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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Because deep down, this was kind of group he wanted to be.
Morning didn't arrive loudly.
It never really did at the mansion.
No alarms. No sudden movement. No rush of voices or footsteps echoing through halls.
Just light again.
Soft, patient, slipping through the edges of the curtains and stretching slowly across the room like it had all the time in the world.
Francesco stirred beneath it.
Not fully awake at first.
Just aware.
A shift in breathing. A slight movement of his hand across the sheets. The quiet transition from sleep to consciousness.
Then his eyes opened.
He didn't sit up immediately.
Didn't reach for his phone.
Didn't think about training, or tactics, or even the group they had just been drawn into the night before.
He just lay there for a moment.
Still.
Letting the calm settle in before anything else.
Beside him, the space was empty again.
Leah had already gotten up.
That didn't surprise him.
It was becoming routine in its own way. She liked mornings. Not in a loud, energetic way, but in a steady, controlled rhythm. The kind that started quietly and built into something productive.
Francesco exhaled softly.
Then rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling for a second longer.
The events of the night before drifted back in slowly.
The draw.
Group C.
Atlético Madrid
AS Roma
Qarabağ FK
Not an easy group.
Not supposed to be.
And that faint feeling came back again.
Not pressure.
Not nerves.
Something sharper.
Anticipation.
He let that sit for a moment.
Then finally pushed himself up.
"Alright…"
His voice was quiet, barely more than a breath.
Feet touched the floor.
The slight soreness from the match, the recovery session, and even just sitting around longer than usual last night was still there, but lighter now.
Manageable.
He stood, stretched his arms up over his head, then rolled his shoulders once.
"Better."
Routine kicked in again after that.
Bathroom.
Quick wash.
Nothing excessive.
Just enough to wake himself properly.
By the time he stepped out and made his way downstairs, the smell hit him again.
Familiar.
Warm.
Comforting.
Breakfast.
Leah was already in the kitchen, just like the day before.
Hair tied back.
Moving calmly between the counter and the stove.
Not rushed.
Never rushed.
Cheddar was already stationed near her feet.
Of course.
Waiting.
Watching.
Hoping.
Francesco stepped in quietly.
"Morning."
Leah glanced back, smiling instantly.
"Morning."
Cheddar reacted faster.
Tail wagging.
Immediate approach.
Francesco barely had time to brace before the dog reached him, nudging against his legs with full enthusiasm.
"Yeah, yeah," Francesco muttered, crouching slightly to scratch behind his ears. "You're consistent, I'll give you that."
Cheddar barked once.
Leah laughed softly.
"He's been like that since I came down."
Francesco stood up again, walking toward the counter.
"What did you make?"
Leah slid a plate toward him.
"Same idea as yesterday. Light."
Simple food.
Nothing heavy.
Nothing that slowed the body down.
Francesco nodded.
"Perfect."
He sat down.
Started eating without rushing.
Same rhythm as always.
Leah leaned lightly against the counter, watching him for a moment.
"How do you feel?"
Francesco shrugged slightly between bites.
"Good."
Then added after a second,
"Better."
Leah nodded.
"That's good."
They didn't push the conversation further.
Didn't need to.
The quiet returned again.
Comfortable.
Natural.
But this time, the house felt slightly different.
Not messy.
Not chaotic.
Just… used.
The aftermath of last night was still there.
Empty bottles on the side table in the living room.
A couple of snack wrappers near the couch.
A pillow slightly out of place.
Nothing major.
But enough to show that the space had been full of people not too long ago.
Francesco noticed it without really looking for it.
Leah followed his gaze.
"We should clean that up."
Francesco nodded once.
"Yeah."
He finished his breakfast, took one last sip of water, then stood up, grabbing his plate and bringing it to the sink.
"I'll do it."
Leah raised an eyebrow.
"All of it?"
Francesco shrugged.
"Most of it."
She smiled faintly.
"Fair."
He didn't waste time after that.
Moved straight toward the living room.
And now, with the morning light fully settled in, the scene from last night was clearer.
Empty snack bags.
Half-finished drinks.
A bottle left on the table that Walker definitely forgot.
Francesco picked it up.
Shook his head slightly.
"Of course."
He started small.
Gathering bottles first.
Stacking them neatly.
Then the wrappers.
Folding them without thinking.
Not because he needed to.
Just habit.
Cheddar followed him around, curious but not helpful.
At one point, the dog tried to grab a wrapper.
Francesco stopped him mid-attempt.
"No."
Cheddar paused.
Then tried again.
Francesco sighed.
"Seriously?"
Leah's voice came from behind.
"He thinks he's helping."
Francesco glanced back.
"He's not."
Leah laughed softly.
Francesco continued cleaning.
Step by step.
Nothing rushed.
Just restoring the space.
As he worked, fragments of last night replayed.
Walker claiming his seat immediately.
Sánchez's quiet confidence.
Cazorla's calm analysis.
Ramsey already planning fixtures in his head.
Giroud casually breaking down defensive structures like it was nothing.
Leah sitting quietly, watching it all.
Cheddar… being Cheddar.
And then the draw.
That moment when Arsenal came out.
Then Atlético Madrid.
The shift in the room.
Subtle.
But real.
Then AS Roma.
Confirmation.
No easy path.
Then Qarabağ FK.
The final piece.
Francesco tossed another wrapper into the trash.
"That's fine."
Leah stepped into the living room now, picking up a couple of items from the side.
"You say that like you wanted it."
Francesco glanced at her.
"I did."
She studied him for a second.
"You actually prefer harder groups?"
Francesco didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
Simple.
Leah tilted her head slightly.
"Why?"
He paused for a second.
Not searching for an answer.
Just deciding how to say it.
"Because it shows where you are."
Leah didn't interrupt.
He continued.
"If you get through that group…"
A small pause.
"You know."
She nodded slowly.
"Yeah."
It made sense.
Different mindset.
Not avoiding difficulty.
Facing it directly.
Francesco finished clearing the table, wiping it down quickly.
The room already looked different.
Cleaner.
Reset.
Like last night had happened, but wasn't lingering.
Leah stepped closer, setting the last bottle aside.
"That's better."
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
Cheddar jumped onto the couch again.
Spun once.
Settled.
Finally.
Leah pointed.
"Now he's tired."
Francesco smirked.
"Took long enough."
They stood there for a moment.
Looking at the room.
Quiet again.
Calm again.
But not empty.
Not really.
Because the energy from last night hadn't disappeared.
It had just… settled.
Francesco exhaled softly.
"Good night."
Leah nodded.
"Yeah."
Then added,
"You should do that more often."
Francesco raised an eyebrow.
"Invite everyone over?"
She smiled.
"Yeah."
He thought about it for a second.
Then nodded.
"Maybe."
Not a promise.
But not a dismissal either.
Just something to consider.
Leah walked back toward the kitchen.
"I'll make coffee."
Francesco followed a few seconds later.
The house felt fully awake now.
Sunlight stronger.
Air lighter.
Routine returning.
But with something extra beneath it.
Not pressure.
Not urgency.
Just direction.
Group C was set.
The season was moving.
And everything they did from here on mattered.
Francesco leaned lightly against the counter as Leah prepared the coffee.
"You thinking about it already?"
she asked.
Francesco didn't pretend otherwise.
"Yeah."
Leah handed him a cup.
"Of course you are."
He took it.
Warm.
Grounding.
He glanced out the window briefly.
The driveway.
Empty again.
Quiet.
But it wouldn't stay that way forever.
Matches.
Training.
Travel.
Everything would pick up again soon.
He took a sip.
Then set the cup down.
"Recovery today."
Leah nodded.
"Good."
He stretched his neck slightly.
"Then back to work."
She smiled faintly.
"You never really stop, do you?"
Francesco shook his head.
"No."
And this time, there wasn't even a pause before he said it.
Leah didn't linger too long after that.
She never really did on training days.
Even when things were calm, even when there was no immediate rush, there was always that quiet pull toward routine. Toward discipline. Toward doing the work.
Francesco saw it in the way she moved.
Efficient.
Focused.
But not tense.
She finished her coffee, rinsed the cup, then turned toward him, already halfway into that transition from "home" to "professional."
"I should go," she said, grabbing her bag from the chair.
Francesco nodded once.
"Yeah."
No long goodbye.
No overdone moment.
Just understanding.
She stepped closer, leaning in slightly.
"Recovery, yeah?"
Francesco smirked faintly.
"Yeah."
She held his gaze for a second.
"Don't turn it into a full session."
Francesco didn't answer immediately.
That alone was enough.
Leah raised an eyebrow.
"Francesco."
He huffed a quiet breath.
"I won't."
She gave him a look that said she didn't fully believe that—but she let it go anyway.
"Good."
Then she leaned in just a bit more, brushing a quick kiss against his cheek.
"See you later."
"Yeah."
Cheddar noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
The moment Leah picked up her bag, he was already moving as his tail wagging, small bursts of energy returning as if he'd just been recharged.
"You're not coming," Leah said, crouching slightly to scratch his head.
Cheddar barked softly.
Unconvinced.
Francesco leaned against the counter, watching.
"He'll try anyway."
Leah laughed.
"I know."
She stood, adjusted her jacket, then headed toward the door.
Francesco followed at a slower pace, stopping just inside as she stepped out into the morning light.
The air was fresh.
Quiet.
Different from the night before.
No cars pulling in.
No voices.
No energy buzzing around the house.
Just stillness.
Leah turned once more before heading to her car.
"Don't overdo it."
Francesco gave a small nod.
"I said I wouldn't."
She smiled faintly.
"We'll see."
Then she got in.
Engine started.
The car pulled away smoothly, disappearing down the driveway and through the gates.
And just like that, it was quiet again.
Francesco stood there for a second longer.
Watching the empty space where her car had been.
Then exhaled.
"Alright."
Cheddar nudged his leg.
Ready.
Always ready.
Francesco glanced down at him.
"You too?"
Cheddar wagged his tail harder.
That was enough.
Francesco stepped outside, moving toward the backyard.
The space opened up immediately.
Wide.
Clean.
Green.
The kind of area built not just for relaxation, but for movement.
For work.
For moments like this.
Recovery.
He didn't rush into it.
Didn't jump straight into anything intense.
Just started walking first.
Slow.
Letting his body loosen naturally.
The grass felt soft under his feet.
The air steady.
No noise except the faint sound of wind moving through the trees.
Cheddar ran ahead.
Of course.
Looping back every few seconds to make sure Francesco was still there.
Francesco stretched his arms slightly as he walked.
Shoulders first.
Then neck.
Small rotations.
Nothing dramatic.
Just enough to wake everything up properly.
"Still there," he muttered under his breath.
That lingering soreness.
But lighter now.
More manageable.
He stopped near the center of the yard.
Took a breath.
Then started.
Light movements first.
Dynamic stretches.
Leg swings.
Controlled.
Measured.
Every motion intentional.
Cheddar watched for a moment.
Head tilted.
Then decided this was boring and sprinted off again.
Francesco ignored him.
Focused.
He moved into a light jog.
Nothing fast.
Just steady.
Circling the yard.
Letting his body find rhythm again.
His breathing settled into a natural pace.
Not strained.
Not forced.
Just movement.
Step after step.
The kind that cleared the mind without needing to try.
And as he ran, his thoughts drifted again.
Not heavy.
Not analytical.
Just… present.
The group.
Atlético Madrid.
AS Roma.
Qarabağ FK.
Each name carried something different.
Different styles.
Different challenges.
But he didn't break them down yet.
Not like that.
Not fully.
That would come later.
This wasn't the time.
This was about feeling.
Movement.
Reset.
He slowed after a few laps.
Transitioned back into walking.
Then stopped again.
Stretching deeper this time.
Hamstrings.
Quads.
Calves.
Each hold just long enough to release tension without forcing anything.
Cheddar returned, panting slightly, clearly pleased with himself.
Francesco glanced down.
"You done?"
Cheddar barked once.
That probably meant no.
Francesco shook his head faintly.
Then moved toward the gym.
The space inside was quiet.
Cool.
Organized.
Everything in its place.
He stepped in, closing the door behind him, shutting out the outside world again.
This part was different.
More focused.
Still recovery, but structured.
He started with mobility work.
Foam rolling.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Every muscle that had taken impact the night before got attention.
No shortcuts.
Then light activation.
Core work.
Balance.
Nothing explosive.
Nothing heavy.
Just enough to keep everything engaged.
His breathing stayed controlled.
Steady.
The kind of rhythm that came from repetition.
From knowing exactly what your body needed.
Time passed without him really noticing.
One movement into the next.
Then the next.
Always with purpose.
Eventually, he stepped back.
Session done.
Not pushed.
Not forced.
Just completed.
"Good enough."
He grabbed a towel, wiping sweat from his face, then stepped back outside.
The air hit differently now.
Cooler against his skin.
Refreshing.
He didn't stop there.
Of course he didn't.
He moved toward the driveway.
Then beyond it.
Jogging again.
This time around the property.
A wider loop.
Longer.
Still not fast.
Just steady.
The road curved gently around the mansion.
Trees lining the path.
Quiet.
No distractions.
Just movement.
Step.
Step.
Step.
His body felt looser now.
Freer.
The heaviness from the morning almost completely gone.
Replaced by something lighter.
More responsive.
He kept the pace consistent.
Not chasing speed.
Just maintaining flow.
And again, his thoughts drifted.
But not into pressure.
Not into expectation.
Just awareness.
This was the work.
Not just matches.
Not just big moments.
This.
The quiet sessions.
The discipline when no one was watching.
That's what built everything else.
He slowed eventually.
Walked the last stretch back toward the house.
Breathing steady.
Controlled.
Then stopped.
One last stretch.
Deep breath.
Then exhaled slowly.
"Done."
Cheddar reappeared again, as if he'd been waiting for that exact moment.
Tail wagging.
Ready for something else.
Francesco looked down at him.
"You never get tired, do you?"
Cheddar barked.
That was answer enough.
Francesco shook his head slightly, then headed back inside.
Straight to the bathroom.
Shower.
The water came on quickly.
Hot.
Relaxing.
He stepped under it without hesitation.
Let it wash everything away again.
Sweat.
Fatigue.
The last bits of tension.
His head tilted forward slightly as the water ran over him.
Quiet.
Still.
No noise.
No voices.
Just the sound of water and his own breathing.
This was another kind of reset.
Not physical alone.
Mental.
Everything slowing down again.
He stayed there for a few minutes.
Not rushing.
Then turned the water off.
Dried quickly.
Changed.
Simple clothes.
Nothing formal.
Nothing heavy.
Just comfort.
When he stepped back out into the house, Cheddar was already waiting.
Of course.
Francesco smirked.
"Alright."
That was all the invitation the dog needed.
He bolted forward immediately, grabbing a toy from the floor and bringing it straight to Francesco's feet.
Dropping it.
Waiting.
Expecting.
Francesco looked down.
"You're serious?"
Cheddar wagged his tail.
Very serious.
Francesco picked up the toy.
Tossed it lightly across the room.
Cheddar sprinted after it like it was the most important thing in the world.
Slid slightly as he grabbed it.
Turned.
Came right back.
Dropped it again.
Repeat.
Francesco shook his head, but there was a faint smile there now.
"Again?"
Cheddar barked.
Francesco threw it again.
This time a little farther.
The dog chased it down with the same energy.
Same intensity.
Same commitment.
No hesitation.
Francesco leaned slightly against the wall, watching him for a moment.
Then crouched down as Cheddar returned.
"Alright, that's enough."
Cheddar didn't agree.
Tried again.
Francesco laughed quietly.
"You don't stop either."
He reached down, scratching behind his ears again.
The dog settled slightly this time.
Panting.
But content.
Francesco sat down on the couch, leaning back.
Cheddar jumped up beside him without hesitation, curling slightly but still alert enough to move again at any second.
The house was quiet.
Completely quiet now.
No teammates.
No noise.
No movement outside.
Just this.
Francesco rested his head back against the cushion, eyes half-closed.
Not sleeping.
Just… still.
The work was done.
The recovery.
The session.
The routine.
Everything completed.
And for once, there was nothing immediate waiting.
No next match tonight.
No travel.
No pressure.
Just time.
And for someone like him, that was rare.
He exhaled slowly.
One hand resting lightly against Cheddar's back.
The dog's breathing steady now.
Calmer.
The house held that silence again.
The house didn't rush into the next day.
It eased into it.
The kind of slow transition that felt earned after everything that had happened over the last few days as the match at Anfield, the travel, the draw, the gathering, the quiet recovery that followed. Nothing about the morning demanded urgency, and for once, Francesco didn't try to force any into it.
By the time the afternoon settled in, the light had shifted again that softer, warmer, stretching across the living room floor where he and Leah now sat.
The TV was on.
Not loud.
Just enough to fill the space.
They weren't watching anything intense. Just letting it run in the background while the day unfolded at its own pace.
Cheddar was stretched out across the rug this time, finally still for more than five minutes. A rare sight. His chest rose and fell slowly, completely unaware that anything important might be happening.
Francesco leaned back into the couch, one arm resting along the back, posture relaxed in a way that didn't happen often.
Leah sat beside him, one leg tucked slightly under her, attention half on the screen, half on nothing in particular.
"Feels weird," she said after a moment.
Francesco glanced at her.
"What?"
She tilted her head slightly toward the TV.
"No match. No travel. No one coming over."
A small pause.
"Just… normal."
Francesco let that sit for a second.
Then nodded.
"Yeah."
Normal didn't come often.
And when it did, it almost felt unfamiliar.
The broadcast shifted.
The tone changed.
Graphics appeared.
Music adjusted.
Leah straightened slightly.
"Oh, this is it."
Francesco's eyes moved back to the screen.
World Cup qualification squad announcement.
Gareth Southgate appeared on screen, standing at a podium, calm as always, composed in that quiet, deliberate way that had become part of his identity.
Leah leaned forward just a bit.
"You watching this properly?"
Francesco didn't answer immediately.
But his focus sharpened.
"Yeah."
Because this mattered.
Not like a club match.
Not like a Champions League draw.
Different.
He didn't show it outwardly.
But inside, there was a shift.
Subtle.
But real.
Southgate began speaking.
Measured.
Clear.
Talking about form.
About balance.
About the importance of the upcoming qualification matches.
Standard.
Expected.
But every word still carried weight.
Names started coming.
One by one.
Defenders first.
Midfielders.
Attackers.
The usual structure.
Leah listened carefully, occasionally glancing at Francesco, trying to read him without being obvious about it.
He didn't give much away.
He rarely did.
But she could tell.
He was locked in.
Completely.
The room felt quieter now.
Even the air seemed to settle.
Cheddar shifted slightly on the rug but didn't wake.
On screen, the list continued.
Some expected names.
Some less so.
Leah crossed her arms lightly.
"You nervous?"
Francesco shook his head.
"No."
But it wasn't that simple.
It wasn't nerves.
It was… anticipation.
Something sharper.
Something more controlled.
The kind that didn't show on the surface.
Southgate continued.
More names.
More confirmations.
The list was getting closer to the end.
Leah's eyes flicked toward him again.
Still nothing outward.
Still calm.
Then Francesco's phone buzzed.
Once.
Sharp enough to break the rhythm.
He glanced down.
Didn't rush.
Just picked it up.
Unknown number.
But not really unknown.
He opened the message.
Short.
Direct.
From one of Southgate's assistants.
"You're in. Official call-up. Gaffer will announce you last. We don't forget the hero who led us to Euro 2016."
Francesco didn't move for a second.
Didn't react immediately.
He just read it again.
Once.
Then again.
Leah noticed.
"What?"
He didn't answer right away.
His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment longer before he locked it and set the phone down.
Then he looked back at the TV.
"Wait."
That was all he said.
Leah didn't push.
She didn't need to.
Because she could feel it now too.
Something had shifted.
On screen, Southgate continued.
The final names approaching.
The room felt smaller somehow.
More focused.
Then a pause.
Deliberate.
The kind that television always stretched just a little longer than necessary.
Southgate looked down briefly at his notes.
Then back up.
"And finally…"
Leah's hand shifted slightly on the couch.
Francesco didn't move.
"…Francesco Lee."
The name landed clean.
Clear.
No hesitation.
And immediately, the reaction followed.
Even through the TV, you could hear it.
Journalists reacting.
Voices rising.
Cameras shifting.
Because it wasn't just another name.
It was him.
Eighteen years old.
Already one of the best players in the world.
The youngest Ballon d'Or winner.
Leah turned to him instantly.
Her expression changed completely.
"You knew."
Francesco exhaled lightly.
Not relief.
Not shock.
Just… acknowledgment.
"They messaged."
Leah shook her head slightly, a smile forming.
"You didn't say anything."
Francesco shrugged.
"Didn't need to."
On screen, the reaction continued.
Commentators already talking.
Highlight clips starting to play.
His goal.
His assist.
Anfield.
Everything fresh again.
Cheddar finally woke up, lifting his head slightly, sensing the shift in energy even if he didn't understand it.
Leah leaned back slightly, still looking at Francesco.
"England again."
He nodded once.
"Yeah."
But this wasn't just "again."
This was different.
Because now he wasn't just a young player breaking through.
Now he was expected.
Now he was part of the core.
Maybe more than that.
Leah studied him for a second.
"You good?"
Francesco didn't hesitate.
"Yeah."
A pause.
Then,
"Ready."
Simple.
But real.
The TV continued running.
Analysts talking.
Breaking down the squad.
Talking about balance.
About expectations.
And his name kept coming up.
Again.
And again.
Because that's what happened when you reached that level.
You didn't just get selected.
You became part of the conversation.
Leah nudged him lightly.
"Guess your schedule just got busier."
Francesco smirked faintly.
"Yeah."
No complaint.
No hesitation.
Just acceptance.
Because this was part of it.
Club.
Country.
No separation.
Just different responsibilities.
Same focus.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees now.
The relaxed posture from earlier had shifted.
Not tense.
But engaged.
Already thinking ahead.
Training.
Tactics.
Teammates.
Opponents.
Leah noticed.
"Already?"
Francesco glanced at her.
"Always."
She smiled.
"Of course."
Cheddar stood up now, stretching before wandering over and nudging Francesco's leg.
Attention.
Now.
Francesco reached down, scratching his head absentmindedly.
"You're not coming with me."
Cheddar didn't care.
Leah laughed softly.
"He'd try."
Francesco shook his head.
"Yeah."
The TV volume lowered slightly as Leah reached for the remote.
Not off.
Just quieter.
Because they didn't need it anymore.
They already knew.
Francesco leaned back again, but not fully.
Not like before.
Something had shifted.
That quiet afternoon had turned into something else.
Not loud.
Not chaotic.
But meaningful.
Leah looked at him again.
"Proud of you."
Francesco didn't respond immediately.
Not because he didn't hear it.
But because he processed things differently.
Then he nodded once.
"Thanks."
Simple.
But genuine.
Outside, the light had begun to change again.
Afternoon slowly drifting toward evening.
Time moving forward like it always did.
Inside, the house held a different kind of quiet now.
Not just calm.
Not just still.
But purposeful.
Because something new had been added to the path.
Another step.
Another responsibility.
Another opportunity.
Francesco glanced once more at his phone.
The message still there.
Short.
Direct.
Clear.
He didn't reply yet.
Didn't need to.
That would come later.
For now, he just sat there.
Leah beside him.
Cheddar at his feet.
The TV still murmuring quietly in the background as everything ahead of him, are already starting to take shape.
______________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 18 (2016)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, and 2016/2017 Champions League.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 11
Goal: 14
Assist: 1
MOTM: 1
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 0
Goal: 0
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 16/17 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 55
Goal: 87
Assist: 5
MOTM: 14
POTM: 1
England:
Match: 1
Goal: 1
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 15/16 stats:
Arsenal:
Match Played: 60
Goal: 82
Assist: 10
MOTM: 9
POTM: 1
England:
Match Played: 2
Goal: 4
Assist: 0
Euro 2016
Match Played: 6
Goal: 13
Assist: 4
MOTM: 6
Season 14/15 stats:
Match Played: 35
Goal: 45
Assist: 12
MOTM: 9