#mm7

Mason blinks and pauses for a moment, “Well… personally, I don’t mind eating it whole. I’ve never really understand the controversy. My girlfriend has strong opinions though.”

He pauses with a laugh, eyes crinkling, “I remember when we first started dating, I made her a sandwich, and I watched her cut it into triangles before she ate it. I was so confused, and then she looked up at me and told me that sandwiches always need to be cut into triangles. I just agreed because I wanted to keep dating her, but now if I don’t cut her sandwich into triangles, it becomes a whole conversation about sandwich shapes.” 

You hold back a laugh before calling for him, “Mase!”

A few moments later he pokes his head in, mild confusion written on his face. An eyebrow furrowed, you hold yourself back from going to kiss his cheek. “What’s this about sandwich shapes, I hear?” you ask, humor in your voice. 

His face flushes slightly, “Babe, that was months ago.” He moves towards you, pulling you into his chest. You squirm slightly, holding back laughter. 

“I refuse to be dating a man who won’t admit that triangles are the best sandwich shape!” you say, your voice muffled by his sweatshirt. You feel his chest shake slightly as he holds back a laugh. 

“What difference does it make?! It’s all a sandwich,” he jokingly remarks. You raise your head looking at him with an exaggerated expression of sadness. 

“Alright, alright…” he concedes, “How about this, we can each ask our followers what they think and whoever wins is correct.”

Even when he was hurting, Mason had a way of lightening the mood. He always managed a smile. It was the kind of smile that said, I’ll get through this. Somehow, I always do.

Maybe that’s why, little by little, you’d fallen for him. It wasn’t just his courage or his never-quit attitude, it was the way he smiled, even when life knocked him down.

The night before, you had watched the game against City, and you didn’t need to be there in person to know it had happened again. The moment you saw Mason sitting on the field, head down in defeat, your heart broke for him.

"No! Bloody hell! Someone get this guy to a witch." Your dad shouted at the TV, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Someone’s playing with his voodoo doll!"

"Dad!" You called out, shooting him a look as your little nephew that was Mason's fan sank on the sofa.

"What? It’s true!" He replied, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The United scarf around his neck swayed as he turned back to the screen. "The guy’s got more than bad luck."

You opened the door and stepped into the medical office. Mason was already sitting on the examination bed, his head down, eyes fixed on his hands as they opened and closed into tight fists.

"Hey, Mason!" You greeted softly.

His head shot up, his expression briefly surprised. "Hey!" He said, his voice deeper than usual. He didn’t smile like he normally did. "I thought you were still on holiday."

"They don't let me have three weeks off during the Premier League." You said with a small chuckle as you pulled on a pair of blue gloves. "And it’s a good thing they don't Let's have a look?"

He didn’t say anything, just nodded and laid back on the bed, stretching out his legs.

As you started examining his leg, you kept your tone light, hoping to break through his mood. "You've been through worse, right? I mean, you're basically indestructible at this point." That earned you nothing. No laugh, no smile, not even a glance. Just silence.

You focused on your work, carefully testing for swelling and tender areas. Mason didn't flinch, didn't make a sound, but the tension in his jaw told you everything you needed to know.

You sighed softly, stepping back. "Okay."

"It's bad, isn't it?" He asked, his tone clipped, as though he already knew the answer.

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. "It's not great." You admitted, keeping your voice steady. "The scans will give us the full picture, but you'll need to rest for a few weeks, at least."

At that, Mason let out a short, bitter laugh. "A few weeks. Of course." He shook his head and sat up, his movements stiff and frustrated.

"I know it's frustrating." You said gently, trying to reach him. "But we'll make sure you heal properly, and you'll come back even stronger. You've done it before."

"Yeah." He said flatly, his tone ice-cold. "And look where that got me."

The sharpness of his words stung, catching you off guard. You glanced up, meeting his gaze. His face was hard, his usual warmth replaced with a wall of indifference.

"You're allowed to be upset." You said softly. "This is a tough break, but it's not the end. You're one of the strongest people I know, Mason."

He let out a small, humorless smile that never reached his eyes. "Thanks for the pep talk." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'll add it to my collection."

Before you could respond, Mason pushed himself off the bed, grabbed his phone from the desk and walked out of the office without a second glance.

You stood there, speechless, the weight of his frustration and pain settling heavily in the room.

"So, he just left?" Your best friend asked, setting her beer down on the table with a thud.

"Yeah!" You said, still in disbelief. "I mean… I get it. He's angry and frustrated with everything going on, but I... I was just trying to help him." You took a long sip of your beer, then lowered your voice to a whisper. "I just want to help him."

Your friend gave you a knowing smile, leaning back in her chair. "You're so down bad for him."

You groaned, running your hands through your hair. "I know."

You groaned, running your hands through your hair. "I know."

Your friend chuckled. "Honestly, I don't blame you. The guy's gorgeous. Moody, apparently, but gorgeous."

"It's not just that. It's… He's been through so much, and he still manages to stay so positive. He works harder than anyone I've ever seen. He deserves more than this."

"And yet, he shut you out."

"Yeah." You sighed, slumping back in your chair. "I don’t think it's personal. I think he's just… overwhelmed. But it still stung, you know? We've talked so much before. I thought I..." You paused, trying to find the words. "I thought I could be someone he leaned on."

Your friend reached across the table, squeezing your hand. "He will, eventually. Sometimes guys like him need time. Doesn't mean you're not important to him."

You gave her a grateful look. "I hope you're right."

The next morning, you were in your office early, sipping coffee and organizing your notes. You had barely slept, your mind replaying the tension with Mason over and over.

With a sigh, you shook off the memory and focused on the task at hand, jotting down follow-up plans for a few players. The knock on your door startled you.

"Come in!" You called, glancing up.

Your coworker, James, stepped in, clipboard in hand. "Morning." He said, his tone casual but hesitant, like he was bracing himself for something.

"Morning." You replied, eyeing him curiously. "What's up?"

He hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Uh… just wanted to give you a heads-up. Mason requested to transfer to me for his treatment plan."

You froze. "What?"

James gave a small shrug. "He asked me this morning. Said he wanted to switch."

"Why?" You asked, the word coming out sharper than you intended.

"I don't know." James said carefully "He didn't say much, just that he thought it would be better for him."

You stared at him, stunned. "Better for him? I don't understand. Why would he…" You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

James sighed. "Look, I didn't want to get into it. I know you two are friends, you have a close relationship, but If you want to know why, you're going to have to ask him."

For a moment, you just sat there, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard.

"I see." You said finally, your voice quieter now. "Thanks for letting me know, James."

James gave you a sympathetic look. "Hey, don't take it personally, okay? He's going through a lot. You know how players can get when they're injured. It's probably just his way of dealing with it."

"Yeah." You murmured, forcing a small smile. "I get it."

But as James left, you found yourself staring at your desk, Mason’s name at the top of your notes. Why didn’t he want your help anymore?

Mason was sitting on the bench in the locker room, phone in hand, as he responded to a text from his brother. He barely looked up when Bruno walked in.

"Hey!" Bruno said casually, shrugging off his jacket with an air of ease.

"Hey!" Mason replied, his eyes still glued to his phone. "How was training?"

Bruno snorted, tugging on a clean shirt. "Good." He said shortly, clearly uninterested in lingering on the topic. Instead, he glanced over at Mason. "James told me you switched to him for physio."

Mason shrugged, leaning back. "Yeah. Figured it's better this way."

Bruno raised an eyebrow as he sat down, pulling off his trainers. "Better for you or for her?" His tone was light, but his words hit home.

Mason's jaw tightened as he turned to look at Bruno. "What?"

"You and Y/n seemed close." Bruno said. "She's solid, actually gives a crap about us, which, let's be real, doesn't happen every day."

"James is solid too."

Bruno held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Just saying, she might be wondering why you're icing her out." Mason didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the floor. Bruno sighed as he stood, slinging his towel over his shoulder. "Whatever you're running from, just make sure you're not pushing the wrong people away, mate."

Mason stayed silent, the weight of Bruno's words settling over him. He kept his head down, listening to the sound of Bruno's footsteps as he disappeared toward the showers.

A week had passed, and you still hadn't managed to speak to Mason in person. You'd tried texting him multiple times, asking if something was wrong, if you'd upset him somehow, but he always left you on read.

Today, you were determined to put an end to the silence. It was your day off, but you knew Mason would be at the camp. So, you drove there, parking directly in front of his car and waiting.

As usual, Mason was one of the last to leave, even though he hadn't been training with the team. He emerged from the building, his bag over his shoulder and his coat zipped all the way up against the cold, as he made his way toward his car.

You took a deep breath and stepped out of your car. He didn't notice you at first, his focus elsewhere, but as you moved closer, emerging from the shadows, he froze on his tracks.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there under the dim parking lot lights.

You suddenly felt nervous and exposed. You swallowed the lump in your throat. Slowly, both of you began to move, closing the distance until you were close enough to reach out and touch him.

"Hi?" You shot back. An avalanche of words was threatening to tumble out. "That's it? That's all you've got to say? Hi?" Mason opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance. "No, Mason, I don't want your 'Hi.' I want answers. I want to know why. Why did you ask to be transferred to James? Why have you been ignoring me?" You kept going, every bottled-up thought spilling out. Mason stood there, silent, his gaze fixed on you. Even in anger, you were still cute. "Mason?" You demanded, pulling him out of his trance.

He blinked, suddenly lifting his eyes from your lips to meet yours. "What?"

You shook your head, letting out a sigh. "Have I done something wrong?"

Mason's swallowed hard, his gaze breaking away from yours. "You haven't done anything wrong, Y/n!" He said quietly.

Your chest tightened at his words. "Then why?" Your voice cracked, trembling under the weight of your emotions. "I thought we were friends, Mason."

Mason let out a sarcastic chuckle. "That's the problem!"

You furrowed your eyebrows. "What?"

"I-- I don't want to be your friend." He said, his voice just enough to make you freeze. "I don't want to be your friend because I want to be so much more! I want to be the one who carries you to bed when you fall asleep on the sofa. I want to be the one you ask to open jars, the one whose hoodies you steal. I want to be the person who holds you when you cry and makes you laugh when you need it. I want to take care of you—not the other way around." His words knocked the wind out of you.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You weren't one to be left speechless, but somehow Mason had managed it.

"I... do you like me?" You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mason bit his lip, almost nervously. "Was that not obvious?"

"But… why would you push me away? Wait--" Your eyes widened. "Did you do this because you were my patient?"

Mason let out a long sigh, his breath visible in the chilly Manchester air. "I'm tired, Y/n." He said, his voice low and pained. "You've seen me at my worst since the day we met. And I hate that. I hate that you've only ever seen this version of me: the injured, broken version."

"Mase--"

"No!" He interrupted, his voice cracking. "I feel like everything's going wrong. I feel like I’m failing as a footballer, as a person. And I hate that all you've seen is that failure."

You reached for him, your hands trembling as they rested on his arms. "Mason, listen to me." You said firmly. "The last thing I see you as is a failure." He turned his face away, but you cupped his face, gently forcing him to meet your gaze. "You’re the strongest, most hardworking person I know. Maybe you’ve had more setbacks than most, but you work three times harder than anyone else. I’m your physician, yes, but I’m also your friend. And I just want to help you. I want to be there for you, no matter what."

For a moment, he looked at you like you had hung the moon and stars. His hand rose hesitantly, cupping your cheek as if he were afraid you might disappear.

Slowly, his face leaned closer to yours, his lips brushing yours gently. When you didn’t pull away, your lips parted, and he kissed you.

The kiss was soft, hesitant at first, then deeper, carrying the weight of everything unsaid until now. For that moment, there was no cold air, no frustration, no confusion, just the warmth of his lips against yours.

When you finally broke apart, your breaths mingled in the frosty air. His forehead rested lightly against yours, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read you.

"I'm sorry." Mason whispered.

"For what?" You asked softly.

"For pushing you away. For being such a mess." He admitted, his eyes dropping to the ground. "You deserve someone who's got it all together, not someone who's barely holding on."

You shook your head. "Mason, no one has it all together. We're all just doing our best. And you're not a mess, you're human. You're allowed to feel frustrated, to have bad days. But you don't have to go through it alone."

"You make me want to be better." He said quietly.

"And you make me want to fight harder." You replied with a shy smile.

He pulled you into a tight embrace and you burried your face in his neck. The weight of his struggles seemed to melt away. The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms. When you pulled apart, he looked down at you and smiled.

You gave him a gentle smile, tucking your hands into your pockets, suddenly feeling shy. "So… go home, rest, and we'll talk... tomorrow? Properly this time."

"Properly." He repeated with a nod.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The night air was cold, but the warmth of the moment made it easy to ignore. Finally, you took a small step back as you said goodbye, offering him one last glance before turning to leave.

"Y/n." His voice stopped you in your tracks.

You turned. "Yes?"

He hesitated. "Do you… do you want to have dinner? Like... today!"