Something About You

Where?

The last day of training before the big match was always tense. Everyone at the club seemed to be on edge—players, staff, even the physiotherapists. Layla tried to keep her focus as she carried her bag, filled with the usual medical equipment and supplies she would need. But her mind was a mess.

As she walked toward the field, footsteps approached from behind. Before she could even process it, a hand reached for her bag and pulled it off her shoulder.

Aaron.

Of course, it was Aaron. The way he moved, as usual, so silently and effortlessly, made her wonder if he’d perfected the art of sneaking up on her. Without a word, he swung her bag over his shoulder like it was nothing, the same way he always did.

Layla froze, tension creeping into her muscles. He didn’t even ask. Again. He just did it—like carrying her stuff was his responsibility, as if they were still close like they used to be. As if nothing between them had changed.

The two of them walked side by side, Aaron keeping his usual nonchalant expression, scrolling through his phone with his free hand. Layla bit her lip, trying to keep her thoughts in check. But the weight of everything—the confusion, the mixed signals, the lingering feelings—pressed down on her like a boulder. And Aaron? He just walked along quietly, like everything was perfectly normal.

After a few minutes of this awkward silence, Layla couldn’t take it anymore. Her footsteps slowed until she stopped completely in the middle of the path. Aaron noticed a moment later and turned back, raising an eyebrow.

“You good?” he asked, his tone casual but tinged with mild curiosity.

Layla hesitated for a moment, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. She clenched her fists, debating whether to say anything at all. But the more she looked at him—the cool, unreadable expression on his face—the more her frustration bubbled over.

“No,” she blurted, louder than she intended.

Aaron blinked, surprised. “What’s wrong?”

Layla’s breath hitched. For a second, she wanted to walk away, to avoid the conversation altogether. But then something inside her snapped, and before she could stop herself, all the things she’d been holding back came rushing out.

“You,” she started, her voice shaking slightly. “What is your problem, Aaron? One minute you act like you care, the next minute you’re completely cold. You just show up, carry my stuff without even asking, call me things like 'B'—like it’s supposed to mean something—and then pretend nothing’s wrong. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Aaron stood there, still holding her bag, his expression unreadable.

Layla let out a bitter laugh, almost hating herself for saying all of this out loud, but she couldn’t stop now. “You don’t even explain yourself! You just do things—like the other night, with Alaia. You hugged her, Aaron. What am I supposed to think when I see that? And then, after all that, you act like this, like I’m the crazy one for being confused.”

Aaron’s face remained calm, and he didn’t interrupt her. He just stood there, watching her, as if silently telling her to keep going.

Layla took a shaky breath, her emotions spilling over with every word. “I don’t know what you want from me, Aaron. One second you treat me like I’m someone special, and the next, you’re off with Alaia, or ignoring me, or acting like none of this means anything. And you don’t even care how confusing it is! It’s exhausting.”

She threw her hands up, exasperated. “If you have something to say, just say it! If you don’t care, say it. If you’re still hung up on Alaia, fine—say that, too. But don’t act like I’m some afterthought, like I don’t deserve an explanation.”

Her voice cracked on the last few words, and for a brief moment, Layla hated how vulnerable she sounded. But at least it was all out now. She had said what she needed to say.

Aaron stood still, holding her bag, his expression steady and unreadable. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t try to defend himself. He just… listened.

Layla expected him to say something—to deny it, to justify his actions, to give her anything. But Aaron didn’t move or speak. He simply watched her, his gaze steady, as if telling her it was okay to keep going.

The silence between them stretched painfully, and Layla let out a frustrated sigh. “Do you even care, Aaron? Or am I just… someone you feel sorry for? Someone you feel obligated to take care of because we have history?”

Aaron shifted slightly, finally lowering her bag to the ground beside him. But still, he didn’t speak. He just kept his gaze locked on hers, waiting.

Layla clenched her jaw, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “Say something, Aaron. Anything.”

But Aaron’s silence remained unbroken, and in that silence, Layla could feel her heart sinking deeper. He wasn’t going to give her answers. Not today. Not now. Maybe not ever.

She let out a shaky breath, wiping the corner of her eye quickly before the tears could fall. “You’re unbelievable,” she whispered.

Aaron gave the smallest, almost imperceptible nod, as if acknowledging her frustration but choosing not to respond to it.

The silence between them felt heavy, but it wasn’t hostile. If anything, it was... complicated. Like Aaron was carrying his own unspoken burdens, ones he wasn’t ready to share with anyone—not even with Layla.

Layla shook her head, exhausted from both the conversation and the emotions swirling in her chest. “I can’t do this,” she muttered, more to herself than to Aaron. She turned away, ready to walk off and leave this whole mess behind.

Just as she took a step, Aaron finally spoke—his voice low and calm.

“You feel better now?”

Layla stopped, stunned for a second by the simplicity of the question. She turned back slowly, glaring at him. “What?”

Aaron’s lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but held it back. “I figured you needed to get that out of your system. So... do you feel better now?”

Layla stared at him, part of her wanting to punch him, part of her wanting to cry, and part of her almost laughing at how infuriatingly calm he was.

“No,” she snapped. “I don’t.”

Aaron’s lips twitched again, but this time it did form into the faintest of smiles. “Okay.”

Layla rolled her eyes, exhaling heavily. “You’re impossible.”

Aaron shrugged, bending down to pick up her bag again. “Probably.”

Layla stood there for a moment, watching him sling the bag over his shoulder like nothing had happened. The worst part was, despite all her anger, she couldn’t stop the small, traitorous part of her heart from softening just a little.

Without another word, Aaron turned and started walking toward the field again, the same way he always did—calm, steady, and impossible to read. And as much as she hated herself for it, Layla followed. Because no matter how complicated things were, a part of her wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

Aaron walked ahead, Layla trailing behind in silence, her mind spinning with everything she’d just thrown at him. As they reached the edge of the field, Aaron paused by the storage bench where Layla usually kept her things. Without a word, he placed her bag down carefully, exactly where it always went.

Layla shifted awkwardly, still simmering from the unresolved tension between them. Her heart pounded as she waited for him to say something—maybe a response, maybe a continuation of their earlier conversation. But instead, Aaron reached into his jacket pocket, pulled something out, and handed it to her without meeting her eyes.

A small, familiar package landed in her hand.

A mango-flavored candy.

The same brand Layla had given him ages ago, back when things between them were easier, simpler. He offered it as casually as if he were handing over a receipt, with no explanation and no words—just the candy. And then, as if it was nothing at all, he turned back toward the field.

Layla stared down at the candy, her heart twisting painfully. The memory of that day came rushing back—how she’d given him the candy after a particularly hard training session, teasing him for always being so serious. It had been a small gesture, but now, holding it again, it felt heavy with unspoken meaning.

Just as Aaron was about to step onto the field, he turned around and walked back toward her. Layla blinked in surprise, wondering what he was about to do. Without a word, he crouched down in front of her, his fingers gently tugging at the loose laces of her shoes.

Layla stiffened, watching in stunned silence as Aaron tightened the knots, pulling them snug but not too tight. He tied the bows with practiced ease, his movements careful and deliberate, like it was second nature to him.

When he was done, he stood up and gave a small nod toward the water bottle beside her bag. “Drink,” he said simply. “And try to stay calm.”

The words weren’t harsh or patronizing—they were quiet, almost kind.

And just like that, he turned and made his way back toward the field, leaving Layla rooted to the spot, holding the candy and staring at the bottle of water he’d pointed out.

The knot in her chest tightened.

She knew Aaron wasn’t the type to explain himself in grand gestures or elaborate words. He did things quietly, in small ways—ways that were easy to miss if you didn’t pay attention.

And now, standing there, Layla felt the weight of guilt settle over her. Why had she lashed out at him earlier? Why had she assumed the worst just because she was confused, hurt, and frustrated?

She sighed, unwrapping the mango candy and popping it into her mouth. The familiar sweetness melted on her tongue, bringing a bittersweet wave of nostalgia. As she stared toward the field where Aaron was now warming up with the other players, she couldn't help but feel a little foolish.

Maybe she’d been too quick to judge. Maybe she hadn’t given him the chance to explain.

And maybe—just maybe—he had been trying to say something all along, in his own quiet way.

The stadium buzzed with pre-match chaos—players moving through drills, staff prepping equipment, and Layla making last-minute checks in the medical room. Her hands were busy, but her mind had been drifting all morning, unconsciously scanning the area. One hour until the match kicked off, and yet... she hadn’t seen Aaron anywhere. Not even a glimpse.

The absence gnawed at her, but she shook the thought off. He’ll be here. Maybe he was running late, or maybe he just needed space—Aaron had always been unpredictable. Still, something didn’t sit right with her.

She moved into the hall, hoping to spot him, but instead, she caught sight of Sarah leaning against a wall near the locker room entrance. Her friend wore a knowing grin, teasing James as he laced his boots.

“Come on, James, stop whining,” Sarah said, giving his arm a playful nudge. "It’s not even that bad."

“I swear it’s worse than it looks,” James grumbled dramatically, flexing his ankle like he was auditioning for an injury Oscar.

Layla couldn’t help herself—she burst into laughter, drawing both of their attention. “You two are unbelievable. Do you even realize there’s a game in an hour?”

Sarah shot her a mischievous look. “Oh, relax. Just getting my pre-match entertainment in. Someone has to keep James in check, right?”

“Yeah, right,” Layla snorted. She crossed her arms and gave Sarah a mock-serious look. “Are you sure you’re not here just to flirt with James?”

James perked up, giving Sarah an exaggerated wink. “Well, she is my biggest fan.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “If by fan you mean babysitter, then yeah.”

Layla laughed again, her spirits lifted briefly by their banter. But as the light moment passed, her thoughts drifted back to the one person she hadn’t seen. She tilted her head curiously. “Hey, James,” she asked, trying to sound casual. “Have you seen Aaron? I swear I haven’t seen him all morning.”

James straightened, suddenly looking a little awkward. “Oh. Yeah, about that... Aaron’s name got scratched off the list.”

Layla blinked, confusion clouding her mind. “What do you mean, scratched off?”

“He’s not playing today,” James clarified, his tone a bit hesitant, like he knew the news wouldn’t sit well with her. “Not as a starter. Not even as a sub.”

Layla’s stomach dropped. She stared at James, hoping for an explanation that didn’t come. "But why? What happened?"

James shrugged, clearly as clueless as she was. “No idea. Coach didn’t give any reason, just said Aaron’s out for this match. Maybe it’s tactical? Or... something else.”

Layla’s heart began to race, and her thoughts spiraled out of control. Tactical? That didn’t make sense. Aaron was one of the team’s most reliable players. If he wasn’t on the list, it had to be something serious.

Was he injured? But she would’ve known—he hadn’t shown any signs of pain during the last training session.

Or... had something happened? Was there a personal issue?

Her mind raced through every possibility. Did he get into trouble with the coach? Was there an argument? Or... was it something else entirely?

The memory of Aaron’s distant behavior, his aloofness lately, flashed through her mind. The lingering question pressed harder: Was it about Alaia? Did she have something to do with this?

She clenched her fists, trying to push the thought away, but the knot in her chest only tightened. Not knowing drove her mad. What if Aaron was hurt—really hurt—and no one was saying anything?

“Layla?” Sarah’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

Layla looked up, realizing she had gone completely silent. James and Sarah were both watching her curiously, waiting for her to say something.

“Right,” Layla muttered, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. “It’s... fine. I’m sure it’s nothing.” But the words felt like a lie as soon as they left her mouth.

Sarah squinted at her, clearly unconvinced, but said nothing. James shrugged and went back to adjusting his shin guards.

Layla turned away from them, but the gnawing unease in her chest didn’t leave. The match was starting in less than an hour, and Aaron was nowhere to be found. This doesn’t make any sense.

Her eyes drifted to the empty hallway beyond, her heart heavy with questions she didn’t have the courage to ask aloud.