Archive of Our Own

Jordan inserted the brass key into the keyhole until it clicked, then pushed the green wooden door open into a holiday house. The moment he stepped inside, he was met with the chill and the musty scent of a house that hadn't been aired out in a long time. The scent of dust, old wood floors, and a faint, salty tang from the Mersey estuary drifted to his nose, bringing back unwanted memories.

He slowly took off his sneakers out of habit. The rustling sound of his feet dragging on the beige terry cloth rug, which was covered by a long plastic dust sheet, led him to stop in front of the living room.

He calmly knelt down to assemble the large cardboard box he had brought with him, glancing around as he did so. His favorite sofa was draped with a thick white sheet. He knew that the moment he touched it, the dust on the fabric's surface would surely billow into the air.

Even after all this time, he remembered exactly what that sofa looked like without the cover.

"Seriously? The movie’s not even halfway through and you’re already asleep?"

"You do know I’m weak when someone strokes my head. So, if you keep doing that, enjoy the movie alone."

That splinter of a memory brought a small smile to his lips...
Jordan shook the thoughts from his head until they began to fade. Then, he started spending time opening drawers in various cabinets, placing anything that belonged to him into the box amid the silent solitude of a Wednesday afternoon.

In the kitchen, a few coffee mugs still sat in the dish drying rack above the sink. Dust had collected so thickly that they were clearly visible. However, one mug in particular caught his eye because the person who had placed it there had turned it the wrong way, unlike the others.

Being a perfectionist, Jordan reached out to align the mug with the rest. He thought nothing of it, only chuckling at himself for still caring about such a small detail, until his eyes landed on a small chip on the edge of the mug, a flaw that shouldn't exist on something he considered 'perfect.'

If it hadn't been used regularly, it must have slipped while being washed.

Yes, it slipped while being washed…

"No! My favorite mug! Look!"

"You're such a klutz."

Jordan dragged the box, now filled with small belongings, deeper into the bedroom. The king-sized bed, stripped of its sheets, stood in the same spot with the same blanket neatly folded at the foot of the bed. He sighed before walking over and sitting down carefully. Next to the bed was a small table for the lamp. His rough hand reached out and pulled the drawer open. Inside, an old book lay still.

As he picked it up and opened it, his eyes caught a glimpse of a paper bookmark slightly sticking out of a page, as if to say the book's owner hadn't finished reading it.

"The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn... God, this novel must be a century old."

"Well, I like reading old novels."

Suddenly, he wondered if Huckleberry Finn eventually succeeded in helping Jim, the escaped slave, find freedom.

He placed the book back where it was, then walked over and opened the large wardrobe, which instantly greeted him with a blast of musty, woody scent. He grabbed some of his own clothes into the box: trousers, a leather jacket, T-shirts, and his old red kit. The blue kit with the seagull crest on the chest wasn't his, but he couldn't help but take it out and admire it.

Suddenly, his heart, which had been beating normally, began to tremble even more…

"Why did you change your number? Don't you like number twenty anymore?"

"No. I just want to wear the same number as you."

He gave a faint smile before hanging the shirt back on the rail, along with the few others inside. He quietly closed the wardrobe door and let his gaze sweep the room again, like checking for tidiness. He then walked around to the other nightstand on the side of the bed he used to sleep on. He slowly pulled the drawer open before finding his old mobile phone lying inside. He turned his face away, his lips tightening without realizing it until they began to hurt, as if his body was resisting a certain feeling that was flooding back.

Memories he never wanted to recall, yet they were deeply entrenched in his heart, no matter how hard he tried to forget.

Because he himself... was the one who started everything...

Jordan arrived at Adam’s holiday home after training, full of hope that Adam might have already returned. But the moment he bent down to take off his shoes, his eyes caught the now-familiar emptiness. There were no other shoes placed alongside his, only his own pair. And when he tried the doorknob, he found it was still tightly locked. He sighed, stepped into the silent house, walked over to the sofa, and picked up his phone to message Adam.

“Are you coming tonight?”

He waited for a moment, letting his mind wander with random hopes, even imagining a reply that said, "Of course." But what he received was a short answer:

“Probably not. A bit tired. Need to rest.”

He read it twice, then placed the phone on the table next to the sofa. He hadn't seen Adam in weeks, not since he moved to play for Brighton. The mismatched training schedules, the increased travel distance, and the silence that had begun to play a larger role than conversation. Even on the day they had to face each other as rivals on the pitch, he had hoped for a glance, a smile, or even just a nod like they used to share.

But nothing happened.

One day in November, Liverpool lost to Brighton their home ground, one goal to nil. But that didn't upset him as much as Adam's cold behavior. When Adam appeared in his sight, he stepped forward to block his path.

“Are you seeing someone else?” His deep voice sounded like something was stuck in his throat.

“Stop imagining things, will you?” Adam replied. His eyes were blank and cold. Then he stepped aside and walked away.

“Then what is it? Is it because you’re tired? Do you think I’m not tired?”

“Let's talk at home.”

Even though the cold attitude and short answers still bothered him, hearing Adam hint that he might come home tonight brought a small wave of hope. Even though he knew Adam could break his promise at any time, in the end, Adam did show up in the middle of the night. He woke Jordan, who was asleep on the sofa, and apologized for what had happened, explaining that he was stressed. Despite the recent victory over Liverpool, it seemed not enough because Brighton’s overall performance hadn't been great. He felt he needed to do everything possible to help the team survive this season.

Jordan slowly lowered his gaze and sighed wearily, but Adam’s tired face and eyes made him feel weak and easily forgiving. The pain he had felt seemed to ease slightly upon hearing those words, even if a few questions still lingered in his heart.

Jordan tossed his old mobile phone into the box along with the rest of his things, then walked out of the bedroom. He was about to turn toward the backyard when he suddenly stopped by a sound of a soft thud of a box hitting the floor from the front door.

And there...

He saw Adam Lallana, who had just stepped through the door, standing frozen in shock.

Their eyes met before either of them could prepare for it.

Jordan’s mouth hung open, caught off guard, for a moment before he offered a short greeting.

"Hey..."

The familiar voice made Adam freeze even more, like the world had stopped spinning.

"I'm moving to Al-Ettifaq."

Jordan stated the words in the middle of the silence while sitting on the sofa. His words hung in the air for a moment before he looked up at Adam, who was standing still, holding two mugs of hot cocoa.

"No. You're not," Adam replied, his voice strained.

"Ads, we've talked about this. I told you it's not just about the money, but I feel it's time for me to start fresh."

Adam shook his head. "I don't believe you." His voice instantly trembled, as if the words had struck him in the chest. Realizing his hands could no longer hold the mugs steady, he carefully placed them on the nearby table.

"You have to believe me. I'm flying out to sign the contract next week, and I've thought this through."

Adam swallowed hard, his throat tight. "And what about me? Are you just going to leave me here alone? You're choosing what's best for yourself by leaving me, Jord? What the hell are you thinking?" He began pacing, his tall frame restless.

Jordan let out a heavy sigh before getting up from the sofa after sensing the tension in Adam’s voice growing sharper by the second.

He reached out and gently grabbed Adam’s arm to stop him.

"Ads, listen."

Adam looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears. He didn’t wait for Jordan to explain or offer an excuse, because deep down, he already knew. No matter what was said, the end would still be the same: ending up alone.

"I’ve tried so hard to be better. Anything you didn’t like, I changed. And now you're doing this shit to me? You are so fucking selfish."

"I don't have a choice. You know how things are in Liverpool. I never wanted to leave you."

Adam yanked his arm free from Jordan’s grip.

"Stop it. Just stop talking like that. In the end, you chose a future without me anyway. You already made your decision. You didn’t even care how I felt."

Adam wiped away the tears he could no longer hold back. "How are we supposed to live, Jord? Video calls? Messages? That's not what I want."

"But that’s what it’s been for a while now, hasn’t it?" Jordan murmured, his empty gaze no longer meeting Adam’s eyes.

"What do you mean?" Adam challenged.

Jordan sighed and lowered his eyes to the floor. "Honestly," he began, "for the past few months, we haven't really been together at all."

Adam instantly froze, and a frightening silence descended upon the living room, so much so that he could hear himself swallow.

Jordan looked up at him again. His clear blue eyes were bloodshot, tears welling up at the edges.

"I'm sorry, Ads. But we've been drifting apart for too long. It's not the same anymore."

Adam's heart pounded wildly. Jordan's words threatened to change everything in a flash.

"You didn’t mean that... did you?" Adam whispered.

Jordan pursed his lips, his gaze looking away. "I did."

Adam’s trembling hands firmly grabbed Jordan's emotionless face.

"No, Jord. That's not true," Adam pleaded, forcing Jordan to meet his eyes.

"Look at me. It’s not true."

But then, a terrifying thought flashed through Adam’s mind. Everything Jordan had said suddenly made sense.

"Jord," he said softly, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

"You're not breaking up with me, are you?"

Jordan slowly closed his eyes, then opened them again, the pain within them becoming increasingly clear.

He looked at the man he loved. There was no sob—only a quiet swipe of tears from his cheek.

"I love you. I always have," he whispered hoarsely. "But I have to choose."

And in that very moment, Adam understood clearly and completely…

He understood what the word 'broken' truly felt like...

His entire world tilted and blurred. His whole body went numb, unable to feel anything, not even his own hands clenching so tightly that his nails dug into his own palms.

"Choose?" Adam repeated the word, sweat pouring down his face, making it feel burning hot like fire.

"So, this is how it’s going to be? Fine. Then I'll choose, too," Adam said in a frighteningly calm voice.

"We are done, Jordan."

Jordan's heart plummeted to the floor. As soon as he regained his senses, he tried to reach out for the person who used to be his everything.

"Ads, I didn't-"

But Adam wouldn't allow him to be touched anymore.

"Get out. And don't ever come back."

"Ads, please..."

"I said get out!"

Adam’s voice cracked like thunder. Jordan could do nothing but stand still, as if accepting the verdict. He watched Adam's body heave with his breathing, clearly a result of trying to control his emotions. The joyful face he longed to see every day was now flushed red with anger and soaked in tears.

Jordan took a deep breath, swallowing the pain. He then turned his back on Adam without another word. No final touch. No goodbye. Just silence.

The moment the front door shut, Adam collapsed. He had to quickly grab the edge of the sofa to keep himself from falling completely. The sobs he had held back erupted uncontrollably. The strength of the tough athlete was completely gone, leaving only a broken body curled on the floor.

It felt like the whole world fell apart in the blink of an eye.

The heart that had once been so carefully nurtured was now utterly shattered.

"Hey..."

Adam finally spoke, his voice soft as he bent down to pick up the box he had dropped when he saw Jordan appear in the house. His tall, lean body with the sharp features and a bit of stubble took a step back as Jordan moved closer.

Jordan still looked good. He wore the same hairstyle, dressed casually in the same inexpensive clothes. But what had changed were the aging lines on his face.

Yes, Jordan was thirty-five now, and he himself would turn forty in three years, having already retired from football.

Could not believe it had really been four years since they last met.

"I just found some free time today, so I came by. Sorry, I didn't let you know," Jordan said.

Adam nodded slowly. His hands gripped the large cardboard box tighter than normal, afraid he might drop it a second time.

Jordan watched him stand there silently, staring at him without blinking. Despite his surprise that fate would bring the two of them back together so unexpectedly, it was the same kind of surprise he had felt not too long ago.

A notification sound came from Jordan’s phone while he was sitting in his room at Brentford, his new club. He picked it up and found that it was a message from an unknown number. When he tapped to open and read it, only two short lines of text appeared:

'I saw the news you're back in England. I'm selling that house. If you still have any things there, you should come and get them. – Adam'

"Thanks for the message. But... where did you get my number—"

"Milly," Adam cut in without waiting for him to finish. Jordan stood there with his mouth slightly open before slowly nodding.

Silence slowly crept in between the two amidst the awkward atmosphere. There was only the sound of the wind blowing through the large trees, causing the window glass to rattle softly.

"Are you really going to sell this house?" Jordan asked, breaking the silence.

"I think it's time," Adam replied, carrying the empty cardboard box past him and into the house.

"How have you been..."

Thirty-seven-year-old Adam flinched slightly. The fact that his mind was incessantly dwelling on the past made him stop walking.

Why are you asking so many questions? Is it really that hard to just pack up and go?

Jordan noticed the pause and turned to face him again.

"You got the coaching job at Southampton, right? Congratulations," Jordan’s voice sounded like he was smiling.

"Not as tiring as a player, I reckon?"

Adam held his breath until nearly out of air before replying.

"I'm doing so good without you."

One night, Adam was curled up under a thick blanket on the sofa in his holiday home's living room in Liverpool. He had retired from football and was currently awaiting the official signing on as a coach for Southampton, the club where he grew up. Whether he was truly ready for it, he wasn’t sure.

On the coffee table in front of him were four empty beer bottles. He hadn’t been drinking to get drunk. Just enough to ease his chronic insomnia. Once the beer was gone, he flipped through TV channels, hoping to drift off. That was until he landed on the late-night news.

"...Transfer market update: England international midfielder Jordan Henderson has signed a two-year contract with Brentford FC on a free transfer after terminating his contract with Ajax Amsterdam..."

The news anchor’s voice and the bright glare of the television snapped Adam out of his drowsiness. As he opened his eyes and saw his ex-lover holding up a red and white football jersey on the screen, the sleepiness vanished instantly.

Jord...

Adam threw the blanket aside as a strange heat suddenly rushed through his body, especially in his face and around his eyes. He sat upright, clenching the remote control so tightly his wrist trembled. His brown eyes widened, locked onto Jordan’s smiling face as he signed the contract with his new club.

Then, the first tear streamed down his cheek to his chin before plopping onto his grey sweatpants, leaving a dark spot. More followed, especially when the broadcast cut to old footage of Jordan playing for Liverpool.

Finally... you're back.

But you didn't come back to me...

"I'm glad you're happy."

At the sound of that voice, Adam turned to face the man with bright blue eyes standing behind him. His lips curled into a faint smile, though it leaned more toward forced than genuine.

"Happy?" Adam scoffed, stepping forward to confront him.

"You disappeared for four years. Not a single message. How beautiful do you think my fucking life has been during that time?"

"Ads, I..."

"Oh, and another thing, in case you forgot... we dated for six years."

"Six fucking years! And now you show up acting like nothing happened. Like it’s normal to just vanish like that…"

"But I'm not you. I couldn't do that. I watched every match you played, never missed one. I was happy when you won, sad when you lost, and worried sick about whether you could handle everything. So, tell me, how could I ever forget you?”

"It wasn't easy for me either!" Jordan snapped, louder than he meant to. He ran a hand across his lips. That was the first time he had ever raised his voice at Adam.

Adam flinched, stunned into silence.

"I regret what happened. I regret not having the chance to make things right with you. Every night and day that passed, it was truly hard for me. Don't you dare think you were the only one suffering."

The look in Jordan's eyes softened instantly as he saw Adam fall silent.

Adam sobbed softly, raising his hands, intending to hit Jordan's chest, but stopped them halfway.

"If I hadn't sent you that message, we’d be over forever, wouldn’t we?"

“I swear… I never should’ve done that. It was so damn stupid. And now—these past ten minutes—I’ve started hating myself all over again. You know that?”

"I hate myself for never being able to forget you..."

Adam cried heartbreakingly. His body collapsed into the place that once felt safest. Jordan pulled him into a tight embrace, filled with overwhelming guilt and the deepest longing.

"I'm sorry, Ads," Jordan whispered, voice trembling as he gently stroked Adam’s brown hair. He was hurting too, just as deeply.

"Four years without you… I nearly lost my mind. I kept telling myself it would get better. Of course, I did. I was the one who walked away…”

"But it never got better, not for a single day, and I know you felt the same."

He paused for a breath, then forced himself to continue.

"But I'm here now... I came back for you. Even if it makes you hate yourself."

"If you still want me, Ads... just say a word. And I won't ask for anything else from you, because I'm not leaving you again."

Jordan squeezed him tighter. "I missed you so much..."

After letting himself be held for a long time, Adam slowly returned the embrace. The familiar scent brought back old memories, not of the bitter days, but of the sweetest ones.

They were still so clear...

Adam gently pulled away.

"I've always been the one to lose... especially when it comes to you," he murmured.

"All this time... you've been the only one in my mind. Even now, it's still the same... always. Never changed."

When those words ended, Jordan didn't hesitate. In a split second, he leaned in and kissed Adam with longing and intense passion. Adam didn't resist. He leaned into the touch as if he had been waiting for an eternity.

Jordan pulled back, looking into Adam's tear-stained eyes, where he saw a flicker of hope.

"Start over with me, Ads. You won't regret it ever again. I won't let it happen again. I promise."

Adam looked like he was about to cry again, then nodded in acceptance without any hesitation.

The familiar wide smile appeared on Jordan's face, the smile that Adam had once fallen completely in love with all his heart. No matter how much time had passed, he still remembered it perfectly.

"This house... I want to buy it from you," Jordan said.

Adam paused for a moment before laughing. The hand that had just wiped away his tears lightly shoved the other's head playfully.

"Don't be ridiculous..."

"Hey, I'm serious. Name your price," Jordan shrugged with a smile. "I'll go all in."

Adam looked up at him, his eyes still red and swollen, but with a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He then stood on his toes and whispered into Jordan's ear.

"You don't have to pay anything... just be here."

The End.