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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Francesco stared quietly toward the rain beyond the glass, which they did and maybe he needed to say it out loud for himself too.
The next morning arrived quieter.
Not because England had stopped talking.
That probably wouldn't happen for another decade honestly.
But quieter inside the mansion.
The kind of quiet that came after finally saying something honest out loud.
Rain no longer hammered against the windows now. Instead soft grey clouds drifted over London while pale morning light spilled across the bedroom floor in long muted lines.
Francesco woke slowly with Leah still asleep beside him, her head resting against his shoulder beneath tangled blankets.
For a moment he stayed completely still.
Just breathing.
Listening.
No television debates.
No vibrating phone.
No panic sitting immediately in his chest the second his eyes opened.
That alone felt like progress.
Outside the bedroom, he could faintly hear Cheddar moving around downstairs probably searching for breakfast with the determination of a starving Victorian orphan despite being fed approximately twelve times a day.
Francesco smiled faintly to himself.
Then his phone buzzed softly on the bedside table.
He glanced toward it automatically expecting another media notification or teammate message.
Instead the screen read:
Arsène Wenger.
Immediately Francesco sat up slightly careful not to wake Leah.
The call itself somehow made him instinctively straighten his posture even half-awake.
Some habits footballers never lost.
He answered quietly.
"Morning boss."
"Good morning, Francesco."
Wenger's voice carried that familiar calm warmth it always seemed to.
Measured.
Thoughtful.
Almost academic somehow even in casual conversation.
"You sound more rested."
Francesco looked briefly toward the window where soft rain mist drifted across the gardens outside.
"Trying."
"That is already important."
A small silence followed.
Not uncomfortable.
Wenger was very good at silence.
Never rushed conversations unnecessarily.
"You saw the statement?" Francesco asked eventually.
"Yes."
The manager paused briefly.
"It was brave."
Francesco exhaled quietly through his nose.
"Didn't feel brave."
"Most important things rarely do at the time."
Typical Wenger answer honestly.
Simple sentence.
Unexpected emotional damage afterward.
Francesco leaned back lightly against the headboard while keeping his voice low enough not to wake Leah.
"The reaction's been better than I expected."
"Yes," Wenger agreed softly. "Because people recognize honesty when they see it."
Then after another pause:
"But honesty also means acknowledging when you need support."
That shifted something immediately.
Francesco frowned slightly.
"What do you mean?"
Wenger's tone stayed gentle.
"I've spoken with the club medical staff over the last few days."
Ah.
Now Francesco understood where this conversation might be heading.
The manager continued carefully.
"What happened to you and Leah was traumatic."
The word itself still felt strange hearing out loud.
Traumatic.
Real.
Serious.
Not just "a difficult week."
Not just stress.
Something heavier.
"We can help physically as a football club," Wenger said. "Recovery staff. Security. Scheduling. Rest."
Then quieter:
"But mental recovery matters too."
Francesco stayed silent.
Wenger noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
"I would like Arsenal to arrange for a psychologist to visit you both," the manager continued calmly. "Someone experienced with trauma and athlete mental health."
There it was.
The sentence landed softly but heavily all at once.
Francesco instinctively looked down toward his hands resting against the blanket.
Psychologist.
Even now the word carried strange weight.
Not because he judged therapy.
Not consciously.
But football culture still made players weird about it sometimes.
Physical injuries felt understandable.
Visible.
Professional.
Mental health still carried unnecessary discomfort especially in elite sports.
Wenger's voice interrupted his thoughts gently.
"This is not punishment, Francesco."
"I know."
"Nor does it mean something is wrong with either of you."
Francesco rubbed slowly at the back of his neck.
"I know."
But part of him still felt resistance anyway.
Not logical resistance.
Emotional resistance.
Because speaking honestly online was one thing.
Sitting face-to-face with someone trained to look directly into the parts of yourself you usually buried beneath football?
That felt different.
Wenger seemed to understand immediately without needing explanation.
"You do not have to carry this alone."
The sentence hit quietly.
Too quietly almost.
Because part of Francesco genuinely hadn't realized until now how much energy he'd spent trying to convince himself he could simply outwork emotional damage.
Train hard enough.
Play well enough.
Smile enough.
And eventually normality would return automatically.
Maybe that wasn't how people worked though.
Behind him Leah shifted slightly in bed, still half asleep.
Francesco glanced toward her instinctively.
Wenger's voice softened further hearing the silence.
"I would like Leah included too if she is comfortable."
That mattered.
The fact Wenger specifically mentioned her too.
Not just the club's superstar striker.
Not just the football asset worth millions.
Leah.
The person beside him who still sometimes startled awake at unexpected noises.
Who checked security alarms twice before sleeping now.
Who smiled and laughed and acted strong while still carrying fear underneath it all.
Francesco swallowed quietly.
"She's not sleeping properly either."
"No," Wenger said gently. "I suspected that."
The manager paused again afterward before continuing more carefully.
"In football we often teach players to ignore pain."
That sentence immediately caught Francesco's attention.
"Play through injuries. Suppress pressure. Continue performing." Wenger exhaled softly. "Sometimes those qualities help careers."
Then quieter:
"Sometimes they damage people."
Silence settled again.
Heavy silence this time.
Because Francesco knew exactly what he meant.
Every footballer did.
Push through.
Keep going.
Never look weak.
Never slow down.
The culture got built into players young.
Academies rewarded toughness constantly.
And toughness became identity eventually.
"You've already shown strength," Wenger continued calmly. "Now I would like you to allow yourself support too."
Francesco stared absently toward the rain moving softly beyond the windows.
The truth?
Part of him felt relieved hearing someone else say it first.
Because he didn't actually want to keep feeling like this forever.
Didn't want Leah carrying it alone either.
He just didn't know how to admit they needed help without feeling somehow inadequate.
Finally he nodded slightly despite Wenger not being able to see him.
"…okay."
The answer came quieter than expected.
But real.
Wenger sounded almost relieved himself.
"Good."
Then immediately, because this was still Arsène Wenger:
"And before your dramatic football brain overthinks this conversation, let me clarify something."
Francesco blinked once.
"…what?"
"You are not broken."
That one nearly hurt more than anything else.
Because somewhere deep down, part of Francesco worried maybe he was becoming exactly that.
The manager continued gently.
"You experienced fear inside your own home. Your reactions afterward are human reactions. Not weakness."
Francesco closed his eyes briefly.
Football managers weren't supposed to understand players this personally.
Yet Wenger somehow always did.
The older man spoke again after a moment.
"The psychologist's name is Dr. Eleanor Hayes. She works regularly with trauma recovery and high-performance athletes."
"Okay."
"She can come to the mansion tomorrow afternoon if that works for both of you."
Francesco hesitated briefly.
Then nodded again.
"Yeah. Okay."
"Good."
Wenger's tone lightened slightly afterward.
"And for the record, half the squad has already attempted convincing me to let them visit your house again."
That caught Francesco off guard enough to laugh quietly.
"Seriously?"
"Hector apparently believes your security system is now a tactical masterpiece."
"That's concerning."
"Sánchez wanted to bring more biscuits."
"Even more concerning."
Wenger chuckled softly through the phone.
The warmth of that small normal conversation helped more than Francesco expected.
Because beneath everything else lately, football still remained family in strange ways.
Not perfect family.
Loud.
Chaotic.
Occasionally ridiculous.
But family.
Before ending the call Wenger's voice became serious once more.
"One more thing."
"Yeah?"
"I am proud of how you handled this week."
The words hit harder than Francesco expected.
Because praise from Wenger about football performances felt normal now.
Goals.
Movement.
Training.
Tactics.
But this?
This wasn't football.
This was survival.
Honesty.
Recovery.
Francesco looked down quietly toward the blanket twisted around his hands.
"Thanks boss."
"Rest today," Wenger replied softly. "And give Leah my regards."
The call ended a moment later.
Silence returned to the bedroom afterward.
Soft morning silence.
Rain against glass.
Cheddar barking faintly downstairs because apparently one of his toys had personally betrayed him.
Francesco lowered the phone slowly into his lap and just sat there for a minute thinking.
Psychologist.
Therapy.
Mental recovery.
The words still felt unfamiliar inside his head.
Not wrong.
Just unfamiliar.
Leah stirred beside him a few seconds later blinking sleepily up toward him.
"You look thoughtful."
"That obvious?"
"You have your 'existential football crisis' face."
"…I have a face for that?"
"Yes."
Rude honestly.
She pushed herself upright slowly against the pillows while studying him more carefully now.
"What happened?"
Francesco hesitated briefly.
Not because he wanted to hide it.
More because saying it out loud made it real in a different way.
"Wenger called."
Leah immediately straightened slightly.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah it's fine."
Then after a second:
"He wants the club to send a psychologist to see us."
Leah blinked once.
Not shocked exactly.
Just processing.
"Oh."
Francesco watched her carefully.
"If you don't want to—"
"No," she interrupted gently. "That's not it."
She pulled the blanket slightly closer around herself while thinking.
"I just didn't expect Arsenal to do that."
"Me neither."
And honestly?
That realization carried weight too.
Because football clubs often protected player bodies aggressively.
Hamstrings.
Knees.
Ankles.
Recovery programs.
Specialists.
But emotional health?
Especially in 2016 football culture?
That still felt surprisingly progressive.
Leah tilted her head slightly.
"How do you feel about it?"
Francesco laughed quietly without humor.
"Honestly?"
"Always."
"I don't know."
Fair answer.
The truth sat somewhere complicated inside him.
Part relief.
Part nervousness.
Part embarrassment he couldn't fully explain.
Leah seemed to understand immediately anyway.
"Feels strange?"
"Yeah."
"Like admitting something."
Exactly that.
He nodded slowly.
Leah reached over taking his hand gently.
"You know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think if someone broke their leg, nobody would judge them for seeing a doctor."
Francesco looked down toward their intertwined fingers.
"That's different."
"Only because people pretend it is."
Another uncomfortable truth.
Leah leaned lightly against his shoulder afterward.
"We went through something horrible," she said quietly. "Maybe talking to someone isn't weakness. Maybe it's just…smart."
The sentence settled softly between them.
Outside the rain eased gradually while pale sunlight attempted pushing through clouds over London.
Francesco sat there thinking about all the effort he'd spent trying to force himself back toward normal immediately.
Train.
Play.
Recover.
Perform.
Like emotional damage could be outrun physically.
Maybe Wenger saw through that instantly.
Actually no.
Definitely Wenger saw through that instantly.
The man practically specialized in emotionally dissecting footballers against their will sometimes.
A small smile tugged faintly at Francesco's mouth.
"What?"
"You know he told me I'm not broken."
Leah's expression softened immediately.
"Good."
"Apparently I have a dramatic football brain too."
She laughed quietly.
"He's not wrong."
Traitor.
Complete traitor honestly.
An hour later they sat downstairs together drinking coffee while Cheddar proudly carried one sock around the kitchen like captured military intelligence.
The mansion felt lighter this morning somehow.
Not healed.
Still not fully safe emotionally.
But moving.
Progressing.
Francesco explained more about the conversation while Leah listened quietly beside him.
"He said her name's Dr. Eleanor Hayes."
"The psychologist?"
"Yeah."
Leah nodded slowly.
"And she works with athletes?"
"Apparently."
That seemed to reassure her slightly.
Probably because normal therapists and elite athletes lived in very different emotional universes sometimes.
Pressure at that level became difficult to explain to people outside it.
The scrutiny.
The expectation.
The constant performance mentality.
Now add trauma on top of that?
Yeah.
Complicated.
David arrived shortly afterward carrying his usual stack of security updates and paused immediately seeing their expressions.
"…why do you both look emotionally healthy today? That's suspicious."
Francesco snorted quietly.
"Wenger's sending a psychologist."
David blinked once.
Then surprisingly nodded almost immediately.
"Good."
That fast answer caught Francesco off guard.
"You think so?"
"Yes."
David placed folders onto the kitchen island before looking directly at him.
"You two have been functioning on adrenaline for days."
That one landed accurately enough to sting slightly.
David continued more gently afterward.
"And before you give me the standard athlete response about being fine—"
"I am fine."
"There it is."
Leah physically laughed into her coffee.
Betrayed by everyone today apparently.
David leaned lightly against the counter.
"Francesco, you checked the front door alarm four times yesterday."
"…security awareness."
"You also nearly squared up to a vacuum cleaner because it turned on unexpectedly."
Leah lost the battle completely at that point laughing into both hands while Francesco stared in offended silence.
"In my defense," he muttered eventually, "it started aggressively."
David looked unimpressed.
"The vacuum cleaner."
"Yes."
"…right."
Okay maybe therapy sounded slightly more reasonable after that conversation honestly.
The rest of the day passed quieter than previous ones.
No massive controversies.
No exploding headlines.
The England situation slowly cooled after Francesco's statement.
Not gone entirely.
Football media never truly moved on from drama.
But softer now.
More understanding.
By afternoon even training discussions started replacing endless debates on television again.
Normal football noise returning gradually.
Francesco and Leah spent most of the day together around the mansion.
Small ordinary things.
Watching films neither fully paid attention to.
Cooking lunch badly together because Francesco somehow nearly burned pasta.
Walking briefly through the gardens with security trailing discreetly behind them.
At one point Leah caught him automatically scanning the perimeter fencing again.
He noticed her noticing.
Neither said anything.
Didn't need to.
That was part of why tomorrow mattered.
Because pretending those instincts no longer existed clearly wasn't working.
Evening settled softly across London afterward while warm lights filled the mansion again.
Maybe because Wenger had quietly removed some of that burden during one calm phone call.
Support.
Not expectation.
That difference mattered more than he realized.
Later that night as they lay together beneath dim bedroom light, Leah rested against his chest quietly tracing circles against his arm.
"You nervous about tomorrow?"
Francesco thought honestly before answering.
"Yeah."
"Me too."
At least they were honest about it now.
No pretending.
No forced toughness.
Just two people still trying to understand what healing actually looked like after fear entered a place that used to feel safe.
Leah tilted her head slightly looking up toward him.
"But maybe nervous is okay."
Francesco brushed his fingers gently through her hair.
"Yeah," he admitted softly after a moment.
"Maybe it is."
The next afternoon arrived carrying that strange mixture of nervousness and cautious hope that seemed to define almost every day lately.
London sat beneath pale grey skies again, though the rain had finally eased into occasional drifting mist instead of constant downpour. The gardens beyond the mansion looked washed clean from days of storms, leaves still glistening faintly beneath weak autumn sunlight.
Inside the house, though, tension lingered quietly beneath the surface.
Not panic.
Not dread.
Just uncertainty.
Francesco adjusted the sleeve of his Arsenal training top for probably the fifth time in ten minutes while pretending not to pace near the living room windows.
Leah noticed immediately from the sofa.
"You're doing the thing again."
He glanced toward her.
"What thing?"
"The anxious footballer pacing thing."
"I'm not pacing."
"You walked past that window six times."
"…strategic movement."
"Sure."
Cheddar trotted happily between them carrying a tennis ball like emotional support staff assigned specifically to the household.
Honestly the dog had become surprisingly good at sensing moods lately.
Any time either of them went quiet too long, he appeared immediately demanding attention with relentless determination.
Francesco bent automatically to scratch behind Cheddar's ears.
"At least someone here is emotionally stable."
The dog wagged aggressively.
Leah smiled faintly watching him.
"You know this doesn't have to be terrifying."
"I know."
But it still felt strange.
Footballers spent their lives being evaluated physically.
Speed.
Strength.
Recovery.
Performance data.
Everything measurable.
Mental health felt different because there wasn't a scoreboard attached to it.
No clear numbers.
No simple pass or fail.
Just conversations.
Honesty.
And honestly?
That terrified elite athletes more than most people realized.
The doorbell rang softly through the mansion.
Both of them instinctively stiffened for half a second.
Tiny reaction.
Barely visible.
Still there.
Francesco noticed Leah noticing it too.
Neither mentioned it.
A moment later David appeared from the hallway after checking the security monitor.
"That'll be Dr. Hayes."
Francesco exhaled slowly once.
Right.
Time to stop overthinking now apparently.
David opened the front door while cool autumn air drifted briefly through the entrance hall.
Dr. Eleanor Hayes stepped inside carrying a leather satchel and wearing a dark coat lightly speckled with rain.
She looked younger than Francesco expected.
Maybe early forties.
Calm eyes.
Professional without feeling cold.
The kind of person who immediately lowered tension in a room simply by existing inside it.
"Francesco," she said warmly while shaking his hand. "It's good to meet you."
Her voice carried none of the awkward caution he'd half expected.
No excessive sympathy.
No strange tiptoeing around the situation.
Just normal human warmth.
"This is Leah," Francesco said gently.
Dr. Hayes smiled toward her too.
"Thank you both for agreeing to meet with me."
Leah nodded politely.
"Thanks for coming."
Cheddar immediately approached the psychologist with complete confidence before dropping the tennis ball directly onto her shoe.
Dr. Hayes looked down.
"Well," she said calmly, "at least someone trusts me already."
That caught both Francesco and Leah off guard enough to laugh softly.
Good start honestly.
The atmosphere eased slightly after that.
David quietly disappeared back toward his office area afterward leaving the three of them alone in the living room where soft afternoon light spilled across shelves and furniture.
Dr. Hayes settled comfortably into an armchair without opening a notebook immediately, which Francesco appreciated more than he expected.
It made the conversation feel less clinical somehow.
Less like examination.
More human.
"I know this might feel uncomfortable at first," she began gently. "Especially for people used to handling pressure independently."
Francesco exchanged the briefest glance with Leah.
Apparently Wenger had accurately described them already.
Dr. Hayes noticed.
"That reaction tells me Arsène knows both of you quite well."
"He does," Leah admitted quietly.
The psychologist smiled faintly.
"He spoke very highly of you both."
Of course Wenger probably delivered emotional scouting reports about them like tactical analysis.
Francesco could practically hear it now.
Excellent movement off the ball. Emotionally stubborn. Needs encouragement to rest.
Honestly accurate.
Dr. Hayes crossed one leg comfortably over the other afterward.
"Before we start properly, I want to clarify something important." Her tone remained calm and steady. "I'm not here because either of you are 'broken.'"
That word again.
Broken.
The fact both Wenger and Dr. Hayes addressed it immediately probably meant they'd seen this reaction before from athletes.
A lot.
"I'm here because something frightening happened to you," she continued. "And sometimes people need support processing frightening experiences."
Simple.
Direct.
Without drama.
That helped.
Francesco leaned back slightly against the sofa cushions beside Leah.
Dr. Hayes studied them both carefully for a moment before speaking again.
"How have you been sleeping?"
Leah laughed softly first.
"Direct opening."
"Occupational hazard," Dr. Hayes replied warmly.
Then quieter:
"And sleep usually tells me more than people's first answers do."
Fair enough honestly.
The conversation started slowly after that.
Not intense immediately.
More gradual.
Questions about routines.
About the break-in itself.
About the days afterward.
How they'd been coping.
Whether they felt safe inside the house again.
Whether either of them experienced panic attacks.
Nightmares.
Hypervigilance.
The words themselves sounded clinical sometimes.
But Dr. Hayes asked them gently enough that the discussion never felt cold.
Francesco noticed something else quickly too.
She understood athlete mentality frighteningly well.
Every time he instinctively minimized something, she caught it immediately.
"You keep describing difficult reactions as 'not a big deal,'" she observed calmly at one point.
Francesco rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck.
"Do I?"
"Yes."
Leah physically pointed toward him from the sofa.
"Thank you."
Traitor honestly.
Dr. Hayes smiled faintly.
"That's very common in professional athletes. High performers often normalize stress responses because functioning through pressure becomes part of identity."
That sentence landed uncomfortably accurately.
Because yeah.
Football trained players to override discomfort constantly.
Injuries.
Pressure.
Fatigue.
Fear of failure.
You learned to keep moving no matter what.
The problem came when your brain started treating emotional distress the same way.
Ignore it.
Suppress it.
Perform anyway.
Dr. Hayes eventually asked gently, "Do either of you feel responsible for what happened?"
Silence settled immediately.
Francesco looked down toward his hands.
Leah stared quietly toward the windows.
And somehow that silence answered more than words.
The psychologist nodded softly like she'd expected exactly that.
"Also very normal."
Francesco frowned slightly.
"It doesn't feel normal."
"No," she agreed gently. "Trauma rarely does while you're inside it."
The word still hit strangely every time.
Trauma.
Even now part of him resisted fully applying it to himself.
Dr. Hayes seemed to recognize that hesitation too.
"You don't need to compare your experience against worse things to justify your reactions," she said carefully.
That one hit directly.
Because Francesco absolutely had been doing that internally.
People survived wars.
Violence.
Loss.
Compared to that, feeling shaken after a break-in almost felt undeserved somehow.
Dr. Hayes shook her head slightly reading his expression almost perfectly.
"Fear inside your home changes people temporarily," she said quietly. "Home is supposed to represent safety. When that safety gets violated, the nervous system doesn't immediately trust again afterward."
Leah looked down briefly at her coffee mug resting untouched between her hands.
"That explains the alarms."
The psychologist nodded.
"And the checking behaviors. And the difficulty sleeping deeply. And the startle reactions."
Francesco let out a slow breath.
Hearing their behaviors explained calmly somehow made them feel less irrational.
Less embarrassing.
At one point during the conversation Cheddar climbed directly onto the sofa between Francesco and Leah before dramatically placing his head across both their laps.
Dr. Hayes smiled watching the dog settle there.
"How long have you had him?"
"About a half year," Leah answered softly.
"He's become very protective lately."
"Animals often respond to emotional shifts in households," Dr. Hayes said.
Cheddar yawned loudly in the middle of this psychological observation.
Francesco scratched behind the dog's ears automatically.
"At least one of us handles stress correctly."
The psychologist laughed softly.
"You joke a lot when conversations become emotionally uncomfortable."
Francesco stared at her in mild betrayal.
"…this feels targeted."
Leah immediately nodded.
"Again, thank you."
Absolutely abandoned by everyone this week.
Still, the atmosphere stayed surprisingly easy despite the topic.
Not because the conversation was light.
Some moments definitely weren't.
Leah admitted quietly that she still occasionally woke suddenly during the night convinced she'd heard movement downstairs.
Francesco admitted he still scanned rooms automatically entering them now.
Neither of them had fully realized how many tiny behaviors had changed until speaking them aloud.
Dr. Hayes listened carefully to everything without overreacting.
That mattered.
Because part of what scared them both was wondering whether their reactions meant something seriously wrong.
Instead the psychologist calmly framed most of their experiences as understandable responses to acute stress.
Human reactions.
Not signs they were falling apart.
Eventually she leaned back slightly in her chair after nearly two hours of conversation.
"Well," she said gently, "first I'd like both of you to breathe a little easier."
Francesco looked toward her carefully.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean neither of you are showing signs of severe trauma disorders."
The tension inside the room shifted immediately.
Not disappearing entirely.
But loosening.
Dr. Hayes continued calmly.
"You're both stressed. Emotionally exhausted. Hyper-alert. Sleep deprived."
Then softer:
"But honestly? Your responses so far are remarkably healthy considering what happened."
Leah visibly relaxed slightly beside Francesco.
"What about the nightmares?" she asked quietly.
"Not unusual after frightening experiences."
"And the checking everything constantly?"
"Also normal. Your brains are trying to rebuild a sense of safety."
Francesco frowned slightly.
"So we're okay?"
Dr. Hayes smiled gently.
"Yes."
That simple word landed harder than expected.
Okay.
Not ruined.
Not mentally collapsing.
Not broken.
Just tired people recovering from fear.
The psychologist continued afterward more practically.
"What you both need most right now is rest. Consistent sleep. Routine. Emotional stability."
Then with a small knowing smile toward Francesco:
"And less pretending you're completely unaffected by things."
Leah snorted quietly beside him.
"This has become a coordinated attack now."
Dr. Hayes laughed softly.
"Only because you're very transparent once people know what to look for."
That felt mildly offensive honestly.
Still true though.
The conversation turned lighter afterward.
More focused on practical recovery.
Sleep routines.
Limiting media exposure.
Reducing constant stimulation.
Maintaining social support around them.
Dr. Hayes specifically encouraged them to keep spending time with teammates and trusted friends rather than isolating themselves inside the mansion.
"Humans recover through connection more than people realize," she explained.
That part made sense.
The loud chaotic Arsenal gathering days earlier had probably helped more than any of them realized at the time.
Before leaving, Dr. Hayes stood near the entrance hall while David prepared to escort her out through the gates.
She looked toward both Francesco and Leah warmly.
"One important thing before I go."
Francesco nodded slightly.
"You're allowed to heal gradually," she said softly. "There's no deadline for feeling completely normal again."
The sentence settled quietly between them.
Because underneath everything else, both of them had absolutely been trying to rush recovery.
Football culture encouraged that instinct constantly.
Get back quickly.
Move forward.
Perform again.
But maybe emotional healing didn't work like rehabilitation timetables.
Dr. Hayes smiled gently afterward.
"And honestly? I think you're both going to be okay."
After she left, silence settled across the mansion again.
Different silence this time though.
Lighter.
Leah sat back down on the sofa slowly while Cheddar immediately reclaimed his position beside her.
Francesco leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment thinking quietly.
"Well," Leah said eventually.
"Yeah."
"That was less terrifying than expected."
"Definitely."
He paused briefly afterward before admitting quietly:
"She made it sound…normal."
Leah looked toward him softly.
"Because maybe it is."
Maybe.
Actually no.
Probably.
For the first time in days, Francesco felt something inside his chest unclench properly.
Not completely healed.
But reassured.
Like someone had finally given both of them permission to stop treating themselves like ticking emotional disasters.
The days afterward passed more steadily.
Calmer.
Not perfect.
There were still moments.
Leah occasionally startled awake at sudden noises.
Francesco still checked the alarm panel more than necessary before bed.
But now neither of them treated those moments like signs of failure anymore.
Just part of recovery.
The football world slowly returned too.
Training schedules resumed gradually.
Premier League coverage replaced endless England debates across television.
Reporters finally started discussing tactics and title races again instead of analyzing Francesco's emotional state every hour.
Thank God honestly.
England's World Cup qualifiers arrived during that stretch too.
The first match against Slovenia took place at Wembley Stadium beneath the usual floodlights and pressure that always surrounded England internationals.
Francesco watched from the mansion living room beside Leah with Cheddar asleep upside down between them like a dog completely unconcerned by international football tension.
The television cameras kept cutting toward Gareth Southgate on the touchline throughout the match.
Calm as always.
Though now every time Francesco saw him publicly, he noticed something different underneath the professionalism.
Care.
Not just manager-player relationship care either.
Human care.
That mattered.
England struggled for long stretches against Slovenia.
Lots of possession.
Not enough movement.
Standard frustrating international football honestly.
At one point Leah glanced sideways toward Francesco as another attack broke down near the penalty area.
"You're trying not to coach the television."
"I'm absolutely coaching the television."
"You just sighed at Jordan Henderson."
"He passed backwards emotionally."
"That's not a real football term."
"It should be."
Eventually though England found the breakthrough late.
A tense narrow 1–0 win that sent Wembley into relieved celebration more than joyful celebration.
Very England.
Francesco texted several teammates afterward congratulating them.
Harry Kane replied almost immediately.
Ugly win. Still counts 😂
True enough.
The second qualifier away against Lithuania felt calmer somehow.
Less pressure.
More confidence.
Francesco watched that one from the gym treadmill while lightly training again for the first time properly since the break-in.
Not full intensity yet.
But movement felt good.
Normal.
England won 1–0 again.
Not beautiful football.
Not dominant.
But enough.
The final whistle confirmed qualification for the 2018 World Cup.
On television, England players celebrated together while fans sang through the away section.
Francesco slowed the treadmill gradually while watching quietly.
There it was.
World Cup secured.
And despite all the controversy and noise and headlines surrounding his absence, part of him felt proud anyway.
Because they'd done exactly what Southgate promised.
Qualified together.
Without panic.
Without drama inside the squad itself.
His phone buzzed almost immediately afterward.
Southgate.
Qualified. Told you not to worry.
Francesco smiled faintly before replying.
Never doubted you.
Almost immediately another message arrived.
Although Rashford still can't cross properly.
Francesco physically laughed out loud in the empty gym.
A second later Southgate replied:
That part may require divine intervention.
For the first time in what felt like weeks, football made him laugh without effort.
Not forced laughter.
Not distraction.
Real laughter.
Later that evening he sat outside on the balcony with Leah beneath cold London air while distant city lights shimmered softly beyond the trees.
"You know," Leah said quietly while resting against his shoulder, "you seem lighter lately."
Francesco looked out toward the dark skyline for a moment.
Maybe she was right.
Not magically healed.
Still recovering.
Still carrying pieces of fear sometimes.
But lighter.
Less trapped inside his own head.
"Yeah," he admitted softly.
Then after a pause:
"I think I finally stopped trying to pretend I'm okay all the time."
Leah tilted her head slightly against him.
"That sounds healthier."
Probably was.
Below them, somewhere inside the mansion, Cheddar barked furiously at absolutely nothing again.
Francesco smiled faintly into the cold night air.
And for the first time since the break-in, the future didn't feel dominated by fear anymore with one honest day at a time.
______________________________________________
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: 20
Goal: 25
Assist: 1
MOTM:3
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 2
Goal: 2
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