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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
The TV still murmuring quietly in the background as everything ahead of him, are already starting to take shape.
The quiet didn't disappear after the announcement.
It settled into something deeper.
Not empty.
Not heavy.
Just focused.
The kind of stillness that comes when something important has already been decided, and now all that's left is to move forward with it.
Francesco stayed on the couch a little longer after the broadcast drifted into analysis and repetition. The same clips looping again. The same conversations circling back to his name, his age, his impact.
He didn't need to hear it again.
Not now.
Leah leaned into the corner of the couch, relaxed again, though her eyes still drifted toward him every so often.
Not checking, and just aware.
Cheddar had settled at Francesco's feet, finally calm, his earlier burst of curiosity gone, replaced by quiet presence.
Francesco reached down absentmindedly, resting his hand against the dog's back.
Warm.
Steady.
Grounding.
The TV continued in the background, but it didn't hold his attention anymore.
His thoughts had already moved ahead.
England.
Training.
Different teammates.
Different system.
Same expectations.
He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees again, gaze lowering for a moment.
Leah noticed.
"You're already gone," she said softly.
Francesco glanced up.
"Not yet."
But he understood what she meant.
She gave a small smile.
"Mentally."
He didn't argue with that.
Because it was true.
That's how he worked.
Moments didn't linger longer than they needed to.
They settled.
Then they became part of something else.
Something ahead.
The evening passed quietly after that.
No big conversation.
No celebration.
No calls.
Just time.
Leah eventually got up to make something light for dinner. Francesco followed, helping where needed without saying much. The kind of rhythm they had built between them didn't need instructions.
Simple movements.
Shared space.
Comfort.
Later, the house dimmed naturally.
Lights lowered.
The outside fading into night.
Cheddar curled up in his usual spot again, already asleep before either of them moved toward the stairs.
Francesco checked his phone once more before heading up.
Messages.
Plenty of them.
Teammates.
Friends.
Mentions.
Reactions.
He didn't open most of them.
Not yet.
Just one or two.
Short replies.
"Appreciate it."
"Thanks."
Nothing more.
Then he locked the screen and set it aside.
The night ended the same way the day had begun.
Quiet.
Unforced.
And when sleep came, it came naturally.
The next morning didn't feel dramatically different.
Not at first.
The same soft light.
The same slow wake-up.
The same steady breath before movement.
Francesco opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling again, just for a second.
But this time, the thought came quicker.
Tomorrow.
He sat up slightly, running a hand across his face.
"Right."
The weight of it wasn't heavy.
But it was there.
Clear.
Defined.
He stepped out of bed, moving through his routine without hesitation.
Downstairs, the house felt the same.
Calm.
Leah was already up again.
Of course.
She glanced at him as he entered.
"Morning."
"Morning."
Cheddar followed the same script as always.
Tail.
Energy.
Immediate attention.
Francesco crouched briefly.
"Still the same."
Cheddar barked once.
Confirmed.
Breakfast was simple again.
Light.
Clean.
They didn't talk much at first.
They didn't need to.
But this time, there was something underneath the quiet.
Not tension.
Just awareness.
That things were shifting again.
After a few minutes, Francesco's phone buzzed.
He didn't rush to it.
Just finished his bite first.
Then reached for it.
Message.
From Gareth Southgate.
Direct.
Clear.
"Report to St George's Park tomorrow. Be ready."
No extra words.
No unnecessary detail.
Just expectation.
Francesco read it once.
Then again.
Same message.
Same clarity.
He typed back without hesitation.
"Okay."
Sent.
That was it.
Leah watched him.
"That it?"
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
She leaned slightly against the counter.
"When do you leave?"
"Tomorrow."
A small pause.
"Morning."
She nodded slowly.
"Fast."
Francesco shrugged.
"Always is."
And that was the truth.
There wasn't much time between moments at this level.
Everything moved quickly.
From one responsibility to the next.
From one environment to another.
Leah studied him for a second.
"You ready?"
Francesco didn't overthink it.
"Yeah."
Simple.
Because anything else wouldn't make sense.
She smiled faintly.
"I figured."
He finished his breakfast, stood, and carried his plate to the sink.
No delay.
No hesitation.
Because once it was confirmed, everything else followed naturally.
Preparation.
Routine.
Focus.
He walked upstairs not long after.
The house quiet behind him.
Each step deliberate.
Not rushed.
Just moving forward.
His room felt the same as always.
Ordered.
Clean.
Everything in its place.
But now, there was something to do.
He moved toward the wardrobe, opening it without pause.
Clothes.
Training gear.
Casual wear.
Everything laid out.
He grabbed his bag from the corner.
Set it on the bed.
Unzipped it.
And started packing.
No list.
He didn't need one.
He already knew.
Training kits first.
Folded.
Placed neatly.
Then casual clothes.
Simple.
Nothing excessive.
Just what he needed.
Boots.
Carefully placed.
Not thrown.
Never thrown.
He paused for a second after that.
Looking at the bag.
Then reached for his jacket.
Added it in.
Zipped one compartment.
Left the other open.
Not done yet.
But close.
The process wasn't rushed.
Each movement had intention.
Not slow.
Not fast.
Just… controlled.
He moved to the side table, picking up his phone again.
More messages had come through.
Still unread.
He ignored them for now.
That would come later.
He sat down on the edge of the bed for a moment.
Bag in front of him.
Open.
Ready.
His mind moved ahead again.
St George's Park.
Different environment.
Different rhythm.
But familiar in its own way.
He'd been there before.
But not like this.
Not as the youngest Ballon d'Or winner.
Not as someone expected to lead.
That part had changed.
And he knew it.
But it didn't overwhelm him.
It didn't need to.
Because the work didn't change.
That was the constant.
Leah appeared at the door quietly, leaning slightly against the frame.
"Already packing?"
Francesco glanced up.
"Yeah."
She stepped in a little.
"Prepared."
He shrugged.
"Easier."
She nodded.
"True."
A small pause.
Then she added,
"You're not nervous at all?"
Francesco thought about it for a second.
Then shook his head.
"No."
Not denial.
Just truth.
Leah watched him for a moment longer.
Then smiled.
"Good."
She didn't say more.
Didn't need to.
Because she understood.
This was just another step for him.
Not something to fear.
Something to meet.
She left him to it after that.
Francesco stood again, finishing the last part of his packing.
Zipped the bag fully this time.
Set it down beside the bed.
Done.
No overpacking.
No second-guessing.
Everything he needed.
Nothing he didn't.
He took a breath.
Not deep.
Just enough.
Then walked toward the window.
Looked out.
The driveway.
Still.
Quiet.
But tomorrow, it wouldn't be.
Tomorrow, it would be movement again.
Travel.
Transition.
Focus.
He didn't stay there long.
Just a moment.
Then turned away.
Because thinking about it wasn't the point.
Doing it was.
Downstairs, Cheddar barked once.
Probably at nothing.
Probably at everything.
Francesco smirked faintly.
"Still busy."
He grabbed his bag, carrying it down with him.
Not to leave yet.
Just to have it ready.
Prepared.
Leah looked over as he set it near the door.
"All set?"
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
She smiled.
"Good."
Cheddar wandered over, sniffing the bag immediately.
Suspicious.
Curious.
Francesco crouched slightly.
"You're not coming."
Cheddar looked unconvinced.
Leah laughed softly.
"He really thinks he is."
Francesco shook his head.
"He'll learn."
But probably not.
The rest of the day moved quietly again.
But not aimlessly.
Everything now had direction.
Subtle.
But clear.
Tomorrow, he would leave.
Tomorrow, he would step into another role.
Another responsibility.
And he was ready.
Not because he said it.
But because everything he did pointed toward it.
Morning came a little sharper this time.
Not harsh.
Not rushed.
But clearer.
Defined.
The kind of morning that carried purpose from the moment it arrived.
Francesco woke before the light had fully settled across the room. Not by alarm. Not by noise. Just instinct. His body already understood what the day was.
Departure.
He lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling again, just like he always did. But this time, there was no lingering stillness. No slow transition.
Just awareness.
"Alright."
Quiet. Under his breath.
He pushed himself up.
Feet to the floor.
Movement started immediately after.
Routine that clean, efficient, familiar. Shower, clothes, everything done without hesitation. Not rushed, but with intent. Every action part of a rhythm he didn't have to think about anymore.
Downstairs, the house felt different.
Not empty.
But… aware.
Like it knew.
Leah was already there.
Of course.
Standing near the counter, coffee in hand, dressed already. Not fully in training gear, but close enough. Prepared.
She looked up as he stepped in.
"Morning."
"Morning."
Cheddar reacted instantly, like always. But this time there was something extra in it. Maybe it was just the energy in the room. Maybe not.
He sprinted toward Francesco, tail moving faster than usual, small bursts of excitement as if he could sense something was about to change.
Francesco crouched slightly, catching him.
"Easy."
Cheddar didn't go easy.
Of course he didn't.
Leah smiled faintly.
"He knows."
Francesco glanced up.
"He doesn't."
Leah raised an eyebrow.
"You sure?"
Francesco didn't answer that directly.
Instead, he stood again, moving toward the counter.
Breakfast was already there.
Simple.
Light.
Just like every other morning.
They didn't talk much while he ate.
Didn't need to.
The quiet between them was different today, though.
Not just comfortable.
Meaningful.
Every now and then, Leah looked at him. Not trying to read him, not trying to say something and just present.
Francesco finished, rinsed his plate, and set it aside.
No delay.
Because there wasn't anything left to prepare.
Everything was ready.
His bag was already by the door.
Waiting.
Leah stepped closer.
"So…"
A small pause.
"This is it."
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
No dramatics.
No long buildup.
Just truth.
She studied him for a second.
"You've got everything?"
He glanced toward the bag.
"Yeah."
She nodded.
"Good."
Another pause.
Then she stepped closer, just slightly.
"Take care of yourself."
Francesco looked at her.
"I will."
Simple.
Always simple.
Cheddar interrupted again, nudging his leg.
Demanding attention.
Francesco crouched down once more, scratching behind his ears.
"You're staying."
Cheddar didn't agree.
Not even a little.
He circled once, then nudged the bag.
Suspicious.
Hopeful.
Francesco shook his head.
"No."
Leah laughed softly.
"He's going to wait by the door after you leave."
Francesco stood.
"He always does."
That part didn't change.
He picked up his bag.
Weight familiar.
Not heavy.
Just enough.
He moved toward the door, opening it slowly.
The morning air met him immediately.
Cool.
Fresh.
Different.
Leah followed him out.
They stopped just outside.
No rush.
No immediate goodbye.
Just a second.
Then she leaned in, wrapping her arms around him briefly.
Not tight.
Not lingering.
Just enough.
"I'll watch," she said quietly.
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
She pulled back, giving him one last look.
"You're ready."
He didn't answer.
Because he didn't need to.
They both knew.
He turned slightly then, heading toward his car.
Cheddar followed.
Of course.
Right up to the edge of the driveway.
Stopping just before the gate.
Watching.
Francesco placed his bag in the back, then paused.
Looked back once.
Leah stood by the door.
Cheddar beside her now.
Still.
Watching.
Francesco gave a small nod.
Not big.
Just enough.
Then got in.
Engine started.
The car moved forward.
Through the gates.
Onto the road.
And just like that, the house faded behind him.
The drive to the airport was quiet.
No music.
No distractions.
Just the road.
Traffic steady.
Morning beginning to pick up around him, people moving into their own routines, unaware of anything beyond their own day.
Francesco drove the same way he always did.
Controlled.
Focused.
Not rushed.
Not slow.
Just direct.
His thoughts didn't spiral.
Didn't overanalyze.
They stayed clear.
England.
Training.
Responsibility.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
By the time he reached the airport, everything felt aligned.
Not heavy.
Not overwhelming.
Just… right.
He parked, grabbed his bag, and stepped out.
The environment shifted immediately.
Airports always had that effect.
Movement.
Noise.
Energy.
People going everywhere at once.
But he moved through it like it didn't exist.
Staff recognized him quickly.
Of course they did.
A few nods.
A couple of quiet greetings.
Nothing excessive.
He kept it simple.
Focused.
Check-in.
Security.
Waiting area.
All done without delay.
He didn't stop for attention.
Didn't invite it either.
A few people noticed him.
Phones came up.
A couple of quiet whispers.
But nothing disruptive.
He sat near the gate, bag at his feet, hands resting loosely together.
Waiting.
No phone.
No distraction.
Just… present.
When boarding was called, he stood immediately.
No hesitation.
Moved forward.
The plane ride to Birmingham was short.
Quiet.
He took the window seat again.
Of course.
Habit.
The plane lifted smoothly.
London shrinking beneath him.
Distance growing.
Francesco leaned back slightly, eyes closing for a moment.
Not sleeping.
Just resting.
Letting the transition happen.
From club.
To country.
Different environment.
Same focus.
When they landed at Birmingham Airport, the shift happened again.
Back to ground.
Back to movement.
He stepped off the plane, moving through the terminal quickly.
No delays.
Outside, the air felt different.
Slightly cooler.
Less dense.
He didn't wait long.
A taxi was already available.
He gave the destination.
St George's Park.
The driver nodded.
"Alright."
The journey started.
—
The drive through Staffordshire felt quieter than the city.
Open.
More space.
Less noise.
Trees lined the roads.
Fields stretching out in the distance.
It gave the mind room.
Not that Francesco needed it.
But it was there.
The car moved steadily.
No rush.
Just forward.
As they got closer, the environment shifted again.
More structured.
More familiar.
Training ground territory.
The kind of place built for focus.
For work.
For preparation.
The taxi turned in.
Security checkpoint.
Quick confirmation.
Then the gates opened.
Inside, everything was clean.
Organized.
Precise.
Staffordshire held this place quietly, almost hidden from everything else.
The car pulled up.
Stopped.
Francesco stepped out, grabbing his bag.
"Thanks."
"Good luck," the driver said.
Francesco gave a small nod.
Then turned.
And walked in.
The building felt familiar.
But not casual.
Not like a club environment.
Different energy.
National.
Focused.
He stepped inside.
Staff greeted him.
Short.
Professional.
"Welcome."
"Good to have you."
Francesco nodded.
"Thanks."
Then moved forward.
No hesitation.
Down the corridor.
Past rooms.
Past doors.
Toward the main area.
Voices.
Already.
Not many.
But enough.
He stepped into the open space.
And saw them.
Harry Kane.
Standing near the center.
Calm.
Composed.
Talking.
Beside him—
Wayne Rooney.
Presence strong even in stillness.
And just slightly to the side was Joe Hart.
Relaxed.
Listening.
The kind of group that didn't need noise to feel important.
Francesco walked toward them.
No hesitation.
No pause.
Kane noticed first.
Of course he did.
His eyes shifted, then a small smile formed.
"There he is."
Rooney turned next.
Then Hart.
The attention shifted naturally.
Francesco stepped closer.
"Alright?"
Simple.
Direct.
Kane nodded, extending a hand.
"Good to see you."
Francesco shook it.
"You too."
Rooney stepped forward slightly.
"Big man now, yeah?"
There was a hint of a smirk in it.
Francesco didn't react much.
Just a small,
"Still the same."
Rooney nodded.
"Good answer."
Hart stepped in next.
"Good to have you here."
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
They settled into a loose circle after that.
No structure.
Just presence.
Waiting.
Kane leaned slightly against the table behind him.
"You travel alright?"
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
Short.
Simple.
Rooney glanced at him.
"Ready for it again?"
Francesco met his gaze.
"Always."
Rooney smiled faintly.
"Good."
Hart crossed his arms lightly.
"Going to be a good group this time."
Kane added,
"Strong squad."
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
There was no need to overtalk.
No need to prove anything.
They all understood what this was.
What it meant.
And as they stood there, waiting for the rest of the squad to arrive, the space filled slowly.
Footsteps.
Voices approaching.
The space didn't fill all at once.
It never did.
Not in places like this.
It happened gradually with piece by piece, presence by presence until what had started as a quiet corner of voices turned into something fuller, something alive.
Francesco stood where he was, still beside Harry Kane, Wayne Rooney, and Joe Hart, his bag resting lightly against his leg. The conversation between them hadn't disappeared, but it had thinned, stretched out as their attention shifted toward the sound of footsteps growing closer.
The first to come through properly was Kyle Walker.
Of course.
There was no mistaking him.
Even before he spoke, his presence carried energy. Movement. Something that broke through the calm without disrupting it completely.
"There he is!"
Walker called out the moment he spotted Francesco, already grinning like they hadn't seen each other just days ago.
Francesco turned slightly.
"Yeah."
Walker closed the distance quickly, clapping him once on the shoulder.
"Still picking up awards everywhere, yeah?"
Francesco smirked faintly.
"Something like that."
Walker shook his head, laughing under his breath.
"Unbelievable."
Behind him, more arrivals followed.
Gary Cahill stepped in next, composed as always, his expression calm but attentive. He gave a short nod to the group, then to Francesco.
"Good to have you here."
Francesco returned it.
"Yeah."
Then came Dele Alli, relaxed in his stride, eyes scanning the room with that familiar ease.
"You made it," Alli said, stopping just near Walker.
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
Alli smirked slightly.
"Big stage again."
Francesco didn't respond to that directly.
Didn't need to.
Because they both understood what that meant.
Raheem Sterling followed, quieter in his approach but no less present. He gave Francesco a quick nod.
"Good to see you."
"You too."
Then Jordan Henderson stepped in, voice already steady, already carrying that leadership tone even before he said anything.
"Everyone settling in alright?"
Kane nodded.
"Yeah."
Henderson's eyes moved briefly across the group, then landed on Francesco for a second longer.
"Ready?"
Francesco met his gaze.
"Yeah."
Short.
Clear.
No hesitation.
More footsteps.
More arrivals.
Jermain Defoe came in with a calm presence, older, experienced, carrying that quiet confidence that didn't need to prove itself anymore.
"Good to see the young ones stepping up," he said lightly, glancing toward Francesco.
Francesco gave a small nod.
"Trying."
Defoe smiled faintly.
"That's all you need."
Jake Livermore and Eric Dier entered together, already mid-conversation, their voices low but steady. They greeted the group quickly, naturally, no fuss.
Then Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain appeared, energy a little lighter, glancing around with a quick smile.
"Whole squad nearly here already."
Walker pointed.
"Because we're on time for once."
Alli laughed.
"Speak for yourself."
And finally, Marcus Rashford.
There was something composed about him, something familiar in the way he carried himself, like he understood his place without needing to announce it.
He gave Francesco a quick nod.
"Alright."
Francesco returned it.
"Yeah."
The room was fuller now.
Not crowded.
But complete enough that the atmosphere had shifted.
Voices layered over each other.
Short conversations branching out in different directions.
Laughter here.
Quiet discussion there.
Boots against the floor.
Bags being set down.
The rhythm of a team forming.
Francesco stood within it.
Not on the edge.
Not at the center either.
Just a part of it.
Exactly where he needed to be.
Walker leaned slightly closer again.
"Feels different, yeah?"
Francesco glanced at him.
"How?"
Walker shrugged.
"Just does."
Francesco didn't push it further.
Because he understood.
It did feel different.
Not because of the place.
Not because of the players.
But because of what had changed around him.
Expectation.
Responsibility.
Recognition.
He didn't dwell on it.
Just acknowledged it.
And then the shift came.
Not loud.
Not announced.
But immediate.
The door at the far end opened.
And the room responded instinctively.
Conversations softened.
Not stopped.
But lowered.
Because everyone knew.
Gareth Southgate stepped in.
Calm.
Composed.
Exactly as he always was.
Behind him, the coaching staff followed.
Structured.
Focused.
The kind of presence that didn't demand attention, but received it anyway.
Francesco's posture adjusted slightly.
Not rigid.
Not formal.
Just attentive.
Southgate stepped forward into the space, his eyes moving across the group, taking everything in with that quiet awareness he carried.
"Alright, lads."
His voice wasn't raised.
Didn't need to be.
The room settled naturally.
Players shifted slightly.
Forming something more structured without being told to.
Francesco remained still.
Watching.
Listening.
Southgate nodded once.
"Good to see you all here."
A small pause.
Just enough.
Then he continued.
"We don't have a lot of time."
Direct.
Clear.
No unnecessary buildup.
He glanced briefly at one of the coaches beside him, then back to the group.
"Two matches."
That landed.
Everyone knew it already.
But hearing it made it real.
Southgate continued.
"First, away."
A slight pause.
"Malta."
A few heads nodded subtly.
Francesco's eyes stayed fixed.
Listening.
Processing.
Southgate's tone didn't change.
"Then…"
Another brief pause.
"Slovakia. At Wembley."
That carried a different weight.
Home.
Crowd.
Expectation.
He let that sit for a second.
Then stepped forward slightly.
"These aren't games we take lightly."
His voice sharpened that not louder, but more defined.
"Doesn't matter the opposition."
A glance across the group.
"You respect it."
No one spoke.
Didn't need to.
Because that was understood.
Southgate's gaze moved again.
Slower this time.
More deliberate.
"You've all been brought here for a reason."
That wasn't dramatic.
It was factual.
"You're here because you've shown something."
His eyes passed briefly over Francesco.
Not lingering.
But enough.
"And now…"
He paused.
"…you show it again."
Silence held for a second.
Not empty.
Focused.
Southgate stepped back slightly.
Hands coming together loosely in front of him.
"We prepare properly."
He nodded once.
"Training starts this afternoon."
No hesitation.
No delay.
"That's it."
Simple.
Then, after a brief glance at his staff.
"Get settled."
And just like that, it was done.
No speech stretched longer than it needed to.
No unnecessary intensity.
Just clarity.
Direction.
Expectation.
Southgate stepped aside slightly, speaking quietly with one of the coaches as the room began to shift again.
Conversations returned.
But different now.
More focused.
Less scattered.
Walker exhaled lightly.
"Straight into it."
Kane nodded.
"Always."
Henderson added quietly,
"That's how it should be."
Francesco didn't speak.
He just stood there.
Letting it settle.
Malta.
Away.
Slovakia.
Wembley.
Two matches.
Two responsibilities.
Same standard.
He adjusted the strap of his bag slightly.
Not out of discomfort.
Just habit.
Then glanced briefly across the room.
At the players.
At the staff.
At the space itself.
This was it.
Not the announcement.
Not the message.
This.
The environment.
The preparation.
The work.
He exhaled once.
Controlled.
Then looked back toward the group.
Ready.
Not because he said it.
Not because anyone told him to be.
But because everything he had done up to this point had already led him here.
______________________________________________
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