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Francesco groaned, already dreading training. His teammates were going to have a field day with this, and he feels that he wouldn't like it.
Francesco let out a long breath, rubbing his temples as he stared at the TV screen. This was bad. Well, maybe not bad, but definitely unexpected. He knew how the media worked—how they took something small and turned it into a spectacle.
The Sun was notorious for this kind of stuff, and now, somehow, he and Leah were the latest headline.
He glanced down at his phone as Mendes' laughter still echoed in his head.
"Great," he muttered under his breath, tossing the remote aside.
Just as he was about to get out of bed and start his morning routine, his phone buzzed again. He sighed, expecting it to be Mendes with more updates, but when he looked at the screen, his stomach dropped.
Mom.
If his mom, Sarah, was calling, that meant only one thing—his dad, Mike, was probably sitting right next to her, waiting to hear his explanation.
Francesco hesitated for a second before swiping to answer. "Hey, Mom."
"Francesco Lee, what on earth am I looking at?!"
Yep. She'd seen it.
Francesco closed his eyes briefly, preparing himself for the interrogation that was about to unfold. "Morning to you too, Mom."
"Don't 'morning' me, young man! I wake up, make my coffee, and the first thing I see on the news is my son being declared in love with Leah Williamson!"
Francesco pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mom, it's not what it looks like."
His dad's voice suddenly cut in. "So you're saying you don't like her?"
Francesco's mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. He blinked. "I—what!?That's not the point!"
His mom said. "Oh, so you do like her."
He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Guys, please."
His dad laughed. "Son, we're just asking. Because if it were me, and a girl like Leah kissed me—even just on the cheek—I wouldn't be complaining."
Francesco sighed. "It was nothing. Just a moment. And now the media's made a circus out of it."
His mom wasn't convinced. "Well, it didn't look like nothing."
"I know how it looked," he admitted. "But that's all it was—a goodnight kiss on the cheek. We were just talking about football before that."
His mom said suspiciously. "And do you often get goodnight kisses from your 'just friend'?"
"Mom!"
"I'm just saying! You two have always been close. Maybe there's something there."
Francesco groaned again, already regretting answering the call. "Look, can we not do this right now? I have training in a couple of hours, and I'd really like to get through the day without losing my mind."
His dad chuckled. "Alright, alright. We'll stop—"
His mom cut in. "But listen, sweetie, if you do have feelings for Leah, don't be stupid about it. She's a great girl. And if you don't have feelings, then you better talk to her before the media makes it even bigger than it already is."
That was the part that really stuck with him. Because now, with the media running wild, it wouldn't take long before Leah got bombarded with questions about them.
And he had no idea how she felt about it.
"Yeah," he muttered. "I'll figure it out."
His mum sighed. "Alright, we'll let you go. Just… don't do anything reckless, okay?"
"No promises," he said, smirking slightly.
His dad laughed. "That's our boy."
With that, the call ended, leaving Francesco staring at his phone in thought.
Great. Now, on top of training, he had to figure out how to handle this entire situation.
He tossed the phone on his bed and got up, stretching his arms before heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth. His mind, however, was already forming a plan.
First, he needed to talk to Leah.
Second, he needed to survive training without his teammates tearing him apart over the headlines.
Neither would be easy.
After grabbing a quick breakfast and getting dressed in his Arsenal training gear, Francesco hopped into his car and drove to the training ground.
As Francesco approached the entrance of London Colney, Arsenal's training ground, he could already see the chaos waiting for him. A swarm of reporters stood by the gates, cameras flashing and microphones at the ready.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he slowed down. He should've expected this. The Sun had plastered that damn headline everywhere, and now the media was hungry for a soundbite.
As soon as his car came to a stop near the entrance, they pounced.
"Francesco! Francesco! What's your relationship with Leah Williamson?"
"Are you two dating?"
"How long has this been going on?"
"Was this a secret romance?"
Francesco sighed, running a hand down his face. He had no intention of rolling down the window, but he also knew that ignoring them completely might just make things worse. The last thing he needed was another headline about him "hiding the truth."
After a brief internal debate, he cracked the window just enough to be heard but not enough for them to shove a mic in his face.
"Look, guys," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Leah and I are friends. That's it. The picture—" He exhaled through his nose, forcing a smile. "It was just a friendly goodnight kiss on the cheek. Nothing more, nothing less."
A murmur ran through the reporters, but, of course, they weren't satisfied.
"So you're saying there's no romantic relationship between you two?" one of them pressed.
Francesco held back an eye roll. "I just said that, didn't I?"
"But the way she kissed you—"
He cut them off with a sharp look. "Guys, I need to get to training." Without waiting for another question, he rolled up the window and slowly drove through the gates, leaving the press behind.
As soon as he parked, he leaned back in his seat, letting out a long breath. He already felt drained, and the day hadn't even started yet.
The moment he stepped into the building, he knew he was in trouble.
Laughter. Snickers. The unmistakable sound of boots tapping against the tile floor in an exaggerated rhythm, like a wedding march.
Then—
"Here comes the looooovebird!"
Francesco groaned as he spotted Aaron Ramsey and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain leaning against the lockers, grinning like idiots. The rest of the team was either smirking, chuckling, or waiting to see how this would unfold.
"Oh, for f—"
"Ah-ah, language!" Ramsey interrupted, wagging a finger. "You wouldn't want your girlfriend to hear you swearing, would you?"
Francesco shot him a glare. "She's not my girlfriend."
"Really?" Chamberlain mused, tilting his head. "Because the media seems to think otherwise."
Hector Bellerin joined in, waving his phone. "Look, mate! Twitter's having a meltdown. Half the Arsenal fans are celebrating, and the other half are heartbroken."
Francesco rolled his eyes and grabbed his training top from his locker. "I hate all of you."
"Oh, come on, man." Ramsey draped an arm around his shoulder. "You and Leah? That's a power couple if I've ever seen one."
"We're not a couple," Francesco repeated, shoving Ramsey's arm off. "And I'd really appreciate it if you all dropped this."
Chamberlain smirked. "Ohhh, touchy subject."
Before Francesco could retaliate, Arsene Wenger's voice echoed through the room.
"Alright, enough! Get ready for training!"
The teasing died down—at least for now.
Francesco let out a relieved breath and quickly changed into his gear. He needed to focus.
Once they hit the pitch, Francesco did what he did best—shut out the noise and played football.
The ball at his feet was the only thing that mattered. The rhythm of the passing, the sharpness of his movements, and the accuracy of his shots.
But even then, the distraction lingered.
Every now and then, he caught his teammates glancing at him with knowing smirks. Even Wenger gave him a look at one point—nothing accusatory, just… amused.
And when he went head-to-head with Laurent Koscielny in a small-sided game, the French defender leaned in and whispered, "So, when's the wedding?"
Francesco groaned and shoved him away.
As soon as training wrapped up, Francesco rushed to the locker room, hoping to escape before anyone could start again.
No such luck.
"Oi, lovebird!" Ramsey called. "Gonna FaceTime Leah now?"
Francesco threw a towel at his head. "Shut up."
Laughter erupted, but before they could drag it out further, he grabbed his bag and headed for the exit.
He needed to talk to Leah.
Calling Leah
As soon as he got into his car, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts.
Leah's name stared back at him.
He hesitated for a second before pressing the call button.
It rang twice before she answered.
"Took you long enough, Golden Boy."
Francesco sighed. "You saw it, huh?"
She snorted. "Hey!, my phone has been blowing up since sunrise. My mum nearly had a heart attack thinking I eloped."
He winced. "Sorry about that."
"Oh, don't apologize. It's bloody hilarious."
"Hilarious?" He groaned. "Leah, I got ambushed by reporters this morning. Then Ramsey and Chamberlain spent the entire training session calling me 'lovebird.'"
She burst out laughing. "Oh, that's brilliant."
"It's not," he grumbled. "I had to explain to my parents."
That only made her laugh harder. "What did your mom say?"
"That she wouldn't mind if we were actually together."
Leah cackled. "Sarah's got good taste."
Francesco sighed, rubbing his temple. "Look, we need to figure out what to do about this before it gets even more ridiculous."
"Hmm." She paused. "We could just ignore it. Let the media burn themselves out."
"They won't. You know how they are."
"True." She said in thought. "Alright, then how about this—we make a joint statement?"
Francesco leaned back in his seat. "Saying what?"
"That we're just friends, obviously. Maybe throw in something about focusing on football so they leave us alone."
It wasn't a bad idea. Simple. Straightforward.
And yet…
Francesco hesitated. Because part of him—just a tiny part—wondered if this really was just a media mess, or if there was something else under the surface.
Leah must've caught on. "Francesco?"
He blinked. "Yeah, yeah. That works. Let's do it."
"Cool. I'll text you the draft, and we'll post it later."
"Thanks, Leah."
"No worries. And hey—" She hesitated. "If it gets too much, just call me, alright?"
Francesco smiled. "Yeah. Same to you."
After they hung up, he sat in silence for a moment, staring at his phone.
Maybe the media was wrong. Maybe there was nothing between them. But damn it, that kiss was still on his mind. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to forget it.
Francesco sat in his car, gripping his phone tightly. He had just ended the call with Leah, but instead of feeling relieved, his mind was more tangled than before.
He should've been happy they had a plan. The media storm would die down once they posted their statement, and everything would go back to normal.
So why did he feel like he was lying—to himself?
He exhaled slowly and scrolled through his contacts again. His thumb hovered over the familiar name before he pressed the call button.
His mom answered almost immediately.
"Francesco," Sarah said, her voice light with amusement. "You never call me or let me call you twice in one day unless you need something. What's wrong?"
Francesco leaned back against the headrest, staring at the ceiling of his car. "I… I don't know."
Sarah hummed knowingly. "Oh, I think you do. This is about Leah, isn't it?"
He sighed. "Kind of."
"Go on," she prompted.
There was a pause. Francesco wasn't sure how to say it. He'd always been confident in everything—football, life, even handling the media. But this? This was unfamiliar territory for him because his focus always on his study or football.
Finally, he spoke. "I keep thinking about that kiss."
His mom didn't say anything right away, but he could hear the faint clinking of a spoon against a mug, like she was stirring her tea.
"Alright," she said after a moment. "Tell me what you're really feeling."
Francesco closed his eyes. "I don't know, Mom. It was just a kiss on the cheek. We've done that before. But this time… it felt different."
"How so?"
He hesitated. "It just—it stuck with me, you know? Like, I can't stop thinking about it. And I know we're just friends, but… what if we're not?"
Sarah let out a soft laugh. "Oh, sweetheart, I've been waiting for this call from the moment you know her."
Francesco frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She chuckled. "Francesco, you and Leah have been close since you guys met. Even when you told about her to me and your dad, Your dad and I used to joke about it all the time."
He blinked. "You did?"
"Of course we did! And the more time pass, the more obvious it became that she was important to you. Now, whether that's friendship or something more… that's for you to figure out."
Francesco ran a hand through his hair. "But how do I know? I don't want to ruin what we have."
Sarah's voice softened. "Sweetheart, if Leah really is that important to you, then being honest—first with yourself, and then with her—is the best thing you can do. Feelings don't go away just because you ignore them."
Francesco swallowed hard. "And what if she doesn't feel the same?"
His mom sighed. "That's a risk with any relationship, isn't it? But knowing Leah, I doubt she'd ever let it ruin what you have."
Francesco bit his lip. She was right, as always.
"Thanks, Mom," he murmured.
"Anytime, darling. And whatever happens, just follow your heart, okay?"
He chuckled. "That's so cheesy."
"Oh, hush," she teased. "Now go focus on training. And don't overthink it too much."
"I'll try."
"Love you, Francesco."
"Love you too, Mom."
As he ended the call, he let out a breath and stared at his phone for a long moment.
Maybe it really was time to stop pushing this feeling aside, and it was the time to see if there was more to this than just friendship. And maybe—just maybe—he wasn't the only one feeling it.
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Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 16 (2014)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : None
Match Played: 26
Goal: 31
Assist: 12
MOTM: 8