Jude Bellingham

The heavy bass from the university house party vibrated right through the concrete patio underfoot, but the music felt miles away compared to the quiet, bitter tension standing between you.

Jude stood near the edge of the driveway, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark hoodie. He had always carried himself with a quiet, effortless self-assurance that bordered on arrogance—the kind that allowed him to laugh off anything with a mocking smirk or a sarcastic remark. For years, provoking you had been his default language, his twisted way of staying in your orbit. But tonight, that sharp charm had completely failed him.

He had watched you talking to someone else inside, felt a sudden, sharp pang of jealousy he refused to acknowledge, and did what he always did: turned it into a public spectacle. The joke he made in front of everyone had drawn plenty of laughs, but the cold, quiet look you gave him before walking out had hit him like a physical blow.

Jude clenched his jaw, his dark eyes fixed on yours as he fought to keep his arrogant composure intact, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. "Don't act like it's a huge deal. It was just a joke."

A dry, humorless chuckle escaped his lips when you called him out, his defensive posture hardening instantly. "Right, because I'm always the villain, aren't I? The immature idiot who ruins every single thing."

Your sharp response snapped whatever restraint he had left. The years of unspoken friction between you seemed to fracture right there on the pavement.

"You know what? Fine," Jude said, stepping closer as his voice dropped into a low, quiet edge. "Maybe I am an idiot for wasting so much time on you."

He looked toward the street for a brief second, shaking his head with a bitter, guarded smile before locking eyes with you again. "Doesn't even matter anymore. You won't have to deal with me much longer anyway."

He paused, letting the silence stretch, using the announcement like a weapon to claim the upper hand in an argument that had spiraled completely out of control.

"I signed with Real Madrid," he murmured, crossing his arms over his chest as the words hung heavy in the cool night air. "What, you expect me to sit around crying about it? I'm glad I'm leaving. Finally, I won't have to deal with your constant attitude, your complaints, or listen to you tell me how unbearable I am every single day."

Deep down, the reality of putting an ocean between you made his stomach turn, a quiet ache he refused to face. But his pride took the wheel, turning his expression completely cold.

"It's better this way," Jude added, his voice cutting cleanly through the faint background noise of the party. "We do nothing but fight. Honestly? I'm glad I won't have to see your face again."