#bayern

he knew how to handle pressure. he knew how to keep his head when the noise around him became too overwhelming, when thousands of voices turned into one endless wave.

he knew how to read a game, how to stay patient, how to trust himself even when things didn’t go exactly as planned and every decision had to be made in the space of a few seconds. football made sense. there were rules. there were tactics. there were things you could practice until they became instinct.

romance, apparently, did not work the same way.

because somewhere between a late-night scroll through his phone and a dangerously convincing collection of relationship videos, michael had come to the conclusion that he was failing.

not at football.

not at being a boyfriend.

at being a romantic boyfriend.

and somehow, that felt like a much bigger problem. it started with one video. that was all. a couple laughing together while making dinner. a boyfriend surprising his girlfriend with flowers after a long day. a handwritten note left somewhere unexpected that had an entire comment section declaring that real love still existed.

michael had watched it, nodded once, and continued scrolling. then another appeared.

then another.

and somewhere along the way, what was supposed to be five minutes of mindless scrolling turned into michael sitting on his bed at almost midnight, staring at his phone with the same intense focus he usually had while watching match footage.

except this time, he wasn’t analyzing an opponent. he was analyzing romance. and the conclusion he reached was simple.

he needed to do better.

because according to the internet, apparently there were a hundred little things a boyfriend was supposed to do.

flowers.

surprises.

thoughtful gestures.

spontaneous dates.

saying the right things at the right time.

michael looked at the list he had somehow created in his notes app and frowned slightly. it was not a long list. objectively, it was actually quite manageable. which was exactly why he was convinced he could do it. after all, how difficult could it really be?

he had played in front of thousands of people. he had handled pressure most people would never understand. he had scored goals with everyone watching.

surely, making his girlfriend feel loved couldn’t be harder than that.

that was where michael made his second mistake.

his first was watching the videos.

what followed after, became a series of increasingly questionable decisions.

⸻

lesson one: flowers.

according to everything michael had seen online, flowers were supposed to be easy. one of the simplest ways to show someone you loved them. a small gesture that didn’t require a special occasion or a complicated explanation. just something beautiful, something thoughtful, something that quietly said i was thinking about you.

which was exactly why michael had decided it would be the perfect place to start.

how hard could flowers be?

that was the thought that followed him into the flower shop, even though the confidence behind it slowly disappeared the second he stepped inside. because michael olise could walk into a stadium filled with thousands of people and somehow look completely unfazed. he could stand under pressure, make decisions in seconds, and trust himself when everyone else was waiting to see what he would do.

but put him in front of a wall of flowers with no idea what half of them were called?

suddenly, he was struggling.

he stood there for a moment, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, eyes moving from one bouquet to another as if one of them was going to reveal the answer he was looking for.

they were all pretty. that was the problem. they were all pretty.

“can i help you?”

the voice behind the counter pulled him from his thoughts. michael turned, offering a small polite smile.

“yeah,” he said. “i need flowers.”

the woman smiled knowingly. “for someone special?”

he nodded without hesitation. “my girlfriend.”

there was something about the way he said it that made it obvious this wasn’t just a quick purchase. he wasn’t someone who had walked in five minutes before closing because he remembered at the last second. he was someone who had clearly thought about this. probably too much.

“do you know what kind she likes?”

and there it was. the one question he had not prepared for.

michael blinked.

because he knew her. he knew the little things most people missed. he knew when she was tired even when she insisted she wasn’t. he knew the exact look she gave him before saying something sarcastic. he knew which side of the bed she always ended up stealing and how she would deny it every single time.

but flowers? apparently, flowers were where his research had failed.

“i should know that,” he murmured.

“you don’t?” the woman tilted her head.

“i know everything else.” he said it so seriously that she couldn’t even tease him for it.

because he wasn’t trying to make an excuse. he was genuinely disappointed that there was something about her he hadn’t learned yet. so he took the decision very seriously.

maybe too seriously.

“okay,” he said, looking back at the flowers. “what says thoughtful?”

“thoughtful?”

“yeah.”

“not romantic?”

he paused. “both.”

the woman laughed softly.

and for the next thirteen minutes, michael olise, professional footballer, stood in a flower shop asking questions like he was preparing for the most important match of his career.

“do these last long?”

“yes.”

“are these too much?”

“no.”

“do these look like i’m trying too hard?”

“you’re buying flowers for your girlfriend. i think trying is the point.”

he considered that. “right.”

eventually, after far more thought than necessary, he chose a bouquet. and the moment it was placed in his hands, his entire expression changed. not dramatically. just a small shift. like he was relieved. like he had finally completed the first step of a plan only he knew existed.

he carried them carefully to his car, placing them on the passenger seat and adjusting them twice before leaving. he even looked back at them before closing the door. which was why it was almost impressive that he managed to forget them completely.

by the time michael got home, he had already replayed the evening in his head at least ten times. he had imagined the way he would walk through the door, the way he would casually hand her the flowers, the way she would smile and maybe tease him for being unexpectedly thoughtful.

it was supposed to be effortless. natural. except nothing about michael felt effortless the second he actually saw her.

because there she was, she was curled up on the sofa, tucked beneath the blanket she always claimed she wasn’t stealing from him, wearing one of his hoodies that hung loosely over her frame. the sleeves covered part of her hands, something she always did without realizing, and the sight alone softened something in his expression.

for a moment, he forgot everything.

the flowers. the plan. the carefully thought-out entrance he had imagined on the drive home.

because somehow, after spending an entire afternoon trying to figure out how to create the perfect romantic moment, the easiest way to make him lose track of every word was still just her looking at him.

michael simply stood there near the doorway, one hand still resting on the handle he had just let go of, watching her without saying anything. and that was probably his first mistake.

because she noticed. she always noticed.

her eyes lifted slowly from her phone, finding him standing there with his jacket still on, keys still in his hand, and an expression that was trying very hard to look normal.

it wasn’t working.

a small smile appeared on her lips. not because she knew what he had done. but because she knew him. she knew the difference between his usual quiet and the kind of quiet that meant his mind was somewhere else.

she placed her phone beside her, turning slightly towards him.

“you’re late.” her voice was soft, almost teasing, carrying none of the accusation the words could have held. there was a warmth behind them, the kind that only existed between two people comfortable enough to miss each other even after only a few hours apart.

michael finally moved from the doorway, setting his keys down on the small table beside him before looking back at her. “i’m not.”

the answer came automatically. too automatically. and the second he said it, he knew he had made himself sound guilty.

“you are.” her eyebrows lifted. not dramatically. just enough. enough to tell him she had caught it.

“by how much?” he let out a quiet breath, walking further into the room as he slipped his jacket off.

“enough.” she watched him carefully, noticing the way he avoided looking directly at her for a second too long.

“that’s not an actual answer.” he looked over.

“it is.” a smile tugged at her mouth.

“how?”

“because you know exactly what i mean.”

and unfortunately, he did. that was the thing about her. she never needed to explain herself too much. she could say something simple, something that barely seemed like anything, and somehow michael always understood the meaning underneath it.

he eventually made his way over to the sofa, dropping down beside her with a quiet exhale, the weight of the day finally leaving his shoulders the moment he was close enough to her. he didn’t even think about it anymore. the way his body naturally leaned toward hers. the way her hand found his arm almost immediately, her fingers brushing over the fabric of his sleeve before settling there, a small gesture that said you’re home without either of them needing to say it.

michael let himself sink into the comfort of it for a moment. this was supposed to be the easy part. this was supposed to be where everything went according to plan.

and for a while, he genuinely believed he had managed it. the warmth of the moment had completely distracted him from the carefully planned evening he had spent so much time creating. because somewhere between taking off his jacket, sitting down beside her, and getting lost in the familiar comfort of having her close, his brain finally caught up with the one very important detail it had somehow forgotten.

the flowers.

the flowers he had bought. the flowers he had carefully chosen. the flowers he had left sitting in his car.

michael’s expression changed so slightly that most people would have missed it. most people. not her. because she felt it before she even saw it. the way his fingers paused against hers. the way his attention suddenly drifted somewhere far away. the way he looked like he had just remembered something incredibly important and incredibly inconvenient at the exact same time.

“what?” she lifted her head from his shoulder, studying his face with quiet amusement.

“what?” michael blinked, looking back at her.

“you just did something.”

he frowned slightly. “i didn’t do anything.”

“you did.”

“no, i didn’t.”

“michael.”

the way she said his name made him immediately know he wasn’t winning this.

he looked down for a second, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he tried to decide whether he should say anything. because maybe he could still save it. maybe he could casually get up, walk to the car, grab them, and pretend nothing happened. except she was looking at him now. and there was no chance he was getting away with suddenly leaving without an explanation.

“the flowers.” the words slipped out before he could stop them.

“the flowers?” she blinked. not because she was surprised. because she genuinely had no idea what he meant.

and the second she repeated it, michael realized how bad that sounded. because from her perspective, he had just randomly announced the flowers like she was supposed to know exactly what he was talking about.

“yeah.” he slowly nodded.

“what flowers?” a small crease appeared between her eyebrows as she tried to understand.

and there it was. the moment. the exact moment michael realized he had somehow managed to create a problem that required explaining.

“the ones i bought.” his lips parted slightly before he looked away, already embarrassed.

“you bought flowers?”

“yes.”

“for me?”

“yes.”

another pause. not a dramatic one. just the kind where she was trying to put the pieces together. “where are they?”

and michael, despite everything, still tried to make it sound less ridiculous than it was.

“in the car.”

“michael.” her face stayed completely blank for a second. then her eyes widened slightly.

“i know.”

“you left them in the car?”

“yes.” he sighed, because hearing it said out loud somehow made it worse.

she looked at him. then toward the front door. then back at him. “you walked all the way inside…”

“yes.”

“sat down…”

“yes.”

“started talking to me…”

“yes.”

“while the flowers were just sitting outside?”

he looked away. “when you say it like that, it sounds bad.”

“because it is bad.” and that was it. she laughed. not a small laugh. the kind that escaped before she could stop it because the image was too perfect.

michael olise, who had apparently spent an entire afternoon trying to become the perfect romantic boyfriend, had completed every single step except the one where he actually delivered the flowers.

“you’re laughing.” he watched her with a look of complete betrayal.

“i’m sorry.”

“you’re not.”

“no, not really.”

“i spent so long choosing them.” he shook his head, but he was fighting a smile now too.

that made her laugh even harder. “how long?”

he hesitated. which was already an answer.

“michael.”

“thirty minutes.”

“thirty?” her laughter immediately stopped.

“maybe forty.”

“you spent forty minutes choosing flowers and then forgot them?” she stared at him.

he looked almost offended. “when you say it like that, it sounds worse.”

“because it is worse.”

and somehow, that made him laugh too. because maybe she was right. maybe only he could turn buying flowers into a carefully planned romantic mission and still somehow fail the final step.

“i can’t believe you.” she covered her smile with her hand, looking away for a second as if she genuinely needed a moment to process the fact that he had somehow managed to create the most michael olise situation possible. her shoulders shook slightly as she tried to hold back her laughter, but the amusement in her eyes gave her away completely.

michael watched her with a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief, his eyebrows lifting as he leaned back against the sofa.

“what?” he asked, his voice carrying a quiet offense, as if he couldn’t understand why she was reacting this way when, in his mind, he had still technically succeeded in buying the flowers.

she turned back towards him, lowering her hand as she looked at him with that familiar expression—the one that told him she was trying very hard not to tease him too much and failing.

“you’re unbelievable,” she said, shaking her head as her thumb brushed over his knuckles. “you actually bought them, you picked them out, you put thought into it… and somehow the one thing you forgot was bringing them inside.”

michael opened his mouth, ready to defend himself, but the second he replayed her words in his head, he realized there was absolutely no way to make himself sound less ridiculous. he looked away with a small sigh, running a hand over his face before letting it fall back into his lap.

“i was trying to be romantic.” he admitted quietly, a reluctant smile tugging at his mouth.

“i know,” she said, her voice softening just slightly as she squeezed his hand. “that’s why it’s funny.”

“that’s not how that’s supposed to work.” michael looked at her, completely betrayed.

“i’m sorry. i just can’t believe you managed to fail the easiest part.”

and that was it.

lesson one was officially a disaster.

⸻

lesson one: finished.

result: bought the flowers, chose the flowers, planned the moment… forgot the flowers.

lesson two: dinner.

after the flower incident, michael had decided that his next attempt needed to be foolproof.

because flowers, apparently, came with too many risks. there was the choosing. the timing. the possibility of forgetting the entire reason he had bought them. so this time, he needed something different. something that couldn’t be left behind in a car. something that required his full attention. something that would prove he was, in fact, capable of being romantic.

which was how michael ended up standing in his kitchen at seven in the evening, staring at a recipe on his phone like it was a problem he needed to solve rather than a meal he needed to cook. the kitchen around him looked suspiciously like a place where someone had attempted a science experiment rather than dinner. ingredients covered almost every available surface, a wooden spoon rested beside a bowl he was no longer using, and there were three different tabs open on his phone because apparently one recipe was not enough.

he had done his research. that was the thing. he hadn’t just decided to cook and hoped for the best. no. michael had prepared. he had watched tutorials. he had read comments. he had saved a recipe that had thousands of good reviews because, in his mind, that meant it was impossible to fail. the problem was that the recipe had not accounted for one very important factor.

michael.

he looked down at the instructions again, his eyebrows pulling together slightly as he reread the same line for what had to be the fifth time.

“that doesn’t even make sense.” he said it quietly to himself, as if the recipe had personally offended him.

the recipe, unfortunately, did not respond. he glanced at the ingredients lined up in front of him, then back at his phone. everything was where it was supposed to be. mostly. he was almost certain. and that was good enough.

“i can do this.” the words came out with the confidence of someone who had absolutely no idea what was about to happen.

because michael had a very specific problem. when he decided he was going to do something, he committed completely. there was no halfway. he didn’t simply cook dinner. he created a mission. a goal. a challenge he needed to complete.

and maybe that was why he didn’t hear the front door open. didn’t hear her footsteps approaching. didn’t notice her standing in the doorway, watching him carefully measure something while wearing an expression so serious it almost made the entire situation funnier.

because there was michael. standing in the kitchen like he was about to make the most important decision of his life. not because he was cooking. because he genuinely believed cooking was going to fix his previous mistake.

“should i ask?” she leaned against the doorway, folding her arms as she watched him.

michael immediately turned around. and the look on his face was enough. not panic. not exactly. more like someone who had just been caught doing something he was very proud of and wasn’t prepared to explain yet.

“you’re home early.”

“that’s your response?” she smiled slightly.

“yes.”

“not ‘hi’?”

“hi.” he paused, then nodded.

she tried not to laugh. she really did. but the sight in front of her was making it difficult. because he was wearing an apron. michael. an apron. and somehow, he was still looking at her like she was the unusual thing in the room.

“what happened here?” her eyes moved around the kitchen before returning to him.

“nothing.” he looked around. then back at her.

the answer was immediate. too immediate.

“michael.” she raised an eyebrow.

“what?”

“the kitchen looks like it lost a fight.”

“it does not.” he looked offended.

“there’s flour on the floor.” she stepped further inside, glancing at the counter covered with ingredients.

he looked down. there was. “that’s normal.”

“is it?”

“yes.”

“for who?”

he opened his mouth. then closed it. because unfortunately, he didn’t have an answer.

she walked closer, the smile on her face growing as she took in every detail—mostly the focused expression and the determination in his eyes.

“you’re cooking.”

“yes.” he straightened slightly.

“for me?”

“yes.”

there was something so proud about the way he said it that she almost didn’t want to tease him.

“go change, i’ve got this.” michael said proudly, completely convinced he was finally getting the hang of it.

she stared at him for a moment, her eyes drifting past him toward the questionable state of the kitchen. she was far from convinced, but she knew better than to challenge the determination on his face. with a quiet sigh, she went to change.

⸻

she had left him alone for exactly twenty minutes. that was all. twenty minutes. when she had walked away, michael had been standing in the kitchen with complete confidence, insisting that he had everything under control. he had told her to go change, promising that by the time she came back, dinner would be ready. and, admittedly, she had believed him. maybe that had been her first mistake.

because michael was many things. determined, focused, annoyingly stubborn when he wanted something done a certain way. but after the flower incident, she probably should have known better than to trust a romantic plan without supervision.

she walked back into the kitchen expecting to find him proudly waiting with the meal he had spent the entire evening preparing. instead, she found chaos.

the counter was covered with dishes, ingredients were scattered everywhere, a towel had somehow ended up on the floor, and michael stood in the middle of it all looking like he had just lost an argument with the kitchen itself.

she stopped in the doorway, taking in the scene in complete silence. because she genuinely didn’t know what part to look at first. the overflowing sink. the suspicious amount of smoke still lingering in the air. or michael, who was holding a fork in one hand and staring at the pan in front of him like he was trying to understand where his life choices had gone wrong.

slowly, his eyes lifted to meet hers. and the second he saw her expression, he knew there was no hiding it.

“before you say anything,” he started, already sounding defensive. “it was going well.”

“michael.” she looked around the kitchen. then back at him.

“i’m serious.”

“you burned it?” she pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.

“that’s a strong word.” he glanced back at the pan, then away.

“the food is black.” she stared at him.

“okay,” he paused. “maybe not that strong.”

and that was when she finally laughed.

because somehow, after everything, he was still standing there trying to defend himself like this was a minor inconvenience and not the complete collapse of his second romantic mission. unfortunately for michael, the evidence was everywhere. the smoke. the dishes. the completely ruined dinner sitting in front of him.

there was no saving this one.

⸻

lesson two: finished.

result: created more dishes than food, a kitchen full of smoke, and somehow still burned dinner.

lesson three: picnic.

after two failed attempts, michael had decided there was one very obvious solution.

stop overcomplicating things.

because apparently, flowers could be forgotten and dinner could somehow become a fire hazard, so maybe the issue was that he had been choosing things with too many opportunities for failure. this time, he was keeping it simple.

a picnic.

that was it. no complicated preparation. no risky cooking. no small object that could accidentally be abandoned in his car. just a blanket, some food, a nice view, and a romantic afternoon with her. finally, something he could not possibly ruin. which was exactly the kind of confidence that usually came right before something went wrong.

but michael was convinced. he had planned everything carefully. he checked the weather. then checked it again. then checked it one more time because apparently trusting a weather app after the flower situation felt like another unnecessary risk.

the forecast was perfect. sunny. clear skies. no rain. no wind. nothing that could possibly interfere.

he had prepared everything with the seriousness of someone preparing for the most important event of the year. and when she saw him waiting with everything ready, she couldn’t help but smile. because there he was.

michael olise.

standing beside a perfectly arranged picnic blanket with the proudest expression she had ever seen on his face.

“you look very pleased with yourself.” she said it with a small smile tugging at her lips, her eyes moving over the little setup he had spent so much time putting together, before returning to him. she didn’t even have to ask how much effort he had put into it because the answer was written all over his face—the quiet pride, the way he stood there waiting for her reaction, pretending he wasn’t waiting for her reaction.

“i’m not.” michael immediately looked away, trying and failing to hide the satisfaction creeping into his expression.

“you are.” she raised an eyebrow, stepping closer as she glanced around once more at the blanket, the food, and all the little details he had clearly thought about.

“okay. maybe a little.” he looked back at her, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he was seriously considering arguing, even though they both knew she was right.

“a little?” she repeated his words with a quiet laugh, tilting her head as she looked at him like she couldn’t believe he was even attempting to downplay it.

“fine,” he admitted, the corner of his mouth lifting as he looked down at everything he had prepared. “maybe a lot.”

she couldn’t help but smile at that. because that was michael. he would never openly admit how much something mattered to him, but he didn’t have to. it was always there in the little things—in the way he remembered details, in the way he tried even when he had no idea what he was doing.

she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him for a moment, and he immediately relaxed into the touch, his hands settling comfortably around her as if this was the part he had been waiting for all along. and for once, everything was perfect. he was beginning to think he had finally defeated the universe. which, unfortunately, was where michael made his mistake. because he started believing it.

the universe heard him. and took it personally.

the first sign was the wind. a small breeze. nothing alarming. until the corner of the blanket lifted.

“it’s fine.” he said it almost immediately, reaching down to hold the corner of the blanket before it could lift any further. his voice was calm, far too calm for someone whose carefully planned picnic was already beginning to fall apart.

“what’s fine?” she asked, watching him with amused disbelief as he tried to stop the blanket from moving while also pretending there was no problem at all.

“this.” he gestured vaguely towards the picnic, as if that explained everything.

she followed his gaze. the blanket moving. the napkins shifting. the plates slowly sliding away. then she looked back at him. “the blanket trying to leave?”

michael immediately looked offended by the accusation.

“it’s not trying to leave.” he said it with so much certainty that she almost believed he actually thought he could negotiate with the weather. almost.

she glanced down again as another napkin escaped, floating across the grass.

“michael.” she said his name slowly, the way she always did when she was trying very hard not to laugh at him.

“it’s just moving.” he looked at her. then at the runaway napkin. then back at her.

“because of the wind.”

“yes.”

“which means it’s trying to leave.”

for a second, he looked like he was genuinely considering arguing. but then another gust came through, and the universe made the decision for him. the stack of paper plates started sliding away. and michael moved instantly. not dramatically. not frantically. just with the serious determination of someone who had decided this was a problem he could solve.

“michael.” she called after him, watching as he walked quickly across the grass to rescue something that, a few seconds ago, had been perfectly fine.

“i’ve got it.” he replied, not even looking back.

“what exactly do you think you’re doing?” she blinked, trying to understand how he could sound so confident while chasing after napkins. “michael?”

“saving the picnic.” he answered immediately. and somehow, that was the funniest part. because he was completely serious.

she looked around at the blanket folding over itself, the food being rearranged by the wind, and michael standing there like he had personally been assigned the mission of defeating nature.

“from what?” she asked, covering her smile as she watched him.

he paused. looked around. then looked back at her. “everything.”

and that was it. that was the moment she lost. she laughed, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth as she watched him stand there holding a napkin like it was a trophy from a battle he had somehow both won and lost.

“you’re laughing.” he turned towards her, immediately noticing.

“i’m sorry.” she tried to compose herself, but the smile on her face gave her away.

“you’re not.”

“no.”

he sighed, looking back at the picnic behind him. the blanket was crooked. the food was scattered. his perfect plan was slowly falling apart. and somehow, he still looked more confused than defeated.

“i checked the weather.” he finally said, like this was the most important piece of evidence in his defense.

“what?” she looked at him, completely caught off guard.

“i checked it.”

“michael, are you blaming the weather because your picnic failed?” she stared for a second before the laughter returned.

“i’m saying i prepared.” he looked genuinely offended.

“you prepared for everything except the weather being the weather.” she stepped closer, shaking her head as she looked at him.

he opened his mouth. then closed it. because unfortunately, she was right. again.

she laughed until her sides hurt, the sound carried away by the same breeze that had spent the last ten minutes ruining michael’s third attempt at being romantic.

“you’re impossible,” she whispered, the smile refusing to leave her face.

“i’ve been told.” he looked at her for a long moment, one hand still holding the corner of the blanket as though he refused to let the weather win completely.

“by me.”

“mostly by you.”

another laugh escaped her as she closed the distance between them, slipping her fingers through his before gently pulling him back down onto the blanket beside her. his shoulders finally relaxed, the determination he’d been carrying all afternoon melting away the second she rested against him.

“i’m sorry,” he murmured, looking around at the half-folded blanket, the scattered food, and the napkins he’d eventually given up chasing. “this wasn’t exactly how i imagined it.”

“i know.” she murmured, her smile softening as she turned towards him.

a few of his locs had fallen across his forehead thanks to the wind, moving every time another breeze swept between them. she reached up without thinking, carefully brushing them away from his eyes, only for them to slip right back into place a second later.

“they’re not listening to me either.” she let out a quiet laugh.

“they never do.” michael’s lips twitched into the smallest smile.

“i noticed.” she tried one more time, slower this time, her fingers gently combing them back before eventually giving up with an exaggerated sigh. instead, her hand drifted down to his face, her palm settling against his cheek as her thumb lazily traced back and forth over his skin.

“there,” she whispered. “much easier.”

he leaned into her touch almost instinctively, his eyes never leaving hers.

“i really thought this one would work.” the quiet disappointment in his voice was so small, so unguarded, that it made her chest ache. he wasn’t laughing anymore, wasn’t trying to make excuses or brush it off with another joke. he simply looked down at his hands, like he couldn’t quite understand how every attempt had managed to fall apart.

“i know.” she shuffled closer until her knees brushed his, closing what little space remained between them before leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss against the corner of his mouth.

his eyes fluttered closed for a brief second, and she felt him exhale softly against her skin.

“i really did.” he murmured again, his voice barely above a whisper.

she smiled, her thumb brushing over the back of his hand as she turned her head to leave another gentle kiss against his cheek, letting it linger there for just a moment longer. “i know.”

his shoulders eased as the last of the stubborn determination left him. maybe it hadn’t gone the way he’d imagined, but sitting here with her beside him somehow made it feel a little less like a failure.

she let her fingertips drift to the nape of his neck, drawing him a fraction closer before her lips found the curve beneath his jaw in a tender kiss.

his hand settled at her waist as naturally as breathing, gently guiding her into his lap until she was curled comfortably against him—while his other hand idly rubbed slow circles against her back. she slipped one arm around his shoulders while the fingers of her other hand absentmindedly toyed with one of the locs at the nape of his neck.

“you know what’s funny?” she whispered, her voice barely louder than the steady patter of rain beyond the shelter.

his brows drew together immediately.

“i’m almost scared to ask.” he admitted, narrowing his eyes at her with exaggerated suspicion, though the corner of his mouth had already begun to twitch.

“every single one of your plans has been a complete disaster.” she couldn’t help smiling.

“wow,” for a second he simply stared at her, looking genuinely betrayed.

she bit the inside of her cheek, already fighting a laugh.

“thank you,” he said, dragging a hand dramatically down his face before letting it fall back around her waist. “that’s very encouraging.”

he shook his head to himself, a quiet sigh escaping him as though she’d just confirmed every fear he’d had since the flowers were forgotten, the dinner had gone up in smoke, and now the rain had claimed the picnic too.

“i’m not finished.” she reached up, brushing a few damp locks away from his forehead before letting her hand settle against the side of his face. her thumb swept lazily across his cheek as she leaned forward until there wasn’t even an inch between them.

instead of answering, she nudged the tip of her nose against his. his nose scrunched instinctively, earning the soft laugh she’d been trying so hard to hold back.

before he could come up with another reply, she leaned in and kissed him again.

this time, she didn’t pull away immediately. her hand stayed against his cheek, her thumb resting softly along his skin as she let the moment linger between them. the kiss was warm and unhurried, carrying every bit of reassurance she hadn’t put into words—the reminder that she wasn’t disappointed by the failed plans or the things that hadn’t gone right.

and when she felt the smallest smile tug against his lips, she smiled too, unable to stop herself. he always tried so hard to get everything perfect, and somehow, he never realized that moments like this were already enough. his hand tightened gently around her waist, keeping her close as she stayed there for another heartbeat before finally pulling back.

“the flowers never made it inside.”

a kiss.

“you nearly declared war on the kitchen.”

another.

“and today…” she stopped herself, letting her eyes wander around their little corner of the world. the blanket beneath them was still slightly twisted from where they had rushed to move everything when the rain started. the carefully arranged food had been pushed around, the drinks were sitting wherever they had managed to save them, and the whole thing looked nothing like the picture he had probably imagined when he first planned it. and yet, somehow, it felt even more like them.

“today you lost a fight against the weather.” she looked back at him, the amusement in her eyes impossible to miss.

he stared at her for a moment, his lips parting like he wanted to defend himself, but the argument never came. instead, he simply looked away with a quiet exhale.

“when you list them all together…” she trailed off, watching the realization slowly cross his face as he replayed every failed attempt in his head.

“mm?” he hummed, looking at her cautiously, already knowing he probably wasn’t going to like where this was going.

“it sounds worse.” a laugh slipped out before she could stop it, and within seconds she was hiding her face against him, her shoulders shaking as she tried to compose herself.

“you’re enjoying this way too much,” he muttered, but there was no real complaint in his voice.

because he was laughing too.

his arms wrapped around her more securely, one hand settling at her back while the other rested at the back of her neck, his fingers brushing gently against her hair as the wind carried loose strands between them. keeping her close as she tried to recover. he could feel her smile against him, and despite everything that had gone wrong, despite every moment where he had wondered if the whole idea had been a mistake, he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it.

after a while, she pulled back just enough to see his face again. there was still that familiar look there—the one she had seen every time he tried something new for her. the quiet expectation. the hope that this time he had finally managed to get everything right.

her expression softened.

“but do you know what all three of them have in common?” her palms settled against his cheeks as she gently guided his attention back to her. her thumbs brushed over his skin, waiting until his eyes met hers.

“they failed?” he studied her for a second, suspicious but curious.

“wrong,” she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before staying close, her forehead resting against his. “you were in every single one of them.”

“…i don’t think that’s the point you’re trying to make.” he frowned ever so slightly.

a quiet laugh escaped her.

“it is,” her thumbs continued their slow movements over his skin, her gaze never leaving his. “i didn’t fall in love with perfect plans, michael.”

“you keep looking at everything that went wrong,” she whispered. “the things that didn’t happen the way you pictured them, the moments where you think you should’ve done better.”

she paused, letting him actually hear her.

“but i remember you running back outside because you forgot the flowers. i remember you standing in that kitchen looking completely lost but still trying to make something for me. i remember you looking at the sky today like you could somehow convince the clouds to give you one more chance.”

a small smile touched her lips.

“those are the parts i’m going to remember.” she leaned in again, brushing her lips against his in a slow, gentle kiss. not because she was trying to fix anything, but because she wanted him to understand.

when she pulled back, she stayed close enough that their noses still touched.

“you spend so much time trying to create the perfect moment,” she whispered, “that you never realize you’re the reason the moments matter.”

her hand slipped from his cheek to the back of his neck, her fingers gently threading through the locs gathered there.

“you could’ve planned everything perfectly and i still would’ve wanted this,” her smile grew. “sitting on a half-folded blanket, hiding from the rain, laughing at you because you somehow lost every single battle you started.”

she pressed a kiss beneath his jaw, then another near his ear, just because she knew the small smile it would bring.

“because it was never about what you did perfectly, michael,” her eyes met his again. “it was always about you.”

for a moment, michael just stayed there. completely still. because somehow, after spending the entire day trying to find the right words, the right gesture, the right way to show her how much she meant to him, she had managed to say the one thing he had never thought to consider.

that maybe he had already done enough.

his eyes dropped for a second, a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head.

“you really mean that?” the question came out quieter than he intended, like some part of him still couldn’t believe she could look at a day full of failed plans and see something worth keeping.

she only smiled, her fingers still resting against him, completely certain.

and that was what got him. not the teasing. not the laughter. just the way she looked at him like there had never been anything to fix in the first place.

he let out a soft laugh, lowering his gaze to where she was settled against him. his fingers tightened gently around her waist, a small, unconscious gesture that gave away the smile he was trying to hide.

“i spent all day trying to get everything right,” he looked back at her, his expression softer now. “and you’re telling me i didn’t have to.”

“you really didn’t.” a smile played on her lips.

“you know that’s a little unfair, right?” he shook his head, still smiling like he couldn’t quite believe how easily she had undone him.

“what is?” her eyebrows lifted slightly.

“because i spent hours planning all of this…” he gestured around them, the windblown blanket, the scattered remains of his carefully thought-out picnic, “and somehow you’re still the one who made it perfect.”

she laughed softly, and that sound alone made every failed attempt worth it.

he didn’t have anythung else to say—not one that wouldn’t give away just how much her words had gotten to him. instead, he lifted a hand to her face, his thumb brushing gently along her cheek as he looked at her for a moment longer, like he was trying to memorize the way she saw him.

then he leaned in.

the kiss started softly, almost like a quiet thank you, but he didn’t rush to pull away. his hand slipped from her cheek to the back of her neck, holding her close as he smiled against her lips, unable to hide how much lighter he felt.

when he finally pulled back, he stayed close, his forehead resting against hers.

“you really have no idea what you do to me, do you?” he whispered.

maybe he had been looking at everything wrong. maybe romance was never about the perfect flowers, the perfect dinner, or the perfect plan. maybe it was about the person sitting beside him after everything went wrong, still smiling like nothing had ever gone wrong at all.

and with her tucked safely against him, michael finally stopped trying to create the perfect moment.

because somehow, he was already living in one.

⸻

lesson three: finished.

michael also drifted between conversations, occasionally stealing glances your way. he wasn't the loudest in the group. not even close, but somehow you always knew where he was.

now the sun was low, casting everything with a golden hue.

you sat on the edge of the pool, feet kicked lazily beneath the surface, the cool water regulating your body temperature from the earlier heat.

"i still don't understand why you haven't gotten in."

you looked up. michael walked toward you in the pool, his shoulders shimmering from the sun and water. he rested his forearms on the edge of the pool before pushing himself up just enough that he was eye level with you.

"i'm comfortable here," you replied.

he fought back, "you've been saying that since you sat here."

"i have."

he rolled his eyes with a smile that barely reached his lips. the closest thing to teasing he ever did.

"come in the pool, babe." his hands inched towards your thighs, just tracing them gently.

a quiet hum escaped your lips. "hm, no."

without another word, he stood taller in the pool, the water reaching just above his waist.

he stepped closer and closer, just until he was directly between your knees.

your legs instinctively parted just enough to make room for him, your feet still floating in the water behind him.

he looked at you, up and down, checking out his girl before him.

"you could just..."

his hands rested on either side of your thighs, not holding you, just balancing himself against the pool's edge. his thumbs just lightly grazed the skin.

"...slide in."

you raised your eyebrows in slight disbelief on how sensual he made that sound. "is that your only argument?"

"i haven't finished."

"really?"

he leaned forward slightly. "the water's nice." he added.

"mhm." your reply was nothing but inviting.

"you'll cool off."

"i seem fine where i am." you leaned in an inch this time.

"you'll make me less lonely."

you couldn't help smiling. "there are like 12 other people in the pool."

"i don't want them."

the words were so simple but they caught you off guard. michael seemed to realize what he admitted a second later, looking away with a small, embarrassed smile. "i meant-"

"i know what you meant, mikes."

his eyes found yours again. the noise around you seemed to disappear. someone cannonballed into the deep end, drawing cheers from the others, but neither of you looked away.

you lifted your hand to cup his jaw. "you know," you said, "you're not usually this persuasive."

"i'm trying something different." a smirk played on his lips.

"i noticed." a small giggle escaped you.

he gently nudged your knee. "come in."

you sighed dramatically, hand dropping from his face. "i don't know..."

"you're already a bit in."

"but i don't want to get fully in." you slightly whined.

"but why not?" his head tilted slightly as his eyes wandered again. and so did his hands.

a tingle ran through you like an electric shock, the effect he had on you by just a touch was unfathomable. "my hair. i don't want it to get wet."

"i can change that."

you gasped.

"michael, don't."

a grin spread across his face. it wasn't a big one, just enough to wrinkle the corners of his eyes.

"there it is. the smile." you commented.

"what smile?"

"the one you pretend you don't have."

"i smile." he feigned offence.

"you smirk."

"i do smile!" his offence was starting to become no longer sarcastic.

"you definitely smirk."

he chuckled under his breath before reaching up. his fingers brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. the gesture was slow, almost hesitant, as though he was checking if you'd pull away.

you didn't.

"you've got sunscreen on your cheek," he murmured.

"you just made that up," you said with disbelief.

"i did."

you laughed, shaking your head. "god, this boy.."

after a moment he spoke again, "so..."

he tilted his head. "are you coming in?"

you pretended to think about it, looking away. "hmmm.."

he placed his finger beneath your chin, making you face back to him. "are you okay?" soft concern laced in his voice.

"mhm," a hum from you before he placed his lips on yours, a soft kiss.

another one followed after a pause of a moment.

a third kiss followed as he sneakily wrapped his arms around your waist.

"nuh uh." you immediately knew what was up, trying to fight against his arms. "michael, hey, no."

"what?" he asked, pretending to be clueless.

"stop! michael!" after giving up on attempting to pry his hands off, you tightly wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life.

with one smooth movement, he lifted you enough to steal your balance. you squealed, holding on him tightly as he quickly slipped you into the water.

the splash wasn't nearly as dramatic as you expected. he didn't fully submerge you underwater. thank god.

the water reached above your shoulders, managing to get in your mouth. you sputtered it out. nonetheless, the pool was freezing for a second.

it was so cold, you began shivering. opening your eyes, you were met with the sight of michael laughing and apologizing already.

"i'm sorry."

"no you're not! you planned that." your grip on him loosened, yet his hold around you didn't falter. he could tell you were cold from not adapting to the water yet, so he attempted to warm you up with his hands and body.

"...maybe."

you splashed him in the face. "there! revenge."

he wiped the water from his eyes with one hand, refusing to let go of you. "worth it."

you rolled your eyes and rested your hands on his shoulders.

the pool got more comfortable after a few moments, yet he steadied you without pulling you any closer than you already were. around you, the party carried on as if nothing had happened.

you and michael were on vacations for one week after the world cup. you decided to go to the turkish and caico islands, islands that michael absolutely wanted to visit.

so there you were, in a villa with nothing around you except a pool and some lights.

it was dark outside, you were both on lounge chairs and without saying much, you started undressing first, the thrill of what you wanted making your skin tingle.

he watched you for a moment, then followed without saying anything, dropping his clothes beside yours.

you slid into the water first, the warmth wrapping around your naked body. michael joined you seconds later and the moment he was close enough you reached for him.

he pulled you in without a word, arms sliding around your waist as your bodies met under the surface. you wrapped your legs around him, pressing chest to chest, skin to skin, holding on tight in a hug.

the water held you both as you floated slowly together, barely moving while his arms stayed locked around your back, one hand gently stroking along your spine.

your fingers traced the back of his neck and you rested your head on his shoulder,

“feels good,” you whispered.

“mmh,” he hummed in reply, squeezing you closer, his lips brushing your temple.

michael occasionally nuzzled into your neck or ran his hands slowly down your sides, keeping you as close as possible.

you responded by holding him even tighter, one hand in his hair, the other tracing the muscles of his back.

the pool water lapped softly around you both as you drifted in lazy circles, never letting go and minutes stretched into hours.

“don’t let go,” he murmured like he was falling asleep.

“i won’t,” you answered softly, pressing a kiss to his collarbone before burying your face against him again.

you stayed like that for a long time, tangled together in the middle of the pool, exchanging soft kisses and tighter squeezes.

As international break approached, Michael booked his tickets to come back to his family. After spending a long week with his family, he gets a call from ebs, his best mate, also a footballer on break. They agree to meet up at some club, have a drink, chat and spend some time having fun.

2:09 AM, you’re sat on your sofa, half-asleep, dedicated to finish your series tonight. Your eyes open wide as your phone rings on the table in front of you. Immediately you grab the remote pausing the scene on the tv, Unknown Number plastered across the screen.

You pressed answer hesitantly, after a few rings.

“Hello, who is this?” You asked

“Baby it’s me” a drunk voice said from the other side of the line. You can hear music and shatter. It terrified you honestly. You remained silent questioning your next move.

“Baby why aren’t answering me? Are you mad at me? I know you don’t like me going out to clubs but the guys invited me” somewhere across these words you recognized the voice. But is it Michael? It can’t be.

“Michael?”

“Yes my love your Michael” he confirmed drunkly. Tears flooded your eyes, your heartbeat quickening.

“Where are you?” You managed to say through tears.

“That one bar with the weird red sign, you know it right? It’s where we once had an argument” so many thoughts and uncertainty. How can he remember that much if he’s drunk? Why is he calling me now?

“Okay Michael wait for me there” you cut the line, grabbing your keys, powering the engine, reversing out of the driveway. Few minutes later, you’re parking at the bar’s entrance, but there’s a crowd.

You get out of the car, searching for Michael, tears never left your cheeks, hands shaking, your gaze falls on his figure sat against the wall, on the floor mumbling something to his friend.

“She told me she’s coming, I told you she loves me” you hear him as you step closer

“Come on, we have to go” you tell him

Once his eyes reach your face, his face lights up, attempting to stand up.

You help him, along with his friends as you combine your efforts to get him in the car, managing through people because they knew it was Michael Olise and wouldn’t leave him alone.

You ran to the driver’s seat after thanking the guys and sped away.

“Oh God I missed your scent” he started.

“Your eyes, the way you walked to me, your voice” He continued

“Stay with me please” he demanded

“Baby answer me please” he turned his eyesight to you.

“Michael you’re drunk”

“I still love you even when I’m drunk” he laughed.

You parked the car and got out

“Alright let’s get you inside” you said opening his door

“We’re home?” He asked

“Yes we are” you answered

“Oh so now we can cuddle?” He tried stepping out the car

“For now let’s make it inside” you pulled his arm over your neck and supported him by his waist as you walked towards the door.

Once inside, you set him on the sofa, you turn to grab water for the both of you but Michael pulls you on his lap.

“Where are you going? You promised me cuddles” he whines, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You sit in his grip, the smell of alcohol hitting your nostrils, shocked by his behavior.

You turn to face him, only to find him asleep and so you slept there all night.

Author’s Note : I’m not sure how well I did🙂 I hope you enjoyed it🤞