Teia

bf!desire who acts all confident around everyone else but gets a little shy when you genuinely compliment him. you'll tell him he played well and he'll grin, look down, scratch the back of his neck and mumble, "you think so?"

bf!desire who absolutely loves making you laugh. he'll purposely mispronounce words, make terrible jokes, dance badly in the kitchen all because your laugh is his favorite sound.

bf!desire who gives the sweetest hugs after training. he's tired, a little sweaty, and the first thing he wants is to bury his face in your shoulder for thirty seconds before saying hello properly.

bf!desire who loves introducing you to his favorite anime, but spends half the episode watching you instead of the tv. the second your eyes widen or you gasp, he's already smiling because he knows exactly what's coming next.

bf!desire who always steals your phone when you're sitting beside him just to take the most horrendous selfies imaginable before giving it back.

bf!desire who starts dancing the second music comes on. doesn't matter if you're in the kitchen, the living room, or brushing your teeth he's pulling you into a little dance.

bf!desire who kisses your forehead whenever he walks past you. it's become such a habit that neither of you even notices anymore.

bf!desire who insists on carrying every bag after shopping, even when you tell him you can manage. "i know you can. i'm still carrying them."

bf!desire who acts like he doesn't want your attention until you're busy doing something else. suddenly he's standing beside you asking, "what are you doing?"

bf!desire who gets way too invested in your hobbies. if you mention liking something, suddenly he's watched three videos about it so he can talk to you about it.

if people can describe michael olise in one word, they would have said nonchalant. but he was not, and you knew it but not at this point.

he was never overly affectionate in public, wasn’t the type to constantly ask for hugs or follow you around the apartment for no reason. he loved physical affection of course, but in his own quiet little ways like a hand resting on your thigh during dinner or his fingers intertwined with yours while watching a movie.

that was precisely why the past week had completely confused you.

france had lost the world cup semi-final a week ago, yes and you knew how much it had hurt him, even if michael had hidden it better than most people.

but the second he had returned to munich, he had practically attached himself to you like a very tall and sad koala.

when you were at the airport, the moment he saw you waiting for him, he hugged you for almost two whole minutes without saying a single word.

during the car ride home, he held your hand the entire time, when you got home, he followed you everywhere but like... literally everywhere.

if you went to the kitchen, he was standing beside you. if you sat on the couch? he immediately laid down with his head on your lap and if you went to brush your teeth, he was leaning against the bathroom doorframe waiting for you.

at first, you thought it was sweet but day two happened, day three... and day seven.

“baby?”

“hm?”

“why are you following me?”

you looked over your shoulder to find him standing in the doorway of the laundry room.

“i’m not,” he shrugged slightly.

“i’m putting towels away.”

“yeah.”

“so why are you here?”

he looked around the room for a few seconds and didn't answer.

he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore, and when the pre-saison training had started a few days ago, his teammates had immediately noticed something was different.

“you going home after this?” jamal asked. “we wanted to eat together.”

“yeah... can’t.”

“why?”

michael had looked down while putting his things away. “she’s waiting for me.”

to be honest, you were not.

“okay...”

you had genuinely started wondering whether he had developed separation anxiety overnight because this was getting out of hands.

one evening, you decided to take a shower before bed and when you walked back into your shared bedroom twenty minutes later, you found michael laying across your side of the bed hugging your pillow.

“that’s my pillow.”

“yeah.”

“why are you hugging it?”

“i'm waiting for you.”

you sat beside him. “baby.”

he immediately sat up before wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his face against your stomach.

“are you okay?” you asked softly.

“yeah.”

“you’ve been glued to me for an entire week and yesterday you asked me to come sit in the bathroom because you didn’t want to be alone while taking a bath.”

“that’s reasonable.”

“no it’s not.”

you gently ran your fingers through his locks while waiting for him to speak.

“i don’t really feel good,” he quietly admitted.

your expression immediately softened, he rarely admitted things like that.

“because of the world cup?”

he nodded against your shoulder. “i know it’s stupid.”

“it’s not.”

“everyone keeps telling me we’ll have another opportunity in four years.”

“you will.”

“i know but i wanted this one.”

you smiled sadly.

that suddenly explained everything. he wasn’t being clingy because he suddenly became a different person, he was simply allowing himself to feel miserable.

“i’m sorry, i’ve been following you around like a puppy.”

“a little,” you laughed softly.

“just a little?”

“a very sad puppy. and you’re allowed to have bad weeks, michael.”

“thank you, because i’m probably going to continue being clingy for another week.”

“i figured,” you smiled.

the world cup was over for france.

the stadium was still loud around désiré, spanish supporters celebrating while french fans sat in stunned silence. his chest felt heavy, his throat hurt from holding back tears for the last ten minutes of the match and he hated how helpless he had felt when the clock kept ticking down.

he had dreamed about this moment his entire life but not this ending.

the moment he saw you waiting for him in the tunnel, something inside him broke.

his face immediately crumpled as he wrapped his arms around you without even saying hi, just buried his face in your shoulder and cried.

it was real, ugly tears that he had been trying so hard to hide in front of millions of people only a few seconds earlier.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered. “i’m so sorry.”

your own tears had already started falling the second you saw his red eyes and you wrapped both arms around him, gently running your fingers through his curls as if that alone could make the pain disappear.

“you have nothing to apologize for.”

“we lost,” his voice cracked completely on the last word.

“i know.”

“i wanted this so badly.”

you closed your eyes as tears slipped down your own cheeks. you wanted it too, you had imagined the final, celebrating with him and watching him lift the trophy.

instead, here you were, crying together in a stadium tunnel.

“i know, baby,” you kissed his neck.

he cried even harder at the nickname. it sounded so unfair for him, how could you still be comforting him when you were hurting too?

he pulled away slightly to look at you and immediately frowned when he noticed your tears.

“why are you crying?”

“because you’re crying?” you laughed.

he shook his head, wiping one of your tears away with his thumb before another one rolled down his own face.

“don’t cry because of me.”

“that’s impossible.”

the tunnel around you was strangely quiet despite the chaos happening outside.

“i feel like i disappointed everyone.”

“you didn’t.”

“i disappointed myself.”

“you could lose every match for the rest of your career and i’d still be proud of you,” you gently took his face in your hands as his eyes immediately filled with tears again.

you smiled sadly when you saw him crying again, somehow louder.

“next time, cutie,” you whispered.

“yeah next time,” he murmured still crying.

this wouldn’t be the last world cup of his career and you know it, one day, when the tears will be replaced by smiles and gold medals, you’d still be waiting for him in the tunnel exactly like you were now.