been sitting around for two months soooo....
Title: Third Wheel
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don’t own, obviously. They’d be running around naked on the pitch if I did.
Characters: Darren Fletcher, mentions of other United players
A/N: I wrote this about two months ago, but it’s been sitting in a notebook collecting dust. It’s probably the most intensely personal thing I’ve ever written, so I really hope you guys enjoy reading it.
The third wheel. It wasn’t a phrase Darren Fletcher was particularly fond of. In fact, he absolutely hated it. No matter how much he tried running away from that horrid phrase, it followed him-determined to worm itself into his conscious and beat against his brain incessantly.
It’s there each time he sits next to Nemanja and Rio on the bus and has to watch silently as they share jokes no one else would ever understand. And when Rio leans over to whisper in Nemanja’s ear, Darren’s ears feel like they will explode.
It worms its way into his head each time he has to watch Cristiano and Wayne celebrate scoring another goal-both totally oblivious to their teammates crowding around them. And when Wayne presses a small kiss to the side of Cristiano’s neck when he thinks no one else is looking (no one but Darren that is), the phrase threatens to burst out of his head.
Third wheel. Third wheel.
And the Scot remembers when he didn’t have this insane phrase beating in his head and his heart aches to go back in time. One more day is all he wants-all he needs-to make it all better again. He wants to remember when it was just him and Alan (Fletch and Smudge) and no one else ever mattered. H was happy then-happy when Alan scored a goal, happy when Alan returned after being injured for so many months, happy just to know that Alan was right there within touching distance.
And the beating in his head gets stronger. But now it’s saying, ‘I miss you, I miss you’ instead.
And sometimes Darren screams in frustration when he sees the way Ryan’s hand lingers on Gary’s just a moment too long in the changing room. And suddenly his eyes fill with unshed tears, and he’s rubbing furiously at them with his shirt while trying to avoid Michael’s concerned gaze.
I miss you. I miss you.
And then he hates himself oh so much for being weak and jealous of his friends. He should be happy they’re in a content, satisfied time of their lives. And his heart aches more when he realizes that he’s not happy, and he slams his locker hard before running out to the team bus.
And the beat changes to ‘Fuck my life’ in a heartbeat.
Darren is so caught up in the chant that he never notices when Michael has followed him to the parking lot-training jacket thrown over his bare chest to ward off the evening breeze. He agrees without thinking to join his teammate at his house later for a drink and Michael backs off, apparently satisfied.
By the time the Scot arrives at Michael’s home, the beat has decreased to a steady him and he no longer feels the need to tear his hair out. He gratefully accepts the whiskey Michael’s wife hands him as he takes a seat on the plus couch and sits back to watch the way Michael’s eyes lovingly follow Lisa wherever she goes. It’s obvious the two are more in love than ever before and a stab of jealousy flares in Darren’s chest. His fingers curl tightly around his glass (still full) and he looks away.
And the beat is once again beating his brain. It never ends.
Third wheel. Third wheel.
.
P.S. I sorta love my icon. :D Emmett Cullen=win. Just not as much as Jasper Hale. LOL