Something About You

Something Wrong?

The stadium buzzed with the deafening energy of kickoff. Fans roared from the stands, waving flags, chanting team slogans, and stomping their feet. On the sidelines, staff rushed around, coordinating with the players on the pitch. Layla stood among the chaos, her gaze drifting over the field, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.

She tried to focus on her job, but no matter how hard she tried, her eyes kept darting toward the entrance tunnels, scanning the benches, searching the crowd—searching for him.

Where is Aaron?

Her stomach churned. She knew she shouldn’t care this much, not during such a critical moment. The players were already locked in the heat of battle, the sound of the ball thudding against boots echoing across the stadium. But her heart wouldn’t stop racing, not until she saw Aaron.

“Layla, seriously, are you even listening to me?”

Sarah’s voice jolted her back to the present. Layla blinked, forcing her focus to the friend standing beside her. Sarah was gripping a clipboard, looking both annoyed and amused.

“Sorry.” Layla glanced at her, though her attention remained half-absent. “What were you saying?”

Sarah huffed dramatically, but there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “I was saying that James almost scored, but the i***t slipped.” She gave Layla a pointed look. “Though clearly, you couldn’t care less.”

“I care,” Layla muttered, though her gaze slipped back toward the player’s tunnel, as if hoping Aaron would suddenly appear out of thin air.

Sarah followed her line of sight and sighed, shaking her head. “Layla... he’s not here. He’s not going to magically show up just because you keep staring at the entrance.”

Layla pressed her lips together, frustration bubbling inside her. She knew Sarah was right, but that didn’t stop her from hoping. Why isn’t he here? What’s going on? She glanced toward the bench again, her heart sinking deeper every time she confirmed his absence.

“Honestly, what’s with you today?” Sarah asked, nudging her. “You’re acting weird. If you want, I can check with the coaching staff. Maybe Aaron’s—”

“No,” Layla interrupted, shaking her head. “I don’t... I mean, it’s fine. He probably has his reasons.”

Sarah gave her a curious look, one eyebrow raised. “Right. Reasons. Sure.” Her tone was thick with sarcasm, but Layla was too distracted to care.

A sharp whistle blew from the pitch, momentarily pulling her attention. One of the players had just committed a foul, and the opposing team was lining up for a free kick. Layla watched the play unfold, her hands gripping the medical bag slung over her shoulder. Yet, even as she stood on the sidelines, ready to jump in if needed, her mind kept drifting back to Aaron.

This isn’t like him.

Aaron wasn’t the kind of player to sit out without reason. He was the one you could always count on—consistent, driven, almost obsessive about doing things right. For him to be missing, not just from the starting lineup but entirely? Something was definitely wrong.

Layla shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her anxiety gnawing at her. A thousand questions raced through her mind. Was he injured? Did something happen off the field? Was it because of Alaia? Or... was it something she had done?

The thought made her chest tighten. She recalled the way she had exploded at him the day before, venting all her frustrations in front of him without holding back. Had that pushed him away? Had she said something she shouldn’t have?

“Stop overthinking,” she whispered to herself, dragging a hand through her hair.

Sarah noticed and rolled her eyes. “You’re driving yourself crazy over this, aren’t you?”

Layla let out a frustrated breath. “I just don’t get it.”

“What don’t you get?”

“Why Aaron’s not here.” Layla’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight behind the words was heavy. “He’s not injured. He’s not on the list. It just... doesn’t make sense.”

Sarah gave her a sympathetic smile. “Look, whatever it is, it’ll come out eventually. Maybe it’s not as deep as you think. Aaron’s weird, sure, but...” She trailed off, as if unsure how to finish the sentence.

Layla shot Sarah a sharp look, brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you finish your sentence? You said Aaron’s weird, but... what?”

Sarah blinked, caught off guard. “Oh... Uh, I mean—” Her words trailed off as she suddenly noticed something. A sly grin spread across her face.

Layla frowned. “What?”

Sarah crossed her arms, clearly holding back laughter. “You’re wearing it.”

“Wearing what?” Layla asked, confused.

Sarah gestured toward Layla’s chest. “That jersey.”

Layla’s stomach dropped as she glanced down and saw the name “BEKKER” printed on the back of the oversized jersey she had pulled on that morning. The black-and-white fabric clung to her, and the familiar number on the front gleamed in the stadium lights.

Her cheeks flushed. She had grabbed it in a rush, not even thinking. Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself. But deep down, she knew better. She’d never worn it before, not since Aaron had given it to her a few weeks ago. Yet here she was, standing in the middle of the stadium, with his name sprawled across her back.

“You—” Sarah pointed dramatically, a wicked smirk spreading across her face. “You haven’t worn that once since he gave it to you, and now... suddenly, you’re wearing it today?”

Layla crossed her arms defensively. “It’s just a jersey, Sarah.”

“Sure, just a jersey,” Sarah teased, drawing out the words with a knowing look. “You just happened to grab the one with his name on it today. Totally random, right?”

Layla rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, it’s not that deep.”

Sarah laughed. “Yeah, right. This is classic. Aaron’s MIA, and you show up in his jersey? It’s like you’re low-key summoning him or something.”

Layla groaned, tilting her head back dramatically. “You are the worst.”

“Admit it,” Sarah said, nudging her playfully. “You miss him.”

Layla shot her a glare, though it wasn’t nearly as sharp as she intended. “Can we not do this right now?”

Sarah chuckled, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable Layla was getting. But just as she was about to keep poking fun, Layla gave her a pointed look.

“Okay, okay.” Sarah held up her hands in surrender, still grinning. “Let’s go back to what I was saying earlier.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Layla muttered, desperate to change the subject. “You were saying, ‘Aaron’s weird, but...’ But what?”

Sarah hesitated for a moment, her playful expression softening into something more thoughtful. “But... I don’t think he’s as clueless as he acts.”

Layla frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I think he knows exactly what he’s doing,” Sarah said, her tone more serious now. “All those weird, mixed signals? The way he’s been acting around you? It’s not random, Layla. There’s something there. I just don’t know if even he knows how to deal with it.”

Layla swallowed, suddenly feeling like the air had gotten heavier around her. Her mind raced back to all the little moments—his strange behavior, the way he’d call her “B,” the way he’d appear out of nowhere to help her.

And now... he wasn’t here at all.

“Do you think...” Layla’s voice was quiet, almost drowned out by the noise of the stadium. “Do you think I said something wrong? Yesterday, when I... you know.”

Sarah gave her a sympathetic smile. “Layla, you were frustrated. Anyone would’ve snapped. And honestly, if Aaron can’t handle that, then that’s his problem, not yours.”

Layla nodded slowly, though doubt still lingered in her chest. She glanced back toward the empty spot on the bench where Aaron should’ve been. Where are you, Aaron?

Her fingers brushed against the hem of the jersey absentmindedly, as if wearing it would somehow bring him closer. And for a brief moment, she wished she hadn’t spoken so harshly yesterday. Because now, with everything feeling so uncertain, she just wanted to know that Aaron was okay.

And maybe—just maybe—she wanted him here with her, too.

Sarah noticed how restless Layla was, her eyes constantly scanning the stadium, looking for someone who wasn’t there. Layla’s hands kept fiddling with the hem of Aaron’s jersey—tugging, twisting—like wearing it could somehow answer all the questions swirling in her head.

“Hey.” Sarah nudged her gently. “Not every match is for every player. Sometimes they just don’t get picked, you know? They have off days too.”

Layla bit her lip, still distracted. “But he’s never not here. And I didn’t even see him around earlier...”

Sarah sighed, realizing words weren’t enough to settle her friend’s mind. She crossed her arms, glancing toward the bench and the players warming up on the field. "Alright then, let’s make this easier." With a mischievous glint in her eye, she looked around the stadium until she spotted Alea chatting with some other players on the sidelines.

“Oi! Alea!” Sarah called out, raising her hand and waving exaggeratedly to get her attention.

Layla widened her eyes in horror. “Sarah—what are you doing?” She grabbed her friend's arm, trying to pull her back. “Don’t—seriously, stop!”

But Sarah wasn’t backing down. “Relax. I’ve got this.”

Alea turned, her sleek ponytail swaying as she raised an eyebrow at them, curiosity sparking in her expression. She sauntered over gracefully, looking as confident as ever.

Sarah shot Layla a quick, cheeky grin before addressing Alea, her voice laced with subtle sarcasm. “Hey, since you’re, like, the closest person ever to Aaron, you must know where he is, right? Or... what’s going on with him today?”

Layla winced at the not-so-subtle jab, but Alea didn’t seem fazed. She gave them a polite, if distant, smile and crossed her arms. “Aaron?”

“Yeah, Aaron,” Sarah said with a slight smirk. “You know, your best buddy, always glued to your side. So where is he?”

Alea’s smile faltered, and for a brief moment, an unreadable expression flickered across her face. “I don’t know.”

Layla blinked, surprised by the response. She’d expected some playful or dismissive answer, but Alea looked genuinely uncertain.

“You don’t know?” Sarah echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Huh. That’s... unexpected.”

Alea’s lips twitched, but this time the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. I haven’t seen him today.” With a small shrug, she glanced toward the field. “If I knew, I’d tell you.”

Layla could tell that Alea wasn’t lying, which only made the knot in her stomach tighten further. Alea had always seemed so effortlessly in tune with Aaron—always the one who knew where he was, what he needed, and what mood he was in.

So if even Alea didn’t know where Aaron was...

Layla’s thoughts began to spiral again. Is something wrong? Why isn’t he here? Did something happen?

Alea gave them both a brief nod. “If you hear anything, let me know.” Then, with a graceful turn, she walked off, leaving Sarah and Layla standing in silence.

Sarah let out a low whistle. “Well, that was unexpected.” She glanced at Layla, who looked even more lost now.

“See?” Sarah said, trying to sound reassuring. “Even Alea doesn’t know. Whatever’s going on, it’s not just you.”

But the reassurance didn’t seem to reach Layla. She stood still, her arms crossed, her thoughts far away as she stared at the empty space where Aaron should’ve been.

Sarah nudged her again, softer this time. “Hey. Don’t overthink it, okay? Maybe he’s just—”

“—Just what?” Layla whispered, her voice tight.

Sarah hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Look, I know it’s hard not to worry. But you’ll drive yourself crazy like this. If he didn’t tell anyone where he is, he must’ve had his reasons. Maybe he’ll reach out when he’s ready.”

Layla gave a small, absent nod, but it did little to ease the weight pressing down on her chest. The questions kept swirling—louder, sharper—each one more troubling than the last. And the worst part was, no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t push away the gnawing thought that maybe... just maybe... this was all somehow her fault.