13 - Almost Home

ADRIEN’S POV 

There were exactly three things my father loved, football, discipline and winning. 

Unfortunately for me, coming second place also existed. 

I walked through the large familiar gates of the Hayes mansion. It was my house, technically. It never really felt like home.

Everything smelled faintly of polished wood and expensive candles. The housekeepers made sure everything looked perfect. It was far from it.

I threw my bag over my shoulder and headed for the stairs.

The house was quiet and empty as usual. 

“Adrien. A word, now.” I heard my father suddenly say.

Shit, I didn’t know he was returning today.

I internally groaned and walked towards the dining area where my father sat.

“Sit.” He instructed and I pulled out a chair to sit on.

“I saw your recent mock exam marks,” he started. 

 I already knew where this was going. 

“A D in politics and a B in science,” he said coldly. “What exactly do you expect to build with marks like these?” 

“I had an A star in Mathematics.” I hated how quickly I said that. 

“This is unacceptable. I don’t pay thousands of euros for your education for you to bring back such results home.” He added.

I stayed silent, keeping my expression neutral. I focused on the patterns of the marble floors instead.

This wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last.

“The scouts will never select you if you keep going like this. You can learn a thing or two from your brother Adrien, at least one of you makes the family proud.”

It felt like a bucket of iced water had been dropped over my head. 

I counted one to twenty internally, trying to keep myself calm.

“Do you want me to pull you out of the academy?” He spoke. 

“No. Please.” I hated how small my voice sounded. 

I felt like a little boy again, standing at the mercy of my own father. 

“You should get a tutor.” He suggested.

“I already have one.” 

“Who is tutoring you?” He looked up at me from the newspaper in his hand.

“June Carter.” I said immediately. 

A certain look I couldn't pin point crossed his face before he replaced it with his normal look. 

He picked his newspaper back up and went back to reading.

That was my sign to leave.

Under the shower, my mind replayed his words anyway. 

The worst part was that a part of me believed him.

I felt sore all over, today’s training was really intense since I trained with Arsenal’s first team. 

I picked up my phone to see a message from the group chat Theo created for all the guys on the team.

They were arguing about who would be able to nutmeg Maldini in his prime, one of the greatest defenders in football’s history.

I checked my results again. 

I wasn’t proud of them but I know I tried. It wasn’t easy juggling school and football, I would do better.

A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts and opened it to see Lucas. 

“Golden child, what have I done for you to honor me with your presence o great one?” I said sarcastically.

“I’m only around for two weeks so you better make the most out of it. Up for a PlayStation game?” He asked.

Lucas had always been the easier son to love. Perfect marks, perfect discipline, the perfect future.

He collected achievements the way Theo collected girls.

You’d think my parents would love me more for being a prodigy, a football star, that being the academy’s best player would earn me something. 

Wrong.

Luckily, he never rubbed it in my face or made me feel like I was stupid. My mother, on the other hand, never failed to remind me how I was wasting my life playing football.

And my father only watched matches when I scored.

“I’ll be there in a minute. Get ready to get your ass whooped.” I quickly put on some clothes and moved to my brother's room.

His room was much bigger than mine with cabinets of trophies he’d won over the years in multiple countries. There were certificates of participation, medals all lined up on his wall.

“You look miserable.” Lucas pointed out from where he stood by the bed.

“Thanks, that really lifted my spirits!” 

He let out a small laugh.

I sat down on the sofa by the side of the room and picked up a pad.

“Honestly though, you look tired.” 

“No shit Sherlock. I just got back from training, I suppose you want me to be jolly and beaming.” I replied, every word dripping with sarcasm.

“First to 5 goals,” I shifted the subject. “Loser has to help mum bake for a week.” 

“Deal.” He agreed and we got to playing. 

None of us wanted to help my mother bake. As of right now, it was her favorite pastime activity when she was at the house. 

Truth be told, she was horrible at it.

The last time she tried to make chocolate chip cookies, they tasted more like burnt regret than desserts.

We spent the whole afternoon pretending they were edible.

I couldn’t tell how much time had passed or how many rounds we played before I stood to leave his room feeling victorious. 

“I’ll save you one of her cupcakes.” He mentioned as I left.

“I’d rather lick dog shit.” I heard him laugh before saying goodnight. 

In my room, my mind drifted back to her.

How she frowned when she was concentrating. 

She was always thinking ahead. 

I opened her contact on my phone for a second, then closed it. Locking my phone again.

In the short time we’ve spent time together, talking to her felt easier than talking to most people I knew. 

With her, it didn’t matter that I didn’t score goals. She didn’t expect anything from me. She only cared if I studied.

She wanted me to put effort for myself.

June Carter looked at things like they could disappear if she didn’t hold on to them tightly enough.

I didn’t know why yet.

But I wanted to.