Unspoken regrets
As the Spanish would say, ‘contra todo pronóstico’, Kylian actually managed to socialize with people outside of the team. Not that it came easy, though, as everything those days it seemed. It’d taken MONTHS.
To be fair, he was invited to a lot of events, and though he refused to go to many (as Cristiano would’ve said, “they’re nothing but distractions that take your focus away from your main goal”) they still gave him a chance to break away from the monotony and meet some of Spain’s influential celebrities.
Much to his disappointment, he never really hit it off with any of them. Greetings were shallow and quick, no one truly cared that much about who he was, or anyone was, really. He became part of a spiderweb of well-known names who just wanted to show off that they’d met each other even if they were practically strangers.
Maybe celebrity life just wasn’t for him, or perhaps it was the Spanish lifestyle. He didn’t remember making friends to being so hard back in France… was it the language barrier? His Spanish was good, but it sure as hell was nowhere near his native French level.
Maybe… maybe it was just him. He wasn’t a particularly funny person, as much as he always believed he was. He wasn’t too charismatic, either. Truthfully, his tastes didn’t range that far away from football and he wasn’t notorious for providing good conversations.
Perhaps it was that. Outside of the pitch he had nothing interesting to offer.
And so he mulled in misery those few months where he only spoke to his teammates and occasionally called his old PSG friends. He did feel like he’d fit nicely enough into the dynamic of the group (all things considered), but his coworkers couldn’t be his only interpersonal relationships, he needed something else.
…………………………………………….
Hakimi grinned at him from the other side of the screen as he laid on his bed, flat on his stomach. His feet dangling behind him, he looked quite comfortable. God, Kylian missed him. “Mon mec, a ti lo que te falta es una novia”
Kylian looked down and smiled awkwardly. That’s what Eduardo and Jude had said, too. Maybe Achraf was right, all that he was missing was a girlfriend. A partner could potentially mean losing that feeling of constant loneliness, give him a sense of purpose outside of himself. It’d also entail that the media would stop pestering him about it, which he could definitely do without, considering that they made up a new relationship for him every week.
And yet… it’d been years and he still hadn’t found a girl to connect with. It certainly hadn’t been for a lack of options, he’d been the center of attention of a lot of girls’ desires (he knew it was only because of his fame, but still.) The vibe just hadn’t been right, or at least that’s what he told himself.
He hadn’t had a crush on a girl since he was in high school, and he’s pretty sure back then he only thought he did, mostly forcing himself out of pressure to fit in and do what everyone else was doing.
These past few years, he’d tried, he really had, to meet up with models and influencers, to talk with girls at bars and still nothing. It was the same old routine every time: he saw a pretty girl, considered she was a worthy suitor, talked to her for a little while, only to not feel a spark of attraction towards her. It was ridiculous and tiring.
Maybe there was something wrong with his head. He wouldn’t go as far as to say he was broken, but something was most definitely not right.
It brought him back to one of the only discussions he’d ever had with Leo and by association with Neymar (before they broke apart)
It’d been a cold day, in Paris’ usual unwelcome winter chill fashion, where Leo had invited them both to have hot chocolate at his house, with his kids. Winter break had just started for them, so Neymar had brought Davi as well.
Seeing both families interact had been a bone-chilling experience for Kylian. He guessed he’d never truly realized just how… alone he was. The warmth in Antonella’s eyes as she looked at her kids, the way Davi so visibly adored his father, always hugging him, giggling at his every joke…
But most importantly, (and relevantly to him), it was the way Leo and Anto looked at each other. The way they’d been together for so long and yet were still so clearly head over heals for each other made Kylian’s stomach churn.
He longed for something like that, a love so unconditional and pure. Neymar, sometimes surprisingly observant, had noticed his turbulent state of mind, seen him gazing jealously at the couple and had grabbed him by the shoulders, giving him a half-hug.
“Oh, but it’s okay, right, amigo? You and I, we got each other”
From Neymar’s arms, Kylian had felt his heart flutter a little, maybe appreciation for the Brazilian’s thoughtfulness? And had nodded rapidly, gulping away that knot in his stomach.
Leo and Anto, (why was he so unlucky?!) had promptly noticed his vulnerable state, and out of their worry, the evening had turned into a Kylian Mbappé therapy session. It was ludicrous, really.
However, he’d still spilt all the insecurities he’d been developing about his love life as the others listened attentively.
“I- I’ve never been in love.” He’d started, not even sure where to begin. “I’ve never even had a fucking crush, goddamn it!” Neymar had grabbed his hand from the other side of the Messis’ kitchen table and Kylian had squeezed it. It was rough and yet it’d brought him immediate comfort. He took a deep breath. “All throughout high school, I thought it was okay, cuz I was young and I’d have time to figure things out. When my career was getting started, I thought that was all: I needed to focus on my football and that’s why I didn’t have time or need for love. But now… now everything’s set in place and I’m not that young anymore and I still… I can’t seem to be able to fall in love. Maybe it’s not meant for me.”
A small pause had ensured, as the others gathered their thoughts after his rant. Neymar broke the silence first, because of course he did, it would be extremely out of character for Leo to be the first one to answer and Antonella was too cautious to take the lead.
“Wow, dude. Yeah, you’re a bit old to have your first real relationship, but it’s not that bad. You WILL find someone. Just… maybe chill about it a bit.” Neymar had said, laidback tone, not that helpful but truly not too bad considering how out of touch with even his own emotions the Brazilian was. Kylian appreciated the sentiment anyway
Leo hadn’t had that much to add either, not that he expected him to. He’d cleared his throat indecisively and squeezed his shoulder. He knew the Argentinian wasn’t that good with words in these kinds of situations, so he greatly appreciated when he muttered a “You’ll get through this. It really isn’t as big of a deal as you think it is. Things will fall into place.”
Kylian often regarded Leo as a relatively wise person. He knew he was right to.
The conversation dragged on a little more, Leo and Neymar sharing their own experiences with love, starkly different and yet both comforting to his ears anyway.
It was when he was getting ready to leave that Antonella had approached him as he put on his coat and whispered to him.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. Some people aren’t meant to find love, and I don’t mean this as a bad thing. Look up on it, it’s a whole thing. And if not… maybe… consider other options” she raised her eyebrows, looking at him intently. Kylian squirmed, not liking the turn her words were having. “Back at Barcelona, during Leo’s last year, he had a teammate who… had different tastes.”
Kylian took a step back, cautiously and Antonella rushed her speech, trying to push her words out. “He isn’t open about it, but I swear he HAS managed to be happy, he’s got a boyfriend now and…”
“STOP!” Kylian screamed to stop her rambling. The noise from the living room stopped and he could hear Leo and Neymar approaching rapidly down the hall. His hands were shaking, he didn’t know why. “I don’t know what you’re supposed to be implying, but whatever it is, you’re wrong.” His voice broke off at the end of the sentence, it was pathetic.
Antonella stared back at him with sad eyes, but didn’t continue talking. Kylian felt dirty.
Leo appeared behind Antonella and placed a protective arm around her shoulders, looking at him with a tense expression. They’d been getting closer lately, but Kylian knew that yelling at his wife was something Leo would never allow.
Talking another step back, with one foot already out of the mansion’s entrance, he closed and opened his hands with anxiety and embarrassment. Why had he gotten so nervous? WHY had he yelled like that? It wasn’t as if what she’d said applied to him, as if it affected him in the least. She was wrong.
Antonella patted her husband’s arm reassuringly and quickly negated with her head, as if warning him of something. He looked back at her, then at Kylian and back at her again, but despite his maddened expression, he didn’t say a word.
Behind them, Neymar furrowed his brow, biting his lip with worry, clearly out of the loop. Oh, Kylian was mortified. So he did what he did best: he ran.
He ran home and did not sleep a wink that entire night. Neither Leo nor Neymar mentioned the incident again the next morning, though Leo acted a bit colder towards him for a few days until things went back to normal.
If not for that, it would’ve almost been as though if nothing had happened. That’s what Kylian chose to remember, anyways. He never brought any of it up again and neither did the other players, (or Antonella for that matter.)
……………………………………………..
It wasn’t until Madrid’s first match against Barça after his arrival that he was confronted once again by the memory, in the most literal sense of the word.