rêves d’amour

the problem with quiet nights was that eventually, they became too quiet.

not the peaceful kind of quiet. the kind where both people were comfortable enough to do absolutely nothing, but somehow still managed to be bored out of their minds.

the movie had ended nearly twenty minutes ago, the credits had long disappeared from the screen, and the empty bowls from dinner were still abandoned on the coffee table because neither of them had the energy to get up and move them.

jude was lying beside her, one arm tucked behind his head, casually scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t been staring at the same few apps for the last ten minutes. she knew because she’d been watching him do absolutely nothing while claiming he was “relaxing.”

she, on the other hand, was staring at the ceiling, silently searching for something—anything—that could save them from another hour of sitting in comfortable boredom. they had already watched two movies, spent far too much money on food they definitely didn’t need, and wasted at least forty minutes arguing over what to watch next.

somehow, she had gotten her way. a tragedy jude had been silently mourning ever since the opening scene.

“i still think my choice would’ve been better.” he announced, finally tearing his eyes away from his phone to stare at the blank TV screen like he was still personally offended by the movie.

she slowly turned her head towards him, raising an eyebrow. for a moment, she just stared at him, waiting for him to realize how ridiculous he sounded.

“jude,” she said, pressing her lips together to stop herself from laughing. “you spent the entire movie complaining.”

he stared at her in disbelief, giving her leg a light nudge with his foot, like the tiny gesture alone was enough to defend himself.

“i did not,” he insisted, his voice carrying the kind of offense usually reserved for much bigger accusations.

she let out a small laugh, shaking her head as she turned towards him. “you sighed every five minutes.”

he opened his mouth to argue, but she continued before he could. “not even subtle ones either. full dramatic sighs.”

the corner of his mouth twitched, already knowing she wasn’t finished.

“you said the plot made no sense,” she said, far too pleased with herself, leaning back against the sofa like she had just presented undeniable evidence. “you paused the movie to ask me how much longer was left.”

before he could defend himself, she stretched her leg out and gently tapped his with hers, the satisfied smile on her face making it obvious she knew she had him.

“hey,” he protested, looking down at where she’d bumped him, then smoothly right back at her.

“what?” she blinked at him, putting on the most innocent expression she could manage, even though the smile threatening to appear gave her away.

jude narrowed his eyes.

“did you just kick me?” he glanced down at where her foot was still resting against his leg, looking genuinely betrayed.

“you’re a professional footballer, jude. surely you can handle a tiny kick.”

for a second, he just looked at her.

then the corner of his mouth lifted, that familiar smug little smile appearing like he’d suddenly found a way to win the argument after all.

“i can handle a lot more than that for you, baby.” he said, his voice dropping into a teasing murmur, far too confident for someone who had just been complaining about a harmless kick.

“are you seriously trying to flirt your way out of losing an argument?” she asked, her voice laced with amusement, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched him.

jude didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.

“maybe,” he simply smiled, reaching over to steal a piece of popcorn from the bowl between them like he hadn’t just been caught trying to charm his way out of losing.

the argument was over. well… as over as anything could be with jude. he never actually admitted she was right, and she knew better than to expect him to, but eventually they both decided the movie debate had gone on long enough.

so they moved on. by doing absolutely nothing.

he went back to scrolling through his phone, occasionally showing her random videos he found funny. she pretended not to care, then laughed at almost every single one. he stole some of her snacks. she stole them back. he complained like she had committed a serious crime despite the fact that he was the one who started it.

somehow, this became their activity for the next fifteen minutes. which would’ve been fine… if they weren’t still bored.

she looked around the living room, then at him, then back at the living room… then back at him.

she shifted closer to him, closing the small space between them until she was tucked against his side, mostly because she had run out of ideas and partly because being bored was easier when she was annoying him.

jude’s eyes left his phone, narrowing slightly as he looked down at her.

“why are you doing that?”

she blinked. “doing what?”

he gave her a look, the kind that said he already knew she was planning something.

“that.”

“she glanced down at herself, pretending to be confused. “i’m sitting next to you.”

“no,” he said, setting his phone down. “you’re plotting.”

a laugh almost escaped her. “i’m not plotting.”

he looked down at her, his expression changing slightly — not surprised, just amused, like he already knew she was lying.

“careful.”

she looked up at him. “what?”

jude’s mouth twitched as he watched her, already suspicious. he set his phone down beside him and tilted his head slightly.

“you’re either about to ask me for something or start trouble.”

she smiled, completely caught but not even trying to deny it. “maybe both.”

“i knew it.” his lips curved into a small smile as he looked away, like he was trying not to encourage her. then he shifted slightly beside her, turning his body more towards her as he waited, already knowing she was about to suggest something.

“jude,” she whined, letting her head fall back against the sofa. “we need to do something. we’ve officially reached the point where we’re bored of being bored.”

he didn’t answer immediately but his attention was fully on her now. his phone had been long forgotten somewhere on the sofa, abandoned the second he realized she was definitely up to something.

she turned her head towards him.

“jude.”

he looked at her, already knowing from her tone that she wasn’t going to let this go. “i heard you.”

she waited a second, then shifted closer, eventually resting her head against his shoulder as she waited for his answer.

“and?” she asked patiently.

jude looked down at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. he shifted slightly on the sofa, getting more comfortable as if he genuinely needed time to consider the most important decision of the night.

“i’m thinking.”

she stayed quiet for a moment, her head still resting against his shoulder, waiting for his so-called “thinking” to lead somewhere. the silence stretched. she looked up at him.

“are you actually thinking, or are you just sitting there looking like you are?” she asked, watching his overly serious expression for a moment before a laugh threatened to escape. the way he looked so focused made it almost impossible not to laugh.

then his expression turned offended.

“wow,” he lightly squeezed her cheek between his fingers, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “the disrespect.”

she let out a small laugh, turning her face slightly away from his hand. “you’re so dramatic.”

“i’m hurt.”

“you’ll survive.”

“barely.”

she rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

then she went quiet. not bored quiet. thinking quiet. jude noticed.

“why do i feel like that silence means trouble?”

her smile grew wider as the idea fully formed. she lifted her head from his shoulder, turning towards him with sudden excitement.

“i have an idea.” her eyes lit up as she brought her hands together in a quick clap. “hear me out.”

his eyes immediately narrowed. he knew that tone. the last time she had said “hear me out,” it had never been followed by anything normal.

“i don’t like where this is going,” he said, though the small smile on his face betrayed him.

she ignored him, a grin spreading across her face as she pushed herself up from the sofa.

“hide and seek.” she said it like she had just come up with the greatest idea in history.

jude stared at her. for a moment, he genuinely looked like he was waiting for the rest of the sentence. “…hide and seek?”

she nodded, completely serious. he blinked, glancing around the room before looking back at her.

“you’re serious,” the small smile on his face gave away that he wasn’t actually against it — he was just trying to understand how they had gone from being bored on the sofa to this. “we’re really doing this?”

“yes, go hide.”

he stayed exactly where he was on the sofa, staring up at her like he was waiting for her to reveal that this was a joke.

“that’s it?”

she looked back at him, confused by his confusion.

“that’s it.”

“you’re not even going to explain the rules?”

“jude, it’s hide and seek. i think you’ll manage.” she gave him a shrug.

a slow, confident grin spread across his face as he finally pushed himself off the sofa. he straightened to his full height, looking down at her like he’d just accepted the challenge of a lifetime.

“don’t come crying to me when you can’t find me,” he said, his voice full of mock confidence. “you clearly underestimate my hiding abilities.”

“please,” she said with a quiet laugh, waving a dismissive hand. “i bet i could find you in under a minute.”

he looked at her in complete disbelief, “you really think i can’t hide?” his eyebrows shooting up for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

“jude…” she looked him up and down, making a very obvious show of it before meeting his eyes again. “you’re six foot something.”

he frowned.

“six foot one.” he corrected, as if the extra precision somehow strengthened his case. he folded his arms, looking at her expectantly. “so?”

she blinked. “…and you think you’re gonna disappear?”

he didn’t hesitate.

“yes,” he answered with effortless confidence, like the answer was painfully obvious. the corner of his mouth lifted into a smug smile as he shrugged one shoulder. “i fail to see how’s that relevant.”

she looked at him for a second. then another. trying—unsuccessfully—to keep a straight face.

“jude…” she shook her head, a laugh already escaping her. “because you’re built like a lamp post.”

the silence that followed lasted all of half a second. then she completely lost it. a burst of laughter escaped her as she bent forward, one hand flying to her stomach while the other reached for his arm to steady herself.

jude instinctively glanced down at himself, turning slightly as if checking whether she might somehow have a point.

“…i’m not built like a lamp post.” he looked back at her with complete sincerity, sounding genuinely offended by the comparison.

she completely lost it. she managed between laughs, shaking her head. “i can’t believe you actually checked.”

she was still laughing when he looked at her for another second, clearly deciding that words weren’t going to win this argument. a small, determined smile tugged at his lips.

“right,” he muttered.

before she could say anything else, he turned on his heel and took off down the hallway. she stared after him, completely caught off guard. for a second, she just stood there, trying to process what had happened. then she blinked.

“did you just run away?”

a few seconds of silence followed. then his voice echoed from somewhere upstairs. “you said hide!”

she pressed her lips together, already fighting another laugh.

“jude,” she called back, already knowing this was going to be a disaster. “you’re supposed to hide, not announce your escape!”

she shook her head, still smiling as she made her way upstairs, listening carefully. the confidence he had disappeared with was honestly impressive. he had spent the last five minutes insisting he had “hiding abilities,” and now she was about to find out if that was actually true. she walked slowly down the hallway, looking into each room. the house was quiet. too quiet.

“jude?”

no answer. she let out a quiet huff of amusement and continued down the hallway until she reached the bedroom. she pushed the door open slowly, peeking inside. nothing immediately caught her attention. she stepped in, looking around the room.

“okay,” she whispered, mostly to herself. “you’re really trying this time.”

a small movement near the window caught her attention. she stopped. slowly, she turned her head towards the curtain. she took a few steps closer, already trying to hold back a laugh. and then she saw it. jude was behind the curtain. or, more accurately, jude had attempted to be behind the curtain. because while the curtain was doing its best to hide the upper half of him, his legs were completely visible underneath.

she just stood there. looking at him. looking at his very obvious legs sticking out. then back at the curtain. she had to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing. the funniest part was that he wasn’t even moving. he was completely still, probably convinced that his plan was flawless. a six-foot-something professional footballer, hiding behind a curtain like he had just mastered the art of invisibility. she stared for another second.

“jude.”

silence.

she looked down at his legs again. “seriously?”

behind the curtain, he stayed perfectly still. which somehow made it even worse.

“your legs are out,” a laugh slipped from her lips. “like…really out.”

for a moment, she expected him to admit defeat. instead, his voice came from behind the curtain.

“they are not.” he was far too confident for someone whose hiding spot had already been exposed.

she rubbed a hand over her face, completely speechless, before glancing down again, just to make sure she wasn’t somehow imagining the very obvious pair of legs sticking out.

she slowly pointed at him. “your entire body is outside the curtain.”

she could practically hear him trying to come up with a response. he slowly looked down, as if he was only now checking whether she was telling the truth. his eyes landed on his very visible legs sticking out from underneath the curtain.

“…how unfortunate.” he said it with complete seriousness, like he had just discovered a major flaw in an otherwise perfect plan.

she burst into laughter. jude sighed, finally stepping out from behind the curtain with as much dignity as he could possibly recover. he straightened his shirt, acting like nothing embarrassing had happened.

“i was warming up.” he said it casually, with the kind of confidence that made it obvious he expected her to believe him.

she pinched the bridge of her nose, still trying to process the fact that he had just called standing behind a curtain “warming up.”

“you know warming up usually involves moving, right?” she blinked.

he looked at her, completely unfazed. “i was mentally preparing.” he scratched the back of his neck and glanced away briefly before meeting her eyes again.

“for what?

“the next round.”

before she could answer, he walked past her with a suspicious amount of confidence. she turned around, watching him with disbelief as he started walking away again. “you’re going again?”

“obviously.” he glanced back at her, like the answer was obvious.

“i found you under a minute.” she let out a small laugh.

there was a brief pause where he looked like he was deciding how to respond. then, with complete confidence:

“i was testing you. wanted to see how quickly you’d figure it out.”

“right,” she said slowly, clearly not believing a word of it. “round two, you have sixty seconds.”

“that’s not enough time.” he looked offended.

she shrugged, already amused. “maybe don’t choose a hiding spot where your legs introduce themselves first.”

jude clicked his tongue, folding his arms across his chest.

“the curtain let me down.” he sighed dramatically, sounding genuinely disappointed by its lack of cooperation.

she tilted her head, amusement clear on her face. “of course you’d blame the curtain.”

he looked like he was about to defend himself again, already preparing another explanation. she waved him off, trying not to laugh again.

“go now, i’m counting.”

he opened his mouth, probably ready with another excuse, but she was already covering her eyes and facing the wall.

“one…”

the second she started counting, she heard his footsteps disappear down the hallway.

“two…”

a door opened somewhere nearby. she paused for half a second.

“three…” she raised an eyebrow.

the closet. or maybe the bathroom. then came a small thud. something had definitely fallen. let’s hope it wasn’t jude.

she bit back a laugh.

“please tell me that wasn’t you,” she whispered to herself, even though she already had a feeling it was.

“four…”

knowing him, he was probably standing completely still, hoping the noise would somehow disappear. there was silence. then she heard it. a quiet sound from somewhere in the house — like he was trying desperately not to laugh. she smiled, shaking her head as she continued counting.

“five…”

by the time she reached the end, she already had a feeling this round was going to be just as ridiculous as the first. she lowered her hand and turned around.

“ready or not…” she paused for a moment, letting the silence build. “here i come.”

she walked towards the open doorway, glancing down the hallway. she checked the bathroom first. nothing. she stepped inside for a second, looking around just to be sure. she paused, her eyes moving from the shower to the bathtub.

“okay, progress,” she muttered, almost impressed. “good. at least we’re not at the point where you’re hiding in the shower.”

she left the bathroom, glancing back down the hallway. it was quiet. then she noticed the guest room door. it was slightly closed. a smile tugged at her lips. that was suspicious. she walked towards the room, her steps quieter as she approached the door. she pushed it open slowly, looking around. the room was empty. no movement. no obvious signs of jude. no feet sticking out, no curtains involved, no disaster waiting to happen.

she had to give him that much — he had learned from his mistakes. she stayed quiet for a moment, letting herself believe he might have actually pulled it off. then she noticed the closet. the one place in the room that looked like it was trying very hard not to be noticed. it was closed. completely closed. suspiciously closed. she walked towards it, already smiling.

she reached for the handle. jude heard some movement, his confidence disappearing almost instantly.

silence.

she opened the closet door. he was standing completely still, hidden between the clothes, trying his best to blend in. for a second, neither of them said anything. then she raised an eyebrow.

a pair of broad shoulders were sticking out between the jackets, making absolutely no attempt to look like they belonged there. she stood there for a second, taking in the scene. the effort was there. the execution, unfortunately, was questionable.

“jude…”

“what?” his voice came from inside the closet, completely calm.

she glanced at the clothes surrounding him, then back at the very obvious person hiding between them.

“you’re not a jacket.” she blinked then burst out laughing, the sound warm and effortless.

his confidence faltered for the briefest moment. not because she had found him — he expected that eventually. but because she had insulted his entire strategy.

“i was going for the same idea.” he frowned, pushing the clothes away from his shoulders as if they were somehow responsible for the situation. he looked more offended by the clothes’ failure to hide him than the fact that she had found him.

“the idea was to blend in,” she gestured towards the clothes around him. “not become the largest item in the closet.”

she paused, looking him up and down. “you’re literally the reason the jackets look small.”

he shook his head, still trying to recover from the attack on his hiding skills.

“alright,” he stepped out of the closet, fixing his shirt and pretending he hadn’t just been exposed between her old jackets. “enough about my strategy.”

she opened her mouth.

“nope,” he said quickly, pointing at her before she could say anything else. a small grin appeared on his face.

“your turn to hide,” he walked past her towards the hallway, clearly enjoying the fact that the attention was finally off him. “let’s see how good you are.”

she followed him into the hallway, watching as he turned around and covered his eyes with one hand, leaning casually against the wall.

“you have one minute,” he announced, sounding far too confident for someone who had just been found hiding between jackets.

“don’t peek.” she smiled, already backing away.

he let out a quiet laugh. “relax. i’ll give you a chance.”

“a chance?”

“yeah,” he glanced back slightly — not enough to actually see her. “wouldn’t want to ruin the fun.”

the second he started counting, she slipped away quietly.

“one…”

she walked quickly down the hallway, keeping her steps light.

“two…”

she reached their bedroom and pushed the door open carefully, making sure it didn’t make a sound.

“three…”

she glanced around the room, considering her options. the closet was too obvious. behind the curtains would be too predictable. and after his first attempt, she wasn’t about to make the same mistake. her attention dropped to the space beneath the bed.

perfect.

she crouched down and slowly lowered herself onto the floor, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous this felt. once she was underneath, she pulled herself farther back, settling into the shadows. she covered her mouth, holding back a laugh as she imagined jude walking around the house with all the confidence of someone who had definitely forgotten he had been defeated twice already.

“forty-four…”

his voice echoed faintly from the hallway. she stayed completely still. this time, she was winning.

fifteen minutes later, he was still searching. and somehow…

he still hadn’t found her. at this point, he wasn’t even looking for her anymore. he was looking for an explanation. he stood in the hallway, hands on his hips, completely confused.

“okay…” he looked around the empty rooms. “this is getting ridiculous.”

from beneath the bed, she had to bite down on her lip. she could hear the frustration in his footsteps as he walked around the room again.

“i know you’re somewhere,” he called out, his voice echoing through the bedroom.

a few seconds passed. nothing. jude waited. still nothing. his patience started wearing thin. he let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair as he looked around the room again.

“baby…” his voice softened, but there was still a hint of defeat in it. “please come out now.”

“i’m starting to think you’re not even hiding anymore,” he called out, his voice carrying through the room. “i think you’ve moved out. i miss you.”

she nearly laughed. she was enjoying this. it was almost impressive how quickly he had gone from “i’ll find you in seconds” to acting like she had vanished from the entire house. fifteen minutes ago, he was confident. now he was negotiating with silence.

she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“jude…” her voice was quiet, but it was enough.

the second his name left her lips, the room went silent. a pause.

then—

“aha,” his voice changed instantly. the frustration disappeared, replaced by pure victory. “i knew it.”

she immediately regretted giving herself away.

“wait—”

before she could move, he dropped down beside the bed. “found you.”

she tried to pull herself farther back, but it was too late. his hand reached under the bed and caught her ankle gently.

“jude!”

“nope,” he laughed, carefully pulling her out as she tried to hold onto the edge of the bed. “you actually thought you were going to win?”

with one last pull, jude slid her completely out from under the bed. she dissolved into laughter, sprawled across the floor while he looked far too pleased with himself.

“fifteen minutes,” he said proudly. “but i got you.”

she shook her head. “you begged me to come out.”

his smile faltered for a second. “that was a strategy.”

for a second, she just stayed there, lying on her back, looking up at him. he stood above her with the most satisfied expression she had seen all night. she barely had time to take a step before his hands caught her around the waist, stopping her.

“hey, jude—”

he laughed as she protested, lifting her just enough to make her lose her balance before gently dropping her onto the bed. she landed with a soft bounce, breathless with laughter, looking up at him as though she couldn’t quite believe he’d actually followed through. before she could sit up, he leaned over her, trapping her beneath him with a grin that screamed victory.

“next round is on the bed,” he announced confidently. “you know i’m winning this, baby.”

she shook her head, completely entertained by the confidence he had somehow regained. then she dropped her head back against the pillow, trying to understand how he had turned a simple game into such a big event. he leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, gentle and quick, like he was celebrating his very important victory. when he pulled back, he still had that satisfied look on his face.

she pushed herself up onto her elbows, the smile still lingering on her face as she watched him. “we’re having a rematch tomorrow.”

jude let out a quiet laugh, clearly amused by how determined she was.

“shhh,” he lifted a finger to his lips, silencing her before she could start planning the rematch already forming in her head. “we have a long night ahead.”

he reached for her and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek as he enjoyed the moment. she took advantage of his distraction, tugging him closer and stealing a quick kiss that left him momentarily speechless. he didn’t let her pull away so easily, chasing after her lips for another kiss. when they finally broke apart, her lips traced a playful path to his cheek, leaving a soft peck there before she leaned closer to his ear.

“still counts as a win for me.” she whispered, the quiet triumph in her voice making him chucke softly.

“enjoy your victory, baby,” he whispered back, a quiet challenge in his voice. “i’ll have mine soon enough.”

she settled back against the bed, watching him with an amused expression as he carried himself like he had just won a championship—which he hadn’t.

but she wouldn’t trade it for anything. not the teasing. not the ridiculous competition. not the way they could spend hours doing absolutely nothing and still feel like time moved too quickly.

the annual end-of-season gala had always been one of the club’s biggest events.

it was the kind of evening where everyone traded training kits for tailored suits and elegant dresses. conversations overlapped beneath the soft hum of live music, champagne glasses clinked together, and camera flashes illuminated the room every few moments as players stopped to greet sponsors, teammates, coaches, and familiar faces they’d barely had the chance to speak to all season.

it was a night built for celebration, where everyone seemed to know everyone, and no one stayed in the same place for long.

for the players, however, the evening began long before the first guests arrived. there were interviews to film, sponsor obligations to fulfill, photographs to pose for, and media appearances scheduled down to the minute.

michael had left nearly an hour before she did. he’d kissed her goodbye in the apartment doorway, promising he’d see her soon.

“don’t take too long.” she’d teased, smoothing the lapel of his suit.

he’d smiled, leaning down to steal one last kiss.

“i’ll try.”

he expected it to be just another event. another evening of polite conversations, photographs, and speeches he’d probably forget by the end of the week.

then she walked in.

not in a way that made the room fall silent. no one stopped what they were doing. no heads turned.

but his did.

he’d watched her get ready barely an hour earlier. he’d seen the dress. he’d watched her smooth the fabric over her hips, frowning at her reflection as she quietly wondered if she should change. he’d been the one to zip it up before they left the apartment.

the one who’d smiled against the back of her shoulder and whispered,

“you look beautiful.” before pressing a lingering kiss to the warm curve of her skin.

he’d thought that would be enough. so he wasn’t prepared for what happened when she stepped into the ballroom. beneath the warm glow of the chandeliers, with laughter and conversation filling the room around them, she somehow stole the breath from his lungs all over again.

she stepped inside, taking it all in for a brief moment. then her eyes immediately began searching for him. they drifted across clusters of familiar faces, over teammates dressed in tailored suits, club staff moving from one conversation to the next, and sponsors gathered near the stage. but she didn’t have to look for long.

he was already looking at her.

standing across the ballroom, surrounded by cameras and half-listening to whatever question had just been asked, his eyes had drifted towards the entrance the moment the doors had opened. as though he’d been waiting for her.

as though he’d been checking every few minutes to see if she’d arrived yet.

the second he saw her, something in his expression softened. the polite smile he’d been wearing for photographers disappeared, replaced by one that belonged only to her.

she couldn’t help but smile back. he gave the smallest nod, barely noticeable to anyone else.

there you are.

it wasn’t spoken. it didn’t have to be. she understood it anyway.

she smiled politely at the people who greeted her, returning hugs and exchanging a few words, but her attention kept wandering.

at first, the evening felt effortless.

every chance he got, he found his way back to her. his hand settled instinctively at the small of her back as they wove through the crowd, guiding her without a word. beneath the dinner table, his fingers found hers, absentmindedly intertwining with them while someone else told a story.

every now and then, he’d lean down just to ask if she was alright, even though she was standing right beside him. sometimes, all it took was a glance from across the room, ending in a smile meant only for her.

quiet gestures. familiar habits. little reminders that, even in a room full of people, they never stopped looking for each other.

then the evening, almost cruelly, began asking for more of them than it had at the start. every conversation lasted a little longer than expected. every goodbye turned into another introduction. every time michael started making his way back to her, someone called his name before he could get there.

she never complained. she simply smiled, checking him over like she always did, before giving him a small nod.

“go,” she said softly. “i’ll be here.”

she reached up, gently fixing the collar of his suit before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

he smiled softly against her lips, lingering for a moment longer than he meant to.

“i won’t be long.” he hesitated to pull away, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand.

she watched him disappear into the crowd, never imagining it would be nearly two hours before they stood beside each other again.

every time he looked up…

she was somewhere else.

at first, it was with one of the players girlfriends, the two of them laughing over something as they stood near the bar. the next time he found her, she was deep in conversation with one of the club’s physios, listening so intently that she hadn’t even noticed him looking.

a few minutes later, someone was introducing her to an older couple—parents of one of the academy players, if he remembered correctly. she greeted them with the same warm smile she seemed to reserve for everyone she met, her attention entirely on the conversation in front of her.

by the time another sponsor insisted on refilling her champagne, michael had already lost count of how many times he’d searched the room for her. he told himself it was nothing.

because it was.

she wasn’t flirting. she wasn’t doing anything she shouldn’t have been. she was simply being herself.

kind.

patient.

the sort of person who made complete strangers feel comfortable within minutes of meeting her. it was one of the things he loved most about her. tonight… it was also becoming one of the hardest things to watch.

his gaze lingered longer than it should have. he noticed things he normally would’ve ignored. the man who leaned in just a little too close to hear her over the music, even though there was more than enough space between them.

the sponsor who seemed in no hurry to end the conversation, smiling every time she laughed. the way another guest rested a hand lightly against her elbow as they spoke, casual enough that no one else would’ve thought twice about it.

michael did.

not because he believed any of it meant something. it didn’t.

he trusted her.

entirely.

but trust had never been the issue.

the issue was that she’d come to the gala as his girlfriend. they’d arrived hoping to spend the evening together. yet somehow…

everyone else seemed to have more of her than he did. every time he finally managed to excuse himself from one conversation and started making his way across the ballroom…

someone else reached her first. another greeting. another introduction. another laugh that wasn’t meant for him. he hated the feeling that settled in his chest.

quiet. unfamiliar. unreasonable. but impossible to ignore all the same.

meanwhile…

she had no idea she’d been the center of his attention all evening. as far as she was concerned, michael was just as impossible to catch as she was. every time she thought she’d finally get a moment with him…

someone called his name.

the ballroom had started to feel smaller. too warm. too loud. every conversation blended into the next until michael could barely distinguish one voice from another. he excused himself with a polite apology, murmuring something about needing some air before slipping through the doors leading out onto the terrace.

the night greeted him with a welcome breeze. he loosened his tie, resting his forearms against the stone balcony as the sounds of the gala became muffled behind the closed doors.

for the first time all evening… it was quiet. he exhaled slowly. he couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d forgotten he was even there.

it was ridiculous. she was his girlfriend. they promised they’d find each other once the media obligations were over. yet somehow, he’d spent the entire evening watching her from a distance while she laughed with everyone else.

the thought sat heavily in his chest. he hated it. hated himself for even thinking it. because he knew her. he knew the way she loved him.

knew she would never intentionally make him feel invisible.

but jealousy wasn’t reasonable. it didn’t care what he knew. it only cared what the evening had looked like. and from where he’d been standing…

it had felt like everyone else had more of her than he did. everyone else had managed to steal a piece of her evening. while he’d spent most of his wishing for a moment that was actually theirs.

two hours.

that was how long they’d been there. two hours since she’d walked through the ballroom doors. maybe she’d been having such a good time she hadn’t even noticed how long they’d been apart. he knew it wasn’t fair. he knew it didn’t sound like her.

but after nearly two hours of watching the evening pull her farther and farther out of reach… it became harder to convince himself otherwise. all he’d wanted, was to spend the night with the woman he’d come there with.

instead… he’d spent most of it missing her.

eventually, he stopped looking towards the door. stopped checking for her. stopped hoping for that moment where her eyes would finally meet his.

he didn’t want to leave angry. he wasn’t angry. he was just tired of feeling like he was asking for something he shouldn’t have to ask for. it was just him realizing that he didn’t want to stand there anymore, quietly hoping to be noticed.

he didn’t want to feel like he was asking for a place beside his own girlfriend. so he made the decision he hated making.

he left.

alone. quietly. without her.

without the small moment at the end of the night where they would walk out together, his hand in hers.

instead, he stepped outside into the cold air by himself, carrying the quiet disappointment he didn’t know how to explain. and eventually, the hope he had been holding onto started feeling heavier than the disappointment itself.

because he didn’t want to be someone who needed to be chosen every second. he didn’t want to feel forgotten. especially by her. that was the part he couldn’t ignore. the person he wanted beside him the most was the person he felt furthest away from.

so when he finally looked around one last time, he wasn’t searching anymore. he was accepting. the night wasn’t going to become what he had imagined. and maybe that was what hurt the most — not that she wasn’t there with him, but that for a while, he had been there waiting for her to notice.

the irony was…

she’d been looking for him, too. while he was standing there, slowly convincing himself that she wasn’t going to notice he was gone, she was doing the exact same thing, searching through the crowd, wondering where he had disappeared to.

they were both looking for each other. both waiting for the other person to close the distance. both unaware that they were only a few moments too late. and maybe that was the part that hurt the most. not that they didn’t care. not that one of them had stopped trying.

but that they had both been reaching for each other and somehow still ended up apart.

she didn’t know that he had already made the decision to leave. she didn’t know that, while she was walking through the room searching for him, he was already stepping outside. already accepting that he would go home without her.

and when she finally reached the place where he had been standing earlier, she found nothing. just an empty space. a space that felt strangely louder than all the noise around her.

her eyes moved through the crowd again, slower this time, almost like if she looked hard enough, he would somehow still be there.

but he wasn’t.

“have you seen michael?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

but the calmness was only on the surface. inside, panic was already beginning to take over. and the answer she got made her heart sink.

“he left.”

for a second, she just stared. because she hadn’t expected that. she had expected to find him somewhere nearby. she had expected him to be waiting. she hadn’t expected him to leave without her.

she was afraid she had missed something. afraid that while she was caught up in the night, he had been standing there waiting for her.

and she hadn’t seen him.

she suddenly remembered every time she had glanced across the room and thought she would go to him later. every moment she had told herself there was still time. but what if there wasn’t? what if he had been standing there, quietly hoping she would come over, while she had no idea he was already feeling alone?

her fingers tightened around her phone without even realizing it. she wanted to call him. she wanted to hear his voice.

she had prepared herself to walk over, apologize for taking so long, and see that familiar softness return to his face when he realized she was there. she had prepared herself for a conversation. for an apology.

not this. not the thought of him already being gone. she noticed too late.

she didn’t let herself think. not for another second. because if she stopped, if she stood there and let every possibility run through her mind, she knew the guilt would only grow heavier.

so she moved. quickly. almost too quickly.

she grabbed her things with unsteady hands, barely noticing the voices around her or the questions she didn’t answer. the room that had felt so warm only moments ago suddenly felt too crowded, too loud, too far away from the one person she needed to see.

michael.

that was the only thought she could hold onto. she didn’t care about explaining herself yet. she didn’t care about finding the perfect words. she just needed to get to him. needed to know he was okay.

needed to see him standing there in front of her instead of imagining him sitting alone, replaying the night in his head and convincing himself that leaving was easier than waiting. waiting for her.

the walk to the car felt longer than it ever had before. every second felt wasted. she checked her phone more than once, almost hoping for a message from him, some sign that he was still reaching for her too. but the screen stayed quiet. and somehow, that silence made her hurry even more.

he was really gone. her heart sank. because she knew michael. she knew he wasn’t the type to leave just because he was annoyed. he wasn’t someone who walked away to make a point or to make her chase after him.

if he left, it meant he had already convinced himself that staying would hurt more. and suddenly, she didn’t have to wonder where he went. her first thought came instantly.

home.

their apartment. the place he always went when he needed quiet.

by the time she reached their apartment, her heart was still racing. not from the distance. from the fear that she was already too late.

she stood in front of the door for a moment, staring at it like it was the only thing separating her from everything she had been imagining on the way there. her hand reached for the doorknob, but she hesitated.

what if he didn’t want to talk? what if he had already convinced himself that it didn’t matter?

her fingers tightened around it. she hated that she was scared.

not of him.

never of him.

she was scared of seeing the disappointment she had put there.

slowly, she unlocked the door. the small click sounded louder than it should have in the quiet hallway. she pushed it open carefully, almost afraid that moving too quickly would make the moment real.

“michael?” she called softly. silently hoping.

her voice shook slightly at the end of his name, betraying the panic she had been trying to keep under control since she walked through the door. she swallowed, forcing herself to take another step inside.

her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her bag, her heart still pounding as she waited for any sign of him — a movement, a sound, anything that would tell her she hadn’t come too late.

no answer.

her stomach twisted.

she closed the door behind her. a quiet click. her eyes immediately searching the apartment.

and then she saw him.

he was there. exactly where she had feared he would be. he was sitting alone on the couch, still wearing the same clothes from the night, like he had come home and never really moved again.

the same couch where they had spent countless quiet evenings together. the same couch that had held so many pieces of them — their laughter, their kisses, their whispered conversations, and the moments where they had let their guards down completely.

his gaze was lowered to his hands, his fingers moving absentmindedly against each other, like he had been sitting there for so long that even the smallest movement was enough to keep his mind from wandering too far.

for a second, she forgot everything she had planned to say. because seeing him there was different. the image in her head had been painful. but the reality was worse. he looked so quiet. so far away. and the worst part was knowing that he had come here because he thought being alone would hurt less than waiting for her.

her chest tightened.

“michael…” his name left her lips softer than she intended.

a plea for him to look at her.

there was something fragile in the way she said it — the quiet fear behind it, the worry she couldn’t hide anymore. her voice cracked slightly around his name, and she hated how much it revealed.

for a moment, he didn’t move. her voice reached him, but his mind seemed to take longer to understand it. he just sat there, letting the sound of her voice settle over him.

his name. the way she said it. soft enough that it almost hurt. because he had spent the entire walk home trying to accept that maybe she hadn’t been looking for him.

and now she was standing there, proving him wrong.

slowly, his eyes lifted to hers. and the second their eyes met, everything he had been trying to keep buried came rushing back.

the disappointment. the loneliness.

the hours of convincing himself that it was easier not to expect anything. but then he saw her. really saw her. the worry in her eyes. the way she was standing there like she had rushed home without thinking twice.

like finding him mattered. and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do with that. because a part of him had been prepared to see indifference. he had prepared himself for her to not understand. but he hadn’t prepared himself for her to look at him like she was scared of losing him.

“you left.” the words came out quieter than she expected.

not angry. not accusing. just hurt.

like she was still trying to understand it.

her eyes stayed on his, searching his face for something — an explanation, a sign that maybe she had misunderstood, that maybe this wasn’t what she thought it was.

“i was looking for you.” her voice trembled slightly, and she looked away for a moment, swallowing the ache in her chest.

a small confession. a little too late. but honest.

she was still trying to understand how they had ended up here — standing in the same room, looking at each other, after somehow missing each other all night.

michael stayed quiet.

his eyes dropped for a moment, not because he didn’t want to look at her, but because he didn’t know how to handle the weight of what she had just said. and for a second, he almost let himself believe that maybe the night had been different than he thought.

his fingers tightened together, resting between his knees as he sat there. he had spent the entire ride home trying to make peace with the disappointment.

“i didn’t know what else to do.” he murmured. his voice almost like a whisper.

not cold. not distant. just tired. like he had spent the entire night trying to figure out what the right thing was, and every option had somehow felt wrong.

their eyes met. and she saw it. not anger. not resentment. just the disappointment he had been carrying all night, the kind he hadn’t wanted to put on her because he knew she never meant to make him feel that way.

“i didn’t want to leave.” he admitted after a moment, his eyes dropping back to his hands.

hearing that hurt more than if he had told her he was angry.

he hadn’t wanted to leave. he had wanted to stay. he had wanted to be there with her.

her fingers curled slightly at her sides, fighting the urge to reach for him immediately. she wanted to close the distance between them, to take away the hurt she could see in him, but she also knew he needed to finish saying what he had been holding inside.

so she stayed quiet. she stayed there. letting him know she was listening.

“i kept thinking i’d wait a little longer,” a quiet breath left him. “then a little longer became the whole night.”

he paused, his gaze still lowered, like admitting it out loud made him feel more vulnerable than he expected.

“and i don’t know… i just started feeling stupid for standing there hoping you’d notice.”

her heart sank. because he didn’t say it like he was blaming her. he said it like he was blaming himself for caring. and somehow, that hurt even more. because she knew him.

she knew how much he tried not to ask for too much. she hated that he felt that way. because the last thing she ever wanted was for him to think he had to earn her attention, or that he was asking for too much.

how he would rather quietly step away than make someone feel like they had to choose him. she hated that for even a moment, he had felt like he wasn’t worth noticing.

she felt like saying less would be better. anything more felt like it would only get in the way. because she didn’t want to explain herself before he felt heard. she didn’t want to rush to tell him she didn’t mean it, when all he needed was for her to understand that, for a moment, she had made him feel alone.

so she took a small breath.

“i’m sorry.” the words carried everything she didn’t know how to say.

the regret. the guilt. the fact that she wished she had noticed sooner.

then, slowly, she moved closer. not all at once. not like she was trying to fix everything with one touch or pretend that a single moment could erase the way he had felt.

when she reached him, she stopped in front of the couch. she lowered herself beside him, leaving a little space between them at first. because she wanted him to know she was there. she didn’t want to take the feeling away from him.

she just wanted him to know he didn’t have to sit with it alone anymore.

he let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. his hands loosened, his fingers no longer twisting together as tightly as before. the silence between them was still there.

so was the hurt. but it didn’t feel quite as lonely anymore.

he felt her beside him. close enough that he could feel her warmth. she hadn’t tried to erase what he was feeling. she had simply chosen to sit with him. and somehow, that undid something inside him.

his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, the tension he had been carrying since he left the event easing just enough to notice.

he swallowed, his jaw tightening ever so slightly before he finally let it go. then, almost cautiously, he turned his head.

his eyes found hers. they lingered there. searching.

her eyes were glossy, as though she had been holding herself together ever since someone told her he had left, and now that she was finally looking at him, she wasn’t quite sure how to keep doing that.

she didn’t look at him like someone trying to defend herself. she looked at him like someone whose heart had broken the moment she realized he’d walked away alone.

she held his gaze without looking away, even as her bottom lip trembled almost imperceptibly. as if she wanted him to see it.

to see how sorry she was. to see that she had come.

the guarded look he’d worn all night began to disappear. the hurt on his face lost some of its sharp edges. because no matter how hurt he had been…

seeing her like this hurt too.

the disappointment he had carried all night suddenly felt different. smaller. not because it no longer mattered. but because, sitting there, looking at the tears she was trying so hard to keep from falling, he realized something that made his chest ache.

she had been hurting too.

maybe not in the same way. maybe not at the same time. but she was carrying it now. and the last thing he had ever wanted was to be the reason her eyes looked like that.

he loved those eyes. he loved the way they lit up when she laughed, the way they softened when she looked at him, the quiet warmth they always seemed to hold.

seeing them clouded with guilt instead… it broke something inside him. his throat felt tight as he fought the urge to reach for her. his heart sank as he watched her struggle to hold herself together.

because despite everything…

despite the disappointment. despite the lonely drive home. despite every moment he had spent wondering if she would notice he was gone.

he still couldn’t bear to see her cry.

his hand twitched towards her without him even realizing it, the familiar instinct to reach for her stronger than the hurt he was still carrying.

when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. rough around the edges. not because he had raised it. because he’d spent hours swallowing the words instead.

“i didn’t want the night to end like this.”

the confession hung between them.

gentle. heartbreakingly honest. like he was mourning the ending they were supposed to have.

the walk back to the car with her hand tucked into his. the quiet drive home filled with conversations that drifted from everything to nothing at all. the familiar glance she’d always give him before leaning in to steal a kiss at a red light. walking through the front door together. her stealing one of his shirts that always ended being more comfortable than her own. the absentminded kisses exchanged while one of them wandered into the kitchen. the lingering kiss that usually greeted the end of a night well spent.

the comfort of falling onto the couch together, laughing about the smallest moments of the evening until one of them inevitably pulled the other closer. all the little things that no one else would have noticed. the quiet rituals that had slowly become the way they loved each other.

the kind of moments that only mattered when you loved someone enough to treasure every one of them.

and he did. god, he did.

instead, he’d gone home alone. stepped into the silence alone. and for the first time in a long time, home hadn’t felt like home at all.

he had spent the entire night believing he had been the only one reaching for her. he hadn’t been.

she had been searching for him too. she had rushed home with fear written all over her face. she had walked through the front door looking like she was terrified she had already lost the chance to make things right.

and suddenly, the night didn’t feel so one-sided anymore. it felt like two people who loved each other so deeply that, somehow, they still managed to miss each other in the worst possible way.

he had spent the whole night wanting to reach for her. this time, he finally did.

his fingertips brushed gently against her cheek before his palm settled there, cradling her face with a tenderness that spoke long before he did. the moment his skin met hers, the tear she’d been fighting so hard to hold back finally slipped free.

it traced a slow path down her cheek. his thumb caught it halfway, brushing it away with heartbreaking care.

a sad smile tugged at the corner of his lips. his forehead rested against hers.

“i hate that i made you cry.” low and quiet. there was no frustration in it. only regret.

her breath caught. for a second, she could only look at him.

even after everything. even after he’d gone home alone. even after she’d been the reason he’d spent the night hurting…

his first instinct was still to comfort her.

a small, broken smile found its way onto her lips as another tear slipped free. she gave the faintest shake of her head. she lifted her hand to his wrist, her fingers curling gently around it where it rested against her cheek, holding it there.

“i just…” her eyes closed for a moment. “i hated knowing you thought you had to leave alone.”

when she looked at him again, there was so much love in her eyes it almost ached.

“so… please, don’t ever do that again.” it wasn’t a demand. it was a plea.

“come find me. interrupt me, steal me away if you have to,” a watery laugh escaped her. “i’ll always choose you.”

the words settled somewhere deep inside him.

softly. patiently. untangling every doubt that had followed him home. because now he understood. it had never been him against her. it had only ever been the night.

a misunderstanding. a painful one.

but still, only a misunderstanding. his heart refused to hold onto the hurt any longer.

“i’m sorry too,” he whispered. “i’ll always find you.”

there wasn’t a trace of doubt in his voice anymore. only certainty. his thumb brushed gently across her cheek one last time. then, without another word, he closed the small distance between them.

his lips found hers in a kiss so impossibly gentle it almost hurt.

there was no urgency. no desperation. only relief.

the quiet kind that settled deep in his chest after hours of wondering whether he’d ever get to hold her like this again. just two people finding their way back to each other after spending an entire night convinced they had somehow been left behind.

he kissed her slowly, as though he wanted her to feel everything he couldn’t quite put into words. that he had missed her. that he had never stopped loving her. that one painful night would never be enough to change that.

she melted into the kiss almost immediately.

her fingertips brushed lightly along his jaw before settling against the side of his neck, holding him with the same tenderness she’d been trying to put into words. her other hand came to rest against his chest, right above his heart, lingering there as she kissed him back.

“i love you.” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion but gentle enough to soothe the last of her fears.

and one bad night could never be bigger than that. she smiled through the tears gathering in her eyes.

and in that moment, with his love spoken so simply and honestly, she felt at peace.

“i know,” she whispered. “i love you too.”

her eyes shining as she looked at him. her smile trembled, not from sadness, but from the sheer weight of everything she felt in that moment. she looked at him like she was trying to hold onto the feeling.

for a moment, neither of them moved. they didn’t need to. the night had been messy.

it had been full of missed chances, wrong assumptions, and moments where they had both felt a little too far away from each other.

but they were here now. together.

his fingers found hers, intertwining slowly. a small reminder. a promise.

and this time, neither of them let go.

because sometimes love wasn’t about never getting things wrong.

sometimes it was about finding your way back.

there was something about late-night drives that made everything feel more honest.

maybe it was the empty roads.

maybe it was the darkness outside the windows, leaving only the two of them inside the quiet warmth of the car.

conversations felt easier after midnight.

silences did, too.

she rested her elbow against the window, watching the city slip by.

she glanced at the dashboard clock.

12:43 a.m.

he was supposed to be taking her home.

streetlights swept across the windshield in slow intervals, painting brief streaks of gold over désiré’s face before disappearing into the night again.

neither of them spoke.

it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.

the windows were cracked just enough for the cool night air to slip inside, carrying the scent of rain that hadn’t fallen yet.

the music was low, soft enough that it blended into the background rather than filling the silence.

she liked that about him.

he never rushed to fill quiet moments. he let them exist.

she rested her head against the window, watching the city blur past.

“you know…” she murmured, breaking the silence.

désiré hummed in response, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel while the other on his thigh.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen the roads this empty.”

he glanced at her for the briefest second before looking back at the road, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

oh how she loved that smile.

“that’s because you’re usually asleep by now,” he said, the smile in his voice arriving a second before the one on his face. “you never make it this far.”

his fingers drummed lazily against the steering wheel as he considered her comment. a quiet chuckle slipped past his lips.

she scoffed, turning in her seat to look at him.

“you say that like it’s my fault.” one eyebrow raised in mock offense. a smile threatened at the corners of her lips, but she did her best to suppress it.

désiré let out a quiet hum.

another stretch of empty road opened up ahead, illuminated only by the occasional streetlight.

“whose fault is it, then?” he asked, flicking his eyes towards her for just a second. he wasn’t expecting to find her already looking at him. he wanted to hold her gaze, but the road demanded his attention.

she held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary, as though genuinely weighing her options. then she smiled—a slow, knowing smile.

“yours.” she said, a grin tugged at her lips as she leaned over and gave his shoulder a gentle bump.

the warmth of her shoulder lingered long after she’d pulled away. a soft laugh escaped him.

god, she had no idea that even the smallest moments with her meant everything to him.

“mine?” he breathed. his heart stumbled somewhere behind his ribs. he risked another glance at her.

she nodded once, folding one leg beneath her on the seat as she faced him a little more.

she watched the way his hands rested on the steering wheel before murmuring. “you’re too good at driving.”

he let out another quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

“that’s a new one,” his smile lingered longer than he intended. he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead, though he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at her again. “i’ve never had anyone blame my driving before.”

“i’m not blaming it…” she protested, her voice soft.

she wondered if he knew what he did to her without trying. how every late-night drive seemed to slow the world just enough for her to breathe. how the silence between them never demanded to be filled. how his quiet presence unraveled knots she’d spent all day carrying.

she didn’t have a name for the feeling yet. peace, maybe. comfort. something warmer than either of those. whatever it was, she found herself chasing it every chance she got—finding excuses to linger, to stay in the passenger seat a little longer, to let another song play before either of them mentioned going home.

his voice pulled her gently from her thoughts. she blinked, realizing he'd been waiting for her answer. he scratched lightly at the side of his neck before loosening his grip on the steering wheel, only to tighten it again a moment later, as though it were the only thing keeping him grounded.

he didn't rush her. he never did.

she let out a quiet breath, her gaze drifting back to the windshield.

“it’s just…” she paused, searching for words that never seemed big enough to hold the feeling. “you make everything feel easy.”

he looked at her like she’d just handed him something fragile, something he didn’t want to break. this woman had no idea what she meant to him. she had become his peace.

he just let her words sit between them, like he was afraid moving too quickly would break something. the words seemed to catch him off guard—not because he didn’t like them, but because he wasn’t used to hearing them.

then he smiled softly. unable to hide the warmth in his expression. how could he?

“that’s a pretty big thing to say.” his voice was quieter this time, almost like he didn’t want to disturb the feeling settling between them.

she looked down at her hands, suddenly aware of how much she’d revealed. the honesty of it sat between them, warm and unfamiliar.

“is it?” she asked gently, almost afraid of what he might say.

for a moment, he didn’t answer.

he just looked at her.

not the way people usually looked at her—not searching for something, not expecting something. just taking her in like he was trying to memorize the moment. like she was something worth slowing down for, in a world that never seemed to stop moving.

outside, the city continued moving around them, but inside the car everything felt still. the soft music. the warmth of the seats. the quiet sound of his breathing beside her.

“yeah.” he said softly.

his eyes returned to the road, a small smile tugging at his lips. and somehow, he couldn’t make it go away. every time he thought it had faded, it came back again—a quiet, helpless smile that she had somehow put there without even trying.

“because i don’t think i’ve ever wanted to be that for someone.”

“what?” she turned towards him, her brows pulling together slightly.

his fingers moved slowly over the steering wheel, tracing the same absent rhythm they had been tapping all night. for a moment, he didn’t look at her. like the words were harder to say when he had to see her reaction.

“someone’s peace.”

the sentence was barely above a whisper. she went quiet.

a few cars passed in the distance, streetlights disappeared behind them, the world continued like nothing had changed.

but inside the car, something had changed. time seemed to slow, leaving only the quiet between them. the world outside slowly lost its importance.

“someone they don’t have to pretend around,” he continued softly. “someone who makes things feel a little lighter.”

his throat moved as he swallowed, his eyes staying fixed on the road ahead. then, he glanced at her for a second, and there was something almost vulnerable in his expression.

“i don’t think anyone’s ever looked at me and thought…” he paused, searching for the right words. “that i could make their life feel easier.”

her chest tightened.

because he said it like it was something he never believed he could be. like being someone’s comfort had always felt impossible to him.

she wanted to tell him that he was wrong. that he had no idea how much he changed the atmosphere around him. how his presence alone could quiet every thought that had been overwhelming her all day.

but the words felt too big.

so instead, she reached across the space between them.

her fingers found his where his hand rested near the gearshift, hesitant at first, giving him every chance to pull away.

he didn’t.

his fingers curled around hers almost immediately, warm and familiar, like his hand had been waiting for hers to be there. as if the touch had always belonged there.

and somehow, that said everything she couldn’t put into words. she knew. she just knew.

she would always choose him.

the road ahead slowly became familiar. she recognized the streets before she even saw the sign. the turn towards her neighborhood was only a few seconds away.

and suddenly, the warmth inside the car felt a little more fragile.

neither of them said anything.

the music continued quietly in the background, filling the space between them as if it knew neither of them wanted to break the moment.

she watched the familiar buildings appear through the windshield. then she noticed.

the turn was coming.

she looked over at him.

he knew too.

she could tell by the way his fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel.

the indicator never came on.

the car kept moving.

past her street.

past the turn.

she blinked, looking back at the road behind them.

“dés…”

his eyes stayed ahead, but she caught the smallest smile pulling at his lips.

“yeah?” his voice was soft, almost too casual.

“you missed the turn.”

for a second, she expected him to look surprised. to apologize. to make some excuse about not noticing.

but he didn’t.

a quiet breath of laughter left him.

“i know.” he said quietly, his voice steady and certain.

she stared at him for a second, her heart warming at the certainty in his voice. she smiled before she even realized she was doing it.

“aren’t you going to turn around?” she asked, but a part of her hoped he wouldn’t.

this time, he didn’t answer immediately. he just looked at the empty road ahead, the city stretching endlessly in front of them.

their hands were still intertwined between them, warm and steady. his thumb brushed against hers absentmindedly, like he needed the reminder that she was still there.

when he felt her fingers shift against his, his grip tightened without thinking.

just slightly.

like letting go was the one thing he couldn’t bring himself to do.

a silent answer before he could find the words.

then, softly, almost a whisper, but with the weight of a promise—

“not yet.” his voice carrying a weight that made her chest tighten.

not a refusal. not an excuse. a plea.

he said it like he needed her to understand.

two simple words.

but somehow, they meant everything.

she understood, because she knew what he was really saying.

stay a little longer.

don’t make me say goodnight yet.

he just wasn’t ready to let the night end.

the space between them suddenly felt different. like it wasn’t a space between them anymore, it was the last thing standing between everything they had been afraid to admit and everything they had been hoping for.

he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a quiet kiss against her knuckles, a small gesture that somehow said everything he couldn’t.

then, his fingers gently intertwined with hers, slower this time, like he wasn’t afraid of what it meant anymore. like holding her hand wasn’t a risk, but a place to rest.

she watched him, almost afraid to believe it.

afraid that if she moved too quickly, if she wanted too much, she would break the quiet little moment they had finally found.

she stayed there, holding his hand and letting the silence speak for them. for once, she didn’t need reassurance. she didn’t need promises.

he just kept driving, one hand holding hers, his attention on the road but his heart finally somewhere else.

for once, he wasn’t thinking about the exit. he wasn’t looking for the easiest way out, wasn’t counting the seconds until he had to let go.

he was just there.

then, at the next red light, he stopped.

the engine hummed softly, and every few seconds another streetlight washed over them, lighting her face just long enough for him to steal another glance before darkness tucked them away again.

and for the first time that night, he let himself look at her without searching for a reason to leave.

like he was seeing her without all the fear that usually stood between them. like he was finally allowing himself to want this, to want her.

his eyes softened, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

a quiet reassurance.

she wondered if he knew how much that tiny gesture meant to her. how something so simple could feel like an answer to all the doubts she’d carried.

neither of them moved.

they didn’t need to.

everything they had been holding back was sitting there between them, every almost, every goodbye that never happened, every feeling they were too afraid to admit.

all the times they stood too close but still found a reason to step away. all the words that stayed stuck in their throats because saying them out loud would make everything too real.

and now, there was nowhere left to hide.

just the quiet understanding that, somehow, after everything, they had still found their way back to each other.

she looked at him, and he looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time and remembering her all at once. every little thing he had tried not to miss, every feeling he had tried to bury, was suddenly impossible to ignore.

the silence wasn’t empty.

it was full of everything they had been waiting for.

he leaned closer, slowly, giving her the choice.

as their eyes stayed locked, she tugged his head down and their lips met in a featherlight kiss.

the kiss was gentle at first.

careful. desperate.

neither of them rushed.

they couldn’t.

not after all the time they had spent holding back.

his hand left hers slowly, as he turned towards her in the driver’s seat. his fingers found her cheek, his palm warm against her skin, holding her with a tenderness that made her chest ache.

his thumb brushed along her cheekbone, slow and gentle, and the small gesture carried everything he couldn’t say.

she leaned into his touch, closing the last bit of distance between them, and something in him finally broke open.

the kiss became deeper, not because they were desperate to take something from each other, but because they had spent so long denying themselves this exact moment.

she smiled slightly against his lips, unable to hide how happy she was. her fingers found the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him in a quiet way.

désiré’s mouth crashed over hers again, and there was nothing exploratory about this kiss. she tilted her head slightly, meeting him halfway instead of letting him carry the whole moment.

his tongue tickled her bottom lip. his perfect teeth gave it a tiny nip. then he buried his face in her neck and lavished it with soft, open-mouthed kisses that left shivers in their wake.

breathless.

his hand stayed against her face, his fingers brushing gently through her hair, grounding himself in the reality of her being there. of them being here.

she gave him another small kiss, softer this time, like reassurance rather than desire.

the traffic light turned green.

neither of them moved.

the dashboard lights flickered gently across her face, making the whole moment feel unreal. he was memorizing her. the way she looked at him, the warmth of her hand, the quiet between them — he wanted to remember every second of it.

every little detail felt like something he wanted to keep, something he could come back to when this moment was no longer theirs.

he should have started the car.

he knew that.

but his hand stayed where it was.

a small smile tugged at his lips, almost like he couldn’t believe he was actually here, that this was real.

“dés.” she whispered softly, almost like a reminder that the traffic light had changed, that they couldn’t stay here forever.

his eyes stayed on hers.

“i know,” he said, barely audible.

he knew he should put his hands back on the wheel and pretend his heart wasn’t fighting against the idea of leaving this moment behind.

but he did none of that. he leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers, his voice dropping to a quiet whisper.

“just… stay with me for a second.”

and suddenly, she understood.

he wasn’t asking her to stay because he thought she would leave.

he was asking because some part of him was still afraid that beautiful things were only meant to be temporary.

she wanted him to know. he didn’t have to hold onto this second like it was the last one he would ever get. because she wasn’t just a moment.

she was here.

the light was still green.

but right now, all he wanted was one more moment with her.

the night passed slowly.

the city kept moving. the lights kept changing. the world carried on like it always did.

but their kisses stayed. the warmth of it stayed. the feeling of it stayed.

and even when the night was over, even when the road eventually led them somewhere else, a part of them would always remain there.

in that car.

under those lights.

in the moment they finally chose each other.

but sitting there, with her beside him, somewhere between the quiet kisses and the moments where neither of them needed to say a word, he had realised something.

he didn’t want to leave.

not this time.

not her.

he wanted this.

her laughter in the passenger seat.

her hand in his.

the quiet.

the peace.

and he was wondering how to keep it.

how to keep her.

he didn’t want to find the road home.

the first thing she learned about michael was that silence was his favorite weapon.

not because he was shy. that would have been easier. shy people eventually opened up.

michael simply chose not to.

he could walk into a room full of cameras, reporters, and people desperate for a piece of his attention and somehow make it feel like he was the only person who wasn’t trying.

he didn’t chase the spotlight. the spotlight chased him.

and she hated that.

not because he was famous. not because he was talented. those things were obvious.

she hated that he knew exactly how much people wanted from him and still managed to look completely unaffected, especially during interviews.

especially with her.

“michael, after tonight’s performance, do you think the team is finally finding its rhythm?”

the camera light blinked. the room went quiet.

michael leaned back slightly in his chair, getting comfortable, his position almost cocky. god, this guy never made things easy.

his expression remained unreadable.

“we played well.” his reply was delivered so casually, so completely deadpan, that she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

she stared at him. she had been doing this for six months. six months of interviews. six months of watching him give the same three answers in different combinations. six months of trying to pull an actual personality out of him.

“that’s your answer?” there was a slight edge of irritation in her voice, and it was impossible for him to miss it.

his eyes lifted to hers.

dark.

calm.

annoyingly calm.

“you asked a question.” his reply was so deliberately sarcastic that she almost laughed out of disbelief.

the cameraman immediately looked away to hide his laugh.

she pressed her lips together. his lips lifted.

“yes, michael. a question that required more than three words.”

“three words were enough.”

“according to who?”

“me.”

she stared at him. there it was. that tiny hint of amusement. the smallest curve at the edge of his mouth.

he was doing it on purpose.

“you enjoy making my job difficult.”

“no,” he shifted forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his attention fully on her. something dark moved through his eyes, but as soon as he leaned back against the chair, it disappeared. “i enjoy watching you get frustrated.”

the room went silent. she blinked.

for a second, she forgot they were recording. then she recovered.

“great. wonderful. amazing. glad we could establish that our star player enjoys being a professional inconvenience.” her words came out coated in sarcasm, every syllable carefully chosen to irritate him.

michael’s eyes stayed on hers.

“star player?” cocky. confident. he had liked that. of course that word got his attention, out of everything she had said, it was that one word that made him not break the eye contact.

she frowned.

“what?”

“you called me a star player.”

“i did.”

“you usually call me difficult.”

“that too.”

a pause.

then, almost too quietly:

“i think i prefer star player.” a quiet amusement flashed in his eyes, and she immediately regretted giving him the satisfaction.

and somehow that annoyed her more than if he had argued. because she noticed the difference.

the problem was everyone else noticed too. the entire team had noticed.

the players. the coaches. the staff.

everyone.

because michael and her were incapable of being in the same room without turning it into a competition. behind every argument was a feeling they refused to acknowledge. they hid behind sarcasm and irritation, pretending there wasn’t something deeper growing between them.

there was an invisible thread between them, one they both pretended not to feel.

they argued about interviews. they argued about training schedules.

they argued about whether his answers were too short

“they’re not too short.” michael had said once.

“they are literally one sentence.”

“efficient.”

“lazy.”

“efficient.”

“lazy.”

“you’re repeating yourself.”

“because you aren’t listening.”

and the worst part? everyone found it entertaining.

the team had even started taking bets.

she discovered this when she walked into the locker room one afternoon and heard:

“twenty bucks says they admit it before the end of the tournament.”

she stopped.

“admit what?”

instant silence.

three players suddenly became extremely interested in their phones.

désiré looked at the ceiling.

bradley looked at the floor.

she crossed her arms, raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. then, she tilted her head slightly, skepticism written all over her face.

“interesting.”

“no idea what you’re talking about.” désiré said, he looked at her with an expression of complete innocence, though she wasn’t fooled for a second.

“you were betting.” she met his eyes. the certainty in her voice left little room for debate.

“no.” he delivered the lie smoothly, almost too smoothly.

“you were.”

“no.”

“who started it?” she waited for an answer.

everyone immediately pointed at michael. who was sitting in the corner, tying his boots.

he didn’t even look up.

“traitors.” michael said, pretending to be offended.

she looked at him. there was a small smile tugging at his lips. the audacity of this man.

“you knew?” she waited for him to meet her eyes.

“of course.” his response came out flat and effortless, his attention still fixed on his boots rather than her.

“and you didn’t stop them?” she waited for an answer, but he only continued tying his boots, his movements slow and unhurried.

“answer me.” she said, the slightest edge of frustration slipping into her voice. she hated how easily he could ignore her.

“no, i didn’t stop them.” his voice was as relaxed as ever, which somehow annoyed her even more.

“why?”

after making her wait, finally, he looked at her — and somehow that was worse than him ignoring her, because now she had his full attention.

“because it’s funny.” he answered, like he couldn’t understand why she needed an explanation.

she narrowed her eyes.

he looked entertained at her reaction.

“you think this is funny?” she asked, her voice sharper now.

a pause.

“a little.” he admitted, looking far too pleased with himself.

“a little?” she let out a humorless laugh and narrowed her eyes once more. “that’s your defense?”

“yeah?” he said, meeting her frustration with effortless patience.

she blinked and shook her head.

“you’re unbelievable.” she muttered, but the small smile she tried to hide betrayed her. the worst part was that he looked completely satisfied with himself.

his gaze stayed on hers. michael studied her expression, like he was memorizing every little reaction she had to him. the corner of his mouth lifted. she forced herself to hold his gaze, even as a nervous feeling she refused to acknowledge crept in.

“that’s becoming your favorite sentence.” he said softly, like he was keeping track of every time she used it.

she had a reply ready. she always had a reply. but the way he was looking at her made her pause.

for once, the words didn’t come immediately.

and she hated that he noticed everything.

the night everything changed was supposed to be simple.

a post-match interview. a few photos. a quick media session. then home. except the weather. except the weather had other plans.

the storm arrived suddenly. rain hitting the stadium windows so hard that everyone kept turning to look. the kind of rain that made the entire world feel smaller.

by the time she finished packing up her equipment, most of the building was empty. she checked her phone.

no messages. no missed calls.

great.

she grabbed her bag and headed toward the main entrance. only to find the doors locked.

she pulled. nothing.

she grabbed the handle harder this time and pulled again, only to be met with the same resistance. her frustration grew instantly.

“you have got to be kidding me.” she whispered, staring at the door like it had personally betrayed her.

a voice behind her answered. she turned immediately.

“that sounded optimistic.” he remarked, leaning against the wall, clearly enjoying her reaction.

michael.

she froze. of course. of course it was him.

michael stood a few meters away, holding his phone.

she looked at him, genuinely surprised. “why are you still here?” as if his presence alone was becoming a problem she didn’t know what to do with.

he raised an eyebrow.

“i could ask you the same thing.” he answered, holding her gaze.

“i was working.” she said, giving him a look that suggested he should already know that. unimpressed by his question.

“so was i.” his voice far too relaxed for the situation.

“you don’t work,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “you kick a ball around for a living.”

he stared at her for a moment, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “that’s a very simplified version of my career.”

“it’s the version everyone understands.” she said, like she had just delivered the most reasonable explanation in the world.

a faint smile appeared on michael’s lips. it reached his eyes. he shook his head.

“there she is.” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“what?” she repeated, studying his expression like she was trying to figure out what he meant.

“the insult.” he clarified, his tone now fully amused.

she looked away.

“i didn’t insult you.” she said, looking at him like the accusation was ridiculous.

“you absolutely did. you called my job ‘kicking a ball around.’” he gave her a well-knowing look.

“well, maybe because-”

the lights flickered. both of them looked up.

the stadium suddenly felt much larger. and much quieter. the storm outside was the only sound.

she slowly looked back at him. he was already looking at her. and somehow, that was more unsettling than being alone.

“tell me you know how to get us out.” she said, her voice quieter this time.

michael looked toward the locked doors. then back at her.

“i don’t.” he admitted, his voice dropped slightly, calm and unbothered.

she closed her eyes.

“of course you don’t.” she rolled her eyes and let out a sigh.

“you expected me to?” he asked, his tone low and teasing.

he moved closer, his footsteps echoing softly through the empty stadium. the space between them shrinking with every step.

“i expected you to be useful.” she said, though the confidence in her voice wasn’t as strong as before. she was aware of how close he was getting.

“i’m hurt.”

“you’ll recover.”

“probably.” his tone was dry and final.

he stopped close enough that she could hear his voice clearly even over the sound of the storm outside. for once, neither of them had a sarcastic remark ready.

still, she found herself standing a little straighter as he got closer, suddenly too aware of the silence between them. his eyes stayed on her, quiet and focused.

“michael,” she said, breaking the silence. forcing her usual confidence back into her voice.

her voice pulling him out of whatever he was thinking. his eyes dropped to her lips. he was staring at her, and for once, she couldn’t tell if he was about to make another sarcastic comment or if he was simply watching her.

his presence, heavy and palpable, skimmed down her spine.

she didn’t say anything because she was internally shaking at his closeness. just the idea he might touch her sent every nerve ending in her back tingling in expectation. he had never touched her before. at least, not in the way she wanted him to.

his expression had changed, the usual teasing look was gone, replaced by something calmer, harder to read. more dangerous.

his hand came to rest at her waist, a brief gesture that made her pause.

she inhaled slowly. released it.

“michael.” she repeated again, her voice shaking with anticipation.

“i’m done playing games with you.” he said, the words carrying a weight she wasn’t expecting. she was used to him joking, teasing, pushing her buttons, not this.

“is that what you think we do? play games?” her voice barely a whisper, only for him to hear. she was searching for a shift in his expression.

“i don’t care what you call it,” he said, his voice steady and deep. “i’m done pretending.”

his eyes filled with darkness. the kind of darkness that wraps around your soul and pulls.

he grasped her by the throat, pushed her back against the wall. the space between them felt heavier than everything.

his frustration finally breaking through the calm mask he always wore. she couldn’t understand his sudden anger.

he swallowed her next breath in his mouth. an explosion of fire burst inside her, spreading from her stomach to the tips of her fingers. her blood sizzled. the press of his lips against her hit her with such intensity.

his hand moved from her throat to her hips, his palm sliding down to the curve of her ass, caressing her.

he nipped at her bottom lip and then licked it, soothing the sharp sting with his tongue. a moan traveled up her throat. her fingers curled, and she scraped her nails down his stomach, feeling his abs.

she swayed towards him, her body melting against his. his lips pulled away slowly, after she’d only had a single taste of him and protest flooded her veins. she wanted more.

she suddenly wondered how many women he’d kissed, but that thought was long gone when he moved a hand in her hair, grabbing a fisful and tilting her head.

he nipped a line down her neck, pulling the skin beneath his teeth and lightly sucked. she moaned.

oh.

her heart was beating so hard she was scared he could hear it.

the heat of his body, his unexplainable anger and the force of his presence, everything stole her breath.

with her palms resting on his stomach, she could only pant while he nipped and sucked at her throat, her collarbone and the top of her breasts. heat tugged in her lower stomach.

he wasn’t kissing her anymore, just softly touching her while only their breaths and the sound of rain could be heard.

while he was distracted watching his own movements, she rose to her toes and kissed him. a rumble escaped him, half-groan, half-growl as her tongue met his. a hot sweep and then she pulled away before he could.

she was breathless. and delirious.

the urge hit her so hard, her mouth watered. she wanted him in her mouth. her hands worked on getting his sweatpants off, with every intention of dropping to her knees.

he groaned and made a tortured noise.

“fuck. not here.”

“michael, please.” she pleaded.

before she could lower herself, he caught her wrists and pressed them against the wall and slowly slid them up above her head. his grip was like fire and his presence intimidating.

a shiver rolled through her as his lips pressed against her ear.

so, this was what it felt to be touched by him…

addictive.

stepping closer, he pressed his front to her, until they were flush with one another.

his heart, it was beating so hard.

she’d never felt more alive.

his gaze met hers. it was madness.

he looked at her lips and then to her breasts that moved with each inhale and exhale.

this man was hot for her. the evidence was very obvious now, pressed against her stomach. she wanted to make him feel good.

suddenly, his gaze shifted, something unreadable settling in his eyes. his whole presence felt off.

“let’s get out of here.” he said, his tone dry.

he let her go and she almost screamed in protest. he put a few feet between them, his shoulders tense. he looked like he was trying to collect his thoughts.

she knew this was over.

“that’s it?” she asked quietly, clearly expecting him to say more, unable to hide the confusion in her voice. “you kiss me, tell me you’re done pretending… and that’s all?” disappointment settling heavily in her chest.

michael didn’t answer.

he just stood there, his back now turned to her, his shoulders rising and falling with a slow breath. his jaw tightening as if there were a hundred things he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to say any of them.

“you finally stop pretending… and your solution is to walk away?” she needed an explanation. she was tired—tired of the mixed signals, the endless arguments, and trying to figure him out on her own.

he let out a quiet breath before turning to her. his eyes finding hers for only a moment before drifting away.

“i don’t know,” he admitted after a long silence. “i’ll figure it out, okay?”

“by pretending again?” she whispered, her eyes searching his face.

he caught the disappointment in her voice, and his chest tightened. he did not want to hurt her.

hurting her had never been his intention.

he closed his eyes for a brief moment. he hadn’t walked away because he didn’t care. he’d walked away because he cared too much. but fear had always been easier than vulnerability.

“i don’t know how to do this,” he admitted. “fuck, i don’t even know what happened just now.” he let out a slow breath, running a hand over the back of his neck.

he continued. she let him.

i’ve spent so long pretending none of this meant anything that…” he let out a quiet, frustrated breath. “i don’t even know what’s real anymore.”

she took a slow step towards him.

“this is real, michael. i just need you to stop running every time something feels real.” her voice was quiet but unwavering.

he shook his head slowly.

“i’m not running because i don’t wan’t this,” he finally looked at her. “i’m running because i do. and i don’t know what the hell i’m supposed to do with that.”

“you just have to stop convincing yourself that leaving is easier,” she whispered, holding his gaze. “because it isn’t. it’s just what you’re used to do.”

she wanted him to let go. not of her — of the fear, the excuses, the endless pretending. she wanted him to stop fighting something that was already there. she was tired of almost. tired of the looks that lasted too long, the words they never said, the feelings they both kept pretending weren’t there.

she just wanted him to be honest.

to finally stop hiding from her.

“okay.” for once, he didn’t argue. he didn’t make a joke. he just accepted it. it was a surrender.

she waited for him to move. for him to make another excuse. for him to walk away like he always did.

but he didn’t.

for once, he stayed.

this time, it was different. they both knew it.

no excuses.

no pretending.

no running.

he didn’t have all the answers. he didn’t suddenly know how to make everything easier.

but he stayed.

not with grand words or empty promises, just with the quiet certainty that he wasn’t leaving.