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Leah slipped into bed first, pulling the covers up around her as Francesco joined her moments later. She shifted closer immediately, resting her head against his chest, his arm wrapping around her without thought.
The days between blurred together in the best possible way.
They didn't rush past like fixtures on a congested calendar, nor did they drag. They simply unfolded.
Morning light through wide windows. Slow breakfasts. Recovery sessions done properly but without pressure. Walks around Richmond where nobody bothered them beyond a nod or a quiet smile. Afternoons spent reading, napping, stretching on the living room floor while music played low. Evenings that ended without alarms set for the next day.
Francesco felt himself exhale in stages.
Not all at once.
Not dramatically.
But piece by piece.
The phone still buzzed. Messages still came. Interviews were politely postponed, appearances scheduled for later dates. The world kept circling his name, but for the first time in a long while, it didn't dictate his rhythm.
Leah noticed it before he did.
"You're lighter," she said one morning as they stood by the coffee machine, waiting for it to finish.
He glanced at her. "Am I?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Like you're finally standing upright instead of leaning forward all the time."
He smiled at that. "I like that description."
They talked about the New Year dinner more seriously as the days passed.
Lists appeared on the fridge.
Ingredients scribbled on notepads.
Messages exchanged with parents about arrival times, preferences, allergies, who was bringing what.
Mike insisted on bringing dessert.
Sarah insisted on bringing extra dessert "just in case."
David promised wine.
Amanda asked what kind of flowers they liked.
Jacob asked if he could bring his appetite.
"Tell him no," Leah said, laughing.
"He won't listen anyway," Francesco replied.
By the morning of December 31st, the house felt charged in a quiet, anticipatory way.
Not tense.
Not anxious.
Just ready.
The winter sun hung low and pale over Richmond, frost lingering on the grass outside as Francesco stood at the kitchen counter slicing vegetables with careful precision. Leah stood opposite him, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back loosely, moving between stove and prep area with easy confidence.
Music played softly from the speaker on the counter—nothing festive, just something warm and familiar.
"You're being suspiciously precise," Leah said, watching him line up chopped carrots with near-military order.
"I'm focused," he replied without looking up.
"You're avoiding the onions."
He glanced up. "I cut onions yesterday."
"And cried," she added.
"Emotionally," he said dryly. "Not physically."
She laughed and bumped his hip gently with hers as she passed. "I'll do them."
They worked in tandem, falling into a rhythm that felt natural now. Francesco handled the chopping and seasoning. Leah managed the stove, tasting, adjusting, humming softly to herself when something smelled right.
The kitchen slowly filled with warmth and scent.
Roasted vegetables.
Simmering sauces.
Fresh bread warming in the oven.
Outside, the day crept closer to evening.
Francesco checked the time on his phone and set it aside. "They should be here soon."
Leah nodded, wiping her hands on a towel. "Good. Everything's almost ready."
She glanced around the kitchen, then at him. "Are you nervous?"
He considered the question honestly.
"A little," he admitted. "But not in a bad way."
She smiled. "Same."
They shared a look that one that held gratitude, excitement, and the quiet understanding that this mattered.
Then the doorbell rang.
Clear.
Bright.
Certain.
They both froze for a half-second.
Then Leah smiled. "That'll be them."
Francesco wiped his hands, took a breath, and headed toward the front door. As he reached it, he could already hear voices outside that familiar, overlapping, animated.
He opened the door.
Cold air rushed in, followed immediately by warmth in human form.
"Happy New Year's Eve!" Mike boomed, stepping forward with open arms.
"Careful," Sarah said, laughing as she followed him inside. "Don't crush him."
Francesco hugged them both easily, warmth spreading through his chest as he did. "You made it."
"Of course we did," Mike said. "Wouldn't miss this."
Behind them, David and Amanda stepped forward, smiles wide, arms full of carefully wrapped bottles and a bouquet of winter flowers.
"Hello, Francesco," Amanda said warmly. "It smells incredible in here."
"Thank you," he replied, hugging her gently.
David clapped him on the shoulder. "Good to see you. Very good."
Jacob followed last, grin already in place. "I was told there would be food."
Francesco laughed. "You were told correctly."
They all filtered inside, coats coming off, shoes lining up near the door, voices overlapping in that chaotic but comforting way only family gatherings ever managed.
Leah appeared from the kitchen, towel still draped over her shoulder.
"There you all are," she said brightly.
Sarah's face lit up instantly. "Leah!"
Amanda echoed it a beat later. "Leah, darling."
Before Leah could say another word, she was enveloped in hugs from both sides, laughter bubbling up as she accepted them.
"It's so good to see you," Amanda said. "You look wonderful."
"So do you," Leah replied sincerely.
Sarah glanced toward the kitchen, nostrils flaring slightly as she took in the scent. "Alright," she said decisively, turning back to Francesco. "You're done."
He blinked. "Done with what?"
"The kitchen," Amanda said, smiling knowingly. "We'll help Leah now."
Leah laughed. "You don't have to—"
"Oh, we absolutely do," Sarah interrupted. "It's tradition."
Francesco raised his hands in mock surrender. "I tried."
David chuckled. "Smart man."
Leah shot him an amused look as Sarah and Amanda ushered her back toward the kitchen, already asking questions, already assessing pots and pans like generals surveying a battlefield.
"What's this sauce?"
"How long has this been in?"
"Did you taste this yet?"
Francesco stood there for a moment, listening to the lively voices drifting from the kitchen, then turned back to the living room where Mike, David, and Jacob were already settling in.
Mike picked up a framed photo on the shelf, Francesco in an Arsenal kit, mid-celebration. "This one's my favorite."
David nodded. "Good choice."
Jacob flopped onto the sofa. "So. What time do we eat?"
Francesco smiled as Jacob sprawled deeper into the sofa, already looking like he'd claimed his spot for the night.
"So," Francesco said casually, dropping into the armchair opposite him, elbows resting on his knees. "How's high school?"
Jacob groaned immediately, tipping his head back so it rested against the cushion. "Same old. Boring. Teachers talk too much. Homework makes no sense. Everyone thinks they're the main character."
Francesco laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "That bad, huh?"
Jacob shot him a look. "Easy for you to laugh. You escaped."
"True," Francesco admitted. "But trust me, I traded it for things that also involve people talking too much and giving homework."
Mike snorted from his seat nearby. "He's not wrong."
David smiled quietly, watching the exchange with fond amusement.
Jacob shifted, sitting up slightly. "At least training looks fun. I saw the clips. You lot make running look almost enjoyable."
Francesco raised an eyebrow. "Almost?"
"Almost," Jacob confirmed seriously. "Still looks like torture."
Francesco chuckled and leaned forward, reaching for the controller resting on the coffee table. "Alright then. Enough talk about suffering. You want to play FIFA 17?"
Jacob's head snapped up instantly. "On the TV?"
"On the TV," Francesco confirmed.
"With the good controller?" Jacob pressed.
Francesco tossed one lightly in his direction. "Bring it on."
Jacob caught it with a grin that spread across his face like it had been waiting all evening. "You're going down."
Mike laughed. "Careful, kid. He might take that personally."
Jacob smirked. "I'm not scared."
David stood, stretching slightly. "I'll leave you two to it. I think I hear wine calling my name."
"Good man," Mike said, already halfway to following him.
The console hummed to life, the familiar loading screen filling the room. Jacob leaned forward, elbows on knees, utterly focused as menus flicked by.
"Who are you picking?" Francesco asked, already knowing the answer.
Jacob grinned without looking up. "Barcelona."
Of course.
Francesco laughed softly. "Figures."
"And you?" Jacob shot back. "Arsenal?"
Francesco pretended to think about it for a moment. "Yeah. I'll give them a chance."
Jacob rolled his eyes. "Bias."
"Confidence," Francesco corrected.
The match loaded, the virtual stadium roaring to life. Jacob adjusted his grip on the controller, eyes sharp now, posture locked in.
"Five minutes?" Jacob asked.
"Let's do six," Francesco replied. "Gives you more time to lose."
Jacob scoffed. "We'll see."
The whistle blew.
Within seconds, Jacob was already mashing buttons with aggressive enthusiasm, Messi darting across the digital pitch with alarming speed.
"Oh come on," Jacob said. "How do you stop him?"
"You don't," Francesco replied calmly. "You survive."
Jacob laughed, then yelped as his attempt at a skill move went wrong and Arsenal stole possession.
"Hey! That was lag."
"Sure it was," Francesco said lightly, fingers moving with practiced ease.
The living room filled with commentary that half serious, half playful.
"That's a foul!"
"That ref's blind!"
"How did that not go in?"
From the kitchen, Leah's voice drifted through. "I can hear you two!"
"Tell him to stop cheating!" Jacob called back.
"I'm not cheating!" Francesco protested. "I'm just better."
Leah laughed, the sound mingling with the clatter of pots and pans.
In the kitchen, the atmosphere was just as lively, though in a different rhythm.
Leah stood at the counter, carefully plating appetisers while Sarah stirred a sauce at the stove, tasting, adjusting, nodding approvingly. Amanda chopped herbs nearby, her movements unhurried, precise.
"You've done this before," Sarah said, glancing at Leah knowingly.
Leah smiled. "A few times."
"It shows," Amanda added warmly. "You're calm. That's half the battle."
Leah exhaled softly. "I think it helps knowing everyone here wants to be here."
Sarah glanced toward the living room, where laughter rose suddenly as Jacob narrowly missed a shot. "That's true."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice slightly. "He looks happy."
Leah paused, then nodded. "He is. I think he finally let himself stop."
Amanda smiled gently. "That's not easy for people like him."
"No," Leah agreed. "But he's learning."
They worked in comfortable silence for a few moments, the kind that didn't need filling.
Back in the living room, the game was heating up.
Jacob had scored first with a quick counterattack that ended with Messi slotting the ball neatly into the corner. He leapt up from the sofa, fist pumping.
"Yes!"
Francesco laughed, shaking his head. "Alright. Alright."
"See?" Jacob said smugly. "Not scared."
"Game's not over," Francesco replied calmly.
It wasn't.
Two virtual minutes later, Arsenal equalised. Francesco leaned back slightly, controller steady, eyes focused.
"Lucky," Jacob muttered.
"Calculated," Francesco said.
By halftime, it was one-all.
Mike wandered back in with a glass in hand, watching the screen. "Who's winning?"
"Technically?" Jacob said. "Me."
"Technically?" Mike repeated.
"It's a draw," Francesco clarified.
Mike nodded sagely. "Ah. The most dangerous scoreline."
Second half.
Jacob grew more intense, tongue poking out slightly in concentration as he tried every trick he knew. Francesco countered with patience, letting plays develop, waiting for openings.
"You play like you actually think about it," Jacob complained.
"That's because I do," Francesco replied.
In the final minute, Arsenal broke through. A clean pass, a simple finish.
Goal.
Francesco didn't celebrate. He just smiled.
Jacob groaned dramatically, collapsing back into the sofa. "No way."
"Good game," Francesco said, offering a fist bump.
Jacob hesitated, then bumped it anyway. "Rematch."
"After dinner," Francesco said. "You'll need energy."
Francesco rose from the armchair, stretching his back slightly as he did, the familiar looseness in his muscles reminding him that despite the holiday, his body still belonged to routine.
"Alright," he said, glancing toward the kitchen and then back at Jacob. "Before dinner turns into a full-scale operation, I'm going to head out for a bit."
Jacob looked up from the controller, already half-absorbed in scrolling through menus for the rematch. "Where you going?"
"Out," Francesco replied simply. "I want to grab some fireworks."
Jacob's eyes widened just a fraction. "Fireworks? Like actual fireworks?"
Francesco smiled. "It's New Year's Eve. Felt appropriate."
Jacob nodded immediately, enthusiasm sparking. "Okay then. Don't get arrested."
"I'll behave," Francesco said dryly.
He set the controller back on the table and headed toward the kitchen, where the energy was still warm and busy. Leah stood at the counter, finishing a plate while Sarah and Amanda hovered nearby, discussing timing and oven temperatures like seasoned professionals.
"I'm heading out for a moment," Francesco said, leaning lightly against the doorframe.
Leah turned immediately. "Where to?"
"Fireworks," he said.
Her eyebrows lifted, surprised, then she smiled. "You planned that?"
"Last-minute inspiration," he admitted. "I won't be long."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice just slightly. "Be careful."
He smiled at her, that quiet, reassuring one meant only for her. "Always."
Sarah glanced over. "Fireworks?"
"Nothing crazy," Francesco said quickly. "Just a few."
Amanda laughed softly. "Famous last words."
He chuckled and stepped forward, giving his mum a quick hug. "I'll be back before you've finished reorganising my kitchen."
Sarah smiled, squeezing him once more. "Drive safe."
Amanda echoed it as she hugged him next. "We'll keep Leah busy."
Leah rolled her eyes fondly. "I'm right here."
Francesco leaned in and kissed Leah's cheek, lingering just a beat longer than necessary. "See you soon."
"See you," she replied softly.
He moved back through the hallway toward the living room, where Mike and David were mid-conversation, glasses in hand.
"I'm heading out for a bit," Francesco said. "Fireworks."
David nodded approvingly. "Nice touch."
Mike raised his glass slightly. "Don't forget the loud ones."
Francesco laughed. "I'll see what I can do."
He grabbed his coat from the hook, slipped his shoes on, and stepped out into the cold evening air. The door closed behind him with a soft click, sealing the warmth and noise inside.
Outside, the night had fully settled.
The sky was clear, deep and dark, the kind that felt expansive rather than heavy. The cold bit gently at his face as he walked down the drive toward the garage, breath visible with each exhale.
He opened the garage door, the familiar interior lighting up as it rose. The BMW X5 sat where he'd left it earlier, clean, still, reliable. He climbed in, started the engine, and let it idle for a moment as the radio crackled quietly to life.
As he pulled out and the garage door closed behind him, the house remained glowing softly in his rear-view mirror.
Family.
Laughter.
Food.
Anticipation.
He merged onto the road, Richmond quiet but not empty. Other cars moved with purpose now, headlights cutting through the dark, everyone headed somewhere, everyone carrying their own version of the night.
He drove smoothly, unhurried.
The shop wasn't far, a place he knew well enough, though he didn't come often. Seasonal displays flashed by as he parked and stepped out again, the cold sharper now, the air charged with that familiar New Year's electricity.
Inside, the shop buzzed with low-level chaos.
Shelves lined with boxes of every size and color. Customers debating loudly. Children bouncing on their toes, eyes wide with excitement. Staff moving quickly, answering questions, restocking where they could.
Francesco kept his head down, cap pulled low, though a few glances lingered anyway. A couple of double-takes. A whispered name.
He moved efficiently, selecting a modest but satisfying assortment. Nothing excessive. Enough to mark the moment.
As he queued to pay, he found himself smiling faintly, thoughts drifting back to the house.
To Leah in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, entirely in her element.
To Jacob sprawled on the sofa, already plotting revenge.
To the sound of overlapping voices, the clink of glasses, the warmth waiting for him.
When he paid and stepped back outside, arms full, the cold hit him again, but this time it felt welcome.
He loaded the fireworks carefully into the back of the BMW and slid into the driver's seat, exhaling slowly as he started the engine once more.
On the drive back, he let the radio play softly, some year-end countdown program filling the space. The presenter's voice faded in and out beneath his thoughts.
He didn't rush.
There was time.
As he turned back into his street, the house came into view again, lights glowing warmly against the night. He parked, grabbed the bag from the back, and stepped out, the muffled sound of laughter reaching him even before he reached the door.
Inside, the warmth hit him instantly.
Voices paused briefly as he stepped in.
"You're back," Leah said, smiling from the kitchen doorway.
"Mission accomplished," he replied, lifting the bag slightly.
Jacob cheered from the living room. "Yes!"
Mike laughed. "Good man."
Francesco shrugged out of his coat and set the bag carefully near the door, making a mental note to move it outside later. He rolled his shoulders once, the chill finally leaving his bones as the house reclaimed him.
The evening flowed forward naturally after that, like a river that had found its course.
The kitchen became the center of gravity.
Leah, Sarah, and Amanda moved around each other with surprising ease, despite it being the first time they'd cooked together like this. There was no awkwardness, no jockeying for control. Just quiet competence layered with warmth.
Leah plated with care, wiping the edges of dishes with a towel before passing them on. Sarah handled the final checks, tasting, nodding, adding a pinch of salt here, a dash of pepper there. Amanda arranged serving bowls and platters, making sure everything looked inviting, balanced, thoughtful.
Francesco hovered for a moment, then was gently but firmly ushered away.
"Go sit," Sarah told him without looking up. "Dinner's almost ready."
"Yes, chef," he replied obediently.
He retreated to the living room, where Mike and David were already seated at the dining table, glasses poured, conversation drifting easily between football, travel stories, and the strange quiet that seemed to settle over the country every New Year's Eve.
Jacob bounced between rooms, unable to sit still.
"Is it ready yet?"
"Can I help?"
"When do we do fireworks?"
"Soon," Francesco said, laughing. "All of it. Soon."
Finally, Leah appeared at the edge of the living room, towel over her shoulder, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Alright," she said. "Let's eat."
There was a collective, satisfied murmur as chairs scraped back and everyone gathered properly around the dining table. Francesco took his seat at one end, Leah at the other, the rest of the family filling in naturally around them.
The table itself looked incredible.
Plates arranged carefully. Steam rising gently from serving dishes. Colors warm and inviting, the result of hours of quiet effort.
Sarah and Amanda moved between the table and kitchen, serving portions, insisting everyone take more, laughing softly when someone protested.
"Eat," Sarah said, placing a generous portion on Mike's plate. "You're not on a diet."
He grinned. "I never am."
Leah served Francesco last, sliding his plate in front of him with a look that made him pause for just a second.
"Looks amazing," he said quietly.
She smiled. "It is."
They began to eat.
Conversation unfolded easily, weaving between memories and observations, small stories and shared jokes. David talked about work slowing down over the holidays. Amanda reminisced about past New Year's dinners, each story punctuated by laughter.
Jacob ate like he'd promised, enthusiasm unrestrained.
"This is incredible," he said around a mouthful, then swallowed quickly. "Seriously."
Leah laughed. "Compliments accepted."
Francesco watched it all with a quiet sense of contentment.
This.
This was it.
Not the noise of a stadium.
Not the pressure of expectation.
Just this table.
These people.
This moment.
By the time plates were cleared and glasses refilled, the clock on the wall read just past 20:00.
Early, still.
Plenty of night left.
Jacob noticed immediately. "It's only eight?"
Francesco nodded. "Yeah."
Jacob's grin spread. "Fireworks time?"
Francesco chuckled. "We can start setting up."
Mike raised an eyebrow. "Outside?"
"Backyard," Francesco confirmed. "Nothing yet. Just preparation."
David stood, stretching slightly. "I'll stay in here with the others."
Amanda nodded. "We'll watch from the windows."
Leah caught Francesco's eye as he stood. "Be careful."
He smiled. "Always."
Francesco grabbed the bag of fireworks from near the door, slinging it over one shoulder, while Jacob bounced ahead of him toward the back of the house.
Cold air hit them immediately as they stepped outside, sharper now than before, the backyard lit softly by outdoor lamps. Frost glimmered faintly on the grass, crunching underfoot.
Jacob rubbed his hands together. "It's freezing."
"Good," Francesco said. "Keeps you awake."
They moved toward the far end of the yard, where there was open space, away from trees and the house. Francesco set the bag down carefully and crouched, unzipping it.
Jacob hovered, eyes wide, peering in like it was treasure.
"Woah," he breathed. "Those are big."
"Not too big," Francesco said calmly. "Big enough."
He pulled items out one by one, setting them neatly on the ground, explaining as he went.
"These stay here."
"Those go further back."
"And these, these are last."
Jacob nodded solemnly, absorbing every word like it was vital information.
"Have you done this before?" Jacob asked.
"A few times," Francesco replied. "With friends. With teammates. With family."
Jacob smiled. "This one feels cooler."
Francesco glanced at him. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Jacob said simply.
They worked quietly for a bit, the only sounds the rustle of packaging and their breath in the cold air. Inside, light spilled through the windows, silhouettes moving, laughter muffled but present.
Francesco straightened, hands on his hips, surveying their setup.
"Alright," he said. "That's good for now."
Jacob exhaled. "Can we light one?"
"Not yet," Francesco replied. "We wait."
Jacob groaned. "You're cruel."
Francesco laughed. "You'll survive."
They headed back toward the house, stamping their feet to shake off the cold as they stepped inside again.
Warmth reclaimed them instantly.
Leah looked up from the sofa. "All set?"
"For later," Francesco said. "Just prepping."
She nodded approvingly. "Good."
The rest of the evening eased into something slow and comfortable. Music played softly, drinks were refilled, and stories were shared. Jacob lost the FIFA rematch twice in a row. By the time the clock edged closer to midnight, the house felt full in the best way.
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Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 18 (2015)
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, and Euro 2016
Season 16/17 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 25
Goal: 41
Assist: 0
MOTM: 5
POTM: 1
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