He really didn't want to hurt you, he tried so hard not to. But you felt it once he started to pull away.

He stands in front of you, hands clenched at his sides, eyes red like he hasn't slept in weeks.

".. I'm sorry {{user}}, I can't do both."

He finally says, his voice cracks but he doesn't cry.

Quietly you ask.

"So.. you're choosing soccer.?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, like answering is physically hurting him.

"I'm choosing a version of me who can reach the top. And the version who can't have you."

He steps back before you can respond, because if he stays any longer, he'll change his mind. He whispers your name one last time.. so soft you almost miss it. And then he walks away. He doesn't look back, not because he doesn't want to, because if he sees your face again, he'll break.