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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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While Inside, they stayed right where they were, exactly where they were supposed to be.
Dinner stretched into something softer as the night deepened around them.
Not louder.
Not more intense.
Just… fuller.
The kind of fullness that didn't come from the food alone, but from everything that had led up to that moment from the walking, the laughter, the small pauses, the quiet looks exchanged without needing explanation.
Leah leaned back slightly in her chair, her fingers loosely wrapped around her glass, her gaze drifting toward the window where the lights of Belleville shimmered against the dark.
"You know," she said softly, "if every day feels like this, I might actually forget we have to go back."
Francesco smirked faintly, but there was no real argument behind it.
"Let's not think about that yet."
She nodded.
"Yeah. Not yet."
And they didn't.
The next few days passed in a way that neither of them had really experienced before.
Not rushed.
Not planned down to the minute.
Every day carried its own rhythm.
Its own energy.
And Paris kept unfolding for them, piece by piece.
One morning, they found themselves walking through Montmartre.
The streets were narrower here.
More intimate.
Cobblestone paths winding gently uphill, lined with small cafés, art stalls, and quiet corners that felt like they had stories hidden in every crack.
Leah walked slightly ahead, her eyes constantly moving, taking everything in.
"This feels like a painting," she said.
Francesco glanced around.
"Yeah."
Artists stood along the sidewalks, sketching portraits, painting scenes of the city in real time.
At one point, Leah stopped, watching one of them work.
The brush moved slowly.
Carefully.
Capturing something that already felt timeless.
"You think they ever get bored of painting the same place?" she asked.
Francesco shook his head.
"Probably not."
She looked at him.
"Why?"
He shrugged slightly.
"Because it's never the same twice."
She smiled.
"Good answer."
Another day, they wandered through the quiet elegance of Jardin du Luxembourg.
Green stretched in every direction.
Trees swayed gently in the breeze.
People sat scattered across the park as some reading, some talking, some simply lying back and letting the day pass over them.
Leah kicked off her shoes at one point, letting her feet touch the grass.
"Okay… this is my kind of place."
Francesco sat beside her, leaning back on his hands.
"You've said that about every place so far."
She grinned.
"That's because Paris doesn't miss."
He couldn't argue with that.
They stayed there longer than they planned.
Talking.
Not talking.
Letting the hours move without tracking them.
They visited Notre-Dame Cathedral, standing quietly outside as the structure rose above them, carrying centuries in its stone.
Leah tilted her head slightly, her voice softer here.
"Places like this make you feel small."
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
"But not in a bad way," she added.
"Just… part of something bigger."
He looked at her.
Then back at the cathedral.
"Exactly."
They crossed the Seine River more times than they could count.
Sometimes walking.
Sometimes stopping halfway across a bridge just to look out over the water.
Boats drifted slowly beneath them.
The city reflected back in soft ripples.
Leah leaned against the railing one afternoon, watching it all.
"I think I could do this every day," she said.
Francesco stepped beside her.
"Just stand here?"
She nodded.
"Yeah."
He smirked.
"Simple life."
She smiled.
"Best kind."
But of course…
There was another side to their days.
One Francesco had seen coming from the moment they stepped onto Champs-Élysées the first time.
"Okay," Leah said one afternoon, stopping abruptly in front of a store window. "We're going in here."
Francesco didn't even need to look at the name.
He already knew.
He sighed quietly.
"Of course we are."
She turned to him with a grin.
"Don't act surprised."
"I'm not surprised," he said. "I'm preparing myself."
She laughed, grabbing his arm lightly and pulling him inside.
The interior was exactly what you'd expect.
Soft lighting.
Perfectly arranged displays.
Clothes that looked less like clothing and more like statements.
Leah moved through it like she belonged there.
Her fingers brushing lightly over fabrics.
Her eyes scanning everything with sharp attention.
Francesco followed behind, hands in his pockets, already knowing how this was going to go.
At one point, she held up a jacket.
"Try this."
He looked at it.
Then at her.
"You just want to see me in it."
"Yes," she said immediately.
He took it anyway.
Slipped it on.
She stepped back, analyzing him like a professional.
"Yeah… that's nice."
He looked down at himself.
"It's alright."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You need better vocabulary."
He smirked.
"I'm consistent."
She shook her head, smiling.
"Get it."
He sighed.
"Of course."
That became a pattern.
Not just that day.
But across the days that followed.
Different stores.
Different streets.
Different "just one more place."
Leah would spot something.
Pause.
Tilt her head.
And then.
"We're going in."
Francesco would follow.
Every time.
At one boutique, she emerged from the fitting area wearing something new, turning slightly to look at him.
"Well?"
He leaned back against a display, taking a second longer than usual.
"…Yeah."
She raised an eyebrow.
"That sounded different."
He shrugged.
"That's because it is."
She smiled, a little more satisfied this time.
"Okay. Good."
At another, she picked out something for him without asking.
"Here."
He looked at it.
"You're choosing for me now?"
"Yes."
He sighed.
"You've fully taken over."
She grinned.
"Obviously."
He put it on anyway.
And when he stepped out—
She didn't even try to hide it.
"Yeah. That's staying."
He shook his head.
"I don't get a say?"
"No."
He laughed.
"Fair enough."
But the real moment always came at the end.
At the counter.
When everything was gathered.
Folded neatly.
Presented perfectly.
And the total appeared.
Francesco stood there, looking at the number for a second longer than necessary.
Then exhaled slowly.
Leah leaned slightly toward him.
"Don't think about it."
He glanced at her.
"I'm trying not to."
She smiled.
"It's worth it."
He looked back at the total.
Then back at her.
And just shook his head with a quiet sigh.
"Yeah… yeah, it is."
Another time, he didn't even bother reacting.
The cashier finished ringing everything up.
Francesco just reached for his card immediately.
Leah watched him, amused.
"No reaction this time?"
He handed the card over.
"I've accepted my fate."
She laughed.
"Good."
Despite all of it, though.
There was never a moment where it felt like too much.
Because it wasn't really about the shopping.
Not entirely.
It was about her.
Her excitement.
Her way of turning even something simple into something fun.
And him, just being there with her.
Between all of that, the days continued to fill themselves.
They found small bakeries tucked into corners of quiet streets.
Sat outside with coffee and pastries, watching people pass by.
They got lost more than once.
Took wrong turns.
Ended up somewhere unexpected.
And never once rushed to correct it.
"Are we even going the right way?" Leah asked at one point.
Francesco glanced around.
"No idea."
She smiled.
"Good."
One evening, they found themselves back by the Seine River again.
The sky was shifting toward sunset.
Colors blending softly across the horizon.
Leah leaned against the railing, her expression quieter now.
"We've done a lot," she said.
Francesco stood beside her.
"Yeah."
She glanced at him.
"But it doesn't feel like it."
He nodded.
"Because we didn't rush it."
She smiled faintly.
"Yeah."
Another night, they returned briefly to the Eiffel Tower.
Not planned.
Not scheduled.
Just because they felt like it.
The lights shimmered again.
Just like before.
But this time, it felt familiar.
Less overwhelming.
More… theirs.
Leah stood beside him, her shoulder brushing his.
"I'm going to miss this."
Francesco looked at her.
"Already?"
She nodded.
"Just a little."
He didn't respond immediately.
Then, quietly.
"We'll come back."
She smiled.
"I'm holding you to that."
Days blended into each other after that.
Not in a forgettable way.
But in a way where every moment connected seamlessly to the next.
Where nothing felt forced.
Nothing felt wasted.
And somewhere in between all of it.
Between the landmarks.
The walks.
The shopping bags Francesco kept carrying with a resigned expression.
They found something even simpler.
Time.
Real time.
Without interruption.
Without expectation.
One afternoon, back in their suite at the Four Seasons Hotel George V, Leah dropped her latest shopping bags onto the floor and collapsed onto the sofa.
"Okay… I might have overdone it today."
Francesco looked at the bags.
Then at her.
Then back at the bags.
"You think?"
She laughed, covering her face briefly.
"Don't say anything."
He walked over, sitting down beside her.
"I'm not saying anything."
She peeked at him.
"You're thinking it."
He smirked.
"Definitely."
She nudged him lightly.
"Shut up."
He leaned back into the sofa, exhaling quietly.
"You're lucky I like you."
She turned her head toward him, smiling.
"Very lucky."
Outside, Paris continued to move.
Unchanged.
Unbothered.
Still beautiful.
Still alive.
Inside.
They stayed right where they were.
Together.
And as the days passed, one after another.
It became clear.
This wasn't just a trip anymore.
It wasn't just a vacation.
It was something they would carry with them long after they left.
In small moments.
In quiet memories.
In the way things felt easier after.
Morning came quietly again.
Paris didn't change its rhythm just because their days were slowly stacking into something meaningful. It still moved the same way which is steady, effortless, almost indifferent to how much it was giving them.
Inside their suite at the Four Seasons Hotel George V, the light slipped in just like it had the mornings before.
Soft.
Unbothered.
Golden enough to feel warm, but not strong enough to interrupt anything.
Francesco woke before it reached the bed this time.
Not fully.
Just enough to open his eyes.
He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, letting his body catch up to his mind.
There was a strange heaviness in him.
Not exhaustion.
Not even tiredness.
Just… stillness.
The kind that came from days without pressure.
Days without structure.
Days where time didn't demand anything from him.
He turned his head slightly.
Leah was still asleep.
Same as always.
Curled slightly, one arm tucked under the pillow, her breathing slow and steady.
Peaceful.
Untouched by anything outside that room.
Francesco watched her for a second longer than he needed to.
Then exhaled quietly and sat up.
The room was silent except for the distant hum of the city.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood, stretching slightly as his muscles responded slower than usual.
That was the first thing he noticed.
Not pain.
Just… a difference.
Subtle.
But there.
He walked toward the bathroom, running a hand through his hair before stopping in front of the mirror.
For a second, he just looked at himself.
Same face.
Same build.
Same everything.
But, he narrowed his eyes slightly.
Then leaned a little closer.
"…Yeah," he muttered under his breath.
It wasn't dramatic.
Nothing obvious.
No one else would probably notice.
But he did.
Of course he did.
The definition wasn't as sharp.
The lines across his abs that still there, but softer.
Less defined than they had been a week ago.
Francesco let out a quiet breath through his nose, placing both hands on the sink as he looked at his reflection.
"Been a while," he said to himself.
And it had.
Since they arrived in Paris, everything had slowed down.
No early training sessions.
No structured workouts.
No strict routines.
Just walking.
Eating.
Living.
And as much as he needed that, his body noticed the difference.
His discipline noticed it too.
He straightened slightly, running a hand down his torso again before shaking his head with a faint smirk.
"Alright," he murmured.
That was enough.
No overthinking.
No frustration.
Just… adjustment.
He stepped away from the mirror and walked back into the room, moving quietly so he wouldn't wake Leah.
The morning light had grown a little stronger now, casting soft shadows across the furniture.
Leah hadn't moved.
Still completely asleep.
Francesco walked over to the wardrobe, opening it carefully and reaching for a set of workout clothes he hadn't touched since they arrived.
Simple.
Familiar.
Comfortable.
He changed quickly, the motion instinctive, like slipping back into a version of himself that had just been paused for a few days.
As he pulled the shirt over his head, he glanced toward the bed again.
Still asleep.
He hesitated for a second.
Then walked over quietly, picking up his phone from the bedside table.
He typed quickly.
"At the gym. Back soon."
Simple.
No need to wake her.
No need to interrupt her rest.
He placed the phone gently back down on her side, close enough that she'd see it when she woke up.
For a second, he just stood there.
Looking at her.
Then shook his head lightly, almost amused.
"Yeah," he muttered quietly.
This was new.
Not the gym.
Not the routine.
But this, leaving without needing to explain everything.
Trusting that it didn't need explaining.
He grabbed a light jacket, slipped on his shoes, and moved toward the door.
One last glance back.
Then he stepped out, closing it softly behind him.
The hallway was empty.
Quiet in that early-morning way where even a place like this felt untouched.
The elevator ride down was quick.
Silent.
Francesco stood alone, hands loosely at his sides, his reflection faintly staring back at him from the mirrored walls.
He looked more awake now.
More focused.
That edge, which the one he carried on the pitch are starting to return.
The doors opened.
The lobby was calmer than usual.
Only a few guests scattered across the space, some finishing breakfast, others just starting their day.
Staff moved quietly, maintaining the same effortless precision.
Francesco didn't stop.
He moved straight through, heading toward the fitness area.
The gym inside the Four Seasons Hotel George V was exactly what you'd expect.
Clean.
Spacious.
Minimalist in design but equipped with everything.
Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the morning light, reflecting off polished equipment.
A few people were already there.
Early risers.
Focused.
Each in their own world.
Francesco stepped inside, taking a slow breath.
And just like that.
Something clicked.
This part of him didn't disappear.
It didn't fade.
It just waited.
He walked toward the free weights first, rolling his shoulders slightly, loosening up.
No headphones.
No music.
Just the quiet hum of movement around him.
He started light.
Testing.
Feeling.
His body responded.
Not as sharp as before.
But still there.
Still strong.
Still his.
"Alright," he muttered under his breath.
He picked up the weights, moving into his first set.
Controlled.
Steady.
No rush.
Each movement deliberate.
Each rep intentional.
The rhythm came back quickly.
The familiar burn.
The focus.
The silence in his head where everything else disappeared.
No Paris.
No schedule.
No distractions.
Just him.
And the work.
Minutes turned into something longer.
He moved from weights to core work, then back again.
Push-ups.
Planks.
Controlled breathing.
At one point, he paused, sitting on the edge of a bench, a light layer of sweat forming across his skin.
He exhaled slowly, leaning forward slightly, hands resting on his knees.
And for a second.
He smiled.
Not because it was easy.
But because it felt right.
Because this part of him mattered too.
Not the fame.
Not the recognition.
Not the life outside.
Just this.
Discipline.
Consistency.
The quiet promise he made to himself every time he stepped onto a pitch.
Or into a room like this.
He stood again, grabbing a towel, wiping his face briefly before moving back into another set.
Across the room, someone glanced at him.
Recognition flickered for a second.
But no one approached.
Not here.
Not in this space.
And Francesco appreciated that.
Here, he wasn't a player.
Not really.
He was just another person putting in the work.
By the time he finished, his body felt different.
Awake.
Reset.
The slight softness he noticed earlier?
Still there.
But already fading.
Replaced by that familiar tightness.
That edge.
He stood near the window for a moment, looking out at the city.
Paris stretched out below him again.
Same as always.
Unchanged.
But he felt different.
Back in balance.
Not just relaxed.
Not just enjoying.
But grounded again.
He took a slow breath.
Then exhaled.
"Better," he said quietly.
He grabbed his water, took a long sip, and headed toward the exit.
Back to the elevator.
Back to the suite.
Back to Leah.
The hallway was still quiet when he returned.
The same stillness.
The same calm.
He unlocked the door gently and stepped inside.
The room hadn't changed much.
Light stronger now.
Curtains slightly shifted.
The city more visible beyond the windows.
Leah was awake this time.
Sitting up in bed, her phone in her hand.
She looked up the moment he walked in.
Her eyes immediately scanning him.
Sweat.
Workout clothes.
The look on his face.
"Gym?" she asked.
He nodded, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
"Yeah."
She lifted her phone slightly.
"I saw the message."
He walked toward her, dropping his jacket onto the chair.
"Didn't want to wake you."
She tilted her head slightly, watching him.
"You've been gone a while."
He shrugged.
"Needed it."
She studied him for a second longer.
Then smiled faintly.
"You look better."
He smirked.
"Thanks."
She narrowed her eyes slightly.
"No, I mean it. Like… more you."
He paused.
Then nodded.
"Yeah."
She set her phone aside, stretching slightly.
"Guess I should've gone with you."
He shook his head.
"You needed sleep."
She smiled.
"Probably."
A small pause settled between them.
Comfortable.
Familiar.
Then Leah shifted slightly, pulling her knees up a bit as she looked at him.
"So," she said, her tone lighter now. "Does this mean we're back to strict routine mode?"
Francesco laughed quietly.
"No."
She raised an eyebrow.
"No?"
He shook his head, stepping closer to the bed.
"Just… balance."
She considered that.
Then nodded.
"Okay. I like that."
He leaned slightly against the edge of the bed, looking at her.
"Good."
She smiled again, softer this time.
"Welcome back, by the way."
He raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't go anywhere."
She shook her head gently.
"You kind of did."
He didn't respond immediately.
But he understood.
Then, after a second.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Maybe a little."
She reached out, nudging his arm lightly.
"Well… don't disappear again."
He smirked.
"No promises."
She rolled her eyes, smiling.
"Of course."
She rolled her eyes, smiling.
"Of course."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The room held that quiet again witb the same kind that had followed them through almost every part of this trip. Comfortable. Unforced. Like it didn't need to be filled with anything more.
Then Leah shifted slightly, glancing toward the window.
The light was stronger now.
Brighter than it had been the past few mornings.
Clearer.
Like the day had already decided something for them.
"…Today feels different," she said quietly.
Francesco followed her gaze for a second, then looked back at her.
"Yeah," he said.
There was no need to explain it.
They both knew why.
Leah let out a small breath, then looked back at him, her expression soft but grounded.
"So… what's the plan?"
Francesco straightened slightly, rolling his shoulders once more, the last traces of his workout still settling in his body.
"Breakfast," he said. "After I shower."
She nodded.
"Good start."
He hesitated for half a second.
Then added, quieter.
"And then… we pack."
Leah didn't react immediately.
Not because she hadn't expected it.
But because hearing it out loud made it real.
"…Right," she said softly.
He watched her for a moment, reading the shift in her expression.
Not sadness.
Not exactly.
Just… awareness.
That something was ending.
She exhaled lightly, then nodded again, this time more certain.
"Okay," she said. "We'll do it properly."
Francesco smirked faintly.
"Wouldn't expect anything less."
She pointed at him lightly.
"Exactly."
He pushed himself off the edge of the bed.
"Give me ten minutes."
She leaned back slightly.
"Take your time."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Thought we were getting breakfast."
She smiled.
"We are. I just don't want you rushing through a shower like it's halftime."
He huffed a quiet laugh.
"Fair."
He disappeared into the bathroom, the now-familiar sound of running water filling the suite once again.
Leah stayed where she was for a moment.
Then slowly swung her legs off the bed, standing up and walking toward the window.
Paris stretched out in front of her.
Same rooftops.
Same streets.
Same quiet movement.
But it felt different now.
Not because the city had changed.
But because she had.
Because they had.
She rested her hand lightly against the glass.
"…We really did all of this," she murmured to herself.
And for a second.
She smiled.
By the time Francesco stepped out, dressed clean again, hair slightly damp, the room felt fully awake.
Leah had already changed into something comfortable but still effortlessly put together.
She turned when she heard him.
"Ready?"
He nodded.
"Yeah."
She grabbed her bag, slipping it over her shoulder.
"Let's go then."
The walk down to the restaurant inside the Four Seasons Hotel George V felt quieter than usual.
Not physically.
There were still people.
Still movement.
Still the soft hum of morning.
But between them.
It was different.
Not heavy.
Just… aware.
Leah walked beside him, her hand brushing his arm occasionally, not holding on, but not pulling away either.
"Last breakfast here," she said lightly.
Francesco glanced at her.
"Make it count."
She smiled.
"Obviously."
They were seated near the window again.
Same spot.
Same view.
But everything felt slightly more defined now.
Like they were noticing things more because they knew it wouldn't last.
Menus were barely needed.
They already knew the rhythm.
The choices.
Coffee came first.
Then juice.
Then the food.
Leah took her first sip of coffee and exhaled softly.
"I'm going to miss this."
Francesco leaned back slightly.
"Just the coffee?"
She gave him a look.
"You know what I mean."
He smirked faintly.
"Yeah."
They ate slower than usual.
Not dragging it out deliberately.
But not rushing either.
Leah occasionally glanced out the window.
Then back at him.
Then down at her plate.
Like she was trying to memorize small details without saying it.
At one point, she leaned forward slightly.
"We should come back."
Francesco didn't hesitate.
"We will."
She studied him for a second.
"You're not just saying that?"
He shook his head.
"No."
That was enough.
She nodded once.
"Okay."
They finished their meal in that same quiet rhythm.
No big conversation.
No dramatic moment.
Just… presence.
And when the plates were cleared and the coffee cups emptied, Leah leaned back slightly and exhaled.
"Alright," she said softly.
Francesco stood first.
"Let's go."
The walk back to their suite felt shorter than usual.
Or maybe it just felt that way.
Leah stayed a step behind him this time, her gaze drifting across the hallway, the details she had stopped noticing days ago now suddenly standing out again.
The carpet.
The lighting.
The silence.
Everything familiar.
Everything temporary.
Francesco opened the door.
They stepped inside.
And just like that.
The space felt different.
Not because anything had changed.
But because now, it wasn't just a place they were staying.
It was a place they were leaving.
Leah stood still for a second, looking around.
"…Okay," she said quietly. "No getting sentimental."
Francesco glanced at her.
"Too late."
She huffed a small laugh.
"Yeah, probably."
He walked toward the wardrobe.
"Let's pack."
That shifted the energy immediately.
Movement.
Purpose.
They split naturally.
Just like when they unpacked.
Only now.
In reverse.
Leah opened her side first.
Clothes neatly arranged from days before.
Some worn.
Some still untouched.
And then.
The new ones.
The ones she had insisted on buying.
The ones Francesco had paid for with a quiet sigh every time.
She smiled slightly as she picked one up.
"Okay… worth it," she murmured.
Francesco glanced over.
"Every time."
She smirked.
"Obviously."
They worked side by side.
Folding.
Sorting.
Organizing.
The soft sounds returned again.
Fabric shifting.
Zippers opening.
Suitcases slowly filling.
But it felt different from the first time.
Less light.
More reflective.
At one point, Leah held up a dress, pausing for a second before placing it carefully into the suitcase.
"This one was from the Champs-Élysées," she said.
Francesco nodded.
"I remember."
"You complained about the price."
"I remember that too."
She laughed softly.
"Still bought it."
He shrugged.
"Of course."
She looked at him for a second longer.
Then placed it gently inside.
Another moment.
She picked up a jacket she had chosen for him.
"This one's yours."
He looked at it.
"The one you forced me to buy."
"I didn't force you."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You didn't give me a choice."
She smiled.
"Same thing."
He shook his head, but there was no resistance as he folded it and placed it into his suitcase.
Bit by bit, the room started to look emptier.
Less like theirs.
More like what it had been when they arrived.
Temporary.
Leah zipped one suitcase closed and stood up straight, stretching slightly.
"…That's weird," she said.
Francesco glanced at her.
"What?"
"It doesn't feel like we were here that long."
He nodded.
"Yeah."
"But it also feels like a lot happened."
He looked at her.
"Because it did."
She smiled faintly.
"Yeah."
They finished the last of it together.
Double-checking.
Making sure nothing was left behind.
Leah walked through the room once more, her eyes scanning everything.
"Phone charger?"
"Got it."
"Shoes?"
"In the bag."
"Everything?"
Francesco nodded.
"Everything."
She exhaled.
"Okay."
They each grabbed a suitcase.
The weight noticeable now.
Not just from clothes.
But from everything they had added along the way.
Memories.
Moments.
Pieces of the trip packed into something physical.
The hallway felt quieter again as they stepped out.
The elevator ride down was silent.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… reflective.
Leah stood beside him, her hand resting lightly on the handle of her suitcase.
Francesco stood still, his posture relaxed but his gaze focused ahead.
The doors opened.
The lobby greeted them one last time.
The same elegance.
The same calm.
But now.
It felt like a goodbye.
They walked toward the front desk together.
The staff greeted them with the same warm professionalism.
"Good morning, sir."
"Good morning," Francesco replied.
"I believe you are checking out today?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
The process was smooth.
Effortless.
Just like everything else had been.
Details confirmed.
A few final clicks.
Then.
The total.
Francesco didn't react this time.
Didn't hesitate.
He simply reached for his card and handed it over.
Leah watched him, a small smile forming.
"No sigh this time?"
He glanced at her.
"I've evolved."
She laughed softly.
"Finally."
The payment went through.
The receptionist handed back the card.
"Thank you for staying with us, Mr. Lee. We hope to welcome you again."
Francesco nodded.
"We'll be back."
Leah glanced at him briefly.
Then smiled.
"Definitely."
Outside, a cab was already waiting.
The staff handled their luggage smoothly, placing it into the trunk with practiced ease.
Francesco opened the door for Leah.
She stepped in.
"Thank you."
He followed, settling into the seat beside her.
The door closed.
And just like that.
They were leaving.
The drive through Paris felt different from the one that brought them here.
Familiar streets passed by.
Cafés.
Bridges.
Buildings they had walked past.
Lived in.
Experienced.
Leah leaned slightly toward the window, watching everything.
Not trying to take pictures.
Not trying to capture it.
Just… looking.
Francesco glanced at her.
"You're quiet."
She smiled faintly.
"Just taking it in."
He nodded.
"Yeah."
They didn't talk much after that.
Didn't need to.
The city slowly gave way to wider roads.
Less detail.
More distance.
Until eventually.
The airport.
The car pulled up smoothly.
Luggage unloaded.
A quick exchange with the driver.
And then they moved inside.
Through the quieter section.
Away from the crowds.
Toward the private jet terminal.
Everything was faster here.
Simpler.
No long lines.
No waiting.
Just a brief check.
Tickets shown.
Identities confirmed.
A nod.
"Right this way, sir."
They walked together across the tarmac, the private jet waiting ahead.
Clean.
Sleek.
Ready.
Leah glanced at it.
"…Okay, this is still cool."
Francesco smirked.
"You've seen it before."
"Doesn't mean I'm used to it."
He laughed quietly.
They stepped inside.
The door closed behind them.
Seats comfortable.
Space quiet.
The kind of calm that came just before movement.
Leah settled into her seat, exhaling softly.
"Back to reality."
Francesco leaned back slightly.
"Not yet."
She looked at him.
"No?"
He shook his head.
"Not until we land."
She smiled.
"Fair enough."
The engines started.
A low hum building beneath them.
The plane began to move.
Slowly at first.
Then faster.
The runway stretched ahead.
And then.
Lift.
Paris fell away beneath them.
The city shrinking.
Becoming something distant.
Something they had just lived inside.
Leah looked out the window, watching it disappear into clouds.
"…That was good," she said quietly.
Francesco glanced at her.
"Yeah."
She leaned back into her seat, her hand finding his again without thinking.
"Really good."
He held it.
Gently.
"Yeah."
And as the jet climbed higher, leaving Paris behind and heading toward London.
They didn't say much more.
They didn't need to.
Because everything that mattered, they were already carrying with them.
______________________________________________
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