// Antoine Griezmann therapy II //
(THIS IS SHIT AF BUT FOR THE 4 ANONS THAT ALL ASKED FOR SOMETHING SIMILAR. ITS JUSt FLUFF AND IM SORRY FOR THE DISAPPOINTING WRITING SKILLS. )
The sunlight spilled through the small gaps between his closed eyelid, and he immediately begun to wonder how long he had been asleep for. He shut his eyes tightly to try and adjust to the bright light outside. Antoine opened them again and remained like that on his bed, his brain slowly starting to repair the memories of the previous night. First he remembered he was Antoine, 25 and French. Then he remembered the time he confessed to you as a scrawny ass kid during prom, and you still agreed despite him looking like gremlin, and then finally came the realization that he was a footballer, playing in the Euro cup but they had lost last night after coming onto the finals.
He turned to the sleeping figure beside him, suddenly falling in love all over again, and he leant over to leave a small chaste kiss on the space behind your ears. That woke you up, causing you to groan a little from fatigue, but you stretched to wake up and welcome the day. Antoine looked at you, your eyes were still coloured with a faint pink from the previous night; it really hurt him that he was the cause of the tears. But he wanted to forget all the blues of the event, he just wanted to appreciate the simplest thing that Antoine realized he took for granted - you. He lifted his hand and gently brushed his calloused thumb over your eyelids out of endearment, feeling guilty and nuzzling himself onto your neck.
Antoine in the morning was very different to Antoine throughout the day, it was a strange pattern you noticed after moving in together. His affection level increased by a thousand, which you didn’t mind, in fact, you liked knowing he was so attached to you because you felt exactly the same way. There was a reason why he was like this. Morning’s were the time where a person is most woozy since their brain has been inactive for however many hours, this gave him a simple excuse to say the things he can could never dream or have the courage to say to you at times during the day when he’s fully functioning without being awkwardly questioned. Antoine usually took these moments to just release affection he would pent up inside for a few days.
He looked at your face, his heart suddenly fluttering at the wistful memories washing over him. Antoine liked your face. He loved the way he could shut his eyes and could still give a full blown description of it because the beautiful picture of it was embedded into his mind. His fingers traced the outline of your facial features, making you scrunch up your face and giggle at the tickling sensation.
“I love you,” he smiled. “I love you.” he repeated again.
You looked into his eyes. “I love you too,” You reached out for his dirty blonde hair, running the short, rough strands between your fingers, you sort of missed the buzzcut that you used to caress most nights til 00:00. “That’s the third time you’ve said it to me in the span of less than 24 hours.” Antoine’s regrets and disappointments were still as clear as a summer sky, the way he looked into your eyes with still that faint bit of melancholy he tried to hide crippled you a little.
“It’s because that’s the only thing that makes sense in my life and the only coherent thing that exists in my brain, even after I’ve been confused through hell.”
You thought about it and realized the reasons behind why Antoine said it to you last night, and this morning too. It also explained all those times he would be silently doing something, and all of a sudden his mouth would blurt out a: I love you. It reassured him that he was sane. Even if his mind was dazed, he felt relieved to know one thing for sure - he loved you.
Sometimes, even Antoine himself couldn’t believe his infatuation for you. He just loved every single goddamn thing about you, it was as if every existing, living cell that made up his entire body existed just to love you. Even if he had just lost five matches in a row, or just broke every single bone in his body, he would be itching to make only you, out of this world filled with seven billion human lives and other billions of organisms, happy. The Euro cup would not even start to compare to the content just the natural twinkle in your eyes could bring to him.
It was simple maths. If you were happy; he was happy.