stashhjonas's video: 30 Midnight Lullaby

Annie has never seen her children's faces happier. They rock on their heels, they skip as they walk, and they giggle as their father leads them to the training grounds to meet the rest of the team. Annie stays behind, sitting on the bleachers and waits impatiently for Miley to come with her large diamond ring sparkling on her finger. But in the meantime, she watches and listens carefully to her children and her husband. "So this is where you practice?" Cristian asks excitedly, tugging on his father's training bib. His dark eyes, the ones he has inherited from Annie, are bright and swirling with chips of golden delight, of joyous glory to be standing on the same ground his father has played for so many games. Gerard nods and watches his young daughter run over to Xabi Alonso and David Villa; Annie sighs at her daughter's bravery, at her flirty giggles and teases, wondering if she was ever like that at three years old. Gerard lets Amadea stay there, and leads Cristian over to where Fernando Torres and—Annie gulps down the rock settling in her throat—Sergio Ramos are stretching. Annie realizes that Gerard knows that much; that she and Sergio had met up several times during her stay in London, but he hasn't questioned her further than that. But he keeps his cool as he watches Cristian kick the ball aimlessly toward Fernando and Sergio, laughing as he does so. But at the same time, Annie can't help but feel an unsettled discomfort deep in the pit of her stomach. She glances toward Sergio, their eyes simultaneously meeting momentarily, but she turns her head around. The last thing she needs is for him to talk to her, for him to build up the brief friendship weeks ago. To distract herself, she observes her children walking about the field with the other children of the footballers, and keeps her vision locked on just them—not Gerard, not Sergio. "Oh, there you are!" Annie looks up to see Miley making her way over, throwing her arms around Annie in a much needed hug. "I know what you're about to ask," Annie chortles sourly, "but don't. I'd rather not talk about what happened in London at all." "Has Gerard asked?" Miley inquires worriedly, pulling her sunglasses down to cover her eyes. When Annie shakes her head, her friend lets out a grim sigh. "I don't know if this will concern you but . . . do you see that tall blonde by Malena?" Annie turns her head and for sure, she sees an elegantly tall blonde with a pixie cut hairdo and bohemian-inspired outfit. Annie sucks in a breath, recognizing the pieces of attire from her store, Maximum. Sure enough, she had a model-like quality to her physique: Plump lips and accentuated cheek bones, an exotic vibe to her posture and stature, a high-class poise to her emphasized accent. Annie felt ordinary, plain, next to Miley and the top-class models. Before Amadea and Cristian, she had been just like them—spontaneously beautiful, undeniably sexy, a catch in all the eyes of the footballers. With tight lips, she briskly says, "What about her?" "That's Sergio's girlfriend, Marzia." Why Annie felt a sudden sharpness stab her heart, she did not know. But looking at the super girl, Marzia, she felt the hotness in her cheeks flush with color, the sting pinch her eyes and her throat. There was nothing left to say, so Annie turns and smiles tartly towards Miley. "She's pretty." She is saved from the uncomfortable conversation when Amadea rushes over to with two small white daisies in her hand. "Mommy, look what Daddy got us!" she squeals in delight, thrusting the flowers into Annie's hands. "Put one in my hair," she demands joyfully, the eyes of her father glistening with glee. She kisses Annie's cheek sloppily, the smile still in tow. "That was from Daddy," she teases, running off with Cristian. Annie stares at the delicate daisy in her hand, half of the petals ripped off. She twirls the stem in her hand, glancing up to watch her husband train. But she misses Gerard's eye, only to wave miserably at Sergio in mistake. He merely stares at her, a desired look in his eyes as if to tell her "I-need-to-talk-to-you". She bows her head, ashamed, aggravated, and saddened with all the unfortunate events happening to her life. With torn heartstrings, she throws the fragile flower to the ground and stomps on it until it is nothing but a mere dusted particle, ready to be absorbed and sucked back into the Earth for a rebirth.