wins (Even in Red)

Pairing: Mason Mount x Reporter!Reader

Word count: 3395

Read part 2 here

Author's note: My first language is not English. I'm sorry if this is confused I lost inspiration along the way. Tell me what you think. Part 2?

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met

The roar of the Old Trafford crowd vibrated through the press box, but for you, it was a dull thrum compared to the storm brewing inside you. Your eyes flicked across the pitch, not to celebrate a goal, but to land on the figure currently terrorizing your mind - Mason Mount.

The boy you knew, the one whose smile could melt glaciers, was a distant memory. Now, every scowl and aggressive run on the field felt like a barbed message, a silent accusation. To you.

Three years. Three years since your paths diverged, leaving a gaping hole in your life. Now, fate had deposited both of you at Manchester United - you, a familiar star reporter, and him, the new name of the red team. Every interview was an excruciating dance. His curt answers and glacial stares were a constant reminder of the love story unfortunately cut short.

Today's post-game press conference promised to be no different. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself. As Mason strode into the room, the air crackled with an intangible tension. Your eyes met for a fleeting moment, a spark of something…familiar? It vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the new icy indifference that was only directed to you. You forced a professional smile, your heart thudding a chaotic rhythm against your ribs. The cameras flashed, the microphones materialized. Time to get down to business.

"Mason," You began, your voice firm despite the jitters in your stomach, "a disappointing result today. Can you share your thoughts on what went wrong?"

Mason, a chiseled face creased with a deep frown, looked up at you. His eyes, usually sparkling with competitive fire, were clouded with a frustration that went beyond the loss. "There's no right answer, no magic formula to explain a defeat like this. We were slow on the uptake, sloppy with our passes, and frankly, the other team just wanted it more. We all know we're better than that performance out there."

"The fans are eager to understand," You said gently. "Can you elaborate on what the team will do to address these mistakes in the upcoming match?"

Mason sighed, a deep breath that seemed to carry the weight of the entire team's disappointment. "We'll go back to the basics. We'll work harder, push each other further in training. It's all about rediscovering that killer instinct, that hunger for victory that seems to have gone missing today."

"Will that be enough?"

"Sometimes the best way to address mistakes it's about remembering why we fell in love with something in the first place. We need to rediscover that spark, that joy that sets our hearts ablaze. When that fire burns bright again, the rest will fall into place, believe me."

His gaze lingered on you for a bit longer than necessary. In that moment, the years seemed to melt away, replaced by a raw intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. Was he just talking about football, or was there something more?

"Thanks for your time, Mason." He offered a curt nod in response, brushing past you as he exited the interview area. The contact was brief, a brush of his shoulder against yours. He didn't apologize, but then again, no apology was necessary. You both knew exactly what that touch meant.

Sam, the cameraman put down the camera and gave you an intriguing look. "I never saw you so... tense, in a interview before."

You sighed, the pressure easing slightly now that the interview was over. "I just didn't slept well, that's all." You said, carefully playing with the mic in your hand.

"Uh-huh," Sam said, clearly unconvinced. "Have you met him outside of work? Everytime you interview him, the body language between you two is weird."

"No. Not at all. I don't even know the guy." The weight of the unspoken truth settled heavily in your gut.

He studied you for a moment longer, his brow furrowed. "O... kay!"

You looked away from Sam and scanned the interview room. In the far corner, stood Mason. He was talking with another reporter, but his eyes were already locked on yours. You swallowed a lump in your throat and quickly looked away. The last thing you needed was to be caught staring.

"I think we should go."

The door creaked open, as you practically stumbled into the apartment, kicking it shut with a heavy sigh. Your roommate and best friend, Clare, was sprawled on the couch, a half-eaten bowl of cheetos on her lap while she scrolled through her phone, with the TV playing on the background.

"Rough night?" Clare asked, as you flopped down onto the armchair opposite her.

"You could say that." You said. "He makes me so nervous. Everytime I interview him, it's like someone's squezing my lungs."

"Oh, you poor thing." She mocked you. "When are you going to tell him the truth? The real reason why you broke things off with him?"

You stood up already not feeling like having a deep conversation. "It was three years ago. Why would I do that now?" You opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

"Because you still like him. If you didn't, you wouldn't get nervous around the guy." You hated how right she was.

"I don't like him, like that. Not anymore. It's just... Complicated talking to him and be around him again."

"I saw the interview. I saw how you were shaking while holding the microphone and the way you looked at him." Claire got up and walked toward you. She grabbed your shoulders and looked you in the eyes. "You need to stop lying to yourself."

The aroma of grilled steaks hung heavy in the air as the team finished their dinner at Luke's house. Plates were pushed aside, replaced with beers and lively conversation. Despite the loss that still weighed on their shoulders, the camaraderie between the teammates was undeniable.

The talk eventually turned to the post-game interviews, and all eyes turned to Mason, who sat brooding in the corner.

"Alright, mate," Martínez, nudged Mason with his elbow. "What was all that with Y/n in the interview? When you talk to her it always looks like you're about to swallow a lemon whole. And the way you bumped your shoulder against hers..." Mason shot him a glare that usually made Martínez back down, but not tonight. In fact, he leaned in further, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Spill the beans, Mason. Is there some hidden tension we don't know about?"

Mason scowled, a faint blush creeping up his neck at the thought. "There is nothing there. She's just not my cup of tea."

"Are you sure about that?" Bruno ever the voice of reason, chimed in. "I know she worked for Chelsea a long time ago, covering you guys. Maybe there's some history there we don't know about?"

Mason froze, the memory of a younger, more carefree you, flashing in his mind. "There's no history, Bruno. Just... annoyance."

Marcus raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Annoyance, huh? That's the story you're sticking with?"

Mason scowled, running a hand through his hair. "Look, it doesn't matter. What happened, happened. We're both professionals now."

"Professionals, yeah right," Marcus snorted, leaning back in his chair. "The way you looked at her today, after the interview... It doesn't look professional at all."

Mason fell silent, lost in thought. His gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the fireplace, as his friends playful jabs continued around him.

The roar of the Chelsea fans echoed in your ears long after the final whistle. Your gaze fixed Mason celebrating with his teammates. He was a blur, and a wave of emotions washed over you: pride, admiration, and a flicker of something more potent.

Later that night as the celebrations took over, you found yourselves drawn towards each other.

"Thought you'd be writing victory epics already." He said, a touch breathless from the celebration. You tilted your head, your smile playful but shy.

"Actually, I do have to go," You admitted, your voice dropping a touch lower. "But I mean, the real story might be happening right here." Mason let out a chuckle. "You were incredible tonight," You murmured, looking up at him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, his gaze dropping to your lips. The air crackled with unspoken desire. "You look absolutely beautiful tonight." Mason said, his voice slightly husky above the music. He leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling and you blushed.

"As beautiful as that trophy you've been practically worshipping all night?" You asked playfully. His gaze flickers between your eyes and lips.

"There's nothing more beautiful than you." A blush crept up on your neck.

Mason closed the gap between you, his kiss hesitant at first, then deepening with unexpected fervor. You lost yourselves in the moment, the music and the party fading away. Just as the kiss began to heat up, a voice boomed from behind you.

"Well, well, well! Look who's celebrating with a bang!" You jumped apart, breaking the kiss with startled gasps. Standing there, grinning from ear to ear, was Jorginho, obviously intoxicated. "Didn't know you two were such close colleagues," Jorginho continued, his eyebrows wagging suggestively. "Maybe I should write the headline for tomorrow's paper: 'Mason Mount Scores Off the Pitch!'"

Your cheeks burned with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. The moment, so beautifully unexpected, had been shattered, but the memory of the kiss lingered on your lips.

Mason tossed and turned in his bed, the sheets tangled around him. Images of you flashed through his mind, vivid and unexpected, stealing his sleep. Every memory – the laughter he knew so well, the way your lips used to mould together – sent a jolt through him. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the images away, but they persisted. Now that he was in Manchester, seeing you again messed everything up.

With a frustrated groan, he reached for his phone on the nightstand. The cool metal felt grounding in his heated palm. He scrolled through his social media feeds, the mindless scrolling failing to distract him. Finally, he gave in to the urge and tapped on his photo gallery.

There, nestled among pictures of his friends and family, was a photo that took his breath away. It was you, from a date night back in London three years ago. You were leaning against his old car, a playful smile on your lips, your eyes sparkling with love.

He zoomed in on the picture, studying your face. A million questions swirled in his mind. Did you ever think about him? Did you ever feel the same way? ... Why did you leave him?

The car stopped in front of your apartment building. Mason glanced over at you, a question flickering in his eyes. Your stomach clenched, a fist of dread tightening its grip.

"Mason," You started, your voice barely a whisper. The words you had rehearsed a thousand times in your head seemed to evaporate on your tongue.

He turned his gaze fully on you, a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah?"

Taking a shaky breath, you forced ourself to meet his eyes. "This isn't working."

His smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Us," You blurted out, the words tumbling over each other in a rush. "This whole thing. It can't keep going."

"Why not?" His voice was barely above a murmur.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring his worried expression. "I... I got a job offer in Manchester. With United." The words felt foreign on your tongue, a betrayal of everything you had built.

A pained silence descended, heavy and suffocating. His hand instinctively reached for yours, but you flinched away, the movement a physical manifestation of the distance now growing between you.

"You're leaving?" His voice was rough, laced with disbelief. "Just like that?"

"I have to," You whispered, the lie a bitter taste. "Long distance never works. It's not fair to either of us."

"We could try," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "We could make it work."

The desperation in his eyes was almost too much to bear. "It's not about the distance, Mason." But the truth, the blackmail hanging over your head like a dark cloud.

"Then what is it?" he demanded, his voice rising slightly. "Because from where I'm standing, it feels like you're throwing everything we have away."

Shame burned in your throat, acrid and suffocating. "It's not that simple," You choked out. "There's just... I have to go."

His jaw clenched, his expression hardening into a mask of anger and hurt. "I guess that's it then," he said finally, his voice cold. "If you can't even be honest with me..." The engine roared back to life, the sound a harsh counterpoint to the tension that had fallen between you. "I..." He hesitated, then blurted out, "I fell in love with you."

Your breath hitched. The words hung in the air, heavy and heartbreaking. There was so much you wanted to say, to confess.

With a choked sob, you lied. "Mason, it's been great getting to know you, but..." You hesitated. "Love? No. Not even close."

He stared at the picture on his phone, the playful smile you used to flash him a constant reminder of what he'd lost. Maybe you were right about long distance, maybe it wouldn't have worked. But the way you flinched away from his touch, the choked sob that escaped you... those weren't things a simple goodbye could explain.

He slammed his phone on the nightstand. He couldn't let you walk away again, not without a fight. He didn't care about the reasons you gave, the distance, whatever it was. Seeing you again had ignited a fire in him, a determination to win you back. Maybe you didn't love him then, but that didn't mean things couldn't change. He wouldn't give up without a fight. This time, he'd hear the truth.

The bass throbbed through your chest as you stumbled down the dimly lit hallway, a misplaced sense of confidence fueled by tequila and flashing lights. You spotted the line for the bathrooms and was navigating towards it when, as you celebrated a friend's birthday, a figure materialized in front of you, blocking your path.

It was Mason.

His write shirt stood out starkly against the dark backdrop of the club, completely out of place. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the way his jaw clenched, a flicker of something warring between anger and surprise in his blue eyes.

A nervous flutter erupted in your stomach, warring with the tequila already muddling your thoughts. "Mason," you managed, a single word that escaped on a breath. "What are you doing here?"

He shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Came with a friend," he muttered, his eyes flickering to your bare legs before returning to your face. "Couldn't believe it when I saw you walk in."

You felt your cheeks flush, a mixture of surprise and something more unwelcome – a fluttering in your stomach. "Couldn't believe what?" You asked, your voice breathy.

He scanned the hallway behind you, his gaze landing on nowhere in particular before returning to you. "Getting wasted with… whoever that was."

You frowned, the memory of a friendly conversation with a guy from the bar twisting in your mind. "It was no one," you protested, a touch defensive. "He was just being friendly."

He scoffed, a harsh sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Right," he said, his voice tight. "The Y/n who swore she'd never touch a drop after…"

His words trailed off, hanging heavy in the air. Fueled by the alcohol and his accusing tone, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face.

For a moment, you stood frozen. Mason's eyes, wide with shock. Then, in a move so swift it took your breath away, he slammed you back against the wall, his lips finding yours in a rough, almost desperate kiss.

You, even caught off guard, found yourself responding to the kiss. It wasn't the sweet, shy kisses of the past, but a hungry, possessive collision of lips. The taste of tequila and something deeper, a longing you'd both harbored for years, tangled on your tongue.

His hands on your hips, his touch warm against the thin fabric of your dress. Your own hands, hesitant at first, found their way around his neck, pulling him closer. The pounding rhythm of the music from the club seemed to fade away, replaced by the frantic beat of you heart.

But just as quickly as it started, you gained courage and pulled away, you hand pressed against his chest. His eyes, ablaze with a mixture of anger and something else, burned into your.

"Why did you leave?" he demanded, his voice raw with emotion. And his hand still warm on your hip.

Tears welled up in your eyes. Shame washed over you, battling with the raw emotions the kiss had unearthed.

"They made me!" You blurted out, a confession you'd held for far too long. Mason stared at you, his face a mask of confusion. "Forget it," You whispered. Turning on your heel, you stumbled towards the exit, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of the moment.

A hand shot out, grabbing your wrist before you could take another step. Mason's grip was firm, but gentle.

"Y/n," he pleaded, his voice laced with concern. "What are you talking about? Who made you leave?"

But you shook your head, tears blurring your vision. The memory of threats, the fear that had driven you away from the man you were in love with was too raw to relive.

"Just… forget it." You repeated, your voice barely a whisper. With a final tug, you pulled free from his grasp and disappeared, leaving Mason standing alone in the hallway, confused and filled with a dawning realization that there was far more to their past than he ever knew.

The old popcorn on the floor crunched under your feet as you stormed into your younger sister's bedroom. The light from the TV cast a glow on the room. Your 17-year-old sister, Lily, sprawled on the bed, oblivious to the hurricane brewing inside you.

"What did you do?" Your voice cracked. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. "Why can't you be a normal teenager?"

Lily, bathed in the blue light of the phone screen, finally looked up. "I didn't know he was filming us," she mumbled, her voice laced with a teenage defiance that ignited a fire in your chest. "Don't be so dramatic!"

"He's blackmailing me because of you, Lily!" You yelled, the dam of your emotions finally bursting. "I have to leave my job, my friends and Mason, because of this, of course I'm being dramatic! You're so irresponsible. You never think about how your actions can destroy others!"

Lily scoffed, rolling her eyes. "So what if you need to leave your job? You'll find a new one," she said, her voice dripping with a casualness that made you want to scream. "And Mason? You'll find another dumb player to date in the new club."

The flippant dismissal of your relationship with Mason was the final straw. Fury surged through you, momentarily eclipsing the despair that threatened to consume you. You lunged for a decorative box on the dresser. With a deafening crash, the box shattered on the floor, its contents scattering like broken dreams.

"This is my chance to go to Cambridge!" Lily shrieked, finally understanding the gravity of the situation. "That video will be destroyed, you just have to leave the guy. I'm your sister. We're family. You're supposed to help me."

You stared at your sister. "I can't believe you're actually okay with me sacrificing my life because of this."

"This is my future," Lily pleaded, "You're 21, you'll find a lot of Masons in your life."

A humorless laugh escaped your lips. "This isn't just about Mason – although it hurts like hell that you think so little of my relationship. It's about the principle. You can't just expect me to throw away my happiness to clean up your mess."

"Our family will never forgive you if you don't do this," she whimpered, clutching the phone tighter as if it were a lifeline. "Show everyone that you're not the black sheep of the family."

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