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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
The movie continued playing while they finished the last slices of pizza, as outside the quiet night of Richmond settled fully around the house.
The world beyond the tall hedges and iron gate grew still as the hours slowly drifted forward. Streetlights glowed softly along the empty road, and the distant hum of London traffic faded into something barely noticeable.
Inside the house, everything felt warm.
Safe.
Comfortable.
The movie continued playing on the television, the soft soundtrack filling the living room while occasional bursts of dialogue echoed through the speakers.
Leah had shifted slightly closer against Francesco's shoulder, the blanket pulled over both of their legs as the last slices of pizza slowly disappeared from the box on the coffee table.
Cheddar had finally surrendered to sleep.
The little corgi lay curled in his dog bed near the couch, his toy resting beside him like a trophy from a long day of play.
Every now and then his paws twitched slightly as he dreamed.
Probably chasing something.
Or imagining a world made entirely of squeaky toys.
Leah finished her last bite of pizza and leaned back with a satisfied sigh.
"That," she said quietly, "was exactly what I needed."
Francesco nodded in agreement.
"Same."
She reached forward and closed the now-empty pizza box before sliding it aside on the table.
The movie continued.
A dramatic scene played out on the screen.
Leah watched it for a moment before speaking again.
"You're going to be busy tomorrow."
Francesco sighed softly.
"Yeah."
"Interviews."
"Yep."
"Photoshoots."
"Probably."
She tilted her head slightly to look up at him.
"Famous footballer problems."
He gave a small shrug.
"Still problems."
She laughed quietly and snuggled a little deeper under the blanket.
"Poor you."
Francesco reached over and grabbed the remote, lowering the volume slightly.
The house had grown quiet enough now that the movie didn't need to be loud.
Outside, night fully settled across Richmond.
Minutes passed.
The movie continued.
Eventually the exhaustion from the long drive, the beach trip, and the full day began catching up with both of them.
Leah yawned.
A long, unstoppable yawn.
Francesco noticed immediately.
"You're falling asleep."
"I am not."
"You just yawned for ten seconds."
"That's unrelated."
Another yawn escaped her almost instantly.
He raised an eyebrow.
She sighed.
"Okay fine. I'm a little tired."
"Shocking."
She nudged him lightly with her elbow.
"You're tired too."
"Maybe."
The movie continued playing in the background, but neither of them were paying much attention anymore.
Leah slowly sat up and stretched.
"Alright," she said. "I surrender."
Francesco glanced toward her.
"To sleep?"
"Yes."
He nodded.
"That's probably a good idea."
They turned off the television and gathered the empty pizza boxes before carrying them into the kitchen.
Cheddar lifted his head briefly as they moved around the room, watching them with sleepy eyes.
"Come on," Leah whispered softly.
The dog stood up and trotted after them toward the stairs.
A few minutes later the house lights dimmed one by one.
The day quietly ended.
Morning arrived gently.
The first light of dawn crept slowly through the tall bedroom windows, painting soft streaks of gold across the walls.
Outside, birds had begun their early morning conversations in the trees surrounding the property.
Inside the house everything was quiet.
Francesco was already awake.
He had slipped out of bed earlier, careful not to wake Leah, and gone through his usual morning routine.
A quick glass of water.
Running shoes.
Light stretch.
Then out the door.
Now the morning jog was finished.
So was his workout at the home gym.
The gym room downstairs still smelled faintly of rubber flooring, steel equipment, and fresh sweat.
His muscles felt loose and awake.
The good kind of tired.
The kind that comes after a solid workout.
Francesco stepped back into the house through the side door, a towel draped around his neck.
Sunlight now filled the kitchen.
And the smell drifting through the house made him stop immediately.
Breakfast.
He followed the scent.
Inside the kitchen, Leah stood near the stove wearing one of his oversized training shirts and a pair of shorts.
Her hair was loosely tied back, and she looked like someone who had been awake for a little while now.
A frying pan sizzled gently.
On the counter sat plates, toast, and a small bowl of fruit.
Francesco leaned against the doorway.
"You're cooking?"
She glanced over her shoulder.
"Good morning to you too."
He walked into the kitchen.
"Good morning."
Cheddar sat beside the table already, staring at the food with intense concentration.
Francesco laughed.
"He woke up early for this."
"He always wakes up early for food."
Leah slid scrambled eggs onto a plate and placed it in front of Francesco.
"Sit."
"Yes chef."
He sat down obediently.
She placed toast beside the eggs and poured him a glass of orange juice.
"Eat."
Francesco didn't argue.
After the morning workout, the food tasted incredible.
Leah joined him at the table with her own plate.
For a few minutes the kitchen filled with the quiet sounds of breakfast.
Cheddar sat patiently nearby, occasionally glancing between the two of them in case something fell.
Francesco grabbed his phone from the table while chewing.
The screen lit up immediately.
Several notifications appeared.
One of them caught his attention.
A message from Jorge.
He opened it.
A long schedule document appeared on the screen.
Interview with a sports magazine at 9:30 AM.
Commercial photoshoot at 13:00 PM.
Brand meeting at 15:30 PM.
Promotional media session at the evening.
Francesco stared at the list.
Then slowly lowered the phone.
A long groan escaped him.
Leah looked up from her plate.
"Why are you groaning in the morning?"
He slid the phone across the table toward her.
"Look."
She picked it up.
Her eyes scanned the schedule.
Then suddenly she burst into laughter.
Not just a chuckle.
Actual laughter.
Francesco stared at her.
"You think that's funny?"
Leah wiped a tear from her eye.
"Oh my god."
"What?"
"That schedule is brutal."
"Exactly."
She handed the phone back to him.
Then leaned back in her chair with a grin.
"Well…"
Francesco narrowed his eyes.
"Well what?"
She shrugged.
"You have to do it."
He sighed dramatically.
"I know."
Leah reached over and stole a piece of toast from his plate.
"We need the money."
Francesco blinked at her.
"We?"
She nodded very seriously.
"Yes. We."
He leaned back in his chair.
"I'm pretty sure we're doing okay financially."
She pointed the toast at him.
"You have a dog now."
Francesco glanced down at Cheddar.
The corgi wagged his tail happily.
Leah continued.
"Dogs are expensive."
Francesco laughed.
"That's your argument?"
"Yes."
She took a bite of the stolen toast.
"Also I like expensive vacations."
"Ah."
"And nice restaurants."
"Of course."
"And new shoes."
Francesco shook his head, smiling.
"So this is all for you."
"Obviously."
He leaned forward again and resumed eating.
"Well," he said between bites, "if I survive today, maybe we can take another trip later."
Leah's eyes lit up instantly.
"Deal."
Cheddar barked once happily as if agreeing with the plan.
The morning sun continued shining through the kitchen windows.
Another day had begun.
And for Francesco, the off-season was already back in full swing.
The morning sun continued shining through the kitchen windows.
Another day had begun.
And for Francesco, the off-season was already back in full swing.
For a while the three of them stayed there at the table.
Breakfast slowly disappeared.
Leah finished the last piece of fruit from the bowl while Francesco wiped the final streak of egg from his plate with the remaining piece of toast.
Cheddar, of course, had been watching every single bite like a professional referee monitoring a match.
Hoping.
Waiting.
Dreaming.
Eventually Francesco folded the napkin and placed it beside his empty plate.
"Well," he said, stretching his shoulders slightly, "I should probably get ready."
Leah leaned back in her chair.
"You still have time."
"I know."
He glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall.
Just after eight.
The interview with the magazine was scheduled for 9:30.
And knowing Jorge, that meant he would arrive early.
Very early.
Francesco stood up from the table and grabbed his glass, finishing the last sip of orange juice.
Cheddar instantly stood as well.
The dog had learned an important rule about human behavior.
When people stand up from the table, something interesting might happen.
Francesco looked down at him.
"Don't look at me like that."
Cheddar tilted his head.
Leah laughed softly.
"He thinks you're about to drop something."
"I didn't drop anything."
"Exactly. Suspicious."
Francesco shook his head with a grin and carried his plate to the sink.
Leah followed a moment later with hers.
The kitchen filled with the quiet sounds of morning routine again.
Running water.
Plates clinking softly.
Outside, Richmond had begun waking up properly now.
A car passed somewhere down the road.
Birds continued chattering in the trees.
Francesco dried his hands and glanced back toward the stairs.
"Alright," he said. "Shower time."
Leah nodded approvingly.
"Yes. Please. You smell like the gym."
"Very funny."
He walked out of the kitchen and headed upstairs while Cheddar trotted behind him halfway up the steps before suddenly remembering that the living room existed.
The dog immediately changed direction and ran toward his toys again.
Leah shook her head.
"Priorities."
Upstairs, Francesco stepped into the bedroom.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows now, illuminating the room with warm morning light.
He grabbed a fresh towel from the wardrobe and disappeared into the bathroom.
Moments later the sound of the shower filled the room.
Hot water.
Steam rising slowly.
The kind of shower that washed away the sweat of a morning workout and reset the body for the day ahead.
Francesco stood under the water for a few minutes longer than usual.
Partly because it felt good.
Partly because he knew the day ahead would be busy.
Interviews.
Cameras.
Brand meetings.
Photoshoots.
The entire strange circus that followed modern footballers outside the pitch.
Eventually he shut the water off and stepped out.
A few minutes later he reappeared in the bedroom with a towel around his shoulders while he checked his phone again.
No new messages yet.
Which meant Jorge was probably already on his way.
Francesco opened the wardrobe.
Rows of neatly organized clothes filled the space.
Training gear.
Casual wear.
Formal suits.
And the category Jorge always insisted on for media appearances.
Stylish but relaxed.
He studied the options for a moment before selecting something simple but sharp.
Dark fitted jeans.
Clean white sneakers.
A light grey shirt.
And a navy jacket that gave the whole look a polished edge without feeling overly formal.
He dressed quickly.
By the time he finished adjusting the jacket sleeves, the man in the mirror looked less like someone who had just finished a gym workout and more like a professional athlete about to face cameras.
Francesco ran a hand through his hair and nodded slightly.
"Good enough."
Downstairs, Leah had moved to the living room with a cup of coffee.
Cheddar lay beside the couch chewing his toy again, occasionally squeaking it like a musical instrument.
The front door opened.
Francesco stepped down the stairs.
Leah looked up.
"Well look at you."
Francesco spread his arms slightly.
"What?"
"Mr. Fashion."
"This is normal clothes."
"For you maybe."
She sipped her coffee and studied him for a moment.
Then she smiled.
"You clean up well."
"Thank you."
Cheddar barked once happily and ran toward him.
Francesco crouched down and scratched behind the dog's ears.
"You're in charge today," he told him.
Cheddar wagged his tail like he had just been promoted to general.
Leah laughed.
"I'm pretty sure he thinks he's always in charge."
Francesco stood up just as the distant sound of a car engine approached outside the gate.
Both of them glanced toward the front windows.
A familiar black car rolled slowly toward the property.
Leah raised an eyebrow.
"Speak of the devil."
Francesco pulled his phone out and checked the CCTV camera feed.
Sure enough, a sleek car waited outside the iron gate.
Inside sat a man he knew very well.
Jorge Mendes.
His agent.
The man responsible for organizing nearly every business commitment in Francesco's life.
Francesco tapped the gate control on his phone.
Outside, the tall iron gate slowly slid open.
The car drove in smoothly.
Leah shook her head.
"Your schedule manager has arrived."
"Unfortunately."
The car rolled down the driveway and parked near the entrance.
A moment later the driver door opened.
Jorge stepped out.
He looked exactly like the kind of man who managed the careers of elite athletes.
Sharp suit.
Confident posture.
Phone already in his hand.
Francesco opened the front door before he even knocked.
"Morning."
Jorge looked up and smiled.
"Good morning, Francesco."
He stepped inside.
Leah waved from the living room.
"Morning Jorge."
"Good morning, Leah."
He glanced around the house briefly before returning his attention to Francesco.
"You look ready."
Francesco shrugged.
"I tried."
Jorge held up his phone.
"Today is full."
"I saw the schedule."
"Yes."
Francesco sighed.
"Very full."
Jorge smiled calmly.
"That is what happens when you are one of the biggest players at Arsenal F.C and the world."
Leah laughed from the couch.
"See? I told you."
Francesco pointed at her.
"You're not helping."
Jorge chuckled.
"Come. The first interview starts soon."
Francesco grabbed his keys from the small table near the door.
Leah stood up and walked over.
"Good luck today."
He leaned down and kissed her lightly.
"Try not to let Cheddar destroy the house."
"No promises."
The corgi barked happily again.
Jorge gestured toward the driveway.
"Shall we?"
Francesco nodded.
"Let's go."
The two men stepped outside into the warm Richmond morning.
The sun sat higher in the sky now, casting bright light across the quiet neighborhood.
Francesco locked the door behind him while Leah waved from inside.
Cheddar jumped up onto the couch beside her to watch through the window.
The car doors opened.
Francesco climbed into the passenger seat while Jorge settled behind the wheel.
The engine started smoothly.
As the car rolled down the driveway toward the gate, Francesco leaned his head back slightly and exhaled.
Jorge glanced at him.
"Long day ahead."
Francesco nodded.
"Very long."
Jorge smiled faintly.
"But good for your brand."
Francesco laughed under his breath.
"Of course it is."
The gate opened.
The car rolled out onto the quiet Richmond street.
Morning sunlight spilled across the pavement, reflecting softly off the windshield as the vehicle merged into the gentle flow of early traffic heading toward London.
For a few seconds neither of them spoke.
Francesco leaned back in the passenger seat, watching familiar houses glide past through the window.
Richmond in the morning had a different rhythm than the rest of the city.
It was calm.
Slow.
Dog walkers along the sidewalks.
Parents walking children toward school.
Small cafés opening their doors for the first rush of coffee orders.
Normal life.
A quiet world that existed far away from stadium lights, roaring crowds, and television cameras.
Jorge tapped the steering wheel lightly as he drove.
His phone rested in the cup holder beside him, the screen occasionally lighting up with new messages.
Business never really stopped for him either.
After a minute, he glanced sideways at Francesco.
"You slept well?"
Francesco shrugged slightly.
"Pretty good."
"Good."
Another pause.
Then Jorge smiled faintly.
"You will need the energy."
Francesco groaned quietly.
"I already regret agreeing to today."
"You agreed to being famous."
"That's not exactly how it works."
Jorge laughed softly.
"Yes it is."
The car moved smoothly through the quiet streets before eventually joining the larger morning traffic heading toward central London.
The city skyline slowly grew closer.
Glass buildings.
Historic architecture.
Bridges stretching across the Thames.
London waking up.
Jorge checked the clock on the dashboard.
"First stop in fifteen minutes."
Francesco nodded.
"What's the magazine again?"
"International football magazine," Jorge replied. "They want a feature interview. Season recap. Your future. A few questions about leadership."
Francesco sighed.
"They always ask the same questions."
"Yes."
"And they expect different answers every time."
"Yes."
Francesco rubbed his face lightly.
"I should just record one answer and send it to everyone."
"That would ruin the entire media industry."
They both chuckled quietly.
The car eventually pulled up outside a sleek office building near the river.
Glass doors.
Company logos.
A small crowd of media staff already waiting outside.
Jorge parked along the curb.
"We're here."
Francesco opened the door and stepped out.
Immediately someone from the magazine approached with a welcoming smile.
"Francesco! Thank you for coming."
He shook their hand politely.
"Happy to be here."
Jorge stayed nearby while the staff guided Francesco inside the building.
The lobby was bright and modern.
Photographs of famous athletes decorated the walls.
Francesco recognized several of them.
Footballers.
Tennis stars.
Olympic champions.
The receptionist led him into a studio room where the interview would take place.
Two chairs faced each other under soft lights.
A small camera setup stood nearby.
Microphones.
Not too dramatic.
Just a professional interview environment.
A journalist greeted him with a handshake.
"Thank you for doing this."
"No problem."
They sat down.
The cameras started rolling.
And just like that, the first job of the day began.
The interview lasted nearly an hour.
Questions flowed one after another.
About the season.
About the pressure of expectations.
About leadership inside the dressing room.
About scoring goals.
About trophies.
Francesco answered calmly, the way he had learned to over the years.
Confident but measured.
Honest but careful.
Professional without sounding rehearsed.
At one point the interviewer smiled and asked the inevitable question.
"What motivates you after already achieving so much?"
Francesco leaned back slightly in his chair before answering.
"The next challenge," he said simply.
"That never changes."
The journalist nodded thoughtfully.
The cameras kept rolling.
When the interview finally ended, the crew thanked him again and the lights shut off.
Jorge was waiting just outside the room.
"How was it?"
"Same questions as always."
"Good answers?"
"I think so."
Jorge checked his phone again.
"Perfect. Now we move."
"Already?"
"Yes."
Francesco laughed tiredly.
"Of course."
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of movement.
Another interview with a television network.
A quick podcast recording session.
A short appearance for a sports channel segment.
Every location required travel.
Every location required cameras.
Microphones clipped to his jacket.
Makeup artists briefly fixing lighting reflections on his face.
Quick greetings.
Firm handshakes.
Smiles.
Questions.
Answers.
More photos.
By early afternoon, Francesco felt like he had spoken enough words for an entire week.
The car stopped outside a commercial studio where the photoshoot was scheduled.
Large white backdrop.
Bright lighting rigs.
Stylists moving around quickly with clothing racks and equipment.
A brand team greeted them.
"Welcome! We're excited to shoot today."
Francesco nodded politely.
"Glad to be here."
For the next several hours he moved through different setups.
Standing poses.
Walking poses.
Holding sports equipment.
Wearing different jackets.
Different shirts.
Different watches.
Different expressions.
The photographer occasionally called out instructions.
"Relax your shoulders."
"Look slightly left."
"Perfect."
"Hold that."
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
Jorge watched quietly from the side while checking emails between shots.
At some point one of the assistants approached with a bottle of water.
"Here."
Francesco took it gratefully.
"Thanks."
The afternoon schedule kept moving.
The brand meeting followed.
Then another promotional media session.
Every moment carefully timed.
Every transition planned by Jorge's detailed schedule.
At one point Francesco glanced at his watch.
"How long until lunch?"
Jorge looked up from his phone.
"Five minutes."
"Good."
Five minutes later they stepped outside the studio building and walked into a small café across the street.
Lunch lasted exactly ten minutes.
Literally.
Francesco ordered a sandwich.
Jorge grabbed a salad and coffee.
They sat at a small table near the window.
Francesco took a bite and leaned back.
"This is the fastest lunch in history."
Jorge checked the time.
"We have eight minutes left."
Francesco laughed.
"Incredible."
They ate quickly but peacefully.
For those few minutes there were no cameras.
No microphones.
No interviews.
Just two men eating lunch during a busy workday.
Francesco finished the last bite and wiped his hands with a napkin.
"Alright," he said. "Back to work."
Jorge nodded.
"Back to work."
The afternoon stretched into evening.
Another photoshoot.
Another interview.
Another promotional appearance.
The sun slowly lowered over London while the work continued.
By the time the final session ended, the sky outside had turned deep orange.
Francesco leaned back in the chair inside the final studio and rubbed his neck.
"I feel like I've done three matches today."
Jorge laughed quietly.
"Media marathon."
They gathered their things and walked back to the car.
Night had started settling across the city.
Streetlights flickered on.
Traffic thickened with people leaving work.
Jorge started the engine and glanced at Francesco.
"You hungry?"
Francesco nodded immediately.
"Very."
Jorge smiled.
"Good."
"Why?"
"Dinner."
Instead of heading straight back toward Richmond, the car drove into a quieter district known for its upscale restaurants.
Soft golden lights illuminated the streets.
Elegant storefronts.
Valet parking stands.
Evening crowds dressed sharply.
Jorge parked near a well-known restaurant entrance.
Francesco looked up at the building.
"Fancy."
Jorge shrugged slightly.
"You survived the schedule."
"I deserve food."
They stepped out of the car and walked inside.
The restaurant interior felt warm and refined.
Low lighting.
Soft music.
White tablecloths.
A host greeted them and led them to a quiet table near the back.
Francesco sank into the chair with a relieved sigh.
"This is the best part of the day."
Jorge smiled.
"I thought you liked interviews."
"I like food more."
A waiter approached with menus.
They ordered dinner.
Steak for Francesco.
Sea bass for Jorge.
Wine for the table.
For the first time all day, the pace slowed.
The restaurant atmosphere encouraged conversation rather than efficiency.
Jorge set his phone aside for a moment.
"You handled today well."
Francesco took a sip of water.
"I'm glad someone thinks so."
"You did."
Francesco looked around the room.
"Well… at least no cameras here."
Jorge leaned back slightly.
"That is the advantage of dinner."
The food arrived soon after.
Perfectly cooked.
Rich flavors.
After a full day of rushing between commitments, the meal felt almost luxurious.
Francesco ate slowly.
Enjoying every bite.
They talked casually about the season.
About future plans.
About upcoming opportunities.
By the time dessert arrived, the exhaustion from the day had softened into quiet satisfaction.
Eventually Jorge checked the time again.
"Ready?"
Francesco nodded.
"Yes."
They left the restaurant and stepped back into the cool London night.
The drive back to Richmond felt calmer than the morning journey.
The city lights blurred softly past the windows.
Francesco leaned his head back against the seat.
"Long day."
Jorge nodded.
"Very productive."
After about thirty minutes, the familiar quiet streets of Richmond appeared again.
The car turned down Francesco's road and rolled toward the large iron gate.
Jorge slowed the car.
Francesco pulled out his phone and tapped the gate control.
The gates slid open.
The car drove up the driveway toward the mansion.
Warm lights glowed from inside the house.
Francesco smiled faintly.
"Home."
Jorge parked near the entrance.
The engine shut off.
Silence settled for a moment.
Francesco opened the door and stepped out.
"Thanks for today."
Jorge nodded.
"Rest tomorrow."
"That's the plan."
Francesco turned toward the house. Behind the window, he could already see movement of Leah and a very excited corgi running in circles as the long day was finally over.
______________________________________________
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 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