𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 | 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑

john stones nodded for what felt like the thousandth time, as the interviewer droned on about his performance during the match, and all of their pointless, endless criticisms of him. people told him not to take it personally, but it was always an uphill battle.

he stared at the dull screen of his phone, hidden under the desk. he watched the three dots appear, disappear, and then reappear, praying his desperation for a response didn’t show on his face.

your relationship was still new, after all, and you’d barely told anyone. he dreaded the thought of the press finding out, especially from being caught messaging you during a post-match interview.

the dots bubbled on his screen, another journalist’s similarly frustrating voice providing a dull drone, mocking him, taunting him. god, how he hated being away from you for so long.

after what felt like an age, he felt his phone buzz in his palm, and tried to subtly check the message. hopefully from you.