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Chapter Text

The tension between Kylian Mbappé and Jude Bellingham had been palpable for two days, an unspoken wall between them that neither wanted to address. Their fight—over something neither could now clearly remember—left them avoiding eye contact and speaking only in clipped tones when necessary. Even Vini and Cama, the only ones on the Real Madrid squad who knew about their relationship, had stopped trying to mediate.

Tonight, though, the Santiago Bernabéu was electric. Real Madrid had just pulled off a stunning 3-2 victory over their biggest rival, the crowd’s cheers echoing into the night. Jude, who had scored the winning goal, should have been basking in the glory, but his eyes kept darting across the pitch. He barely paid attention to the celebratory huddle of his teammates.

Where was Kylian?

The French forward had been instrumental, as always, in the game, providing an assist that turned the tide of the match. Yet as the final whistle blew, he’d disappeared. Jude’s heart pounded, his mind racing with excuses to justify Kylian’s absence. Was he still angry? Did he not want to share this moment?

Vini clapped Jude on the back, grinning. "Man of the match, huh? Hey! You’re not even listening to me."

Jude forced a smile. "Yeah, thanks, mate." His voice was distant, his focus already back on the pitch.

Vini raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Jude broke away from the group and started scanning the field. Around him, players were swapping shirts, fans were roaring, and the press was swarming, but he didn’t care about any of it. He only cared about finding Kylian.

Finally, he spotted him near the tunnel, standing alone with a towel draped over his shoulders, looking out at the crowd. Kylian’s expression was unreadable, but his posture screamed exhaustion. Jude hesitated for a moment, nerves twisting in his gut. He didn’t even know what he was going to say. All he knew was that he couldn’t let the distance between them stretch any further.

He jogged over, ignoring the cameras and the curious looks from teammates. Kylian turned at the sound of his footsteps, his face softening ever so slightly when he saw Jude approach.

"You’re really going to avoid me after a game like that?" Jude said, trying to keep his tone light but failing miserably.

Kylian looked away, biting his bottom lip. "I didn’t want to ruin your moment," he said quietly.

"My moment?" Jude stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Kylian, there is no moment without you."

Kylian’s eyes flickered back to Jude, and for the first time in two days, they held something other than frustration. There was a beat of silence between them, the noise of the stadium fading into the background.

"I was an idiot," Jude said, his voice barely audible. "I don’t even know why we fought. I just know I’ve hated these last two days."

Kylian’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "You were an idiot," he agreed, but there was warmth in his voice now. "But I wasn’t any better."

Jude’s shoulders relaxed, relief washing over him. He reached out, hesitating for just a second before placing a hand on Kylian’s arm. "Can we just...move past it? I miss you."

Kylian’s answer was in the way he leaned slightly into Jude’s touch, his eyes softening. "Yeah," he said. "I miss you too."

For a moment, it was just the two of them, the world around them fading into nothing. Then, a loud cheer from the remaining fans snapped them back to reality. Kylian chuckled, shaking his head. "We’re going to have to talk about this later. Too many eyes here."

Jude smirked, his confidence returning. "Later, then."

And as they walked off the pitch, side by side, the weight of the past two days finally lifted.

Jude sprinted toward Vini, his laughter cutting through the roar of the crowd. Without hesitation, he leaped onto Vini’s back, his arms wrapped around the Brazilian’s shoulders. Vini stumbled dramatically under Jude’s weight, pretending to fall before regaining his balance with a wide grin.

"You’re mad!" Vini laughed, spinning Jude around in circles while the younger player shouted in delight.

Kylian stood a few meters away, his towel slung over his shoulder, watching the scene unfold. His chest felt tight, but not in the way it usually did after a grueling match. No, this was something else entirely—something he had no control over. Jude’s grin was blinding, his boyish energy infectious. It was impossible not to smile, and Kylian didn’t even try to hide it.

God. He loves this boy.

The realization hit him like it always did, unannounced and overwhelming. He didn’t know how it had happened—how someone so different from him, so loud and carefree, had completely dismantled the walls he’d spent years building. Jude was a storm, a whirlwind of chaos and light, and Kylian had been caught in his path with no chance of escape.

It was ridiculous. Dangerous, even.

But Kylian couldn’t stop himself. Every laugh Jude let out, every small, unguarded moment like this, only made it harder to remember why he’d ever tried to resist. He was too far gone, too deeply tethered to this boy who had turned his world upside down.

Jude finally climbed off Vini’s back, catching his breath and ruffling the winger’s hair. When he turned around, his eyes locked on Kylian’s, and his grin softened into something quieter. Something just for him.

Kylian’s heart stumbled. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, but he didn’t look away. How could he, when Jude was looking at him like that?

Jude tilted his head slightly, a silent question in his gaze, as if asking, Are we okay?

Kylian nodded almost imperceptibly, his smile widening. They were okay. More than okay. They were them—messy, complicated, but real in a way Kylian had never experienced before.

Jude’s grin returned full force, and he jogged toward him, his steps light as if the weight of the world had lifted. Kylian’s heart raced, and he shook his head with a quiet chuckle.

Yes, he loved this boy. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

As Jude jogged up to Kylian, the grin on his face wide and infectious, and without hesitation, he slung an arm around the older player’s shoulders. Kylian stiffened for half a second, startled by the casual touch, but then relaxed into it. This was Jude, after all—unpredictable, unstoppable, and utterly unapologetic about the way he barreled through life.

Together, they started walking toward the center of the pitch where their teammates were still celebrating. Kylian felt the warmth of Jude’s arm, the easy way it rested on him, and he couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Jude always had a way of making him feel grounded, even when everything around them felt impossible.

As they walked, he turned his head slightly toward Kylian, his expression softening. He brought his free hand up, cupping it over his mouth to shield his words from the ever-watchful cameras.

“There’s no moment without you,” Jude said quietly, the words barely audible over the distant roar of the crowd. His eyes held Kylian’s, steady and sure. “Not for me.”

The world seemed to tilt for a second, Kylian’s breath catching in his chest. He wanted to say something, anything, but his throat felt too tight. Instead, he just nodded, his gaze locked on Jude’s. There was so much he wanted to say in return, but words didn’t feel big enough for what he was feeling in that moment.

Jude gave him a small, knowing smile, his arm tightening briefly around Kylian’s shoulders before he turned his attention back to the celebrating team. Together, they stepped into the huddle of their teammates, the noise and chaos swallowing them up.

But Kylian didn’t care. Not really. Because next to Jude, everything else faded into the background. The cameras, the fans, even the lingering tension from their fight—it all melted away.

Jude was right. There was no moment without him. And for Kylian, that was enough.

Chapter Text

“Jobe thinks I’m crazy for bagging you,” Jude says suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence.

Kylian blinks, pulled from his own thoughts. They’re sprawled out at Kylian’s place, watching the dull glow of some forgettable Premier League highlights on the TV. Kylian’s legs ache from the match earlier, so he’s lying down, one arm tucked behind his head, his feet resting comfortably over the arm of the massive sofa. Jude’s sitting next to him, legs folded, remote loosely held in one hand as he half-pays attention to the screen.

Kylian tilts his head to look at Jude, who seems completely at ease, like he hasn’t just dropped that bomb out of nowhere. “You told him?” Kylian asks, his voice rising slightly in surprise.

Jude shrugs, his lips curling into a smirk. “Yeah. He’s my brother, innit? He figured something was up when I kept smiling at my phone like an idiot every time you texted.”

Kylian rolls his eyes, though his cheeks warm a little. “So much for keeping things low-key.”

Jude grins, his dimple making a rare appearance. “Relax, he’s not gonna sell us out to Marca or anything. Besides, he’s mostly just baffled.” He glances at Kylian, his smirk softening. “He can’t believe you’re with me.”

Kylian snorts. “That’s what he said?”

“Pretty much.” Jude chuckles, turning the volume down on the TV. “He kept saying things like, ‘ You’re so annoying, though. How does he put up with you?’ ”

Kylian laughs at that, the sound low and warm, his earlier surprise melting into fondness. “Well, he’s not wrong,” he teases, nudging Jude’s leg with his foot.

“Oi, watch it,” Jude says, swatting at Kylian’s knee with a playful glare. “You’re the one who fell for all this annoying charm.”

Kylian raises an eyebrow, his smile growing. “ Fell is a strong word.”

Jude’s mock-offended expression fades into something softer, more serious, as he looks at Kylian. “Yeah,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “But I did.”

The shift in his tone makes Kylian’s chest tighten. He looks away, his gaze drifting back to the TV, though he’s not seeing any of it. Jude’s words hang in the air between them, and Kylian doesn’t need to say anything to know Jude means it.

The game they were half-watching fades into background noise. Jude leans back, letting his hand rest lightly on Kylian’s shin, a quiet connection between them. Kylian doesn’t pull away. He never does.

“Jobe’s right, though,” Jude says after a moment, his smirk returning. “I am annoying.”

Kylian lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, you are. But I don’t mind.”

And he doesn’t. Not even a little.

Jude smiles at Kylian’s words, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way that always makes Kylian’s heart ache, just a little. It’s infuriating, really, how someone so loud and full of energy can also disarm him with a simple look. Kylian shifts slightly on the sofa, trying to ignore the way his chest tightens again, that familiar mix of affection and vulnerability.

Jude doesn’t let the silence linger. “So,” he says, stretching his legs out until his socked foot nudges against Kylian’s thigh, “you’re just gonna lie there all night while I carry the conversation? Typical Mbappé.”

Kylian snorts, tilting his head to glance at Jude. “You’re the one who started this whole ‘Jobe thinks I’m crazy’ thing. I’m just waiting for you to explain.”

“What’s there to explain?” Jude says, grinning like he’s got the upper hand. “He’s right. You’re Kylian Mbappé—world-class, golden boy, face of France or whatever—and I’m, well…” He gestures vaguely at himself. “Me.”

Kylian raises an eyebrow, his expression somewhere between incredulous and amused. “ Just you? You’re Jude Bellingham. Madrid’s golden kid. Midfield genius. Half the football world is in love with you. The other half just hasn’t figured it out yet.”

Jude laughs, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something unsure. “Yeah, well, you make me sound cooler than I am.”

Kylian sits up slightly, propping himself on one elbow so he can look at Jude more directly. “I don’t need to make you sound cool. You already are.”

The sincerity in his voice makes Jude go quiet for a moment, his usual bravado softening. He ducks his head, running a hand through his hair like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “You’re too good at this, you know that?” he mutters, though there’s a small smile on his face.

Kylian smirks, leaning back again. “At what?”

Jude doesn’t answer right away, his gaze flicking to Kylian’s face before dropping back to his hands. “At making me feel like this,” he says finally, his voice quieter now. “Like maybe Jobe’s wrong. Maybe I’m not crazy.”

Kylian’s breath catches, his teasing smile faltering. He doesn’t reply immediately, but he shifts again, his foot brushing against Jude’s. It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough to bridge the space between them.

“You’re not crazy,” Kylian says softly, his voice steady. “And even if you were, I think I’d still follow you there.”

Jude blinks, startled, but then his face breaks into a grin so wide and genuine that Kylian feels like he’s just scored a last-minute goal in a final. Jude shakes his head, laughing quietly to himself. “You really don’t play fair, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you,” Kylian admits, his smirk returning.

Jude doesn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead, he leans in, closing the space between them in one fluid motion, and captures Kylian’s lips in a kiss. It’s soft at first, tentative, as if Jude’s testing the waters, unsure if this is the right moment—or if Kylian will let him.

But Kylian doesn’t pull away. His eyes flutter shut, and a quiet sigh escapes him as he tilts his head, leaning into the kiss. Jude’s hand slides up, his fingers brushing lightly against Kylian’s jaw, anchoring them both in this shared moment. The world around them—the muted TV, the ache in Kylian’s legs, the lingering thoughts of their earlier fight—fades away entirely.

Kylian feels warmth spreading through his chest, his heartbeat quickening as Jude deepens the kiss, his usual rough edges replaced with a gentleness that catches Kylian off guard. It’s like Jude is pouring everything he can’t say into the connection, every unspoken thought, every vulnerability he hides from the world.

When they finally break apart, Kylian’s lips tingle, and his breath comes quicker than before. He opens his eyes to find Jude staring at him, his expression uncharacteristically serious, as if he’s searching for something in Kylian’s face.

“I—” Jude starts, then stops, his brow furrowing slightly. He looks like he’s about to say something important, but Kylian doesn’t give him the chance.

Instead, he reaches up, his hand curling around the back of Jude’s neck, and pulls him back in. This time, Kylian leads, his kiss firmer, more certain. It’s not just an answer—it’s a promise. Jude relaxes almost immediately, his hesitation melting away as he shifts closer, their legs tangling together on the sofa.

By the time they part again, they’re both smiling, their foreheads resting against each other. Jude lets out a soft laugh, his breath warm against Kylian’s skin.

“Well,” Jude murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “that escalated quickly.”

Kylian huffs a laugh, his fingers still lightly tracing the back of Jude’s neck. “You started it.”

“And I’ll finish it,” Jude quips, his grin widening. But there’s a softness in his eyes that betrays the usual bravado—a quiet tenderness that Kylian knows is reserved only for him.

“Good,” Kylian says simply, his voice steady. And for the first time in a long time, he feels like there’s nothing else that needs to be said.

Jude exhales softly, his grin still lingering as he pulls back just enough to look at Kylian properly. For a moment, neither of them says anything, the air between them charged and warm. Then, without breaking eye contact, Jude reaches down, his fingers curling around Kylian’s hand.

Kylian doesn’t resist. He lets Jude guide him, their hands fitting together in a way that feels so natural it’s almost unfair. Jude’s touch is steady, grounding, and Kylian follows without hesitation as Jude reaches for the remote, clicking off the TV. The room falls into a comfortable silence, the only sound their soft breaths and the faint hum of the city outside.

“Come on,” Jude says quietly, his voice low and sure, the edges of his earlier teasing gone now. There’s something deeper in his tone—something that sends a shiver down Kylian’s spine.

Jude tugs gently, and Kylian stands, their fingers still intertwined. The ache in his legs from the match earlier doesn’t even register anymore. All he feels is Jude’s warmth, his presence pulling him closer like a magnetic force.

Jude leads the way, weaving through the dimly lit mansion with the ease of someone who knows it by heart. Kylian’s eyes linger on him, on the way his broad shoulders move, on the quiet confidence in his stride. There’s a part of Kylian that marvels at how effortless this feels—how natural it is to let Jude take the lead, to trust him completely in this moment.

By the time they reach the bedroom, Kylian’s chest is tight with anticipation, his pulse quickening. Jude pauses in the doorway, glancing back at him with a small smile that’s equal parts mischievous and tender.

“You’ve got no complaints, yeah?” Jude asks, his voice light but laced with meaning.

Kylian huffs out a soft laugh, stepping closer until their bodies are almost touching. He looks at Jude, his gaze steady, and shakes his head. “None at all,” he murmurs, his voice quiet but firm.

Jude’s smile widens, his hand tightening briefly around Kylian’s before he steps inside, pulling Kylian with him. And as the door shuts softly behind them, the rest of the world disappears entirely.

Chapter Text

“You guys are what?” Brahim asks, his voice a little too loud as he chokes on a piece of sushi. His wide eyes dart between Jude and Kylian, disbelief etched across his face.

“Shhh!” Jude hisses, looking around the small, dimly lit sushi restaurant in panic. His hand shoots out to wave Brahim down, as if that will magically lower his volume. “Keep your voice down, man!”

Brahim swallows hard, coughing a bit before leaning closer to them, his whisper-shout somehow just as dramatic. “You’re serious? You two? Together? How did I not know this?!”

Kylian leans back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, watching the chaos unfold with an amused smirk. His calmness contrasts Jude’s frantic attempts to shush Brahim, and he’s clearly enjoying the moment.

“Honestly,” Kylian says, his tone light and teasing, “I can’t believe you were this clueless either. You’re supposed to be observant, no?”

Brahim glares at him, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks. “Observant? You guys hid it! Don’t act like I was blind or something. When did this even happen?!”

Jude sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s been… a while,” he mutters, clearly not ready to rehash the timeline. “We didn’t tell anyone except Vini and Cama, okay? You’re the first one outside of them to know. So maybe stop yelling before half the team finds out.”

Brahim blinks at him, his expression somewhere between shock and offense. “Vini and Cama knew? Before me?”

“They kind of figured it out on their own,” Jude admits, shrugging. “And let’s be honest, you’re not exactly subtle when you’re surprised. Case in point—” He gestures to the scene Brahim is currently making, prompting a few curious glances from other diners.

Brahim groans, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “I thought we were closer than this, Jude.”

Kylian chuckles, picking up a piece of sushi with his chopsticks. “You’re really making this about you?”

“Yes, I am,” Brahim fires back, pointing at Kylian. “Because you stole my best friend, and nobody even warned me.”

Jude buries his face in his hands, mumbling, “This was a mistake. I knew this was a mistake.”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Kylian says, grinning as he nudges Jude’s foot under the table.

Jude looks up to glare at him, but there’s no heat in it. Brahim, meanwhile, leans forward again, clearly not ready to drop the topic.

“So, are you, like, serious-serious?” he asks, his voice quieter now, though his curiosity is no less intense.

Jude glances at Kylian, and for a moment, the playful banter fades. Their eyes meet, and something unspoken passes between them—something steady and sure.

“Yeah,” Jude says finally, his voice soft but firm. “We are.”

Brahim pauses, his expression shifting as he processes the weight of that answer. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he breaks into a wide grin. “Well, damn. I guess I’m happy for you guys. Even if you kept me in the dark.”

Kylian raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Guess?”

“Okay, fine. I’m actually happy for you,” Brahim concedes, rolling his eyes. “But don’t expect me to keep this a secret. Vini’s gonna owe me some details.”

Jude groans again, but Kylian just laughs, leaning back and savoring his sushi. This went better than expected.

“You guys aren’t shagging in the hotels we’re staying in, right?” Brahim blurts out, his face scrunched in mock horror. “Because I can’t—no, I won’t —live with that image in my head.”

Kylian freezes for a beat, then bursts out laughing so hard he nearly drops his chopsticks. His shoulders shake, his hand slapping the edge of the table as he tries—and fails—to catch his breath.

Kylian gasps between laughs, his face lit up with pure amusement. “you didn’t just—”

Jude, on the other hand, looks like he’s about two seconds away from diving across the table and strangling Brahim. His face flushes deep red, and he glares at Kylian first for laughing, then at Brahim for even bringing it up.

“Are you serious right now?” Jude hisses, his voice low and filled with venom. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you even ask that?”

Brahim just shrugs, entirely unbothered by Jude’s rising frustration. “I mean, it’s a valid question, isn’t it? We’re all in the same hotels, sharing spaces, sometimes even walls . I just need to know I’m not—”

“ Stop talking! ” Jude groans, covering his face with both hands. “I can’t believe this is happening. This was a mistake. I should’ve just let you find out on Instagram like everyone else.”

Kylian, still wheezing with laughter, manages to sit up straight enough to chime in. “For the record,” he says, grinning at Brahim, “we do.”

Jude’s head snaps toward him so fast it’s a wonder he doesn’t pull a muscle. “ Kylian! ” he hisses, his voice a mix of disbelief and sheer mortification. His face flushes even redder, and he looks like he’s ready to melt into the floor.

Brahim’s eyes widen, his chopsticks clattering onto his plate. “You’re kidding,” he says, his voice strangled. “Oh my God, you’re not kidding.”

Kylian just shrugs, utterly unbothered, his grin only widening. “What? He asked.”

Brahim stares at him like he’s just grown a second head, then turns to Jude, who’s frantically waving his hands as if that’ll somehow erase the conversation.

“He’s lying!” Jude stammers, glaring daggers at Kylian. “He’s absolutely lying. Don’t listen to him.”

“Am I, though?” Kylian quips, tilting his head and looking far too pleased with himself.

“ Yes! ” Jude snaps, his voice pitched higher than usual. “Stop winding him up!”

Brahim groans, covering his ears with his hands. “I can’t. I just can’t. This is worse than I thought.” He pauses, then adds, “I’m switching hotels next time.”

Kylian dissolves into laughter again, while Jude glares at him like he’s mentally plotting revenge.

“You’re the worst,” Jude mutters under his breath, but Kylian just winks at him, clearly enjoying every second of his embarrassment.

Kylian just shrugs, utterly unbothered, his grin only widening. “What? He asked,” Kylian says before turning back to Brahim with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Of course we do. You seen what he looks like?”

Brahim’s face turns a shade paler as he stares at Kylian, eyes wide in disbelief. "Oh God," he mutters, shaking his head. "I did not need that image."

Kylian’s grin only grows wider, clearly enjoying every second of Brahim’s discomfort. But then, as if realizing he may have pushed it too far, he quickly adds, “Wait, I take that back—if you’ve seen it, I need you to unsee it.”

Jude’s jaw drops, and he slaps his hand to his face in utter defeat. “I swear to God, Kylian…” He’s half laughing, half mortified, not sure whether to be angry or amused.

Brahim, meanwhile, looks like he's about to lose it. “Why do I always get involved in these things?!” he groans, tossing his chopsticks onto his plate and leaning back in his chair like he's done for the day.

Kylian chuckles, leaning back as well, clearly satisfied with the chaos he’s caused. "You're welcome, Brahim. Consider it a special kind of initiation into the team."

Jude just glares at them both, shaking his head. “You’re both impossible,” he mutters, though there’s a small, exasperated smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Jude tries to stay mad at Kylian, but it’s like holding onto water—his frustration slips away the moment Kylian flashes him that cheeky grin, the one that makes him want to both roll his eyes and kiss him at the same time. There’s something about the way Kylian carries himself—so effortlessly chipper, so impossibly bratty—that makes it impossible to stay annoyed for long.

Jude’s chest tingles, a familiar flutter he’s come to dread and love all at once. It’s that feeling, the one that hits him when Kylian’s being his usual playful self, teasing him without a care in the world. The fact that Kylian can turn his whole mood around with just one grin feels dangerous.

He tries to keep his scowl in place, glaring at Kylian as he leans back in his chair, but his heart is betraying him, quickening in that way it does when Kylian’s close, when he’s being this Kylian—the one who knows exactly how to push all his buttons and still make him feel like the luckiest guy in the room.

Kylian’s not even trying to be charming right now, but damn it , he still is. Jude’s caught, stuck somewhere between wanting to stay mad and not wanting to ruin whatever strange, magnetic connection they have.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” Jude mutters, his voice still trying to sound annoyed, but it’s weak—barely holding on. He crosses his arms, but there’s no real bite to the gesture.

Kylian smirks, leaning forward on his elbows, clearly pleased with himself. “I think I’m hilarious.”

And that’s it. Jude can’t hold it in anymore. His lips twitch, fighting a smile. His chest tightens with something warm, something that makes him wonder just how much of this thing between them is just playful banter and how much of it runs deeper.

“God, you’re impossible,” Jude finally admits, shaking his head as he looks away, trying to regain some semblance of control. But he can’t. He doesn’t want to.

Kylian’s grin softens, just a little. He leans in close enough that Jude feels the warmth of his presence. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Jude doesn’t say anything, but his heart gives him away, a flutter that makes him both frustrated and happy . He wants to stay mad, but when Kylian’s around, it’s hard to do anything except feel.

Kylian and Jude are locked in one of those moments, the kind where words are dancing between them and the atmosphere feels a little too charged. Then, out of nowhere, Brahim interrupts with a dramatic gasp, his hand clutching his chest like he’s been struck by lightning.

"Can you please stop flirting in front of me?" Brahim says, his voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "Oh God, I need to see club counseling after this." He looks like he’s genuinely about to explode, his eyes wide and a little glassy from the sheer intensity of it all.

Kylian bursts out laughing, the sound like a breath of fresh air, while Jude just drops his face into his hands, trying—and failing—to hide the grin tugging at his lips. He shakes his head, muttering under his breath, "This is your fault."

Brahim, clearly at his limit, stares at them both like they’ve lost their minds. “I swear, if I have to witness one more moment of this... I’m calling the team psychologist myself."

Jude finally looks up, his face half-embarrassed, half-amused. “We’re not even doing anything that bad," he says with a smirk, though his words are tempered with a hint of affection for Kylian’s playful spirit.

“Not bad ?” Brahim looks like he might just combust. “You’re making me question every life decision I’ve ever made. Can you not be cute and annoying at the same time, please?”

Kylian winks at him, his expression borderline smug. “That’s kind of our thing, mate. Get used to it.”

Jude smirks, though his eyes are soft with something unspoken. “Yeah. It’s just who we are.”

And Brahim, though still a little traumatized, can’t help but laugh at how helpless he is in the face of it. He leans back in his chair, muttering under his breath. “I need a drink and I’ll have to ask Perez to book the hotels with the thickest walls,” Brahim mutters, his voice a mix of frustration and defeat as he stares at Kylian and Jude. "I can't deal with this."

Kylian bursts out laughing again, clearly delighted by Brahim's discomfort, while Jude just slouches back in his seat, shaking his head.

"Don't worry, Brahim," Kylian teases, his grin widening. "We'll be quiet. Promise."

Jude shoots him a sideways glance, half amused and half incredulous. "Since when do you ever keep promises like that?"

"Exactly," Brahim chimes in, his expression deadpan. "I’ll need a soundproof room just to survive the next away trip."

Jude smirks, clearly enjoying the banter but still wanting to defuse it a little. "Okay, okay. We'll behave."

Kylian snorts. "Behave? You know that’s never gonna happen."

Brahim looks between them, shaking his head. "God help me. Next time I’m asking for separate hotels and taking Vini with me.” He leans back dramatically in his chair, arms crossed, as if trying to block out the entire conversation.

Kylian just laughs louder, leaning back too, clearly not bothered by Brahim’s discomfort. "Hey, you're the one who asked, Brahim. This is your fault."

Jude can’t help but chuckle at Brahim’s exaggerated misery, but there's a part of him that’s grateful for how easily they all slip back into this easy camaraderie, despite the teasing. Still, he knows Brahim won’t let him forget about this anytime soon.

Brahim leans back in his chair with a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes at both Kylian and Jude. "You’re paying the bill, mom, dad," he says with a mock-serious tone. "For traumatizing me. And I wanna be there when you tell Luka. The guy’s gonna have a heart attack the second he finds out. He’s been living in his own world, oblivious to all of this.”

Jude groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "We don’t need to worry about Luka right now, Brahim. Let's just survive this dinner first.”

Jude glances over at Kylian, his expression softening despite himself. "We’ll figure it out when the time comes," he says, though there's a trace of worry in his voice. “But seriously, can we just get through this meal without anyone else freaking out?”

Kylian grins. “No promises, Mom.”

Jude immediately smacks Kylian’s side, a sharp poke that catches him off guard. Kylian recoils with a playful gasp, his eyes wide in mock shock, then, without missing a beat, blows Jude a dramatic kiss from across the table.

Jude rolls his eyes but can't hide the small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're ridiculous," he mutters, his tone softening despite himself.

Brahim, who’s been watching this whole exchange with a mix of amusement and disbelief, groans. “I need to start drinking. Seriously, how do you two survive each other?”

Kylian winks at him. “Easy. We’re perfect together.”

Jude gives him a deadpan look, but there's a glint of affection in his eyes that betrays his frustration. “Stop making me laugh when I’m trying to stay mad at you,” he says, even though he’s failing miserably at looking angry.

Kylian just grins wider, clearly enjoying the effect he has on him. "You love it."

*

They act nonchalant most of the time, as if everything’s just normal, despite the fact that it’s anything but. The need to keep their relationship under wraps becomes a constant balancing act. They try to spend more time apart, making sure their interactions don’t attract suspicion. Kylian’s usually with his French squad while Jude tends to stick with Brahim, Dave, and Cama. Vini’s often in the mix too, but he’s not exactly the subtle type when it comes to teasing.

The silent teasing from their teammates is unavoidable, though. Cama, Vini, and Brahim never miss an opportunity to shoot them wiggling eyebrows or pointed looks when they think no one’s paying attention. Kylian and Jude try their best to ignore it, but it’s hard when the teasing is so obvious. They just exchange quick, awkward glances, pretending to be unbothered, but both of them know that the others are picking up on every little thing.

Still, they manage to keep things low-key for the most part. When they’re apart, they’re just teammates. When they’re together, there’s an unspoken understanding between them—a connection that no one else can quite touch.

But it’s the small things that give it away. The way Kylian’s eyes will flicker to Jude from across the room when he thinks no one’s looking, or how Jude’s smile lingers a little longer than necessary when Kylian cracks a joke. It’s the way they manage to catch each other’s eye in the middle of a crowded room, a shared look that speaks volumes without a single word being exchanged.

The rest of the team might pretend not to notice, but it’s impossible to miss those subtle moments—the quiet smiles and lingering glances—that make it clear there’s more going on between them than they’re letting on. Even if they’re doing their best to keep it hidden, there’s no denying it. It’s in the air, in the way they hold themselves when they’re close, the unspoken bond that no one else can quite put into words.

And as much as they try to ignore it, the rest of the team is starting to notice. The teasing might be silent for now, but it’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out.

Kylian’s mind races, swirling with thoughts he can’t shake. The weight of it all presses down on him, heavy and relentless. He’s stressed, overthinking every little detail. He knows Jude is strong—he’s a fighter, he’s already proven that—but the reality still haunts him. Jude is young . Still at the very start of his career. The bright future ahead of him, but also the naivety that comes with being so early in the game. And what if things go wrong?

The questions spiral. What if this comes out in a way they both don’t want? What if it’s twisted, used against them? Not everyone in the club has good intentions. Kylian knows that too well. He’s seen how things can turn, how rumors spread, how people try to use others for their own advantage. He’s seen the envy in the eyes of some of his teammates, the ones who’d take any chance to use a vulnerability to their advantage.

How can I protect him? That’s the thought that lingers at the back of his mind, gnawing at him like a slow burn. How can I protect Jude from all this?

He knows it’s not just about keeping their relationship a secret. It’s about keeping Jude safe—safe from the gossip, the judgment, the potential fallout if their private lives spill into the public eye. Kylian’s been in the spotlight for years, he’s learned how to shield himself from the noise, but Jude is still so new to all of this. He hasn’t been through the highs and lows of constant scrutiny, and Kylian can’t bear the thought of him having to.

Kylian is losing sleep over it. Lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, mind racing with worst-case scenarios. He’s doing a good job hiding it from Jude, of course. He doesn’t want to burden him with his fears. Jude has enough on his plate as it is—he’s just starting to find his rhythm, to make his mark. He doesn’t need Kylian’s anxiety piled on top of his own. But deep down, Kylian knows that soon Jude will start to notice. He’ll pick up on the stress, the way Kylian’s eyes are always a little too tired, his smile a little too forced. He’ll see the cracks, and Kylian won’t be able to hide it any longer.

God, Jude is still so young. And maybe that’s the part that scares him the most. Jude is everything Kylian’s ever wanted, but he’s also someone Kylian feels this deep responsibility for. His heart aches at the thought of anything hurting Jude—especially because of him. Because of them.

But what else can he do? He’s trapped between wanting to protect Jude and knowing that the more he hides, the more dangerous this becomes for both of them.

Kylian sighs quietly, rolling onto his side. The room is dark, the quiet heavy between them. He glances at Jude, already deep in sleep, his back turned to Kylian. Without hesitation, Kylian slides his arm under Jude’s, pulling him close in a protective, comforting way. The warmth of Jude’s body against his is soothing, but it’s not enough to quiet the storm in Kylian’s mind.

Jude’s hand, almost instinctively, finds his the moment Kylian’s arm settles around him, their fingers intertwining on Jude’s stomach. It’s a small, simple thing, but it means everything. In the dark, their closeness feels like a silent promise.

"Why are you awake?" Jude’s voice is soft, groggy with sleep, but there’s an awareness in it that Kylian can never quite escape.

"Couldn’t sleep," Kylian mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. He doesn’t want to say more. Doesn’t want to burden Jude with his worries.

But Jude is young, yes, but he’s smart. He knows there’s something more, something Kylian’s not saying. He feels the weight of it in the way Kylian holds him a little tighter than usual, in the tension in his body that Kylian’s doing his best to hide. Jude doesn’t press. Instead, he simply turns around in Kylian’s arms, shifting to face him, and wraps his arms around Kylian, pulling him close.

It’s quiet for a moment, just the two of them holding each other in the darkness, the weight of Kylian’s unspoken fears hanging between them. Jude doesn’t ask again. He knows this is enough. He doesn’t need Kylian to explain, not when he’s already figured it out.

And so, in the silence of the night, they hold each other tighter, finding comfort in the simple act of being together. Jude’s embrace is everything Kylian needs right now. It’s safe, it’s steady. And for tonight, it’s enough.

Kylian lets his eyes fall shut, the tension in his body slowly easing under Jude’s quiet, unwavering warmth. The storm in his mind hasn’t settled completely, but here, in Jude’s arms, it feels manageable.

One thing is crystal clear to him, cutting through the haze of his worries: he will protect Jude.

No matter what. No matter how.

That’s all Kylian knows for sure. That he’ll do whatever it takes to keep Jude safe, to shield him from the weight of the world that seems so eager to press down on them. Whatever comes their way, Kylian will be there, standing between Jude and anything that dares to hurt him.

Because this boy in his arms isn’t just someone he loves—Jude is his future, his heart. And Kylian doesn’t want to know how to exist without him anymore.

Chapter Text

In the weeks that follow, Jude can sense the change in Kylian. It’s subtle at first, but then it becomes impossible to miss. Kylian is more alert, his eyes constantly scanning the room, watching teammates and staff with a sharpness that wasn’t there before. Jude swears he’s taking mental notes, cataloging every interaction, every stray glance.

It’s during lunch at training when someone finally says something.

“Man, you okay?” Vini asks, his voice casual but curious as he grabs a plate from the counter.

Kylian, standing just ahead of him in line, stiffens slightly before recovering, his expression neutral. Jude, who’s standing behind them, immediately tenses, eyes darting between the two.

Kylian shoots Vini a look, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “I’m okay,” he says, his tone calm but firm. “Why?”

Vini shrugs, but there’s a hint of concern in his eyes. “I don’t know. You’ve been... on edge lately. Thought maybe something was up.”

Jude can feel his heart pounding, the tension rolling off Kylian like a wave. He holds his breath, waiting for Kylian’s response.

“I’m fine,” Kylian says again, this time with a small, dismissive smile. “Just focused. That’s all.”

Vini doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he nods, letting it drop for now. “Alright, man. Just making sure.”

As they move through the line, Jude lingers a little longer behind them, watching Kylian’s shoulders relax ever so slightly. He knows Kylian too well to believe that brush-off. This isn’t just focus. Kylian’s guarding something—guarding them.

When they sit down, Kylian doesn’t look his way, but Jude catches the briefest glance from him across the table, a fleeting look that says everything. Jude swallows hard and looks away, pretending to focus on his food.

But in his chest, the knot of worry tightens. He’s not sure how long Kylian can keep this up—or how long he can watch him carry it alone.

Vini sighs softly beside Jude, nudging him gently as they sit at the table. Jude’s been quiet, his fork aimlessly pushing food around his plate. Vini leans in, his voice low enough that only Jude can hear.

“Don’t be so hard on him,” Vini whispers, his tone uncharacteristically serious. His hand comes up to rub soothing circles on Jude’s back. “He’s trying to protect you, I guess.”

Jude freezes for a second, his grip on the fork tightening. Vini’s words hit him harder than he expects, slicing through the wall of frustration and unease that’s been building up.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jude mutters defensively, though his voice is barely audible.

Vini raises an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. “You don’t have to,” he says simply. “It’s written all over your face. You’re worried about him, and he’s worried about you. That’s how this works, right?”

Jude’s shoulders slump, his head dipping slightly as he lets out a slow breath. “It’s just... he’s doing too much, Vini. He’s carrying all this... stuff, and he won’t let me in. How am I supposed to help if he won’t talk to me?”

Vini’s hand stays steady on his back, his voice soft but steady. “Maybe he thinks the best way to protect you is by keeping it all on himself.” He pauses, glancing over at Kylian, who’s sitting a few seats away, laughing half-heartedly at something Brahim said. “But he’s human too, Jude. He needs you just as much as you need him, even if he’s too stubborn to say it.”

Jude exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know. I just... I don’t know how to get through to him.”

Vini smiles faintly, squeezing his shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. You always do. Just... don’t be too hard on him, okay? He’s doing his best.”

Jude nods slowly, his gaze drifting toward Kylian again. Vini’s words echo in his mind, and for the first time in days, the frustration eases, replaced by something softer.

We’ll figure it out, Jude tells himself. We always do.

Jude pulls out his phone, typing quickly under the table. Beside him, Vini shakes his head with an amused smirk, already resigned to the fact that Jude abandoned their conversation the second Kylian crossed his mind.

Jude: Dinner @ mine 2nite?

Kylian feels his phone buzz in his pocket but doesn’t check it right away, finishing his food first. When he finally pulls it out, his lips twitch into a smile as he reads the message. Without thinking twice, he fires back:

>>we can order in. don’t want u poisoning me.

Jude sees the reply almost immediately and lets out a small laugh, shaking his head as he types back:

>> wow no faith in me huh

>> zero. but ur cute so it’s fine.

Vini, still sitting beside Jude, leans over slightly, trying to sneak a peek at the conversation. Jude tilts the screen away with a glare, but his flushed cheeks give him away.

"Unreal," Vini mutters, shaking his head again. "You’re so gone, bro."

Jude smirks to himself as he types out another message, ignoring Vini's teasing entirely.

>> mum gonna cook anyway. and she misses u.

Kylian sees the text pop up, and his heart softens instantly. He can practically hear Jude’s playful tone in the words, but the mention of Denise makes him smile even wider.

>> ahh using ur mom against me now? low blow.

>> whatever gets u there, mbappe.

>> fine, I’m in. tell her I miss her too. and don’t touch my food b4 I get there.

Jude snorts at the response, shaking his head while Vini watches him like he’s the most pathetic lovesick guy on the planet.

“Seriously?” Vini mutters, laughing under his breath. “You’re so whipped.”

Jude just shrugs, locking his phone and leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “Shut up.”

Before Vini can say anything else, Dani Ceballos slides into the seat across from Jude, setting his plate down with a curious look. “Who’s the new girl?” he asks, smirking. Jude tenses immediately, the ease from moments ago vanishing. “No one,” he says quickly, too quickly, his voice a little too defensive.

Ceballos raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Right,” he says slowly, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been on your phone nonstop, grinning like an idiot. Sure sounds like someone special to me.”

Jude tries to think of a comeback, but his mind is blank. Over Ceballos’ shoulder, his eyes dart toward Kylian instinctively, a worried look flashing across his face.

Kylian, who’s sitting a few seats away, meets Jude’s gaze and immediately understands. He doesn’t react outwardly, just quirks an eyebrow subtly, as if to say, Relax, I’ve got this. But Jude knows they’re both thinking the same thing: they don’t trust Ceballos. Not with this.

“Drop it, Dani,” Vini says casually, stepping in before things can get awkward. He leans back in his chair with a smirk, clearly enjoying himself a little too much. “Jude’s just obsessed with TikTok. Kid spends hours scrolling hottie videos.”

Jude’s head snaps toward Vini, his eyes narrowing. “What?” he blurts, caught between disbelief and embarrassment.

“Yeah,” Vini continues, ignoring Jude’s death glare. “You should see him. Fully zoned out, just liking thirst traps like his life depends on it.”

Ceballos bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “Seriously? You’ve got that much time on your hands, Bellingham?”

Jude sputters, trying to form a response, but his brain is still stuck on Vini’s audacity. “That’s not—”

“Relax, bro,” Vini interrupts, patting Jude on the shoulder with exaggerated sympathy. “We all need hobbies.”

Across the table, Kylian is watching the whole scene with thinly veiled amusement, trying not to laugh as he takes a sip of water. Jude catches his eye and glares at him too, as if daring him to join in.

Kylian just smirks and mouths, Hottie videos?

Jude groans, burying his face in his hands as Vini and Ceballos continue laughing. “I hate all of you,” he mutters, though the heat rising to his cheeks says otherwise.

Kylian finishes his food and gets up from the table, casually heading to the small coffee bar tucked into the corner of the training facility. Rodrygo is already there, sipping an espresso and scrolling on his phone, and Kylian slides onto the stool next to him.

They start chatting easily, their conversation light and filled with laughter, but Kylian’s attention occasionally drifts, his thoughts elsewhere.

Back at the table, Jude waits, biding his time to avoid suspicion. He pretends to listen to Vini and Ceballos’s banter, nodding along when necessary, but his focus is entirely on the clock. Ten minutes feels like forever, but finally, he stands up, stretching dramatically to excuse himself.

“Gotta grab something,” Jude mumbles, earning only a distracted nod from Vini, who’s now deeply engaged in a debate about music playlists with Brahim.

Jude heads toward the coffee bar, his steps steady but purposeful. As he rounds the corner, he spots Kylian leaning on the counter, mid-laugh at something Rodrygo just said. The sight of him, so relaxed and effortlessly charming, makes Jude’s chest tighten, but he quickly schools his expression, stepping into the space like it’s no big deal.

“Hey,” Jude says, his voice casual as he sidles up beside Kylian. Kylian looks over, his lips twitching into a soft smile, like he’d been expecting Jude all along. “Hey,” he replies smoothly, shifting slightly to make room for him.

Jude tries to listen as Kylian and Rodrygo chat about the latest City game, or at least he pretends to. His mind, however, keeps drifting. Every word feels like it’s bouncing off him, nothing sticking. He can’t focus. There’s a knot in his stomach, a sick feeling rising in his throat, as the thought of Ceballos or anyone else discovering their secret makes his insides churn.

It’s too much. Too dangerous. He can’t let it slip.

Rodrygo’s phone rings, and he excuses himself, pulling Jude out of his spiral. Kylian smiles and nods, keeping his calm façade, as if nothing’s wrong. How can he stay this calm? Jude thinks, feeling a rush of frustration building in his chest.

But then, Kylian looks around the room, his sharp eyes scanning the space to see if anyone’s watching. His demeanor shifts for just a moment, his gaze darkening, a protective edge creeping into his posture.

“Did he say something?” Kylian asks, his voice low, like a warning, his focus entirely on Jude. For a brief second, the look in his eyes is intense—dangerous, even—as if he could or would kill Ceballos for Jude in that moment.

Jude’s heart skips a beat at the intensity. He shakes his head quickly, his voice barely above a whisper. “No. Just... just the usual. I don’t think he knows anything, but...” He trails off, his mind racing.

Kylian’s eyes narrow, and for a second, the calm exterior cracks. He leans in slightly, his expression hardening. “If he does, if anyone does... I’ll make sure it doesn’t get out. You don’t need to worry about that, okay?”

Jude nods quickly, though the tension still lingers. Kylian’s words do nothing to calm the storm inside him. The idea of their secret slipping, of people like Ceballos finding out, is enough to make his heart race again. But in this moment, Kylian’s promise—his determination—feels like a shield.

“We’re fine,” Kylian says, his voice soft now, trying to reassure Jude even if there’s a lingering edge in his eyes. "I’ve got this. We’ll figure it out."

Jude swallows, trying to steady his breathing. “Yeah, we will.”

Kylian’s words hang in the air, his tone low but firm. “If he does, if anyone does... I’ll make sure it doesn’t get out. You don’t need to worry about that, okay?”

Jude’s chest tightens, his mind racing. How can he be so sure? He can’t help but ask the question aloud, even though a part of him hates himself for doing it. It feels almost like he’s doubting Kylian, and he doesn’t want to do that.

“How can you be so sure?” Jude’s voice is quiet, but the uncertainty in it betrays the thoughts swirling in his mind.

Kylian meets his gaze without hesitation, his eyes calm yet intense. He doesn’t seem bothered by the question, doesn’t flinch. He just looks at Jude, his expression unreadable for a second before his lips curl into the faintest of smiles.

“Because I’m not letting anything happen to you,” Kylian says simply, his voice low and steady. “I’m not gonna let this... us, whatever it is, get out. No one will touch you, Jude. Not like that.”

Jude wants to believe him. He wants to feel comforted by the certainty in Kylian’s voice, the way he says it like there’s no chance of this slipping through the cracks. But the weight of it all still presses down on him.

Jude knows Kylian’s a powerful man, someone whose influence extends far beyond the football pitch. There are jokes about him being the future president of France, or more seriously, the way his popularity rivals even figures like Napoleon. The man could probably make anything disappear if he really wanted to.

But still...

Jude swallows, trying to make sense of the tightness in his chest. “You’re powerful, Kylian. You’re more than popular. You could probably... I don’t know, do anything. But I’m not you. I don’t have that power. I don’t have your reach .”

Kylian’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, closing the space between them just a little. “You don’t need to have it. I’ve got enough for both of us.” He pauses, his voice gentle now, almost reassuring. “You just need to trust me. I won’t let anyone hurt you. This... this is ours, okay? And I’m not letting anyone take it from us.”

For a moment, the world feels quieter, as if Kylian’s words have settled between them like a promise. Jude stares at him, trying to let the weight of it sink in. He wants to believe it, wants to trust Kylian with everything he’s got, but the fear still lingers in the back of his mind.

“I trust you,” Jude finally murmurs, the words coming out softer than he expected.

Kylian smiles, a little more relaxed now, though there’s a flicker of concern still in his eyes. “Good. That’s all I need.”

Jude feels a knot in his stomach as he thinks of getting benched, of being sidelined, or—even worse—not being called up to the national team because of who he loves. At 21, the fear of what it could cost him, what it could cost them, gnaws at him. He takes a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs before he looks into Kylian’s eyes, finding that sense of calm he needs in the way Kylian watches him—intently, protectively, but also with that unshakable confidence.

“I trust you,” Jude says again, the words a little firmer this time. But then he hesitates, feeling the need to make something clear. Something important.

He leans in just slightly, his voice quieter now, but no less serious. “But I need you to know... I will do everything to protect you too. Whatever happens, whatever it costs me. I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”

Kylian’s expression softens at the words, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He doesn’t speak right away, just holds Jude’s gaze, as if weighing the sincerity of the promise. Then, after a moment that feels like an eternity, he nods slowly.

“I know you will,” Kylian says, his voice quiet but steady. “And I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Jude feels the weight of Kylian’s words settle in his chest. There’s a certain power in them, something that reassures him that no matter what’s ahead, they’re in this together. That they’ll protect each other, even if it means making sacrifices. Even if it means standing strong in the face of everything they’re trying to keep hidden.

Kylian smiles then, the usual playful glint returning to his eyes, but there’s something deeper behind it now—something unspoken, a silent promise that binds them both.

“We’ll figure it out,” Kylian says, a confidence that Jude can’t help but trust. “Together.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, Jude finally lets himself relax.

*

Kylian sits back in his chair, feeling a slight tension in his shoulders as Denise sets her salad aside and gives him a pointed look. He knew the talk was coming the moment Jude excused himself to the bathroom. He can’t help but feel a little defensive, but he respects Denise, always has. She’s like family to him now, even if this conversation is far from comfortable.

“You’re good to him,” Denise starts, her tone measured but filled with concern. “I see that. And I know you care about Jude, but I need you to understand something, Kylian.”

He listens intently, keeping his expression neutral.

“I’m worried. Even though you’re powerful, you’re still too young too,” she says, her gaze steady. “You can’t control the whole world if this comes out. Both of your careers are at stake.”

Kylian takes a slow breath, trying to remain calm. He knows where she’s coming from—his mother, his agent, even some of the senior players have expressed similar concerns—but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear.

“I know, Denise,” Kylian says quietly, his voice carrying a weight that only a few can hear. He leans forward slightly, his eyes locking with hers. “But this... Jude and I, it’s real. I can’t just... pretend like it’s not. I won’t. And I won’t let anything happen to him.”

Denise’s expression softens, though there’s still a quiet wariness in her eyes. “I know, Kylian. I know you would do anything for him. But you’re young. You’re both young. The world can be cruel, and even with all your influence, there are forces you can’t fight.”

Kylian feels a sharp pang in his chest. He knows exactly what she’s talking about—how rumors can spiral, how the media can twist and destroy careers, how quick people are to tear others down when they see something they don’t understand.

“I’m not naive,” Kylian says, his voice tight. “I know what’s at risk. But I’m not going to hide from it, either. I’ll protect him, and if it costs me... if it costs both of us, then I’ll figure it out.”

Denise looks at him for a long moment, weighing his words, then lets out a heavy sigh. “I just want you to be careful. For both your sakes. Sometimes, love isn’t enough to shield you from the consequences of your actions. I don’t want you to lose everything you’ve worked for, Kylian.”

Kylian nods slowly, his jaw tight. “I understand but this isn’t something I can walk away from. I’ll find a way to make it work, I promise you that.”

Kylian meets her gaze, he knows that this fight won’t be easy. The stakes have never been higher, and as much as he wants to protect Jude, he knows they can’t be careless. He’s going to have to be smarter than ever to keep their love safe.

Denise leans back in her chair, her eyes still filled with concern, but there's a gentleness there too—something that tells him she’s not just worried for him, but for both of them.

“I don’t want you to walk away from it either,” Denise says, her tone steady but sincere. “But just... just promise me you’ll be careful. It’s not just about you anymore, Kylian. It’s about you and Jude, and everything that could happen if things go wrong.”

Kylian nods slowly, feeling a weight settle in his chest. The weight of his past experiences flickering in his eyes. He leans back in his chair, his voice quieter now, but there’s an undeniable certainty in it.

"I’ve been through this before," Kylian admits, the words hanging in the air for a moment. He doesn’t elaborate—doesn’t need to. He knows how it sounds. He’s not going to share the details of his past, especially not with Jude’s mother. There’s no need to drag up old wounds, especially when his relationship with Neymar has its own complex history.

"I know how to handle situations like this," Kylian adds, his tone firm, but not defensive. "I’m experienced in taking care of these kinds of matters."

Denise’s brows raise, clearly surprised by his admission. She wasn’t expecting him to open up like that. For a moment, she studies him, the weight of what he’s said sinking in. Then, after a pause, she simply nods. There’s no judgment in her eyes, just a quiet understanding. She won’t push any further.

"Alright," she says softly, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. "I trust you. Just... take care of each other, Kylian. That’s all I’m asking."

Kylian meets her gaze, nodding with a quiet intensity. "We will. I promise."

Denise doesn’t say anything more after that. She’s still worried, that much is clear, but she respects Kylian’s word. She can see that he’s serious—serious about Jude, serious about protecting their relationship, and serious about handling whatever comes their way.

And that’s enough for her, for now.

Jude’s voice is quiet but sharp as he asks later, when Denise retired to her own room. “What did you mean by ‘you’re experienced in these matters’?” His tone is a mix of curiosity and something else—maybe a little insecurity, maybe concern.

Kylian’s not surprised. He’s pretty sure Jude must’ve overheard his conversation with Denise. It was inevitable. Jude was always good at picking up on things, and Kylian knew his mother would give him "the talk"—it was only a matter of time. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at Jude, his expression softening. "You know what I mean," Kylian says, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and resignation.

Jude watches him closely, the weight of the unspoken between them heavy in the air. He knows. Kylian knows he knows. They’ve never discussed Kylian’s past relationship with Neymar openly—not the details, not the mess that it was, not the fallout. They don’t need to. Jude isn’t stupid. He can read between the lines.

Kylian and Neymar’s relationship was complicated, to say the least. It wasn’t just a friendship, but there was a time—before it all crumbled—when it was something more. And even if they never spoke about it, Jude knew enough to understand the consequences that came with relationships like that, especially when the world is watching.

"I know you do," Kylian mutters, looking at Jude, his gaze steady but guarded. "I wasn’t exactly in a healthy situation back then." He pauses for a moment, like he’s carefully choosing his words. "But I’ve learned. I’ve had to learn how to handle... these kinds of situations, where everything’s at risk."

Jude feels the knot in his stomach tighten, but he doesn’t let it show. He can see the weight of Kylian’s words, the burden of experience in them. He’s been through the fire before. Jude’s never asked Kylian about Neymar in any direct way, but he can imagine the pressure it put on him—the media, the fans, the rumors, the betrayals. Kylian’s had to protect himself, his image, and probably the people he cared about too.

"I’m not like him," Kylian adds quietly, as if trying to reassure Jude, though it’s unclear whether it’s for him or for himself. "I’m not going to let this... us, turn into that. I won’t make the same mistakes."

Jude meets Kylian’s eyes, searching for the truth in them. He wants to believe him, wants to trust that this time, it will be different.

"You better not," Jude says, his voice quiet but firm. He pauses, taking a step closer to Kylian. "I can’t... I can’t lose you like that."

Kylian reaches out, his hand gently resting on Jude’s arm, the touch grounding him. "You won’t," he says simply. "I’m not letting that happen. I’ll protect you, Jude. I’ll make sure we’re alright."

For a moment, the world feels smaller—just the two of them, standing there, understanding the unspoken promise in each other’s eyes. And Jude is exhausted. His mind feels like it's constantly spinning, caught in the whirlwind of their secret, of the pressure, of all the uncertainties hanging over them. He doesn’t want to think anymore. He just wants a moment of peace, a moment of simplicity.

Without another word, he reaches for Kylian, his hands gently cupping his face before pulling him in, resting his head on his chest. Kylian goes willingly, like he always does when Jude needs him close. The weight of everything else fades for a second as Jude wraps his arms around him, holding him tightly, as if he could protect him from everything that’s out of their control.

“I love you,” Jude whispers, his voice barely audible, his lips grazing the top of Kylian’s head. It's the first time he’s said it out loud, the first time the words have left his lips with such honesty, such tenderness. He doesn’t need to say more. The weight of the words alone carries everything he feels.

Kylian’s breath catches for a moment, his heart beating just a little faster at the sound of those three words. His eyes close, feeling the warmth of Jude's chest beneath him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For a second, Kylian allows himself to fully feel it—to let the world outside this room slip away, to focus only on Jude, and the simplicity of the love they have.

But as much as Kylian wants to hold onto this moment, as much as he wishes it weren’t surrounded by all the uncertainty and fear of what might come next, he knows it’s not that easy. He wishes it could be. He wishes they could live in a world where love is enough to shield them from everything else, but reality is never that simple.

Still, the feeling of Jude’s arms around him, the warmth of his chest against his ear, fills Kylian with a calm he didn’t know he needed. He feels it deep in his bones—this love, this bond—and he promises himself that no matter what comes, he’ll fight for this, for them.

"I love you too," Kylian murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. It's quieter, but it’s just as real, just as deep. He wishes the circumstances were different, but right now, this is enough. They have each other. And that's all that matters.

Kylian pulls back slightly, just enough to look at Jude, his eyes soft and full of emotion. “So much, bébé,” he says, his voice low and sincere, his words carrying a weight that speaks volumes. It’s more than just love—it’s a promise, a reassurance that despite everything, he’s here, and he’ll always be here.

Then, Kylian leans in, his lips brushing against Jude’s forehead as he whispers something in French. His words are filled with conviction, as if he’s trying to convince both Jude and himself that no matter how difficult things get, they’ll find a way through it together.

Jude doesn’t understand the sentence fully, but the truth is, he doesn’t need to. He can hear the certainty in Kylian’s voice, the trust behind the words. He feels the promise in the way Kylian holds him, the way he speaks, and in that moment, it’s enough.

He gives Kylian a soft smile, a quiet acknowledgment of the love and strength he feels between them, and simply nods. He doesn’t need to say anything in return. He knows they’ll be alright. They have each other, and that’s all that matters.

Jude rests his head against Kylian’s again, closing his eyes for a moment, letting himself believe that maybe—just maybe—they will be alright.

Chapter Text

Kylian wipes the sweat from his brow, still catching his breath from the intense training session. As he sits down on the grass, he takes a long sip from his water bottle, feeling the weight of the day pressing against him. But before he can fully recover, Vini’s there, sitting down beside him, a look of concern in his eyes.

"Can I give you some advice?" Vini asks, his tone serious but kind.

Kylian, never one to easily take advice, glances at him with a half-smile. "No," he replies, but the playful edge to his voice doesn't hide the tension in his shoulders.

Vini, however, is undeterred. He leans in slightly, his gaze unwavering. "Stop acting like his dad," he says, his voice soft but firm. "You’re only 26."

Kylian freezes for a moment, a frown flickering across his face. He looks out across the field where Jude is laughing with Fede, Brahim, and Aurel. He sees the carefree way Jude moves, the energy, the smile that lights up his face. And for a second, he wonders if Vini might be right.

"I know you're strong," Vini continues, his voice gentle but filled with sincerity. "I know you’ve got the connections, the experience... but you're still young , Kylian. And so is he. You’re not his protector—you're his partner."

Kylian opens his mouth to protest, but Vini quickly raises a hand to stop him. "I love you both, I do," Vini says, his tone shifting to something more vulnerable. "But I’m scared you’ll make things worse by overthinking. You’re carrying too much weight, and it’s not just yours to carry."

Kylian lets the words sink in. He looks at Vini, really looks at him, and for the first time in a long while, he sees his friend—not just the teammate, not just the guy who shares the locker room with him, but someone who genuinely cares, who sees the toll this is taking on him.

"I get it," Kylian says quietly, lowering his water bottle. "I just... I can’t help it, I can’t help but worry."

Vini sighs, leaning back on his elbows. "I know, I know you do. But you can’t protect him from everything. You can’t protect each other from everything. Sometimes, you’ve gotta let things happen."

The words settle in Kylian’s chest like a stone, and he doesn’t have a response. He’s always been the one to shoulder the burden, to keep control, to make sure everything stays in line. But maybe... just maybe, Vini’s right. Maybe he doesn’t need to carry this weight alone.

"Just... don’t make decisions out of fear," Vini says, his voice quieter now, but still full of care. "Let him in. Trust him. You don’t have to carry this all by yourself."

Kylian looks over at Jude, his heart heavy but softening at the sight of him. Jude is laughing with the others, carefree and alive, unaware of the storm Kylian feels constantly brewing in his chest.

"I know," Kylian whispers. "I’ll try."

Vini gives him a small, knowing smile. "Good. That’s all you can do."

And for the first time in a while, Kylian feels like he can breathe a little easier, like maybe the weight of everything won’t crush him after all. Because maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to let go a little.

Kylian gets up, feeling a sudden rush of energy, and walks over to Jude's little group, where they're still laughing and playing foot tennis. Without a second thought, he wraps his arms around Jude’s middle from behind, lifting him off the ground effortlessly.

"Who's winning?" Kylian asks, his voice light and playful, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The way he’s holding Jude—so comfortable, so sure—makes it clear he’s not worrying himself to death at least.

Jude, caught off guard by the sudden lift, flails for a moment before he settles into Kylian’s arms. His face is a picture of mock annoyance, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that Kylian catches instantly.

"Let me down, idiot," Jude says, though there’s no real bite to his words. "Of course, I’m winning."

Before Kylian can even respond, Cama, who’s watching the scene unfold, can’t hold back. "Oh my God!" he exclaims in French, his voice full of disbelief. "Of course, he’s losing!"

Jude glances over at Cama, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Nah," he whispers, leaning back into Kylian’s hold. "I win."

And Kylian knows exactly what he means. It’s not just about the game. It’s about everything else—the way they’ve slowly shifted, how they’ve started to let go of the worry and just be. Kylian smiles, a knowing, content smile, holding Jude a little tighter. He doesn’t need anyone to understand. Not yet. He knows they’ll be alright. 

Jude squirms in Kylian’s arms, a playful but annoyed look on his face. "Can you let me down, please?" he protests again, but Kylian just smirks, acting like he doesn’t even hear him. He tightens his hold slightly, enjoying the moment, the closeness, the way Jude’s warm body is pressed against him.

As he looks around, Kylian’s eyes meet Vini’s across the field. Vini gives him a knowing look, one that says you’re doing alright , and Kylian responds with a subtle nod, the smallest of acknowledgments that he’s starting to let go of the weight he’s been carrying.

Jude, clearly not thrilled to be held like this, shoots Kylian a frustrated but amused look. "Seriously, let me down," he repeats, his voice soft but still full of mock annoyance.

Kylian grins, keeping Jude lifted in his arms for a moment longer before he finally relents, carefully setting him down on the ground. Jude huffs and stands, brushing himself off with a grin that makes Kylian’s heart skip a beat.

"You're impossible," Jude mutters, but there’s no malice in it. He’s grinning, a little flushed from the attention, and Kylian can tell that, despite his words, he doesn’t mind it at all.

Kylian laughs softly, his eyes still locked on Jude’s. "Maybe," he says with a shrug. "But you love it."

Jude rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, his smile betraying him. Kylian can feel the energy between them, the playful banter that’s become something so familiar, so comfortable.

And for the first time in a while, Kylian feels like he can truly be himself around Jude—no masks, no walls. Just them.

"Alright," Jude says, still smirking, "I’ll let you win this time, but next round’s mine."

Kylian just grins, taking a step closer to him. "We’ll see about that." And for once, Kylian’s not worried about what’s coming next. For now, all that matters is this moment, this connection. And that’s enough.

As the game progresses, Jude and Fede are starting to feel the pressure. Aurel steps in for Kylian, and with Cama on the other side, the tables are quickly turning. Kylian, as usual, is relentless in his teasing. Every time they score another point, his grin grows wider, and he’s clearly enjoying the sight of Jude’s playful frustration.

"Come on, Jude!" Kylian taunts, bouncing the ball with ease as he and Aurel manage another impressive win. "You’re slipping! What happened to that ‘I’m winning’ confidence?"

Jude just shoots him a look, a mix of exasperation and admiration for how competitive Kylian is. "You’re insufferable," he mutters, trying to rally, but it’s clear that the other team is on fire.

By the time the game ends, with Kylian, Aurel, and Cama taking the win, Jude can barely contain his competitive spirit. "Alright, alright," he grumbles, playfully throwing his hands up in defeat. "You guys are too good."

Kylian can't help himself; he’s absolutely loving this. "I thought you were supposed to be the best at everything," he teases, a sly grin on his face.

"Not when you two cheat," Jude shoots back, but the smile on his face betrays his words.

That’s all Kylian needs. He wraps his arm around Jude’s shoulders, laughing. "You’re just jealous. It’s okay, we’ll let you win next time."

Jude rolls his eyes but can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. "Uh-huh. Sure."

*

Kylian’s usual composed, controlled demeanor is nowhere to be found tonight. He’s drunk, and it’s hilarious—he’s acting like a completely different person. Jude can’t help but laugh at how carefree Kylian is. Normally, Kylian is the one who avoids heavy drinking, always in control, always the leader. But tonight, there’s something about being far from home in Brazil, surrounded by trusted friends and no cameras. It’s like a switch has flipped, and he’s finally letting himself breathe.

Vini invited them to a private party, and it’s everything Kylian would normally avoid. But tonight, with the music loud, the atmosphere electric, and the people around them relaxed, Kylian is unrecognizable. He’s slurring his words, laughing too loud, and Jude loves every second of it. They’re in a private booth, far from the watchful eyes of the public and surrounded by bodyguards. No phones, no prying eyes—just friends. Kylian’s head is resting on Jude’s shoulder as they settle into their seats, both a little drunk, but Kylian’s much worse. Jude watches him, amused by how easily he’s let go.

“I wanna kiss you,” Kylian whispers, his voice low and a little slurred, his breath warm against Jude’s ear. His hand brushes over Jude’s arm as he leans in closer.

Jude giggles, unable to contain the amusement and affection in his voice. “Kiss me then, love.”

Kylian blinks a couple of times, clearly trying to focus on the words Jude just said. When he realizes Jude was encouraging him, he grins, a mischievous spark lighting up his eyes. Without missing a beat, Kylian leans in, his lips pressing softly against Jude’s. It’s slow and tender, just the way they’ve always kissed when they’re together—only this time, there’s a layer of drunkenness, a touch of abandon in it. Jude feels Kylian’s hand slide to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as if trying to close any distance between them.

The kiss deepens for a moment before Kylian pulls back slightly, his face flushed with more than just alcohol. He smiles, an almost goofy, content smile. “You make me so happy, you know that?” Kylian mumbles, his words a bit more jumbled than usual, but Jude can still hear the sincerity.

Jude smiles back, a warmth spreading through him. “I know, Kylian. I know,” he says softly, brushing his fingers through Kylian’s hair.

There’s no rush, no need to think about the consequences. It’s just them, in the moment, in Brazil, with everything else fading away. Kylian’s words start to slur a little more as he leans back against the plush booth, a huge grin on his face. Jude watches him, trying to hide his own amusement, but Kylian’s drunk charm is irresistible.

“Jude...,” Kylian says, his voice still low but with a little bit of an excited tremor, like he’s pondering something deep. “Do you think… if we went to space, would we still kiss like this?” Jude laughs, his head shaking in disbelief. “What?” he says, barely able to contain his smile. “Are you serious right now?”

Kylian, still all wide-eyed and with an innocent grin, leans in a little too close, his breath smelling of tequila. “Yeah. You know… just imagine it. Floating in space… would you kiss me in zero gravity?” His eyes are sparkling, like this is the most important question he’s ever asked.

Jude laughs again, nudging him playfully. “You’re so drunk, Kylian.”

“I know, but I’m serious,” Kylian insists. “I really wanna know. Would you kiss me in space? Like… actually kiss me.” His voice drops to a whisper at the last part, and his gaze softens, all playful drunk energy turning into something almost tender.

Jude smiles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yes, Kylian. Of course I would,” he says, his heart swelling at how endearing the question is.

Kylian’s face lights up as if he’s won some victory, his hand reaching for Jude’s, threading their fingers together. “Good. Because... because I love you so much,” he says, his words a little mushy but full of warmth.

Jude’s heart skips a beat. “I love you too,” he says quietly, squeezing Kylian’s hand. He feels like he could get lost in Kylian’s eyes in this moment.

Kylian tilts his head, suddenly turning a bit more serious, his brows furrowed. “Jude... do you think we’re gonna be together forever?” He asks the question so earnestly, like he truly believes he’s asking something profound.

Jude chuckles softly, unable to keep the smile from his lips. “Yes, Kylian,” he says, his voice soft. “I think we are.”

Kylian nods, as if that answer is exactly what he needed to hear. He leans over and presses his forehead to Jude’s, his voice a little more playful again. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go. Ever.”

Jude laughs, feeling his heart swell even more. “I wouldn’t want you to, Kylian,” he says, his hand gently cupping Kylian’s face.

Kylian just grins again, happy in his own little world, completely and utterly lost in the joy of being with Jude, his heart full and his mind free from the usual stress. "I really love you, you know," he says once more, his words starting to slur even more, his eyes heavy with the warmth of the alcohol and the affection he feels.

“I know,” Jude responds softly, kissing the top of Kylian’s head. “I love you too.”

The night continues with Kylian asking more sweet and ridiculous questions, each one more adorable than the last. And Jude, laughing quietly at each one, is just glad to be here with him, in this moment, with nothing but love and the sound of laughter in the air.

Jude and Kylian pull away from each other, both laughing as Vini’s voice cuts through their bubble of affection. Kylian’s still grinning, looking like he couldn’t care less that they were just interrupted. Jude’s face is flushed, and he can’t help but feel a little embarrassed, but the warmth in his chest overpowers it.

“Oh my god!” Vini exclaims again, his eyes wide as he hits both of them on the back of their heads, pushing them apart. “You guys are gross! Seriously! Get up and dance, you’re so boring!”

Kylian raises an eyebrow, clearly unbothered, and lets out a small laugh. “You’re just jealous because we’re cute together,” he teases, leaning back into the booth with a cheeky grin.

Jude tries to hide his smile, biting his lip. “We’re not boring, we’re just… cozy,” he says, his words still a little playful from the alcohol.

But Vini’s not having it. He crosses his arms and glares at them, his voice sharp with mock annoyance. “Cozy? You two are literally making me sick! Get up and have some fun! I’ll never hear the end of this from Cama if I don’t get you guys on that dance floor.”

Kylian sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Fine, fine. We’ll dance. But only because you’re bothering us,” he mutters, standing up and holding out a hand to Jude, who just laughs and takes it.

“Let’s go, then,” Jude says, grinning as they both stand and move toward the dance floor. Kylian’s still a little unsteady, but he’s laughing, and Jude can’t help but feel his heart lighten at the sight.

Vini, watching them go, shakes his head but can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “You’re welcome,” he says under his breath as he turns to grab a drink.

Jude and Kylian join the others on the dance floor, letting the music take over and putting everything else out of their minds—at least for tonight.

Jude grins, his arms wrapped around Kylian’s waist as he carefully helps him through the door of their Airbnb. Kylian’s been a bit of a mess since they left the party, and Jude can’t help but find it absolutely endearing.

“You’re definitely heavy,” Jude teases, adjusting his grip as Kylian leans against him, hiccupping in that adorable, tipsy way. “You should lay off the tequila next time.”

“I’m not heavy,” Kylian insists, his voice muffled as he buries his face in Jude’s shoulder. He hiccups again, then lifts his head slightly, his expression a mix of drunken defiance and confusion. “I’m the small one... you’re the tall one. So you should carry me!”

Jude laughs at Kylian’s logic, shaking his head. “Kylian, you're about as far from small as you can get,” he says, barely able to keep his balance as Kylian shifts his weight again. “You’re basically a whole muscle.”

Kylian pouts, but he’s not really mad—more amused by the situation. “I'm still smaller than you,” he says, with another dramatic hiccup. "So... technically, you should be carrying me. Makes sense, right?”

Jude rolls his eyes but can't hide his grin. He pauses for a second, trying to adjust Kylian’s weight once again. "You're lucky you're cute," he mutters under his breath, then looks over at him with a mock-serious expression. "You’re lucky I’m even letting you stay on my shoulder right now."

Kylian looks up, his hazy eyes locking onto Jude's with a soft smile. “I’m not just cute… I’m also adorable ,” he corrects, his voice slurring slightly.

Jude chuckles as they make their way through the villa. “Yeah, I’m definitely not letting you live this down in the morning.”

Kylian grins, still clutching Jude’s shirt for support. “I’m gonna be so embarrassing when I’m sober. I’m gonna make you regret carrying me all night,” he says with a tipsy wink.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Jude replies, smirking as he gently guides Kylian toward the bed.

Once they're inside the room, Jude helps Kylian onto the bed, finally letting go of him, though Kylian's hand clings to his wrist for just a moment longer. Still a little wobbly from the alcohol, he climbs up onto Jude once they're settled in bed. His hands fumble at the hem of Jude's shirt, trying to lift it, but his coordination is completely off.

Jude watches, trying to hold back a laugh as Kylian struggles. "I'm sure you can’t get it up right now, babe," he teases with a playful grin.

Kylian stops, his hand dramatically clutching his heart as if he’s been struck. “How dare you!” he shrieks, his voice exaggerated and high-pitched. He drops back onto the bed, pretending to be wounded by Jude’s words. "I am offended , Jude."

Jude bursts into laughter, unable to hold it in. He lies back, shaking his head at Kylian’s dramatic antics. "Come on, you're so tipsy right now, you're lucky I'm not carrying you back to the party."

Kylian, still pouting, tilts his head and gives Jude a side-eye. "You're so mean. I’m just trying to show you love and you… you insult me?" He places his hand over his forehead in a dramatic swoon, pretending to faint.

Jude grins, amused at how easily Kylian’s switching between charming and ridiculous. "Well, maybe next time don't have so much to drink, and you’ll be in better shape to show me love ."

Kylian pulls himself back up, resting his head on Jude's chest as he mumbles, “Fine, fine. I’ll be better tomorrow. But just so you know…” He lifts his head to look at Jude with a smirk, “I could take that shirt off if I wanted to.”

Jude raises an eyebrow, still amused. “Sure you can, babe. Sure you can.”

Kylian narrows his eyes playfully. "I’ll prove you wrong tomorrow,” he says confidently, before snuggling back into Jude’s chest, a content smile spreading across his face.

Jude kisses the top of his head. “I’ll be waiting.”

Kylian groans as he pulls the covers over his head, trying to shield himself from Jude’s relentless teasing. "Go away," he moans, his voice thick with sleep and the remnants of a hangover. "Stop, I hate you."

Jude chuckles softly, enjoying every second of Kylian’s misery. He leans in closer, his voice low and teasing as he whispers right next to Kylian’s ear, “Wakey, wakey.”

Kylian’s response is just a muffled groan, and he swats at the air, clearly not ready to face the world. “Leave me alone,” he mumbles. “I’m dying here.”

But Jude isn’t about to let up. With a mischievous grin, he pokes his finger into Kylian’s ear, making him jerk awake with a sharp gasp. “Wake up,” Jude insists, “you promised me some good dick in the morning.”

Kylian’s eyes snap open, and he squints up at Jude with a pained expression. “You’re evil,” he mutters, his head pounding. “I hate you more than you know.”

Jude, clearly entertained, runs a hand through Kylian’s messy hair, his grin widening. “Come on, baby. You promised.”

Kylian sighs dramatically, closing his eyes again, his body sinking further into the pillow. “I didn’t think you’d actually hold me to that,” he groans.

Jude chuckles softly, feeling a rush of affection for the stubborn, hungover mess of a man beside him. "Well, you should've thought of that before you decided to get drunk last night."

Kylian finally opens one eye and shoots him a look, but there’s a small smile playing at the corners of his lips despite the headache. “You’re lucky I love you,” he grumbles, before letting out a defeated sigh. “Fine, I’ll get up... but you owe me big time.”

Jude kisses his temple lightly. "Sure you can get it up?”

Kylian rolls them over with a swift move, now straddling Jude, his hands planted on either side of Jude’s head as he glares down with a playful yet slightly irritated expression. “It’s up as soon as it hears your voice, I swear,” he mutters, his tone both frustrated and amused.

Jude, not missing a beat, raises an eyebrow, still smirking. “Right. Should’ve seen it last night. Little Kylian looked like—” he curves his finger down.

Kylian cuts him off immediately, leaning down so their faces are inches apart. “Shut up,” he warns, his voice low but tinged with a smile. He presses his lips against Jude’s in a brief, chaste kiss to silence him, but the playful challenge is still in his eyes.

Jude lets out a quiet laugh, fully enjoying how Kylian, even in his hungover state, can’t resist being the one to take control. “Okay, okay,” he says, hands coming up to rest on Kylian’s waist, pulling him closer. “I’ll stop. But you’re not off the hook yet, baby.”

Kylian chuckles softly, pressing his forehead to Jude’s as they both settle into the moment. “You’re impossible,” Kylian murmurs, his lips brushing Jude’s skin. But there’s no real anger behind the words—just affection and a hint of exhaustion from the night before.

Jude smiles, knowing exactly what Kylian needs in this moment. "Yeah, but you love me," he whispers, his fingers running through Kylian’s hair.

Kylian sighs, smiling too. “Unfortunately for me, I do.”

"Jude, would you kiss me in space?" Vini mimics Kylian’s drunk words from last night, his voice high-pitched and exaggerated. The entire jet is quiet except for Vini’s perfect imitation of Kylian’s tipsy tone.

Kylian, sitting across from Vini and Cama, immediately turns a deep shade of red. He reaches for a pillow and hurls it at Vini with a sharp throw. "Shut up, Vini!" Kylian yells, his voice half-laughing, half-annoyed. The pillow hits Vini square in the face, but it doesn't stop the laughter from erupting.

Cama, who’s sitting next to Vini, is bent over, laughing so hard he can barely breathe. "Oh my god," Cama manages between giggles, "In space?"

Vini is practically rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach as he laughs uncontrollably. "What’s wrong, Kylian? Wasn’t it a valid question?" he teases, wiping away a tear of laughter.

Kylian leans back in his seat, trying to ignore them, but he can’t help the grin tugging at his lips. He throws a side-eye at Jude, who’s just sitting there, smirking, clearly trying not to laugh.

"Jude," Kylian says with a playful, mock-serious tone, "if I have to live with this for the rest of my life, I swear, you’re going to regret it."

Jude leans over, his hand lightly brushing Kylian's arm as he whispers, “I think I’ll enjoy every second of it.”

Vini, still holding his stomach from laughing so hard, finally manages to calm down, only to glance back at Kylian with a smirk. "You didn’t answer, though. Would you kiss him in space Judy?”

Kylian grabs another pillow and throws it at him, not even bothering a reply.

Chapter Text

Jude raises an eyebrow, his mouth full of popcorn as he stares at Kylian. “You’re getting your driver’s license? Why now?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice. They’re sprawled on the sofa, cozy under the blanket, with Jude’s feet resting comfortably in Kylian’s lap as they binge-watch their Netflix series.

Kylian, who’s lounging next to him, shrugs casually but with a hint of annoyance in his tone. “Cause I can’t believe Jobe knows how to drive and I don’t. He could be my son, you know.”

Jude pauses, turning to him with a confused look. “First of all, that sounds so weird and gross. He’s only two years younger than me.”

Kylian rolls his eyes dramatically. “He can drive you around and I can’t? He’s a kid!”

Jude shakes his head, laughing at the absurdity. “Again, only two years. You’re acting like he’s a literal child.”

Kylian, not ready to let it go, extends his hand in front of him and gestures with his fingers. “He’s like this little in my eyes,” he says, holding his hand out like he's measuring something small, as if that somehow makes his argument more valid.

Jude looks at him deadpan. “He’s literally this much younger than me. Are you seriously going to tell me you feel like he’s some tiny baby you have to take care of?”

Kylian shrugs, giving a playful pout. “Yes. I’m that old.”

Jude just sighs, popping another piece of popcorn into his mouth, shaking his head at Kylian's antics. “You’re ridiculous.”

Kylian leans back, clearly not bothered by Jude’s teasing, and shrugs again. “Maybe, but I’m going to show you how cool I am once I get my license.”

Jude bursts into laughter at Kylian’s response, nearly choking on his popcorn. “How cool you are? Babe, do you even know who you are?” He’s grinning now, shaking his head at how absurd the whole conversation is becoming.

Kylian gives him a playful smirk, leaning back against the couch. “Hey, I’m just saying,” he says with a wink, “and I heard car blowies are awesome when you’re driving—”

Jude cuts him off with a loud laugh, trying to process the words. “Okay! Now you’re being ridiculous. You don’t even know how to drive. You wanna learn how to drive with your dick in my mouth?”

Kylian doesn’t miss a beat, his grin only growing wider. “Yeah.”

Jude freezes for a moment, his mouth slightly open in surprise before he bursts into laughter again, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re insane,” he says, still laughing, though there's a bit of warmth in his tone. “You’re completely insane.”

“What? I think it’d be fun. Besides, I’ll be a great driver.”

“I’m sure you will,” Jude responds, his tone dripping with sarcasm, but he can’t help but laugh again, his feet still resting in Kylian’s lap.

Kylian looks down at them, a playful glint in his eyes. “Just wait. You’ll be begging me to take you for a spin soon enough.”

Jude snorts. “Not in your wildest dreams, babe.”

“Challenge accepted,” Kylian says with a smirk, making sure Jude knows exactly how serious he is.

Jude laughs even harder, shaking his head as Kylian wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "You’re insane," Jude says between bursts of laughter, though there's warmth in his voice. "Completely insane."

Kylian doesn't miss a beat, leaning closer with that mischievous grin. "We have to practice though," he says, wiggling his brows, and Jude can’t even take him seriously. He’s still too caught up in the ridiculousness of it all.

Jude raises an eyebrow, a teasing smirk on his face. "How are we gonna do that? You don’t know how to drive?"

Kylian shrugs nonchalantly, his grin widening. "I don’t have to drive—"

Jude’s eyes widen, clearly unamused. "Oh, shut up," he interrupts, playfully pushing Kylian's shoulder. "You are unbelievable."

Kylian just laughs, giving Jude a playful nudge back. “What? I’m just saying, we could make it work.”

“I’m not driving with you not with your dick anywhere near my mouth,” Jude says, still laughing, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Not until you actually learn how.”

Kylian grins and leans back against the couch, arms behind his head. "You’ll come around. Just wait."

Jude rolls his eyes but can’t hide his smile. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief.

Kylian suddenly gets all serious, looking at Jude with a deadpan expression. "No, but seriously. I'm driving you around from now on," he says with such determination that Jude can't help but raise an eyebrow.

Jude leans back on the couch, looking at Kylian with amusement. "You were perfectly fine with my mom driving me around, but when it's Jobe—"

Kylian cuts him off quickly, shaking his head. "Your mom's an independent old lady—"

Jude's eyes widen in mock horror. "OH MY GOD, I’M GONNA TELL MUM YOU CALLED HER THAT!”he exclaims, pushing Kylian’s shoulder with a laugh.

Kylian bursts out laughing, trying to defend himself. "I didn’t mean it like that! I mean, she’s independent, she’s—"

"She's old , apparently," Jude teases, making air quotes with his fingers, laughing harder now.

Kylian smirks and raises his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, maybe I worded that wrong," he says, leaning closer to Jude with a wink. "But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m driving you around now."

Jude crosses his arms, still smiling. "We’ll see about that. I’ll just tell Mom you’re trying to replace her."

“I think she’ll be fine with it. She’s tired of driving your old ass around,” he teases, leaning back with his arms crossed, clearly proud of himself.

Jude gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’m not old! How dare you!" he exclaims, playfully glaring at Kylian. "I’m literally a babe!" He gives Kylian a pointed look, his voice dripping with mock offense.

Kylian bursts into laughter, clearly loving the way Jude’s reacting. “A babe, huh?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “You might be a ‘babe’ but your knees sound like they’re about to give out whenever you get up.”

Jude throws a pillow at Kylian, trying to look serious but failing miserably as he starts to laugh too. “I’m not old!” he insists again, though the grin on his face gives him away.

“You’re ancient,” Kylian teases, dodging the pillow and leaning in to kiss Jude’s cheek.

Jude rolls his eyes, though he can’t stop smiling. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mutters, playfully pushing Kylian’s head away.

Jude raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "And if I’m ancient, then you’re what?" he teases, leaning in closer.

Kylian sighs dramatically, giving Jude an exaggerated look of defeat. "I admit that I’m old," he says with a mock-serious expression, causing Jude to burst into laughter.

Jude shakes his head, still laughing. "Oh really? How old are you, then? A hundred?" he quips, his voice full of playful sarcasm.

Kylian grins, clearly enjoying the banter. "At least I’m not ancient," he shoots back, nudging Jude with his elbow.

Jude looks at him, pretending to think seriously. "Hmm, maybe you're just... experienced," he says with a wink.

Kylian chuckles, shaking his head. "Yeah, experienced in making you feel old."

Jude laughs again, rolling his eyes. "I’m sure you love it," he teases, before settling back into the couch, a smile never leaving his face.

Kylian’s phone buzzes on the coffee table. They look at each other for a minute. It’s dings after dings. At 00:40 at night. It can’t be anything good. Kylian reaches for it and sees it’s from his assistant.

📲We have to talk.

📲Now.

📲URGENT.

📲Isabelle will be on the line too.

Kylian gulps. Isabelle, his lawyer. It can’t be good. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He murmurs as he makes his way to his office upstairs. He leans back in his office chair, his hand gripping the edge of the desk. The weight of Isabelle's words hangs heavily in the air. Pretty intimate . He knows exactly what that means.

"How bad?" Kylian repeats, trying to keep his voice steady, but even he can hear the slight edge of panic creeping into it. He forces himself to stay calm, to not let the fear and frustration cloud his judgment.

Isabelle doesn’t sugarcoat it. "Someone from RMC has the pictures, and they’re threatening to release them unless you pay. They’re demanding a substantial amount."

Kylian runs a hand through his hair, tension rising with each passing second. His mind races—this isn't just about money; it's about control. It's about everything he’s fought to keep private, everything he’s tried to protect.

"they know it’s us?" Kylian asks, though the question feels pointless. He knows the answer. The whole world will know as soon as those pictures are out.

"They’ve seen enough to confirm it’s you and Jude," Isabelle replies, her voice calm but firm. "I’m sorry, Kylian, but the situation is serious. We need to act fast."

Kylian’s mind races, the overwhelming feeling of dread creeping in. This can’t be happening. Not like this. Not when he’s worked so hard to keep Jude safe, to keep their relationship away from the public eye.

Jude. His thoughts immediately turn to him, and his stomach twists. How is he going to handle this? What’s going to happen to them now?

He stands up, pacing around the room, feeling the walls closing in. "What do we do now?" Kylian’s voice cracks slightly, betraying the weight of the situation.

"We have options, but we need to move quickly," Isabelle says. "You’ll need to meet with them, discuss a settlement, and we’ll try to get ahead of this before it gets worse."

Kylian shakes his head. "I won’t let it happen like that. I won’t let them control us." His voice is firm now, a determination settling over him.

Isabelle gives him a look that’s almost sympathetic. "I know you want to protect Jude. But we need to be strategic. You can’t just rush in without a plan."

"I know," Kylian mutters. "I just—" He pauses, his chest tightening. "I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him."

Isabelle doesn’t argue. "Then we’ll fight this, but we need to be careful. Every move we make counts."

Kylian nods, a sense of resolve building inside him. He can’t let this destroy everything they’ve worked for. He won’t let them take Jude’s peace away.

But as he heads back down the stairs, the pit in his stomach deepens. He knows the next steps are critical, and the weight of what’s coming is almost too much to bear. When he enters the living room, Jude is sitting there, looking up at him with concern. His eyes immediately soften as he sees the expression on Kylian's face. Kylian knows that he knows, but Jude doesn’t ask anything. Instead, he sits beside him, quickly sliding between Kylian's arms, resting his head on his chest.

Jude feels like his heart is about to explode. He can’t ask Kylian anything. He hates himself for not being brave enough to ask. He knows someone knows, but he remains silent, letting Kylian hold him. Kylian’s fingers dance through his hair, pressing little reassuring kisses on Jude’s head.

“I’ll fly to Paris tomorrow,” Kylian says quietly. “I’ll let Carlo know in the morning.”

Jude only nods, the weight of it all too much to say anything more.

"I love you," Jude says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I love you too, baby," Kylian responds, his voice calm and collected.

Jude feels the weight of Kylian’s words, the reassurance in them, but it only makes him want to cry. He holds his tears back, fighting the urge to let them fall, knowing that Kylian is trying to protect him from all of this.

They’re going to be alright.

Jude holds onto that thought, letting it settle deep in his chest. With Kylian by his side, he believes it, even if the world around them feels uncertain. They’ll figure it out, together.

Kylian’s been gone for two days. Carlo tells the team that Kylian is away for personal matters, assuring everyone that there’s nothing to worry about. But Jude can’t shake the feeling of unease gnawing at him.

Kylian texted when he landed, and then a few hours later, a simple "sleep well." That’s all. Nothing more. No reassurance. No explanation. Jude rereads the messages over and over, but the silence between them weighs heavily.

He tries to focus on training, but it’s hard to concentrate. Every time his phone buzzes, he jumps, hoping it’s Kylian reaching out. Instead, it’s always someone else.

Jude doesn't want to overthink, but he can't help it. Kylian’s calmness when he left didn’t feel like Kylian at all. Something’s not right, and Jude can feel it deep in his bones.

K📲: just came out of a pretty long meeting. sorry couldn’t reach out bby. i miss u. 

Jude feels a wave of relief, even if it’s a little. Finally, he’s heard from him.

J📲: Are u ok?

K📲: will be once i get back to u.

Jude smiles, his heart finally settling. He can breathe again, knowing Kylian’s okay, even if it’s only for now.

J📲: and we’re gonna be ok?

Jude feels the weight of his own words, scared of what Kylian might say.

K📲: Always.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. Kylian’s answer, as simple as it is, means everything. They’ll be okay. He doesn’t know how Kylian did it, he’s not strong enough to question it right now but their secret won’t be out. They’ll be okay. 

*

Jude sits on his hotel bed, staring at his phone. The international break means he's finally back with the England squad, and while he loves the familiarity and energy of the team, there’s something else weighing on him. He knows he needs to tell Trent. If Cama, Vini, and Brahim know about him and Kylian, then Trent, of all people, deserves to know too.

Jude trusts Trent more than anyone in the football world, but the words feel stuck in his throat. How do you even begin to explain something like this? "Hey, mate, by the way, I'm dating Kylian Mbappé" just sounds absurd no matter how he says it in his head.

He’s overthinking—he knows he is—but it doesn’t stop him. What if Trent reacts badly? What if it changes things between them? Jude shakes his head at himself. Trent’s not like that. He’s kind, loyal, and always supportive. If there’s anyone he can trust, it’s him.

Still, the thought of actually saying the words makes Jude’s stomach twist. After all, this isn’t just about trusting Trent; it’s about sharing a piece of himself that feels so personal, so... fragile.

"Okay," Jude mutters to himself, sitting up straighter. "Just tell him. He’ll understand."

He sits on the bench at St. George's Park, tapping his foot nervously as he waits for Trent to finish his drills. It’s the middle of international break, and while Jude should be focusing on training and their upcoming matches, his mind is preoccupied with something much bigger.

He wants to tell Trent.

Trent deserves to know. Jude trusts him more than anyone in the football world. He’s been there for him in tough moments, always supportive and understanding. If there’s one person who will have his back, it’s Trent. But still... Jude’s heart pounds just thinking about saying it out loud.

How do you even start a conversation like that? Hey, mate, by the way, I’m dating Kylian Mbappé. It feels ridiculous no matter how many times he rehearses it in his head.

When Trent finally jogs over, wiping sweat off his forehead with a towel, Jude’s pulse quickens. “What’s up?” Trent asks, sitting down beside him and stretching out his legs.

“Uh, nothing,” Jude lies, already feeling stupid. He glances down at the grass, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Trent looks at him, brow furrowed. “You sure? You’ve been acting weird since you got here.”

Jude takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look up. This is Trent. His mate. If he can’t trust him, who can he trust?

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Jude says, his voice quieter than he intended.

Trent raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Alright... Go on, then.”

Jude hesitates for a moment before blurting it out. “I’m dating Kylian.”

Trent blinks, clearly processing the words, and for a brief second, Jude feels his stomach drop.

“Mbappé?” Trent finally says, his tone laced with disbelief.

Jude nods, biting the inside of his cheek nervously. “Yeah. Him.”

Trent stares at him for a moment, then leans back with a small laugh. “Mate, are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious,” Jude says quickly, his cheeks flushing. “But you can’t tell anyone. Like, no one, Trent.”

Trent holds up his hands defensively. “Relax, I’m not gonna go shouting it to the press or anything. I’m just... shocked, I guess. I didn’t see that coming.”

Jude shifts uncomfortably. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“Mad?” Trent looks at him like he’s crazy. “Why would I be mad? As long as he treats you right, I’m happy for you. Honestly, good for you, man.”

The relief that washes over Jude is almost overwhelming. “Thanks, mate. I just... I wanted you to know. You’re the only one here I trust with this.”

Trent smiles, nudging Jude’s shoulder. “You’ve got nothing to worry about with me. But, uh... Mbappé, huh? You always did aim high.”

Jude rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. “Shut up.”

Trent laughs, slinging an arm around Jude’s shoulders. “I’m serious, though. You deserve to be happy, man. And if he’s the one making you happy, then I’m all for it.”

“Thanks, T,” Jude says softly, his heart feeling a little lighter.

“Anytime,” Trent replies, grinning. “But now you’ve got to tell me everything. How the hell did that even happen?”

Trent smirks, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “So... when are they announcing you as the new First Lady of France?”

Jude groans, burying his face in his hands. “Oh, shut up. I knew you were going to be annoying about this.”

“Annoying?” Trent laughs, nudging him. “Nah, mate, I’m proud of you. But seriously, you’re basically royalty now. Does that make me, like, your court jester or something?”

“Stop.” Jude shakes his head, though he can’t stop the small smile creeping onto his face. “You’re the worst.”

Trent leans back, grinning ear to ear. “I’m just saying, if you need help practicing your speech for the French people, I’m your guy. ‘Bonjour, je m’appelle Jude Bellingham, et je suis—’”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Jude interrupts, though he’s laughing now too.

“—la Première Dame de France,” Trent finishes anyway, doubling over with laughter.

Jude shoves him lightly, unable to hide his grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re posh now,” Trent shoots back, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “Can’t believe I’m mates with the First Lady.”

Jude shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “You’re never letting this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Trent says, still grinning. “But seriously, Jude. I’m happy for you, man. Even if I do expect an invite to the French presidential palace someday.”

Jude laughs, feeling the warmth of Trent’s teasing but supportive words settle in his chest. “Deal.”

On the pitch, it’s like no conversation ever happened. Trent and Jude fall back into their usual rhythm, joking around, trying to one-up each other with cheeky nutmegs and playful shoves. At one point, Trent trips over the ball dramatically, clutching his knee like he’s been fouled, and Jude doubles over laughing, his hands on his knees.

“Get up, you idiot,” Jude says through his laughter.

Trent grins up at him. “I was just trying to show you what it’s like to play against me, mate. Scary, huh?”

Their antics don’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team. “Oi, you two lovebirds done?” Declan calls out, smirking.

“Just jealous we have more fun,” Trent fires back, earning a few laughs.

Later, during drills, Trent and Jude partner up, effortlessly blending competition with banter. Jude loves how easy it is with Trent—how nothing ever feels heavy or complicated. Even when they mess around with other teammates, Trent is always by his side, ready with a sarcastic comment or an over-the-top celebration whenever Jude scores.

It reminds Jude of why he wanted to tell Trent in the first place. He truly loves his friend, and having him in on the secret feels like a weight off his chest.

“I told Trent today,” Jude murmurs, his voice soft as it floats through the quiet room. He’s lying on his bed, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows across his face. Kylian is on the line, his voice coming through the phone resting beside Jude’s head.

There’s a beat of silence before Jude continues. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first. I should’ve—”

“Stop,” Kylian interrupts gently, his voice calm and steady. “You don’t need to apologize. I trust everyone you trust.”

Jude sighs, the weight of his earlier nerves dissipating a little. “He took it well. Teased me, of course. Called me the ‘First Lady of France.’”

Kylian chuckles on the other end, the sound low and warm. “Of course he did. He’s lucky I’m not there; I’d have something to say about that.”

Jude smiles despite himself, fingers playing with the edge of his blanket. “I’m glad I told him. It feels... lighter, you know?”

“I do,” Kylian says softly. “And I’m glad too, mon cœur. As long as you’re okay, I’m okay.”

Jude closes his eyes, letting Kylian’s voice wash over him. “I love you, you know,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” Kylian replies, his tone teasing but affectionate. “And I love you too. Always.”

“I miss you,” Jude groans, his voice low and strained as his hand slips under the waistband of his shorts.

Kylian exhales sharply, his tone quickly turning warning. “I’m out with the boys.” In the background, Jude can hear Cama’s booming laugh and the hum of chatter.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jude murmurs, his breath hitching. “I’m already—ugh.” His grip tightens, and he bites back a sound.

Kylian snorts, trying to hold back a laugh. “Already? I’m dating a teenager.”

“Don’t kill my mood,” Jude snaps, his voice a mix of frustration and desperation.

Kylian's chuckle softens, the affection in his tone sneaking through. “Give me a minute.”

There’s the scrape of a chair, muffled sounds of the French national team’s chatter fading slightly as Kylian moves. “Hold on,” he mutters, his voice lower now, quieter, but still carrying a smile Jude can almost hear.

“Kylian—” Jude breathes, his voice needy, his movements desperate as he tries to find a rhythm with his hand.

“Patience, bébé,” Kylian murmurs, the endearment slipping out in a tone that sends a shiver down Jude’s spine. “You’re already ahead of me, huh?”

Jude lets out a shaky laugh, his breath catching. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I do,” Kylian says, his voice dropping to a sultry, knowing tone. “Now tell me exactly what you’re thinking about.”

“I’m—”

“ PUTAIN DE MERDE ! ” Cama’s loud cries interrupt Jude, snapping him out of his haze. His eyes fly open, frustration bubbling up.

“Can you just leave him for a minute and get back to your team captain?” Cama shouts, clearly exasperated.

“Cama—” Jude growls, sitting up slightly. “I swear to god I’ll kill you.”

“He can’t hear you,” Kylian whispers, amused, his voice low and teasing.

“Kylian ! CAPI ! Reviens ! On t’attend, mec !” Other voices fill Jude’s ear, loud and teasing.

“Jude, baby, I have to go,” Kylian murmurs, regret in his tone.

“Don’t you dare leave me like this! Do you hear me, Ky!” Jude hisses, his frustration boiling over.

“We can’t. Not right now,” Kylian says, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Kylian, I’ll kill you!” Jude snaps, knowing full well Kylian’s grin is probably splitting his face right now. "If you go right now, I’ll have to find someone," Jude threatens, his voice low and teasing, though there's a flicker of challenge in it.

“Don’t be a brat,” Kylian snaps back, his tone dropping to something so harsh and commanding that it sends a shiver down Jude’s spine. “Don’t make me fly there. You know I will.”

Jude swallows hard, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of Kylian’s voice. For a moment, neither of them speaks. Then, Jude sighs. “Go,” he finally says, his voice quieter, almost resigned.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Kylian promises, softer now. Jude rolls his eyes but can’t stop the small, involuntary smile forming on his lips.

"You’re lucky I love your dick so much, 'cause I can’t stand you," Jude murmurs, his words playful but tinged with frustration.

Kylian's laughter is audible on the other end. "You love me."

"Go away," Jude mutters, unable to hide the slight grin on his face. He hangs up quickly, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks.

He stands up and heads straight for the bathroom, determined to cool off. A cold shower is the only thing that’s going to help him forget the intense mix of emotions swirling inside him right now.

Chapter Text

Kylian glances at his phone, seeing the flood of notifications from Jude. His stomach drops as he realizes what’s happening. His thumb hovers over the screen, but the fear of opening it around Didi and the staff makes him hesitate.

Jude wants revenge.

"Everything alright, Kylian?" Didi asks, noticing his distraction.

"Yeah, yeah," Kylian quickly responds, trying to hide the unease in his voice. He clears his throat and focuses back on the meeting, but his mind keeps drifting back to the messages from Jude.

He can’t help but wonder what exactly Jude’s sent. His curiosity pulls at him, but he knows he can't risk it— not in front of everyone. The constant buzzing makes him more anxious by the second.

The tension is unbearable. He wants to be with Jude, to retaliate for the playful revenge Jude’s clearly set up, but not like this. Not while surrounded by the staff. He swears under his breath, trying to concentrate, but every buzz feels like it’s mocking him.

Kylian's heart races as his thumb hovers over the screen, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. He takes a quick glance around the room—everyone is focused on the meeting, unaware of the storm brewing on his phone.

Taking a deep breath, he taps the screen and opens the conversation. The first thing he sees is a teasing text from Jude, followed by a series of nudes that make Kylian’s stomach twist with a mix of heat and panic.

He stares at the screen, frozen for a moment, his face flushing with embarrassment and desire. Jude's playful revenge hits hard, and Kylian can’t help but bite back a laugh, even though his heart is racing in his chest.

But he knows he can't linger. The last thing he needs is someone catching him in the act.

With a nervous glance at his surroundings, he quickly swipes the messages closed, trying to steady his breathing. His hands tremble slightly, but he forces himself to focus on the meeting again, his mind still reeling from Jude's audacious move.

Didi notices the sudden shift in Kylian's demeanor. "You good, Kylian?" he asks, a raised eyebrow betraying his curiosity.

Kylian forces a smile, nodding quickly. "Yeah, just... something personal. Let’s get back to it."

His face is flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration as he quickly types out a message to Jude, trying to ignore the uncomfortable pressure he feels. The tension in his body is only made worse by the way his jeans feel a little too tight. He doesn’t want to be caught like this—not by his coach, not by anyone.

He glances at his phone screen, hands trembling as he types out the text:

Stop it. I’m in a meeting with didi and others. U want me to die of embarrassment?

He sends it quickly, hoping that Jude will get the message and back off for now. But knowing him, he’s probably laughing his ass off somewhere, thoroughly enjoying the chaos he’s caused.

Kylian runs a hand through his hair, trying to stay calm, but the situation is just too ridiculous. He can feel the heat on his face, and he’s not sure whether to be more angry or impressed by Jude's audacity. Just then, the meeting starts up again, but Kylian can’t focus. All he can think about is how he’s going to get back at Jude for this—how he’s going to make him pay for turning him into a blushing, flustered mess in front of his entire staff.

As the meeting continues, Kylian can barely focus. His thoughts keep drifting back to his phone, to the string of messages from Jude that are still pinging in his inbox. He’s trying to keep his composure, but it's impossible. His face is red, and every time he catches a glimpse of his phone, his heart skips a beat.

Didi, ever perceptive, notices Kylian’s discomfort. The way he’s fidgeting in his chair, tapping his foot, checking his phone every few seconds—it’s too obvious.

“Alright, Kylian,” Didi says, cutting through the conversation, “I think that’s enough for today. We’ll finish up later. You’re clearly distracted.”

Kylian looks up in a panic. He can feel his palms sweat as Didi stares at him, eyebrows raised in suspicion. He wants to sink into the floor, to just disappear, but instead, he stands up quickly, muttering a quick, embarrassed thanks.

“Go ahead, take the rest of the day to yourself,” Didi says, clearly picking up on Kylian's distress. “Something seems off. Go clear your head.”

Kylian doesn’t need to be told twice. He hurries out of the room, his face still flushed with humiliation. As he walks down the corridor, he pulls out his phone, his fingers shaking as he opens the conversation with Jude.

His jaw tightens when he sees the new texts—more pictures, more teasing. He taps out a quick response:

Ur dead when i get back.

He hits send, hoping the text is enough to get Jude to stop. But deep down, Kylian knows this is only going to make things worse. Jude’s going to make him pay. But Kylian’s not going to let this go either.

Jude’s playful teasing is only going to push Kylian to up the stakes.

*

Kylian slams the door shut behind him with a force that makes the entire room seem to shake. His bags drop to the floor, forgotten, as he stalks toward Jude, who’s sitting on the couch, a coy smile playing on his lips.

international break is over.

Jude doesn’t even have time to react before Kylian is on him, his hands wrapping around his neck in a possessive grip. Without warning, Kylian crashes his lips onto his, the kiss wild and urgent, as if he’s been starved for it. His mouth moves over Jude’s with a desperate hunger, demanding, bruising. He can feel the tension in his body, the adrenaline coursing through him as he finally takes control of the situation.

Jude gasps, surprised at the force of the kiss, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he tilts his head, parting his lips to let Kylian in. His hands find Kylian’s chest, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pulls him closer, if that’s even possible.

Kylian’s tongue slides into his mouth, a low groan escaping him when their bodies press together. His hands move from Jude’s neck to his shoulders, gripping tightly as if he’s afraid of letting go. He’s been holding back for so long, trying to keep his composure, but now it’s all crashing down. He’s furious, he’s turned on, and he’s not going to let Jude get away with this teasing.

“You little shit,” Kylian growls against Jude’s lips, his voice low and rough, the words only making Jude smile even more. “You think you can mess with me like that?”

Jude doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he kisses Kylian back with just as much intensity, a fire lighting up inside him. He’s been waiting for this moment—waiting for Kylian to finally lose it. And now that he has, Jude’s ready to match every bit of energy Kylian throws his way.

Kylian pulls back just enough to look at him, his chest heaving, eyes dark with a mix of frustration and something else—something raw and dangerous. Jude’s heart races, but he stands his ground, eyes locked with Kylian’s.

“You want to punish me, Ky?” Jude murmurs, his voice teasing, though the heat between them is undeniable. “You sure you can handle it?”

Kylian doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls Jude back into the kiss, his hands roaming over his body, desperate to claim him, to show him who’s in control now. The room is filled with the sound of their breathing, the tension between them thickening as they finally give in to everything they’ve been holding back.

And as the kiss deepens, Jude knows one thing for sure—this is far from over.

Jude's voice is soft but full of intention, his breath shaky as he leans in closer to Kylian, their bodies still pressed together. “Take me to bed,” he whines, eyes dark with desire. “I need you.”

Kylian’s entire body goes still for a moment, as if trying to process Jude’s words. The intensity in Jude’s voice, the look in his eyes—it’s all Kylian needs to hear to know that there’s no turning back now. Jude isn’t teasing him anymore, not this time. He’s real, he’s raw, and he’s all in. And Kylian? Kylian has missed him more than he’s willing to admit.

His hands, which were still gripping Jude tightly, loosen for just a moment before he pulls Jude up from the couch. Their lips collide again in a heated kiss, Kylian’s hands cradling Jude’s face, desperate to feel him, to make sure this is real. The kiss is slow, controlled, and full of all the longing they’ve both been holding back for so long. He grabs Kylian’s hand, pulling him toward the bedroom. He doesn’t care about anything else right now—just Kylian, just this moment.

They make their way to the bed, and Jude doesn’t waste any time. His fingers work quickly, pulling at Kylian’s shirt, the urgency between them rising with every second. Kylian follows his lead, undressing Jude with the same impatience, his hands trembling slightly as he touches him. The tension between them is electric, thick with unspoken words and desires that have been waiting to be unleashed.

When they finally collapse onto the bed, Kylian hovers over Jude, his eyes searching his face, still asking for permission, still making sure this is what Jude wants. Jude meets his gaze with a steady intensity, his hands on Kylian’s hips, pulling him closer. “I need you,” he repeats, this time more firmly, and Kylian’s resolve breaks.

He crashes down onto Jude, his lips finding Jude’s neck as his hands explore, caress, and claim. Jude arches into him, his breath hitching as Kylian’s lips move lower, his body shaking with anticipation.

Every movement, every touch, is an expression of everything they’ve kept inside for long. Their bodies press together, skin on skin, hearts racing, as they lose themselves in the other, unable to stop, unwilling to. This moment is everything.

And as Kylian finally gives in, his hands cradling Jude’s face, his lips brushing against Jude’s in a kiss that promises everything, Jude knows there’s no turning back from this. 

They belong to each other.

*

“I think I’m in love with him,” Jude admits, his voice quieter than usual as he stares out of the window, his fingers absently tracing the edge of his coffee mug.

Denise looks up from her own cup, raising an eyebrow and giving him a knowing look. “You think?” she snorts, a small laugh escaping her lips. She takes a sip of her coffee before adding, “Honey, please. You’ve been head over heels for months. Anyone who takes one look at you can tell. You’re gone.”

Jude blushes, a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He can’t help it. It’s true. The way he talks about Kylian, the way his heart races every time they’re together, the way he finds himself thinking about him constantly—it’s undeniable. And now, even with all the doubt that lingers in his mind about their situation, about how hard it is to keep things under wraps, he knows it’s real.

“I don’t know, Mum… it’s just... it feels different with him. Like... I don’t know how to explain it.” Jude pauses, unsure of how to put into words what Kylian means to him. “It’s not just the fun, or the... whatever. It’s more than that. It’s like he gets me, y’know? Even when I don’t get myself.”

Denise smiles softly, her gaze softening as she watches her son, knowing him so well. “I know exactly what you mean. I see the way you look at him.” She chuckles to herself, shaking her head. “Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long to admit it. You’ve been practically glowing every time you talk about him.”

Jude huffs a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just... scary, y’know? The pressure. The whole thing, like, we’re just trying to keep it private, and then... what if things go wrong?”

Denise’s expression softens even more, her tone steady and comforting. “You’re scared of messing it up, I get it. But, sweetheart, love isn’t perfect. It’s messy, complicated, and sometimes it hurts. But you’ll figure it out together. If he’s as good for you as I think he is, then don’t let fear hold you back. It’s okay to be vulnerable, to let him in fully. Just don’t let the world or other people dictate what that should look like for you.”

Jude nods, the weight of his mother’s words sinking in. He looks at her, feeling a sense of relief in hearing her support, in knowing that maybe—just maybe—he can take a leap of faith with Kylian. “Thanks, Mum.”

It was a perfect night, the soft hum of the city around them as they sat at a candle-lit table in a cozy, quiet restaurant. Kylian had insisted on this dinner, something just for the two of them, away from the cameras and the noise of their everyday lives. Jude was already feeling the warmth of the evening, the quiet intimacy, the way Kylian’s gaze made him feel like he was the only person in the room.

They’d been together for a while now, and everything had been so perfect, so effortless. But tonight, Jude couldn’t shake the feeling that Kylian had something on his mind, something he wanted to ask but hadn’t yet.

As the waiter cleared their plates and left them with just the glasses of wine, Kylian leaned in slightly, his voice low, and his eyes searching Jude’s face.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Kylian started, his fingers gently tracing the edge of his glass, a nervous energy radiating off him.

Jude tilted his head, a small frown forming as he watched Kylian. He could tell there was something important behind this. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, his voice soft and inviting, his heart skipping a beat just at the look in Kylian’s eyes.

"You know… about us. Maybe it’s time we take the next step."

Jude tilts his head, intrigued but not entirely sure where Kylian’s going. "Next step?"

"Yeah," Kylian replies, his gaze softening. "Like… maybe it’s time you move in with me."

Jude blinks, surprised but not completely caught off guard. He’s been thinking about it too, but hearing it from Kylian makes it feel real. "Wait, really?" He chuckles nervously, his heart racing. "You sure? I mean, that's a pretty big thing, isn’t it?"

Kylian nods, his voice steady but with a hint of excitement. "I’ve thought about it. And it feels right. But I didn’t just jump into it. I wanted to make sure it’s what you want too."

Jude watches him closely, then smirks. "And did you get someone’s approval before asking me?"

Kylian hesitates, just for a moment, before his lips curl into a grin. "Maybe… but you don’t need to know that part." He winks, clearly trying to keep it light.

Jude raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Mum?"

Kylian laughs softly, not wanting to admit the truth but also not wanting to lie. "I may have asked her opinion first," he admits, voice teasing. "But she’s cool with it. And I think, deep down, she wants to see you explore more."

Jude’s expression softens. He knows Kylian well enough to understand that he doesn’t make decisions like this lightly. "I’m not going to lie… I’ve thought about it too." Jude reaches out, taking Kylian's hand in his. "I love the idea. More than I probably should."

Kylian leans in closer, his smile widening as he squeezes Jude's hand. "Good. So... what do you think?"

Jude doesn't hesitate. "I think you’re not getting rid of me now," he says with a laugh, the tension breaking between them. "Let’s do it."

“Maybe you’ll finally give your mom back to Jobe after all huh?” Kylian teases.

Jude laughs, rolling his eyes playfully at Kylian's teasing. "Oh, shut up," he says, nudging Kylian’s shoulder as they share a laugh. "My mom loves spending time with me.”

Kylian grins, clearly enjoying the banter. "I’m just saying, if you’re moving in with me, it’ll be a whole new dynamic. Maybe she’ll finally pass the baton to me to drive you around."

Jude raises an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Maybe you should just get your own license, huh? Then you wouldn’t have to worry about who’s driving me around."

Kylian chuckles, but there’s a softness in his expression. "Maybe I’ll do that, just for you." He winks at Jude. "But you’ll have to promise to be the best passenger."

Jude smiles, leaning back in his chair, feeling completely at ease with Kylian. "Deal," he says, the lightness between them feeling so natural, so right.

Kylian watches Jude for a moment, a playful glint in his eyes as he sips his wine. He’s still processing how serious this is. Moving in together—it's a big step, and it’s something he’s thought about carefully. But the idea of having Jude close, waking up next to him every morning, it feels so right. He’s ready for this, for them, and everything that comes next.

Everything is going perfectly. Jude moved in with Kylian, and so far, nobody has suspected a thing. It feels like the world has stopped, just for them. Only Cama, Vini, and Brahim know about their relationship on the team, and Jude is content with that. He loves the balance they have now—being able to spend time with each other without being all over each other, while also enjoying their time with their teammates. It’s a beautiful dynamic, and it feels so natural, like everything is falling into place.

Jude watches from the edge of the changing room as Kylian interacts with Endrick. The young forward is listening intently as Kylian gives him some pointers after training. Jude’s heart swells with pride, not just for Kylian’s skill but for the way he carries himself, the way he makes everyone around him better.

As the conversation winds down, Kylian finishes up with a nod, then winks at Endrick playfully, his hand grazing Jude’s lower back as he turns to walk away. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but to Jude, it feels like a spark. He shivers involuntarily, a familiar warmth flooding through him. Kylian’s touch, so casual and so intimate, always gets to him.

Endrick notices, and before Jude can even compose himself, the young forward bursts out laughing.

“Happens to me too,” Endrick says with a grin, clearly amused. “Don’t worry.”

Jude freezes for a moment, his brain struggling to catch up with what he just heard. “What?” he asks, turning to face Endrick so quickly he almost stumbles. His voice is a little too high-pitched, a little too curious.

Endrick shrugs, unbothered, still smiling. “About your crush. I understand. I’ve had it since I was 12. I mean, he’s thee Kylian Mbappé.”

Jude’s face flushes, his heart pounding in his chest. He stares at Endrick for a second, the words hanging in the air like a heavy weight. Endrick. His teammate. The kid who’s barely 18. And he has a crush on his secret boyfriend.

Jude opens his mouth, but no words come out. His mind races, trying to figure out what to say, how to respond. It’s ridiculous. He can’t even process it.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jude finally manages, his voice strained. “You—what?”

Endrick chuckles, clearly enjoying the awkwardness. “I mean, who doesn’t? He’s the best player in the world, right?” He says it so casually, like he’s talking about an idol, which in many ways, Kylian is to a lot of people—including Endrick.

Jude tries to compose himself, but the thoughts swirling in his head make it nearly impossible. Of course, Kylian is a star. He knows that. Everyone knows that. But now Jude is thinking about Endrick, the 18-year-old wonderkid who looks up to Kylian not just as a teammate but as a hero, having a crush on him.

That’s the last thing Jude needs to be worried about right now.

“I—um,” Jude stammers, flustered. He glances down at the floor for a moment, trying to gather himself. “Look, uh… I’m sure you’re not the only one,” he says, not knowing what else to say. He forces a smile, though it feels weak.

Endrick raises an eyebrow, his grin turning sly. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he says, clearly not believing Jude’s attempt to downplay it.

Jude shifts uncomfortably, not sure if he should keep the conversation going or just make an excuse to leave. The idea of Endrick secretly harboring a crush on Kylian, knowing nothing of their real relationship, is... it’s complicated. Jude doesn’t want to deal with it, especially not right now.

“Anyway,” Jude says, trying to sound nonchalant. “I, uh, need to get changed.” He quickly turns and walks away, leaving Endrick behind with a small laugh still ringing in his ears.

As Jude walks toward the locker room, his mind races. He doesn’t know what he’s more embarrassed about—having his teammate openly talk about his crush on Kylian, or the fact that he has to keep his own secret relationship under wraps.

Kylian bursts out laughing when Jude tells him about it.

“He’s a kid!” Kylian says between chuckles, his laughter filling the room. He leans back in his chair, clearly amused by the situation. “He’s barely 18, man. You’re seriously worried about this?”

Jude rubs his forehead, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment. “It’s not funny, Kylian! He said he’s had a crush on you since he was 12!” Jude says, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I— I don’t know what to do with that info! It’s embarrassing!”

Kylian just shakes his head, still laughing softly, the amusement never quite leaving his face. “He looks up to me, that’s all. He’s just a kid with a big idol crush. Don’t take it so seriously.”

“I’m not taking it seriously, it’s just... weird,” Jude mutters, trying to push the thought out of his mind. “It’s a little strange, though, don’t you think? He’s on our team, and he’s practically a kid, but he’s into you ... It feels... strange.”

Kylian smirks and leans closer to Jude, his voice teasing. “Are you jealous, mon amour?”

Jude’s cheeks flush, and he glares playfully at Kylian. “No. I’m not jealous. Stop being an asshole. I just think it's... embarrassing,” he says, trying to brush it off. But deep down, there’s that little knot of unease that refuses to go away. He didn’t expect Endrick to openly talk about his crush like that. He doesn’t want things to be awkward when their relationship comes out.

Kylian watches him for a moment, before pulling him closer, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Come on, let’s not stress about it. You know I’m yours, right?”

Jude looks up at him, his heart melting at the tenderness in Kylian’s eyes. “Asshole. Stop making this about you! I’m just worried about the kid.”

“Stop making this about me? But IT IS about me. He’s a kid, and he’s going to outgrow it. I had a crush on Ronaldo too when I was a kid. It’s never romantic.”

Jude looks up at him, feeling the tension in his chest ease a little as Kylian’s words sink in. “Yeah,” Jude sighs, rubbing his face. “I guess it’s just weird. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

Kylian smiles reassuringly, squeezing Jude’s arm lightly. “Trust me, Jude. It’s just admiration. He looks up to me because of what I’ve achieved, not because of anything else. I don’t think he sees me the way you do. He’s a kid. He’ll grow out of it,” Kylian repeats, his voice calm and confident.

“Make sure not to hurt his feelings,” Jude warns, a small frown tugging at his lips. “I know he’s just a kid, but I don’t want him to feel embarrassed or anything.”

Kylian nods, his expression softening as he listens to Jude’s concern. “I get it, I promise I won’t. I’ll make sure to handle it gently. He’s a good kid, just a little starstruck.”

Jude smiles, his worries starting to ease as Kylian reassures him. “Thanks, babe. You always know what to say.”

Kylian chuckles softly. “I try.” He leans in and places a quick kiss on Jude’s cheek.

*

Kylian’s phone buzzes again. He looks down, his stomach dropping when he sees the notification from RMC. He’s already had enough of them. The last few months have been a constant cycle of speculation, hints, and invasive reporting. But this time feels different—this time, it’s not just rumors anymore.

The headline glaring back at him sends a chill down his spine: “Mbappé and Bellingham: The Secrets Behind the Star Pairing” . Beneath it, there’s a link to a video with more so-called "evidence" of their relationship. It’s not out yet but they are letting Kylian know it will be if he doesn’t do what they want. His eyes dart across the words, his mind already racing with the implications. It's not just a few speculative articles this time. It's worse.

Kylian’s blood runs cold. He quickly locks his phone, his hands shaking slightly as he slides it into his pocket. He can’t let this affect him. Not now. Not when everything’s going so well for Jude. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He has to fix this, deal with it quietly. He can’t let Jude find out like this—especially not now. Jude has been so happy, so focused on his game. He just scored a brace for England during international break. He’s been on fire, contributing to the team like never before, and Kylian can’t risk ruining this for him.

He looks up at the training ground, seeing Jude laughing with Vini and Rudi. The sight of him, so carefree, reminds Kylian why he’s willing to take on this mess by himself. Jude doesn’t deserve this stress, not when he’s finally found his rhythm. He’s been through enough.

But that doesn’t make the situation any easier. People are relentless, and the evidence they claim to have—it’s too damning. He can feel the pressure mounting on his chest.

Jude doesn’t know yet. Kylian’s going to keep it that way for now. He’ll figure it out. He always does. He has to. Because the last thing he wants is for Jude to worry about him, to carry this burden too. He’s been working so hard, putting everything into his career, into this team, and Kylian refuses to let this leak ruin it.

But the weight of it is unbearable. He knows it’s only a matter of time before someone else catches wind of it. He rubs his hands over his face, trying to calm his nerves. He thinks of the conversations he’s had with his lawyer, with his management team. They want to go public with a statement, confront everything head-on. But Kylian doesn’t want that. Not unless he has to. He’s seen how it’s gone for other players in the past, and he won’t drag Jude into that kind of mess. Not if he can help it.

"Everything’s fine," Kylian mutters to himself, trying to convince himself more than anything. He turns away from the pitch, eyes still locked on Jude from a distance. "I’ll make sure everything’s fine."

Kylian stands at the door, watching Jude as he finishes lacing his boots. His heart aches with guilt, but he knows he has to do this. Jude doesn’t suspect a thing. At least he acts like it. Kylian’s been careful to keep everything under wraps—there’s no way he’s letting Jude get dragged into this.

Kylian leaves 2 days earlier for international break and Jude doesn’t suspect anything at least he acts like it. Kylian says he has things to discuss with Didi and Jude doesn’t question it. 

He’s already got his bags packed and ready to go, his phone buzzing with texts from his lawyer, his manager, and others, all reminding him of the meeting with RMC. This is the only way to handle it—go to Paris, meet with everyone, and try to sort this mess out. He doesn’t want to involve Jude in any of it. Not yet. Not while everything is finally starting to fall into place for him.

Kylian leans in quickly, pressing a soft kiss to Jude’s temple. "I’ll miss you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s almost like he’s apologizing already, though Jude doesn’t know why.

As he walks out of the house, he can hear Jude calling out to him, but he doesn’t turn around. He needs to leave before the guilt completely overtakes him. The car is already waiting outside, and the drive to the airport feels endless.

Kylian’s mind is a whirlwind as he boards the flight to Paris. He hasn’t had a chance to fully process everything yet, but he knows that once he’s face-to-face with his lawyers and the media team, it’s going to get much harder. He can’t let it get to him now. He has to keep it together.

As the plane takes off, Kylian looks out the window, his thoughts drifting back to Jude. He hates lying to him, but this is the only way. He has to protect him. He has to protect their relationship.

Jude deserves better than all this chaos. And Kylian won’t stop until he fixes it.

Jude sits down on the couch, phone pressed to his ear as he runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice. "I think he's lying. I think something came up about us again." His voice cracks slightly, betraying his worry. "I hate this, Mum. I hate how Kylian thinks he has to shoulder everything on his own. He won’t let me help him. He doesn’t even tell me what’s going on."

Denise’s voice is soft on the other end of the line, understanding yet firm. "Jude, I know you want to be there for him, but you also have to remember that Kylian is very private about some things. He’s not used to letting people in, especially when it comes to stuff like this."

"I know, but it's different now," Jude says, his frustration growing. "We’re together, and I want to be there for him. I want him to know he doesn’t have to go through things alone anymore. I hate that I don’t know what’s going on."

Denise lets out a long breath. "I get it. I really do. But you also have to give him time. Kylian is a lot more complicated than you realize. He’ll open up when he’s ready."

"But how long do I have to wait?” Jude’s voice is soft but desperate. "It feels like he’s pushing me away every time something happens. I just want to be there for him. Why won’t he let me?"

"I just feel so helpless," Jude admits, his voice shaky now. "Like I'm not enough for him, or like I’m not doing enough to help. I don’t want him to feel like he's alone."

"Jude," Denise says gently, "you are more than enough. You being there, loving him the way you do, is all he needs right now. He’ll open up when he’s ready. Just be patient with him."

Jude falls silent, the weight of his emotions sinking in. He knows his mother is right. Kylian isn’t the type to let others in easily. But that doesn’t stop the worry gnawing at him. He wants to help, he wants to be there, and it’s hard to be patient when he feels so powerless.

"I just wish he would trust me enough to tell me," Jude says finally, a sad sigh escaping him.

"I know, sweetheart. But he will. Just give him time."

Jude nods, though he knows his mom can’t see it. "I’ll try. Thanks, Mum. I just... I hate feeling like I don’t know what’s going on in his life."

"I understand, but you’ll get there. You just have to keep being the amazing support system you already are for him."

Jude takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts in his head. "Yeah. I’ll try."

"That’s all you can do, Jude. And remember, you don’t have to carry the weight of this alone either. You have people who care about you too."

"Thanks, Mom," Jude says quietly, grateful for her words, even if they don’t completely ease the ache in his chest. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart. Just keep being you. Kylian will come around."

Jude stares at his phone screen for a moment, fingers hovering over the keyboard. His heart aches with the unspoken worry he’s been carrying. He wants to fix everything for Kylian, to make him feel safe and loved, but he knows he can’t force him to open up.

Taking a deep breath, Jude calls him but his phone is off so he types out a message:

hey i think ur busy

just wanted to tell u i love u. idc what’s goin on rn or what ur dealin with, i just need u to know i’m here for u. u don’t have to do any of this alone. i know ur used to handling stuff by urself but pls don’t shut me out. i’m not goin anywhere. i love u sm & i wanna be there for u no matter what.

take care of urself there ok?

Jude stares at the screen for a moment before pressing send, a weight lifting off his chest. He can’t fix everything, but he can make sure Kylian knows just how much he means to him.

Two hours later, Kylian's reply finally comes through. Jude's heart skips a beat as he sees the message notification pop up on his screen. He quickly unlocks his phone, reading Kylian’s response.

sry i’ve been distant. i didn’t wanna drag u into this but ik i can’t keep pushing u away.

i love u too, more than u know. and i appreciate u more than i can even say. i’m just tryna handle it... but i promise i won’t keep shutting u out. 

i’ll talk to u when i can but i just wanted to say... thank u. for being patient, for lovin me the way u do. i don’t deserve it but i’m so damn lucky to have u.

Jude’s chest tightens, his fingers running through his hair as he reads the message again. He can feel Kylian's vulnerability in those words, even if Kylian hasn’t fully opened up yet.

Jude smiles softly to himself, knowing that this is the start of Kylian trusting him even more.

He quickly types a reply.

u do deserve it. i’m not goin anywhere, ok? whatever ur dealin with, we’ll get thru it together. always. pls don’t be afraid to lean on me too. i’ll be here waiting for u luv.

Jude presses send, a weight lifting off his chest as he finally feels the first step toward Kylian opening up again.

Chapter Text

The atmosphere in the locker room is heavy, suffused with the sting of defeat and exhaustion. Jude sits slouched on the bench, his body aching, his ankle screaming at him every time he shifts. Most of the team has already cleared out, leaving only a handful of them in the room. Kylian is by the showers, deep in conversation with Luka, and Jude leans his head back against his locker, closing his eyes for just a moment.

He hates this. The relentless schedule, the pressure, the physical toll—it feels like it’s all suffocating him. His ankle throbs in protest, but he keeps it to himself. He’s not in the mood for questions or sympathy.

“Hey,” Kylian’s soft voice breaks through the haze, pulling him back to the present.

Before Jude can even fully process what’s happening, Kylian is kneeling in front of him, his hands moving over Jude’s legs, checking him for injuries. His touch is gentle but urgent, searching for the source of Jude’s pain.

“What are you doing?” Jude hisses, panicking as he glances toward the others still in the room. His heart races, not just from the soreness in his body but from the sight of Kylian on his knees in front of him.

Kylian ignores the question, his brow furrowed as his fingers brush over Jude’s shin and stop at his ankle. Jude winces, and that’s all Kylian needs to confirm his suspicion.

“It’s your ankle,” Kylian says quietly, his tone tinged with both worry and frustration. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jude glances toward the showers, where Luka and Vini are still talking, seemingly oblivious to what’s going on. Aurel and Fede are nearby, packing up their gear, but Jude still feels the weight of their presence like a spotlight on him.

“Kylian, stop,” he whispers urgently, trying to pull his leg away, but Kylian’s grip is firm. “They’ll see—”

“I don’t care,” Kylian cuts him off, his voice low but firm. “You’re in pain. I can see it.”

Jude swallows hard, torn between the urge to shove Kylian away and the undeniable comfort of his attention.

“You don’t have to do this here,” Jude says, his voice softer now, though still laced with panic.

“Yes, I do,” Kylian replies, looking up at him. His eyes are intense, full of concern. “You always push yourself too hard. You don’t take care of yourself, and I can’t just stand here and watch you pretend like everything’s fine.”

Jude’s chest tightens at the raw emotion in Kylian’s voice. He’s about to respond when Luka’s voice calls out from the showers.

“Yo, Ky, you coming or what?” Luka asks, his tone casual.

Kylian glances over his shoulder and then back at Jude. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a second,” he says, his tone even.

The others don’t seem to notice anything unusual, but Jude still feels like he’s under a microscope. Kylian stands, leaning down to whisper close to Jude’s ear. “We’ll deal with this later, but you’re not hiding this from me. Understand?”

Jude doesn’t respond, his throat tight with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude.

“Good,” Kylian murmurs, brushing his hand subtly against Jude’s shoulder as he walks back toward Luka.

Jude exhales slowly, his body still aching, but his heart feels a little lighter. Even in the worst moments, Kylian always finds a way to remind him that he’s not alone. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out to see a text from Kylian:

Go see the doc

Jude can’t help but roll his eyes, letting out a soft scoff. Of course, he’d follow up, Jude thinks. Kylian’s worry is as predictable as the sunrise.

He types back quickly:
I’m fine.

A second later, another text pops up:
Don’t make me come over there and drag u.

Jude lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. He types:
Ur so dramatic. I hate u.

But he knows Kylian isn’t joking. With a sigh, he gets up, grabbing his bag. He’s exhausted, his ankle’s killing him, and all he wants to do is crash in bed—but he knows Kylian won’t let this go. Fine, he thinks to himself, heading toward the medical room. I’ll go. But only because it’ll shut him up. Still, as much as Jude grumbles about it, there’s a warmth in his chest. Knowing Kylian cares this much makes it hard to stay annoyed for long.

Jude sits in the car, one leg stretched out awkwardly as he scrolls aimlessly through his phone. He sighs, tossing his phone into the seat beside him. His ankle throbs in time with his pulse, and the frustration of the loss and his injury is weighing heavy. He glances at the entrance, willing Kylian to show up. Whatever Kylian and Luka are discussing is taking forever, and he is starting to feel restless.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Kylian appears, jogging toward the car. He climbs in quickly, shutting the door behind him. His eyes immediately zero in on Jude’s leg.

“How’s the ankle?” He asks, his voice low with concern as he leans forward to inspect it.

Jude shakes his head, feigning nonchalance. “The doctor said to stay off it for a day. They’ll do an  x-ray once the swelling goes down.”

Kylian frowns, his brows knitting together as he reaches out to gently rest a hand on Jude’s knee. “They gave you anything for the pain?”

“Yeah, they wrapped it and gave me something.” Jude shrugs, trying to downplay it. “It’s fine. I’ll survive.”

Kylian doesn’t look convinced. His fingers drum softly against the steering wheel. Jude rolls his eyes, though there’s no real heat behind it. “I’m not a kid, Ky. I can handle myself.”

Kylian gives him a look, half annoyed and half amused. “You’re not a kid, you’re impossible.”

“Maybe. But you still love me.” Jude smirks, leaning back in his seat. Kylian shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No need to be a brat about it.”

Jude laughs softly, the tension in his body easing just a little. “Home,” Kylian says firmly. “And you’re putting that foot up as soon as we get there. No arguments.”

Jude groans but doesn’t protest. Deep down, he appreciates Kylian’s care, even if he’d never admit it outright. “Yes mum.”

As Kylian starts the car, his smirk spreads slowly across his face. He glances over at Jude, who’s already reclining with his head resting against the window, looking exhausted.

“So,” Kylian says, his voice dipping lower, playful, “I’ve got you in bed to myself all day tomorrow.”

Jude cracks an eye open, groaning softly. “Not if you keep talking like that.”

Kylian chuckles, keeping his eyes on the road. “Come on, don’t act like it’s a bad thing. You, me, no distractions... except maybe making sure you don’t get up unless it’s for something I allow.”

Jude snorts, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it,” Kylian counters confidently.

Jude pretends to roll his eyes, but the small tug of a smile on his lips gives him away. “Just so you know, I’m taking the bed. You’re stuck with the couch.”

“Oh, please,” Kylian replies with a laugh, reaching over to squeeze Jude’s knee. “You’ll be asking me to carry you to the kitchen by mid-afternoon.”

“Because you’d make me,” Jude retorts.

Kylian’s grin only widens as he pulls onto the main road. “And you’d let me.”

Jude shakes his head, trying not to laugh. Even when he’s frustrated or tired, Kylian always knows how to make him feel just a little bit lighter.

He reaches over, his movements slow but deliberate, and takes Kylian’s hand in his. Without a word, he brings their joined hands to rest in his own lap, his thumb absentmindedly brushing against Kylian’s knuckles.

“Shut up now,” Jude murmurs, his voice soft but teasing, his eyes already drifting closed. “I’m gonna take a power nap.”

Kylian glances at him briefly, his smirk softening into something tender. “Alright, mon cœur,” he says quietly, his thumb gently rubbing against Jude’s hand in return.

As Jude settles in, his breathing evening out, Kylian keeps his focus on the road, their hands still intertwined. Despite the day’s frustrations and the exhaustion they’re both carrying, the simple connection between them feels like its own kind of peace.

Jude doesn't stand on his feet the rest of the day, his ankle swollen and sore. Kylian insists on helping him take a warm bath, gently easing him into the tub with a soft smile. The warmth of the water soothes Jude’s aching body, and Kylian’s touch is steady and reassuring as he helps wash away the tension from the game.

"Better?" Kylian asks, his voice low as he leans against the bathroom doorframe, watching Jude with a fond expression.

"Yeah, much better," Jude mutters, sinking a little deeper into the water, his eyes closing in relief. "You’re good at this, you know."

Kylian chuckles, a playful glint in his eyes. "I have my moments."

Later, they eat in bed, their usual takeout, but this time there's a laid-back, comfortable vibe to it. The usual chatter fills the air as they both mess around—throwing pillows at each other, stealing bites of food, and making each other laugh until their sides ache.

At one point, Kylian leans over, swiping a piece of chicken off Jude’s plate, and Jude laughs, swatting him away. "Go away," he says, though he can’t help but smile at how easy it is to be with Kylian, even after a long day.

"I'm just hungry," Kylian says with a grin, leaning in for another playful kiss that leaves Jude's stomach flipping. "You know I can't resist when you're eating."

Jude rolls his eyes, still laughing. "That's just an excuse."

They keep going back and forth, teasing, laughing, and simply enjoying the day of respite together. Despite the frustration of his injury and the pressure of the game, Jude feels lighter than he has in weeks, wrapped up in this moment with Kylian.

They share lazy kisses, soft and lingering, each one slow as if they have all the time in the world. Kylian keeps Jude all to himself, exactly like he promised, and Jude can feel the weight of his love in every touch, in every soft word whispered between them. It’s easy, this rhythm they’ve fallen into, just two people, tangled up in each other’s arms, cocooned in the warmth of their bubble.

Jude loves it here—this space they’ve created. No worries about the world outside, no pressure from the game, just Kylian and him, drifting through the hours with no agenda. It’s peaceful, and it’s perfect.

Kylian’s hand rests on Jude’s ankle, gently massaging it to keep the swelling down, while Jude snuggles into him, his head resting on Kylian’s chest. They don’t need words to fill the silence; it’s enough to be close, to feel each other’s heartbeats, to exist in the same space, uninterrupted.

Jude pulls back slightly, looking up at Kylian with a smile that speaks volumes. "This is all I need, you know? Just you."

Kylian smiles back, his thumb tracing the back of Jude’s hand. "Same," he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss, this one deeper, more intense. It’s a kiss that speaks of everything they are to each other—the love, the trust, the way they make each other feel safe.

Jude’s out for two weeks, his ankle still healing after the injury. It’s frustrating, but he doesn’t let it get to him too much. The break gives him the chance to focus on things outside of football—mainly, his family. And so, he flies back to England, intending to spend some quality time with his family. Kylian stays behind in Madrid, preparing for the next few games with Real Madrid. He plays two matches during this break—one win and one frustrating draw. The draw stings more than it should, especially with Jude absent, but Kylian keeps it to himself. Jude doesn’t need to hear about his frustrations right now. He knows that he needs this time with his family, and he won’t add to his stress of injury.

On the morning of the second game, Kylian sits in the locker room, lacing up his boots, trying to keep his mind from wandering. He can’t help but miss Jude, though. The empty space beside him in the hotel room, the quiet dinners without Jude’s laughter filling the air. It’s a bit lonely, but he knows it’s temporary. Jude will be back soon, and everything will feel right again.

The match goes well for the most part. Real Madrid plays with energy, but the opposition proves too strong, and the game ends in a frustrating 1-1 draw. Kylian doesn’t let his frustration show, keeping a neutral expression as he exits the field. The fans are disappointed, but Kylian just wants to get back to the hotel, to his phone, to see if Jude has messaged him.

When he finally checks his phone, there’s a message waiting for him from Jude: "Had a great day with Jobe. Just spent the day w the fam, but miss u sm. Hope the game went well. counting down the days till i can see u again."

Kylian smiles, feeling a warmth in his chest as he reads the message. It’s like a balm to his frustrations. Jude’s happiness and support mean everything to him, and he’s glad Jude is taking care of himself and his family.

"miss u more. enjoy ur time w fam.”

Kylian doesn’t complain to Jude about the draw. He knows Jude has enough on his plate, focusing on his brother and spending time with his family. He knows that when Jude’s back, things will feel whole again. And until then, Kylian will just have to carry on, trying to stay focused on the game, knowing that Jude is out there, supporting his brother and taking care of himself.

He keeps himself busy, knowing how much he misses Jude. The gym becomes his sanctuary— a way to clear his head, push himself, and burn off the restlessness that lingers when he's not with him. Every rep, every sprint, is a small escape from the longing he feels. It’s been a couple of days since Jude left for England, and even though Kylian knows his boyfriend is having valuable family time, he can't help but feel the weight of the distance between them.

His mom's visit helps, though. She’s always so calm, so comforting, that having her around brings him a sense of peace he didn't realize he needed. They talk about everything and nothing, reminiscing about old family trips, and Kylian finally feels like he can breathe a little easier, even if just for a few days.

Vini and Cama also help keep his mind off things. The three of them go out for dinners, hit up a few spots in the city, laughing and joking the way they always do. But even in those moments of fun, there’s a quiet part of him that's thinking about Jude, about how he can’t wait to be back in his arms, to hear his laugh again, to see him smile.

One night, as they head home after a particularly good dinner, Kylian sighs, looking out the car window as the city lights blur past.

“Hey, you good?” Vini asks, catching the slight shift in Kylian’s mood.

“Yeah, just… tired, I guess,” Kylian responds, though the truth is, he’s just missing Jude. He’s been trying not to show it, not to let the team or anyone else know how much of an impact the distance has had on him.

Cama glances at Kylian with a knowing smile. “You miss him, huh?”

Kylian chuckles but nods. “More than I thought I would. It’s embarrassing.”

“Just wait till he’s back,” Vini says, tapping Kylian’s shoulder. “You’ll be right there with him. And trust me, he’s probably missing you just as much. Cause you’re so gross together,”

Kylian laughs, grateful for his friends’ support. "Yeah, I know. I just… can’t wait to have him back."

As they pull up to his apartment, Kylian's phone buzzes. It’s a message from Jude: “I miss you. Can’t wait to come home to you.”

Kylian’s heart melts, a smile tugging at his lips. “I can’t wait either. Take care of yourself. Almost there.”

He places his phone down, his heart lighter now, knowing Jude will be home soon, and everything will fall back into place.

Kylian is at the gym, sweating through his workout, when his phone buzzes. He barely looks at it, thinking it's just another text from his friends or a notification from the team. But then he sees Jude's name, and his heart skips a beat.

I’m @ the airport. Surprise!!

Kylian freezes mid-set, his mind racing. The thought of Jude coming back early fills him with excitement, and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He immediately grabs his phone, fingers flying across the screen.

thought you had 2 more days!

I can go back????? Changed my mind. Missed you too much. Be home in a couple of hours. Wait for me?

Kylian laughs, shaking his head, his heart already pounding in anticipation. He throws his towel over his shoulder and heads straight for the locker room, barely able to focus on anything other than the fact that Jude is coming back earlier than expected.

He shoots a quick text to Brahim and Fede, telling them he’s heading out, and makes his way back home. His thoughts are consumed by the idea of finally seeing Jude, of holding him in his arms after what feels like forever.

When Kylian arrives home, he paces around for a few minutes, unsure of what to do with all the nervous energy buzzing in him. He finally decides to shower, getting himself ready to welcome Jude back, knowing he’s going to need all the patience he has not to rush to the airport the moment he hears Jude’s plane land.

“Hey,” Kylian breathes, the word coming out like a prayer as he takes in the sight of him. Before Jude can say anything, Kylian steps forward, pulling him into his arms, pressing their lips together in a kiss that’s both urgent and tender. He can feel the relief wash over him, the way his body instantly relaxes in Jude’s embrace.

“Embarrassing how much I missed you,” Kylian whispers against Jude’s lips, his hands roaming to pull him closer. Jude laughs softly, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Going soft in your old age?” he says, his smile wide. “Told you I’d be back sooner than you thought.”

Kylian just shakes his head, laughing, before kissing him again, this time more slowly, savoring the feeling of Jude back in his arms. It’s like everything’s right in the world again.

***

The tension in the room thickens, almost suffocating them both. What started as a small disagreement has now morphed into something more serious. The weight of unspoken emotions presses down on them, and the silence feels deafening.

Jude sits on the edge of the couch, his arms crossed tightly, his jaw set in frustration. His gaze flickers toward Kylian, who is standing by the door, avoiding eye contact. The distance between them isn’t just physical—it’s emotional, too. "I told you not to do it. You don’t tell me anything anymore. We had an agreement. We were supposed to deal with things about us, together. I don’t want you to hop on a plane and fly over to Paris to do god knows what for me." Jude says, his voice rising with the frustration he’s been holding in for days. “I get that you’re trying to protect me, but this... this isn’t working. It’s like you’ve shut me out completely. You don’t trust me enough to share what’s going on in your head. How can I help you if I don’t know what’s wrong?”

Kylian tenses, he hates these conversations, but he knows it’s inevitable. He’s been keeping everything bottled up, trying to carry the burden on his own. But Jude’s words cut deep, and Kylian’s quiet but firm as he speaks, the defensiveness creeping in. “I don’t want to drag you into my mess.”

Jude stands up from the couch, the words spilling out before he can stop them. “Your mess?! Your mess, huh? It’s about us! It’s not about you!” He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “You think that keeping things from me is for me ? That makes no sense, Kylian! I’m your partner. I’m supposed to be here for you. I want to help you, but I can’t do that if you’re just pushing me away. You’re acting like I can’t handle it, like I’m not strong enough to deal with it, but I’m here . I’m with you . But instead, you just... shut me out.”

Kylian feels the guilt settle heavily in his chest. His own words are stuck, but he knows Jude is right. He knows he’s been too closed off, too afraid of burdening him, and the weight of that realization hits him hard.

Jude’s voice cracks, raw with emotion, as he continues. “I’m not asking for a perfect version of you, Kylian. I’m asking for the real you. I’m asking for us to be in this together. But lately, it feels like I’m not enough. Like I’m not doing enough.” His chest rises and falls rapidly as his frustration boils over. “You won’t let me in. And I hate it. I hate feeling like I’m not enough for you.”

Kylian turns slowly, his heart hammering in his chest, guilt flooding through him. He can see the pain in Jude’s eyes, and it cuts him deeper than anything he’s ever felt before. “Jude, that’s not what it is. I don’t... I don’t want to hurt you. I just—I don’t want to drag you down with this. I’m dealing with it. I told you i’d deal with it. I promised you no one would know, didn’t I? You’ve got enough on your plate.”

Jude’s voice trembles with the weight of his hurt. “But I want to be there for you. I need to be there for you. I’m not asking for perfection. I just want to be part of your life, Kylian. I want you to trust me. You keep saying it’s about protecting me, but it feels like you don’t think I can handle it. You’re treating me like I’m fragile. But I’m not fragile, Kylian. I’m your partner. And I need you to trust me with everything. I need you to let me in.”

The silence stretches between them, unbearable, as Kylian’s eyes soften with regret. But the damage is already done. He can see it in Jude’s face—the raw hurt, the frustration. He wants to apologize, to fix it, but the words don’t come. Instead, Kylian just stands there, his chest tight, unsure of how to make it right.

Jude swallows hard, blinking away the tears that threaten to fall. He turns away from Kylian, taking a deep breath to steady himself. His voice is barely a whisper, thick with emotion. “I’m done. I can’t keep doing this, Kylian.”

Kylian’s heart lurches in his chest. “Jude—”

But Jude doesn’t let him finish. He grabs his jacket off the chair, zips it up quickly, his movements sharp and angry. He doesn't look at Kylian. “I need space. I can’t do this right now.”

Kylian reaches out a hand, but Jude pulls away, his chest tight with hurt. Without another word, Jude walks out the door, slamming it behind him. The sound echoes through the house, the finality of it cutting through Kylian like a knife.

He stands there, frozen, staring at the door, his heart aching. He wants to run after Jude, to beg him to stay, to apologize, but he knows Jude needs space. Needs time to process everything he’s just heard.

Kylian’s breath is shaky, his whole body feeling heavy with regret. He stares at the door, wondering if this time, the distance between them might be too much. He knows he’s messed up, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. Not right now.

He sinks down onto the couch, his hands gripping his head in frustration. He wants to scream, to punch the walls, to make everything right again, but nothing he does will bring Jude back at this moment. The one person who’s always been there for him—who’s always trusted him, even when he hadn’t deserved it—and he’s let him down.

Kylian runs a hand through his hair, the weight of it all pressing down on him. He doesn’t know how long he’ll have to wait for Jude to come back, if he ever will. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t.

But one thing’s certain: he’s afraid that this time, he might have lost him for good.

The next day, Kylian approaches him at training, hoping for a chance to make things right. He sees Jude by the sidelines, stretching with the team, his eyes focused, but there’s an obvious distance between them. Kylian takes a deep breath and steps forward, trying to steady his nerves.

"Jude," he calls softly, but when Jude looks at him, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes — maybe surprise, maybe a little sadness. Kylian feels his chest tighten.

Jude doesn’t look angry, but there’s a coldness to his gaze that Kylian hasn’t seen before. He stops in his tracks, unsure of what to say.

"I’m sorry," Kylian starts, his voice quieter now. "I know I messed up. I didn’t mean to shut you out."

Jude looks at him for a moment, then sighs, the weight of everything hanging in the air between them. He rubs his eyes tiredly before shaking his head. "I don’t want to fight," he says quietly, his voice calm but strained. "I just... I need some time, Kylian. I need to process things."

Kylian’s heart sinks, but he nods, understanding the pain in Jude’s voice. He wants to fix this, to make everything right, but he knows pushing Jude isn’t going to help.

"I get it," Kylian replies softly. "I’m here when you’re ready. I just want you to know that I’m sorry, and I want to make this work."

Jude meets his gaze, his expression softening, though there’s still a flicker of hurt in his eyes. "I know you do," he says, his voice quieter now. "I just need space to think. I don’t want to rush it."

Kylian takes a step back, trying to give him the space he needs, though his heart aches with the distance between them. "I’ll give you time. No pressure."

Jude nods, and for a moment, the tension in the air feels a little less heavy. He doesn’t smile, but the tightness in his shoulders seems to ease just slightly.

"I’ll talk to you later," Jude says quietly, before turning back to join the rest of the team, leaving Kylian standing there, feeling the weight of his words.

Kylian watches him walk away, and though the silence between them feels like a chasm, he knows Jude’s not rejecting him. He’s just hurt, and Kylian will have to prove to him, in his own time, that he can be trusted again.

As training goes on, Kylian’s focus is split. Every pass, every drill feels distant, and his thoughts keep drifting back to Jude. He wants to fix it, but for now, all he can do is wait.

Kylian sits across from his mother in their cozy living room, his hands clasped tightly together as he tries to hold back the flood of emotions. The argument with Jude has left him feeling empty, a gnawing sense of regret settling in his stomach. His mother, Fayza, sits on the couch across from him, watching him with a knowing gaze. She’s seen the signs before—Kylian’s tendency to bottle things up, to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders without letting anyone see how heavy it is.

"You were always going to reach this point, Kylian," Fayza says softly, her voice calm but full of understanding. "You’ve been carrying so much alone for so long, and now you’re seeing what happens when you don’t let people in."

Kylian lets out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his temples as if trying to push the thoughts away. "I know, Mom. I just—you know I can handle it. I don’t see the point in bringing him into this mess. The blackmailing, threats, everything.”

Fayza’s eyes soften, and she leans forward, placing a gentle hand on his. "Kylian, you’re not invincible, and it’s okay to not have all the answers or fix everything on your own. It’s okay to have needs. You don’t have to carry everything in silence. You think Jude doesn’t see that? He wants to help you, but you’ve never let him. Sweetheart, if he’s the right person, he will see you even more clearly. He’ll love you more for it. People don’t love you for being perfect, Kylian. They love you for being you—flaws, mistakes, everything. And Jude, he wants to be there for you. But you’ve got to let him in. You’ve got to trust him the way he’s trusted you."

Kylian swallows hard, the weight of her words sinking in. "I just don’t know how to do that.”

"I know, but vulnerability doesn’t make you weak, Kylian," Fayza says firmly. "It’s the opposite. It takes strength to admit you need someone, to open up when it’s easier to hide. But that’s how relationships grow. If you want to have a future with Jude, you need to let him in. You need to trust him with your pain, your fears, your doubts. You have to let him be your partner, not just your support."

Kylian’s mind races, the room feeling suddenly too small as he processes everything his mother is saying. He’s spent so long trying to protect everyone, trying to handle everything on his own, but he’s starting to realize just how much he’s been shutting out the one person who matters most.

"Do you think I can fix this?" Kylian asks quietly, looking at his mom with a mix of hope and guilt.

Fayza’s expression softens even more. "Of course you can, Kylian. But you’ve got to let yourself be human first. You’re not a machine. You don’t always have to be the one who’s strong. Jude doesn’t need you to be perfect. He needs you to be real."

Kylian nods slowly, a lump in his throat as he thinks of Jude—how much he loves him, how badly he wants to make things right. He knows this isn’t just about the fight; it’s about a deeper fear, one he’s carried for years—being vulnerable, being seen as anything less than the perfect image he’s built for himself.

"I’ll try, Mom. I don’t want to mess this up."

"You won’t," she assures him, squeezing his hand. "But you’ve got to let go of the need to control everything, Kylian. Let Jude in. He’ll be there for you, just like you’ve been there for him."

Kylian breathes in deeply, the weight on his chest lifting just a little as he absorbs his mother’s words. He knows he’s made mistakes, but he’s ready to make it right. For Jude. For them.

Chapter Text

The silence stretches on for nearly two weeks, and it’s driving Jude crazy. At first, he thought he needed the space. He told Kylian he needed time, and Kylian respected it, like he always does. But now, as the days drag on, Jude feels an ache building in his chest. They see each other at training, in meetings, during matches—but it’s just that. Professional. Polite. Distant.

It’s so unlike Kylian.

Jude catches himself glancing at him during drills, watching the way he moves, the way he laughs with teammates. But there’s no more private smiles, no stolen touches. Jude starts to wonder—what if Kylian gave up on them? What if this time he’d pushed too hard? His chest tightens at the thought.

He keeps telling himself to be patient, that Kylian’s giving him exactly what he asked for. But patience has never been Jude’s strong suit, especially when it comes to Kylian. The nights feel longer, colder without his texts, his calls, his steady presence.

By the time two weeks pass, Jude’s panic has fully set in. He’s trying to focus during tactical drills, but his mind keeps wandering. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take.

Later that day, as the players start packing up to leave, Jude sees Kylian standing by his locker. He’s talking to Luka, looking as calm and composed as ever, and Jude’s heart twists. Kylian looks fine. Like this hasn’t affected him at all.

The thought is unbearable.

Jude makes up his mind then and there. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t let the distance grow. He needs to know where they stand, even if the answer isn’t what he wants to hear.

He waits until Kylian is alone, grabbing his things and heading toward the door. Jude’s pulse races as he follows him out of the training facility, catching him in the hallway.

"Kylian."

Kylian turns, his face neutral, though his eyes soften just slightly when he sees Jude. "Hey."

It’s such a simple word, but it carries so much weight. Jude swallows hard, his heart pounding.

"Can we talk?" he asks, his voice quieter than he intended.

Kylian hesitates for a moment, then nods. "Of course."

They find a quiet corner, away from the bustle of the rest of the team. Jude takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

"Are we okay?" he blurts out, his voice cracking just a little. "Because… I feel like maybe you’re done with me. And I don’t—"

Kylian cuts him off gently. "Jude, stop. I’m not done with you. I could never be done with you."

The words hit Jude like a wave, and he lets out a shaky breath. "Then why… why haven’t you said anything? Why haven’t you tried to—"

"I promised I’d give you time," Kylian says softly, his gaze steady. "I didn’t want to push you. I thought that’s what you needed."

Jude feels a pang of guilt, his throat tightening. "I thought you didn’t care anymore. That you were giving up on us."

Kylian steps closer, his voice low but firm. "I could never give up on us. On you. I just didn’t want to make things worse. I thought I was doing the right thing by giving you space."

Jude looks up at him, his eyes searching Kylian’s face. "I don’t need space. I need you. I just… I hate that you feel like you can’t come to me when things are bad. I want to be there for you, Kylian. Like you’ve always been there for me."

Kylian’s expression softens, and he reaches out to gently cup Jude’s cheek. "I hear you. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t enough. That was never my intention."

Jude leans into the touch, his heart aching with relief and love. "Just… don’t shut me out anymore, okay? Even if it’s hard. Even if you think I can’t handle it."

Kylian nods, his thumb brushing lightly against Jude’s skin. "Okay. I promise."

For the first time in weeks, Jude feels like he can breathe again. Kylian pulls him into a tight hug, and Jude clings to him, burying his face in his shoulder.

"I missed you," Jude whispers.

"I missed you too," Kylian murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

They stay like that for a long time, holding on to each other as if to make up for all the time they’d spent apart.

“Take me home,” Jude whispers, his voice soft, barely audible over the sound of boots shuffling and voices echoing in the locker room.

Kylian looks up sharply, caught off guard by the sudden words. For a moment, he searches Jude’s face, trying to decipher the meaning behind them. His heart stutters when he realizes Jude isn’t asking for a ride. He’s asking to come back to their home. Without a word, Kylian stands, grabbing his things. His movements are swift but careful, as if any sudden action might break the fragile moment between them.

“Let’s go,” Kylian says simply, his tone steady but his eyes betraying the rush of emotions beneath the surface.

Jude nods, not saying anything more. He waits until they’re out of the training grounds, out of sight of anyone else, before he speaks again.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice trembling.

Kylian shakes his head, his hand finding Jude’s as they walk toward the car. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t apologize for feeling how you feel.”

They drive in silence, the kind that isn’t uncomfortable but loaded with unspoken words. When they finally step through the door of their shared home, Jude turns to face him, his eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“I just—I hated the silence. I thought... I thought I’d ruined everything.”

Kylian pulls him into a tight embrace, holding him like he never wants to let go. “Never. You didn’t ruin anything, Jude. I was giving you space because I thought you needed it. But I’ve been dying inside. I love you too much for this.”

Jude buries his face in Kylian’s neck, his voice muffled. “I love you too. I just... I need you to let me in. Let me help. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone.”

“I know,” Kylian whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of Jude’s head. “And I’m trying. I promise you, I’ll try harder. Just don’t leave me again.”

Jude pulls back, looking into Kylian’s eyes. “Then don’t shut me out.”

“I won’t.”

They stand there for a moment, holding onto each other like they’re the only solid things in the world. Kylian presses his forehead against Jude’s, his voice soft but resolute.

“We’re home.”

*

“You really got me scared,” Jude whispers, his voice thick with lingering emotion as they lie in bed later that night.

They’re facing each other, their bodies close, the space between them barely a few inches. The room is dimly lit, the faint glow of the moon streaming in through the curtains casting soft shadows on their faces. Jude’s fingers gently stroke Kylian’s cheek, his touch tender, as if grounding himself in the reality that Kylian is here, with him, and not lost to the distance they’d created.

Kylian turns his head into Jude’s touch, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. His lips linger there for a moment, as if trying to reassure Jude without words. He closes his eyes briefly, taking in the warmth of Jude’s hand, before meeting his gaze again.

“I’m sorry,” Kylian murmurs, his voice raw. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought I was protecting you.”

Jude’s thumb brushes over Kylian’s cheekbone, his eyes soft but firm. “I don’t need protecting, Ky. I need you. All of you. The good, the bad, the messy. You don’t have to handle everything on your own.”

“I know,” Kylian says, his voice almost a whisper, his eyes glistening under the faint light. “I’m learning. I promise I’ll do better.”

Jude leans in just a little, resting his forehead against Kylian’s. His voice is quiet, but it holds so much weight. “You don’t have to be perfect with me. I just want you to let me in.”

“I will,” Kylian breathes, the words heavy with sincerity. He reaches out, his hand resting on the back of Jude’s neck, his thumb brushing lightly against his skin. “Promise.”

For a moment, they stay like that, their breaths mingling, the world outside fading away. Then Kylian presses a soft kiss to Jude’s lips, his touch gentle but filled with so much love that Jude’s chest feels like it might burst.

“I love you,” Jude whispers as he pulls back, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling in him.

“I love you too,” Kylian replies, his hand still cradling Jude’s face. “More than anything.”

They fall asleep like that, holding each other close, the quiet comfort of their love wrapping around them like a shield from the rest of the world.

*

"Oh my god!" Brahim's scream echoes through the hotel room as he flings the door open, only to be greeted by the sight of Kylian lying on Jude's bed, shirtless and entirely too comfortable.

Jude jumps at the sound, nearly dropping the phone in his hand. "Brahim! What the hell, man, knock!"

Brahim's eyes are wide, darting between Jude, who is standing awkwardly in sweats, and Kylian, who is casually sprawled out on the bed in nothing but boxers, hands behind his head like he's on vacation.

"Don't ‘oh my god’ me!" Brahim snaps, pointing an accusatory finger at Kylian. "What are you even doing here? In his bed? Half-naked?  We're here to play Bayern, not to—"

"Calm down," Kylian interrupts smoothly, as if nothing about this situation is out of the ordinary. He doesn't even flinch, just tilts his head to smirk at Brahim. "It’s nothing you haven’t seen before."

Brahim looks genuinely offended, his hand clutching his chest dramatically. "Excuse me?! That’s not the point!" He turns to Jude now, his expression shifting to incredulous. "You let him creep into your room? Are you insane? Do you know how much trouble you could get into if anyone finds out? This isn’t just sneaking out for pizza—this is Mbappé sneaking into your room!"

Jude rubs his temples, clearly regretting every life decision that led to this moment. "keep your voice down! No one’s finding out because no one’s gonna hear you yell about it!"

Kylian chuckles, entirely too amused by the situation. "He’s got a point, you know," he says lazily, shooting Jude a wink.

"Don’t encourage him," Jude groans, grabbing a pillow off the couch and hurling it at Kylian. It lands with a soft thud against his chest, but Kylian doesn’t even budge, just grins wider.

Brahim looks like he's seconds away from combusting. "You guys are gonna get caught one day, and I am not going down with you! If anyone asks, I know nothing!"

"Relax, you freak," Kylian says, finally sitting up and swinging his legs off the bed. "We’re careful. No one’s finding out."

"Not with the way you’re lounging around like you own the place!" Brahim snaps.

Jude sighs, walking over to Brahim and gently pushing him toward the door. "Okay, drama queen, point made. Now go. We’ll see you at breakfast."

Brahim allows himself to be pushed out, but not before pointing a finger at both of them. "If you get caught, don’t say I didn’t warn you."

As soon as the door shuts, Jude turns back to Kylian, who’s grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"You’re gonna be the death of me," Jude mutters, grabbing his own pillow and flopping down on the bed.

Kylian leans over, pressing a kiss to Jude’s temple. "Worth it."

Jude throws a pillow at Kylian, though his aim is half-hearted. "You’re impossible," he mutters, burying his face in his hands to hide the growing smile tugging at his lips.

Kylian smirks, completely unbothered, as he casually shimmies out of his boxers and lets them drop to the floor. "What can I say? I just love to traumatize him," he teases, his voice low and playful as he climbs back onto the bed, crawling toward Jude like a predator closing in on its prey.

Jude groans, pretending to push him away but doing little to actually stop him. "You’re going to give him a heart attack one of these days."

"Good," Kylian replies, now hovering over Jude with that mischievous glint in his eyes. "Keeps things interesting."

Jude laughs despite himself, shaking his head. "You’re the worst."

Kylian leans down, brushing his lips against Jude’s in a soft, lingering kiss before whispering, "Maybe. But you love me anyway."

Jude raises an eyebrow, feigning exasperation. "Do I?"

Kylian doesn’t bother answering with words. Instead, he presses another kiss to Jude’s lips—deeper this time, more demanding—before murmuring against his mouth, "Another round?"

Jude bites his lip, glancing toward the door like someone might barge in at any moment. "We shouldn’t—," he says, but the way his hands slide up Kylian’s back betrays him.

"We shouldn’t." Kylian whispers with a grin, pulling the covers over them as the rest of the world fades away.

*

Jude sits at the dining table, his ipad open, lips pursed in concentration as he mutters under his breath.

“Je... suis... allé…” He pauses, his brow furrowed. “No, wait. Is it allé or allééé?”

Kylian leans against the doorway, arms crossed, a fond smile tugging at his lips. He’s been watching Jude for the past five minutes, completely unnoticed, and he swears it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.

“You know, you don’t have to add extra vowels just because it feels French,” Kylian teases, finally making his presence known.

Jude jumps slightly, his pen slipping from his fingers. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” he protests, his cheeks turning pink.

“Sorry, sorry,” Kylian says, though his grin suggests he’s anything but. He walks over and picks up the pen, setting it back in Jude’s hand. “What are you working on, mon étudiant?”

“I’m trying to figure out past tense,” Jude says, sighing dramatically. “Do you know how complicated your language is? Why does every verb have to have like a million rules? And why are there so many exceptions ?”

Kylian chuckles, pulling out the chair beside Jude and sitting down. “It’s not that bad. You just need a good teacher.”

“Is that you volunteering?” Jude raises an eyebrow, his tone playful but with a hint of challenge.

Kylian leans in, his face close to Jude’s. “Depends. How much are you willing to pay?”

Jude rolls his eyes but can’t stop himself from smiling. “Right, because you’re really struggling to make rent, aren’t you?”

Kylian laughs, reaching out to gently ruffle Jude’s hair. “Okay, let’s hear it. What are you trying to say?”

Jude hesitates, glancing down at his notebook before meeting Kylian’s gaze. “I was trying to say... I went to Paris. Je suis allé à Paris ... right?”

“Perfect,” Kylian says, nodding with approval.

Jude beams, but then his smile falters. “But why ‘suis’ and not ‘ai’? And why does allé change if I’m talking about someone else?”

“Because French is complicated and beautiful, just like me,” Kylian replies with a wink.

Jude groans, burying his face in his hands. “I hate you.”

“And yet, here you are, learning my language,” Kylian says softly, reaching out to pull Jude’s hands away from his face. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Jude’s cheeks flush again, but this time it’s not from embarrassment. “Yeah, well,” he mumbles, looking down at his notebook. “I figured if I’m gonna stick around, I might as well make an effort, right?”

Kylian leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Jude’s temple. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Don’t distract me,” Jude says, though his voice is softer now, his lips twitching with a smile.

Kylian chuckles and leans back in his chair. “Fine. But I’m staying here to supervise. Can’t have you butchering my beautiful language when you’re out in public.”

Jude rolls his eyes again, but the warmth in his chest tells him he wouldn’t want Kylian anywhere else.

Kylian watches as Jude bites his lip in concentration, his pen tapping rhythmically against the edge of his notebook. He’s scribbled the same sentence three times, each with a slightly different variation, and he still looks completely unsure.

“Why does this one have an extra ‘e’?” Jude asks, pointing at one of his attempts.

Kylian leans over, glancing at the page. “Because the subject is feminine. If you’re talking about your mom, for example, you’d write it like that.”

Jude frowns. “So... if I wanted to say, ‘My mom went to Paris,’ I’d say Ma mère est allée à Paris ?”

“Exactly.”

“But what if my dad went instead? Does the ‘e’ disappear?” Jude’s brow furrows deeply, his frustration evident.

Kylian can’t help the grin spreading across his face. He loves this side of Jude—the determined, slightly stubborn perfectionist who won’t let something go until he gets it right.

“Yeah, the ‘e’ disappears for your dad,” Kylian says patiently, though the way his gaze lingers on Jude’s lips is anything but focused.

Jude groans, flopping back in his chair dramatically. “This is impossible. Why can’t French just be... easier?”

Kylian chuckles, reaching out to brush a hand over Jude’s curls. “It’s not impossible. You’re doing great.”

“Liar,” Jude mutters, though the corners of his mouth tug upward at the praise.

“I’m serious,” Kylian says, his tone softening. “Do you know how cute you look when you’re concentrating this hard?”

Jude flushes immediately, narrowing his eyes at Kylian. “You’re supposed to be helping, not flirting.”

“I can do both,” Kylian says with a shrug, leaning closer so their shoulders are almost touching. “Okay, let’s try another one. How would you say, ‘I stayed in Madrid’?”

“Uh... Je suis resté à Madrid ?” Jude says tentatively.

“Perfect,” Kylian says, giving his shoulder a light squeeze.

Jude beams, and Kylian’s chest tightens. He’s so used to seeing Jude confident and sure of himself, whether on the pitch or off. Seeing him like this—vulnerable, open, and eager to learn—makes Kylian want to wrap him up in his arms and never let go.

“You’re so cute.”Kylian murmurs.

Jude glances at him, his cheeks still pink. “Stop distracting me.”

“I’m just saying.” Kylian grins, leaning back and crossing his arms. “You’re doing all this just so you can talk to my people. That’s pretty amazing.”

Jude huffs, though his smile gives him away. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. If they make fun of me, I’m never speaking French again.”

“They gonna to love it,” Kylian says confidently. “And so do I.”

Jude rolls his eyes, but Kylian notices the way his shoulders relax, the tension easing out of his posture.

“All right,” Jude says, straightening in his chair. “Next sentence. Hit me with your best shot.”

Kylian smirks, leaning in close. “ Tu es parfait, et je t’aime. ”

Jude blinks at him, suspicious. “That’s not a practice sentence, is it?”

“Nope,” Kylian says with a cheeky grin.

Jude shakes his head, but the warmth in his eyes betrays him. “Idiot.”

“Your idiot,” Kylian says, stealing a quick kiss before Jude can protest.

Kylian returns to the table with a steaming cup of tea for Jude and a coffee for himself. Setting them down, he slides into the chair beside Jude, who’s already poring over his notebook, muttering French phrases under his breath.

“You’ll overheat your brain at this rate,” Kylian teases, leaning down to kiss the top of Jude’s head.

Jude huffs but doesn’t look up. “I need to get this right. Your mom’s going to grill me next time, I can feel it.”

Kylian chuckles, sliding a hand onto Jude’s shoulder. “She won’t. She’s just impressed you’re even trying.”

Jude finally glances up, giving Kylian a small, grateful smile. “Still. I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

“Impossible,” Kylian says with a grin, pulling Jude’s chair slightly closer to his own.

They dive back into the lesson, Jude practicing sentences while Kylian gently corrects his pronunciation. But after about twenty minutes, Jude groans and throws his pen onto the table, twisting in his chair to face Kylian.

“This is too hard,” Jude says, his tone half-complaint, half-defeat. “You’re the worst teacher.”

“Am I?” Kylian raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Or are you just the worst student?”

Jude glares at him, but there’s no heat behind it. Instead, he suddenly stands up, turns, and plants himself right in Kylian’s lap.

“Oh, this is new,” Kylian says, his hands instinctively settling on Jude’s hips.

“Shut up,” Jude mutters, grabbing his notebook and flipping to the last page they were working on. “You’re going to help me with these verbs, and I’m not moving until I understand them.”

Kylian grins, his arms wrapping securely around Jude’s waist. “Well, this might be the most effective teaching method I’ve ever used.”

“Just focus,” Jude says, though the blush creeping up his neck betrays him.

With Jude perched comfortably on his lap, Kylian leans his chin on Jude’s shoulder, pointing to a line in the notebook. “Okay, repeat after me: Je suis allé —‘I went.’”

“ Je suis allé ,” Jude says carefully, his accent making Kylian bite his lip to hold back a laugh.

“Good,” Kylian says softly. “Now say, ‘We went.’”

“ Nous sommes allés ?” Jude guesses.

Kylian’s arms tighten around him in approval. “See? You’re getting it.”

Jude leans back slightly, his head brushing against Kylian’s. “Yeah, but only because you’re literally holding me hostage.”

“Hostage?” Kylian smirks, pressing a quick kiss to Jude’s neck. “Feels more like a reward to me.”

Jude snorts, but he doesn’t move, letting Kylian guide him through the next set of phrases.

By the time they finish, Jude’s tea has gone cold, Kylian’s coffee is forgotten, and their lesson has turned into quiet whispers and stolen kisses. Jude tilts his head to glance at Kylian, a smile tugging at his lips.

“You know,” Jude says, closing the notebook, “this might be my favorite way to learn.”

“I told you I was a good teacher,” Kylian murmurs, his eyes crinkling with affection.

Jude rolls his eyes but kisses him anyway. And he doesn’t protest when Kylian scoops him up effortlessly, cradling him in his arms as if he weighs nothing. He lets out a soft laugh, more from surprise than anything else, as Kylian carries him to their bed.

“You’re not tired,” Jude teases, his voice a little breathless as he rests his head against Kylian’s shoulder.

Kylian smiles, a small, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not as tired as you,” he says, his voice warm and steady.

Jude could argue, but he doesn’t. The exhaustion from a long day seems to melt away the moment Kylian’s hands gently pull at his clothes, helping him out of his shirt and shorts. The soft caress of Kylian’s fingers on his skin makes his breath hitch in his throat, and he looks up at him, a little dazed.

“You’re so fucking good to me,” Jude murmurs, his voice thick with affection.

Kylian doesn’t answer, only brushes his lips over Jude’s forehead, then kisses him gently, almost reverently. He moves slowly, as if savoring the moment, his lips trailing down Jude’s neck, then back up to his mouth. The kiss deepens, and Jude melts into it, his body relaxing completely against Kylian’s.

Kylian doesn’t rush. He strips away the last layers of clothing, kissing Jude between each movement, as if the act itself is a way of showing how much he cares. When Jude is completely bare, Kylian leans back to look at him, his expression tender.

“you okay?” Kylian asks, his voice soft, his hands resting gently on Jude’s waist.

Jude nods, reaching up to tug Kylian back down to him. “I’m more than okay,” he whispers, his arms wrapping around Kylian’s neck as he pulls him in for another kiss.

Kylian gives a small laugh, a sound that makes Jude’s heart swell. “Good,” he murmurs before kissing him again, a slow, sweet kiss that makes everything outside of their little bubble disappear.

Kylian settles beside Jude, tucking him close, the soft, steady rhythm of their breathing fills the silence, and Jude finally allows himself to fully relax. And when he falls asleep, it’s in Kylian’s arms, the last kiss of the night lingering on his lips as the world fades away.

Chapter Text

WARNING: ⚠️ INJURY ⚠️ 

The match against Barcelona is intense, like always. The rivalry between the two teams charges the air, each player giving everything they have. The referee’s whistle is working overtime as yellow cards fly, tempers flaring on both sides. Jude is already on edge, the game’s heated atmosphere doing nothing to calm the unease brewing in his stomach.

It happens so fast. Too fast.

Luka sends a long ball into the box, and Kylian rises for it—a perfect leap, ready to connect with the ball. But then, Araujo jumps too, and they collide mid-air with a sickening crunch that Jude swears he can hear from across the pitch.

Kylian’s body goes limp, crumpling to the ground in an unnatural, terrifying way.

For a split second, the entire stadium falls silent. Jude feels like the floor has been ripped out from under him. His breath catches in his throat, his chest tightening so hard he can’t breathe. It’s as if time stops, but the next moment, sound comes rushing back—the roar of the crowd, players shouting, the referee’s whistle blowing urgently, medics sprinting onto the pitch.

Kylian isn’t moving.

Jude’s legs feel like jelly, but he forces himself forward, eyes locked on Kylian’s still form. His ears ring, his vision tunnels, he can’t think straight, can’t focus.

“Kylian,” he whispers, but his voice doesn’t carry. His knees feel weak.

Around him, chaos unfolds. Players from both teams rush to form a shield around Kylian, blocking the cameras. Vinícius kneels beside him, shouting at the medics to hurry. Araujo looks shaken, apologizing to no one in particular. Jude stops dead in his tracks, his heart thundering so loud he thinks it might burst.

“Jude!” Cama’s voice snaps him out of it.

He turns, holding tears from streaming down his face as he stumbles toward the opposite way to Lunin, his legs giving out halfway there. Lunin catches sight of him and moves to help, but Jude can’t hold it together.

“Jude, calm down!” Cama shouts as he catches up to him. His hands grip Jude’s shoulders, trying to steady him. “You have to calm down. The whole world is watching right now!”

Jude shoves him away, shaking his head, gasping for air through broken sobs. “Don’t touch me!” he chokes out, his voice raw. His body collapses onto the pitch, his hands clutching at the grass as he tries to ground himself, but the panic won’t stop.

He looks back toward the medics, who are now surrounding Kylian, strapping his head in place as they prepare to move him onto a stretcher.

Jude’s heart shatters at the sight.

He can’t stay still any longer. Ignoring everyone around him, he tries to get to his feet, stumbling forward before a strong hand catches him.

“Jude, stop,” Aurel says, his voice firm but gentle. “They’re taking care of him. You can’t help him like this.”

Jude doesn’t respond. He just stares at Kylian, his body shaking. Please be okay. Please, Kylian, please.

The players stay huddled around Kylian, their bodies forming a protective wall as the medics work quickly. No one dares to break formation, even as the whistles blow and the crowd buzzes with confusion and fear. Jude can’t see much through the barrier of teammates, but he catches glimpses—Kylian’s arm limp at his side, the medics calling instructions.

Jude’s legs feel like they’re going to give out again, but he forces himself forward. As the medics lift Kylian onto the stretcher, the team begins escorting him toward the tunnel. Jude pushes past Vini, his vision blurred with tears, desperate to get closer.

“Kylian,” he whispers, his voice trembling. He barely recognizes it as his own.

One of the medics moves to block his way, but Jude doesn’t care. He ducks under their arm, his hand reaching out. His fingers find Kylian’s, cold and lifeless against his own trembling grip. For a brief moment, the world stills.

“I’m here,” Jude murmurs, squeezing Kylian’s hand as though sheer force of will could bring him back to consciousness. “I’m here, Kylian. Please...”

But the medics are moving too fast, rushing Kylian toward the tunnel. Jude holds on as long as he can, his heart shattering when their hands slip apart.

Vini catches up to him, gripping his shoulder. “Jude, let them do their job. You can’t go with him.”

Jude turns, his face a mix of anger and despair. “I can’t—Vini, I can’t just—”

“I know, but you have to trust them.”

Jude nods, but his body doesn’t stop trembling. He watches as the medics and staff disappear into the tunnel with Kylian, the players still shielding him until the very last moment. And then he’s gone.

Jude’s breathing is ragged as he stares at the empty tunnel where Kylian has disappeared. But then his gaze shifts, locking onto Araújo, who is standing in the middle of the pitch, looking shaken but unharmed.

And something inside Jude snaps.

Before he knows what he’s doing, his legs carry him forward in a blind sprint toward him. His vision tunnels, and for a brief moment, rage overwhelms him. He doesn’t even know what he’s going to do when he gets there—shove him? Punch him? He doesn’t care. All he can think about is Kylian lying motionless on the ground.

Players from both teams notice him too late. Jude is almost there when a blur of bodies intercepts him, grabbing him by the arms and holding him back.

“Jude! Stop!” Cama is yelling in his ear, his grip iron-strong. “Don’t do this!”

“It’s not his fault!” Aurelien shouts as he and Rüdiger wrestle Jude backward. “Don’t be stupid!”

Jude fights against them, his chest heaving, his mind clouded by anger and panic. “He did this!” he screams, his voice hoarse. “It’s his fault—he—”

“It was an accident!” Modric’s scream cuts through the chaos. “You know that, Jude. You know that!”

Jude’s knees buckle, and he sags against Aurelien and Rüdiger, who ease their grip but don’t let him go. He stares at Araújo, who stands frozen in place, his expression a mix of guilt and shock.

“He didn’t mean to,” Vini says softly, stepping in front of Jude, his eyes full of understanding. “He didn’t mean to, Jude. Let it go.”

Jude’s chest heaves, his breath coming in uneven gasps. Slowly, the fight leaves his body, replaced by a deep, crushing despair. “I—I can’t,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

“You can,” Cama says quietly, his hand steady on Jude’s shoulder. “For Kylian, you can.”

Jude closes his eyes, trembling. He doesn’t resist as they guide him away, back toward the sidelines, his legs moving mechanically beneath him. But he can’t stop the tears streaming down his face, nor the helpless fury still burning in his chest.

The referee doesn’t hesitate. The moment Jude lunges toward Araújo and chaos erupts, the red card is already out of his pocket. Jude barely notices as the official waves it at him, his entire world still consumed by fury and panic.

“Jude Bellingham, red card!” the stadium announcer echoes over the loudspeakers, but the words don’t register in Jude’s head.

It isn’t until Davide Ancelotti and the staff rush to him that Jude begins to snap out of it.

“Jude!” Davide barks, grabbing his arm firmly. “You’re out. Come on, we’re going inside. Right now!”

Jude tries to pull away, his eyes still locked on Araújo. “He—”

“No!” Davide cuts him off sharply, his voice leaving no room for argument. “This stops here. You’re going inside now, or you’ll regret it later.”

Camavinga and Rüdiger are still holding him, their grips steady as they try to calm him down. Davide waves them off and, along with one of the other staff members, begins steering Jude toward the tunnel.

Jude’s steps are unsteady, his entire body trembling with the adrenaline and emotion coursing through him. He is still muttering under his breath, his words incoherent, as the crowd roars and cameras follow his every move.

“Keep your head down,” one of the staff whispers to him. “Don’t give them anything else to talk about. This is so unprofessional.”

Jude doesn’t respond. His face is pale, and his eyes burn with unshed tears as they usher him inside the tunnel.

Once they are out of sight of the cameras, Jude lets out a strangled sound and punches the wall. The sharp pain jolts through him, but it doesn’t help. Nothing can.

Davide puts a hand on his shoulder, his tone softening. “Jude, listen to me. You can’t help him if you lose control like this. Go shower, calm down, and wait for news. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Jude can barely think as he storms through the stadium corridors, his boots echoing against the cold concrete floor. His chest feels tight, and every breath comes shallow and sharp. He hates the way Davide had spoken to him, hates how nobody understands what Kylian means to him.

Nobody knows.

Nobody knows that Kylian is more than his teammate. He spots a medic near the entrance to the tunnel, and without thinking, he sprints over. “Where is he?” Jude demands, his voice shaky but determined. “Where did they take him?”

The medic blinks, startled by Jude’s desperation. “He’s been taken to the hospital,” the medic explains, naming a nearby facility. “The ambulance just left—”

That’s all Jude needs to hear. He doesn’t wait for the medic to finish before he’s pulling out his phone, his hands trembling as he texts his driver.

He can’t stay here. Not in this suffocating place with the noise of the crowd, the cameras, the clueless questions. He doesn’t care about his red card or the fallout that’s sure to follow. He doesn’t care about anything except Kylian.

His phone buzzes with a reply—his driver is on the way. Jude doesn’t waste a second. He grabs his bag from the locker room and storms toward the exit, ignoring the bewildered looks from staff and teammates he passes.

“Jude, where are you going?” someone calls after him, but he doesn’t even turn around.

He has to be with Kylian. Nothing else matters.

Jude rushes through the hospital’s entrance, heart pounding in his chest, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The place feels sterile and overwhelming, the white walls, the cold air, the constant beeping of machines—it’s all a blur. He’s barely aware of the staff around him, barely notices the other players in the waiting area from Real Madrid, all talking in low, hushed voices.

But then, he sees her.

Denise is sitting near the entrance, looking worn but resolute. She stands as soon as she spots him, her face softening in concern. Before he can say anything, she’s already pulling him into her arms. Jude crumbles into her, his body shaking as the full weight of everything hits him.

“Jude, sweetheart…” Denise’s voice is warm but thick with emotion as she holds him tight, her hand stroking his back. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here, you’re here. He’s strong, okay?”

But Jude can’t hear the reassurance. His mind is still spinning with the image of Kylian on the ground, the sound of his skull hitting the turf, and the look on his face. Jude’s throat tightens, and he clings to Denise harder.

“He’s in good hands, sweetheart. His family is on their way, they’ll be here soon. He’s a fighter, you know that. He’s going to pull through.”

Jude nods but doesn’t respond. His thoughts keep drifting to Kylian, to what might be happening to him right now.

Denise seems to understand, her hands cupping his face gently. “I know it’s hard, baby, but you have to stay strong right now. For him. He’s going to need you.”

Jude swallows hard, nodding, though his chest feels like it might explode from the pressure building inside.

And all he can think is that he needs Kylian. He needs him to be okay.

Jude knows Kylian is strong. He knows he’s a fighter. But hearing head trauma is like a dagger in his chest. It’s the first time Jude truly feels the weight of his helplessness. He can’t do anything. He couldn’t stop it from happening. He couldn’t protect Kylian. He couldn’t—

His hands ball into fists, trembling slightly as his nails dig into his palms. He stares at the floor, the sterile white tiles blurring beneath his tears. He can’t forgive himself. He was right there. He watched Kylian slip away, and he couldn’t do a damn thing.

Denise notices the change in him, the tension rippling through his body. “Jude,” she says softly, leaning closer. “You need to breathe, sweetheart. You need to take care of yourself too.”

“Yeah.”

Denise watches her son with quiet pride, her chest tight with emotion. Jude, despite the storm raging inside him, is a pillar of strength for everyone around him. She sees the way he speaks softly to Fayza, offering reassurance even when his voice wavers. The way he listens intently to Wilfried’s concerns, nodding with understanding, even though she knows his own mind is a chaotic mess of worry. But most of all, Denise sees how Jude never leaves Ethan’s side.

Ethan is sitting in one of the hospital chairs, his young face pale and drawn, his eyes darting nervously around the room. Jude kneels beside him, speaking to him in a low, steady tone, asking about school, about football, about anything to distract him. Ethan responds haltingly at first, but Jude keeps at it, his hand on Ethan’s shoulder, grounding him.

Jude pulls him into a tight hug, his chin resting on the top of Ethan’s head. “It’s okay,” Jude murmurs, rubbing slow circles on his back. “He’s going to be okay, Ethan. He’s the strongest person I know. And we’re here—we’ve got him. We’ve got you.”

Ethan clings to him and Jude holds him like a protective older brother, whispering reassurances until Ethan calms down.

Later, when Fayza quietly thanks Jude for taking care of Ethan, he shakes his head. “I’m just doing what Kylian would do for Jobe,” he says softly.

Denise steps away for a moment, taking in the scene—Jude sitting beside Ethan, still holding his hand, while Fayza and Wilfried talk in hushed tones nearby. Jude looks up and catches her gaze, giving her a small, tired smile. She returns it, her heart swelling with love and pride. Her son is broken inside, but he’s standing tall for the people who need him. And she’s never been prouder.

The doctor’s expression is calm, reassuring. “He’s stable,” he announces, and it feels like the air rushes back into the room. Fayza lets out a shaky sob, her hands clasping together in prayer, while Wilfried exhales deeply, his eyes closing.

Jude tightens his grip on Ethan as the doctor continues. “We’ve done all the necessary scans. There’s no permanent damage. His body just needs rest and time to heal. Now, we wait for him to wake up.”

Jude feels the weight on his chest lift slightly, but it’s still there, lingering. He keeps replaying the moment over and over in his head—the collision, the fall, the stillness of Kylian’s body on the pitch.

Fayza reaches for Jude’s hand. “You hear that?” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “He’s going to be okay.”

Jude nods, but his throat is too tight to speak. He just keeps holding Ethan, keeping the boy steady while he tries to steady himself.

For now, all they can do is wait.

Kylian’s room is quiet, save for the steady beep of the heart monitor and the soft rustle of the nurses coming and going. Jude has barely left his side since the accident—he’s been here for hours, not caring about the world outside the sterile white walls of the hospital.

Kylian’s face is slightly swollen, the bandages around his head a stark reminder of how close Jude came to losing him. But when Jude looks at him, even with the bruising and the bandage, he can still see the boy he fell in love with—the one who smiles that little half-smile, the one whose laugh lights up a room, the one who still has so much fight left in him.

Jude can’t stop holding onto him, can’t stop kissing his fingers, or pressing his lips against Kylian’s knuckles like a prayer. Every kiss is a vow to himself, a promise that he won’t leave him. His heart aches in his chest, but it’s full too—full of love, full of hope.

He pulls a chair closer to Kylian’s bed, sitting behind it, his legs brushing against the bed as he watches over him, not caring about the passing hours. He whispers to him, even if Kylian can’t hear, hoping that his voice will reach through the haze of whatever pain medications they’ve given him.

At some point, exhaustion catches up with him. His body is sore, his eyes heavy, but he doesn’t move. He rests his head on Kylian’s leg, still holding onto his hand as he drifts off to sleep.

His breathing evens out, though his grip never loosens. In the stillness of the room, it’s as though he’s holding onto the only thing that matters. His chest rises and falls with each deep breath, fingers tangled with Kylian’s, and for a moment, Jude allows himself to just breathe and be. No fear, no panic, just Kylian’s warmth beside him.

He doesn’t care that someone might see. He doesn’t care about the world or the press or anything outside this room. All that matters is Kylian waking up.

And when Kylian does finally stir, his fingers twitch ever so slightly in Jude’s hand, Jude’s heart leaps in his chest. He’s awake. He’s here.

"Hey, baby..." Jude whispers, his voice thick with emotion as he lifts his head from Kylian’s leg. He leans over, pressing a gentle kiss to Kylian’s forehead, brushing away a strand of hair. "Welcome back."

Jude doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath until Kylian stirs slightly, his fingers twitching in Jude’s hand. His heart races, panic and relief flooding him all at once. It’s the first sign of movement, the first sign that Kylian is still with him, still here.

He lifts his head from Kylian’s leg, his neck sore from the awkward position, but the pain is nothing compared to the overwhelming feeling of seeing Kylian’s eyes flutter open. His dark irises is still there, still the same, though his face is slightly swollen from the impact. Kylian blinks a few times, clearly trying to adjust to the dim light of the hospital room, before his gaze finally lands on Jude.

Jude’s breath catches in his throat. His chest aches with a mixture of relief, worry, and love. He doesn’t care that his eyes are full of tears—he lets them fall freely, not bothering to hide how emotional he is.

Kylian, ever the one to lighten the mood, cracks a smile—slow, but still unmistakable. “This... heaven?” he asks, his voice rough and groggy from the medication, but the teasing tone is unmistakable.

Jude laughs through the sobs, his shoulders shaking as he leans forward to press a soft kiss against Kylian’s forehead. He can’t believe it—Kylian’s flirting again, just after everything that’s happened. It’s so like him, and it makes Jude’s heart swell in his chest.

“You’re unbelievable,” Jude whispers through his laughter, wiping his eyes as he smiles down at Kylian, trying to steady his breath. “You nearly died, and you’re still trying to flirt with me.”

Kylian lets out a low chuckle, wincing slightly at the movement but still managing to make Jude’s heart flutter. "Well," he rasps, his voice thick with exhaustion and amusement, “figured if I’m in heaven, might as well make the most of it."

Jude shakes his head, unable to help the mixture of relief and affection flooding him. “You really scared me, Kylian,” he says softly, his hand still gripping Kylian’s. He brushes his thumb over Kylian’s knuckles, like he’s trying to reassure himself that he’s truly here, truly awake. “You have no idea how much I thought I was going to lose you.”

Kylian’s smile fades a little as he watches Jude, his expression softening with concern. His hand moves weakly, but enough to cup Jude’s cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “not going anywhere, baby,” Kylian whispers, his voice low and comforting despite the pain still evident in his eyes.

For a long moment, they just sit there in the quiet, both of them lost in the simple comfort of being together again, after the fear and the panic, the uncertainty of the last hours.

Jude brushes his fingers over Kylian’s hand again, his heart still racing but more at peace now. He knows Kylian’s not going anywhere. And for now, that’s enough.

*

The injury shifts a lot of things for Jude. It’s not something they talk about outright, but it lingers in the air like an unspoken truth. Being home with Kylian during his recovery opens Jude’s eyes to the reality of what he wants, what he’s ready for.

Kylian’s benched for at least 3 weeks. Three weeks of restless energy that has to be funneled somewhere. Jude takes it upon himself to help keep Kylian busy, though it’s not easy. He encourages Kylian to read, to learn new things, to let his body rest and heal. They do puzzles together, watch films, cook meals that neither of them are particularly good at. It’s Jude who insists Kylian wear the brace properly, Jude who keeps his pain meds on schedule.

Every time Jude catches him staring longingly at his boots or scrolling through old match highlights, Jude does something to pull him back to the present—offering a cup of tea, starting a playful argument about which film to watch next, or distracting him with kisses until Kylian gives in and smiles.

And yet, despite everything they do together, despite how close they are in these moments, there’s a growing storm inside Jude. Every waking moment, every quiet night before they fall asleep, he can’t stop thinking.

He doesn’t care if people know.

No, that’s not it. He wants people to know.

Jude lies awake some nights, listening to Kylian’s soft breathing, and all he can think about is how much he loves him. How he doesn’t want to waste another second hiding the best thing in his life just because the world isn’t ready. He wants to hold Kylian’s hand in public. To kiss him after matches. To sit next to him at dinners and not care if anyone stares. He wants the whole world to know they belong to each other.

The thought grows louder every day. It’s no longer about protecting themselves from scrutiny or closed-minded assholes. It’s about them. About what they deserve.

One evening, as Kylian sits on the couch, legs propped up and concentration furrowed into his brows as he works on a crossword puzzle Jude brought home, Jude feels it hit him harder than ever. He watches the way Kylian taps his pen against his lip, the way he pauses to glance at Jude with a small smile. It’s a mundane moment, but it feels monumental.

“I love you,” Jude blurts out.

Kylian looks up, startled but amused. “I love you too?”

“No,” Jude says, shaking his head. “I mean—I love you. And I want… I don’t want to hide anymore. I don’t want to waste time pretending you’re not the best thing in my life.”

Kylian lowers the crossword and leans forward slightly, his smile softer now. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I want people to know. About us.” Jude’s voice shakes, but his determination doesn’t waver. “I want to tell them. Everyone. Because I love you, Kylian. And I want them to know you’re mine, just like I’m yours.”

Kylian’s radiant smile softens into something more thoughtful. He tightens his grip on Jude’s hand, his thumb brushing over his knuckles. “We’ll talk about it,” he says gently, his voice steady and calm. “Let’s not rush this, okay? It’s a big step.”

Jude blinks, his chest tightening. “I’m not rushing—”

“I know, I know,” Kylian interrupts quickly, leaning forward, his eyes sincere. “I love that you’re ready. I love that you want this. But we need to be smart about it.”

Jude frowns, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He hates the idea of waiting, but he knows Kylian has a point. “Smart how?”

“Maybe we tell the club first,” Kylian suggests. “Let PR help us. If we’re going to do this, we need to make sure we’re prepared. Together. For everything that comes after.”

Jude sighs, slumping back on the couch, but he doesn’t let go of Kylian’s hand. “I hate that we even have to think about it like this.”

“I know,” Kylian says, his voice laced with understanding. “But I want to protect you. Us. I don’t want anything to ruin this.” He leans closer, his free hand reaching up to gently cradle Jude’s face. “We’ll do it, mon cœur. When the time is right. When it feels right. Just not yet.”

Jude studies him for a moment, the frustration in his chest warring with the love in Kylian’s eyes. Finally, he sighs and nods. “Okay. But we’re not waiting forever. I mean it.”

Kylian smiles, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Jude’s forehead. “We won’t. I promise.”

For now, that promise is enough. They’ll tell the club. They’ll let PR lead the way. And when the time comes, Jude knows they’ll face the world together, stronger than ever.

*

The morning sun filters through the windows as Kylian pulls the car into gear, the soft hum of the engine filling the quiet streets. Jude sits in the passenger seat, watching the world go by, but his gaze keeps drifting to Kylian. There’s something about this moment—simple, ordinary, yet comforting. Kylian’s presence next to him, hands steady on the wheel, brings a sense of calm Jude hadn’t felt in weeks.

The past few days had been heavy, filled with anxiety and sleepless nights. But today, with Kylian driving him to training, things feel a little lighter. Kylian glances over, catching Jude’s gaze, and offers a small smile.

“Feeling better?” Kylian asks, his voice soft but filled with warmth.

Jude nods, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah… I think so.”

Kylian reaches over briefly, squeezing Jude’s hand before returning it to the wheel. “Good. You’ve been carrying too much. It’s time to let some of it go.”

Jude lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The road ahead feels less daunting, and for the first time in weeks, he starts to believe that maybe things will be okay.

When they reach the training facility, Kylian parks and leans over, pressing a quick kiss to Jude’s temple. “Go kill it today.”

Jude grins. “I’ll try. You?”

“I’ve got a meeting with the staff. Sorting out the details for my return.”

Jude’s smile widens, a spark of excitement in his eyes. “Less than two weeks.”

“Yeah,” Kylian says with a nod, the determination in his voice unmistakable. “I’m ready.”

As Jude steps out of the car and walks toward the building, he feels a weight lifting off his shoulders. He glances back one more time, watching Kylian drive away, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the future doesn’t seem so uncertain.

Everything is going to be okay.

The training facility is buzzing with the usual morning energy. Jude sits at the table, finishing off his breakfast—scrambled eggs and toast. Fede and Brahim are with him, laughing over some joke Brahim made about the game last weekend. For the first time in days, Jude feels normal. Like the weight of the world isn’t pressing down on him.

“I’m telling you,” Fede grins, “if you make that run behind the defender earlier, Brahim’s cross would have been perfect.”

Brahim shakes his head, mock-offended. “Excuse me? That cross was perfect. Jude’s the one who was late.”

Jude chuckles. “I wasn’t late. You just didn’t see the defender cutting across.”

Fede and Brahim continue their friendly argument as they get up to grab more coffee, leaving Jude alone at the table. He sighs softly and picks up his phone, scrolling through the usual feed—match highlights, news updates, and a few fan posts.

The chair beside him scrapes the floor. He glances up to see Dani Ceballos sitting down with his breakfast plate, calm and casual.

“Morning,” Jude says absently, his focus drifting back to his phone.

Dani gives a small nod, cutting into his food. “Morning.”

For a few seconds, there’s just the clatter of forks and plates around the room. Jude barely notices when Dani speaks again, his voice low, almost conspiratorial.

“So… you and Kylian, huh?”

Jude freezes.

His hand tightens around his phone, fingers gripping it a little too hard. He slowly lifts his gaze from the screen, heart thudding in his chest. “What?” he asks, his voice quieter than he intended.

Dani glances around, then leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “Relax. It’s not a big deal. Just… people are talking.”

Jude’s stomach drops. People are talking.

“What people?” Jude’s voice is tight, cautious, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably.

Dani shrugs, taking another bite of his food. “Around. You know how it is. Guys notice things. How you and Kylian… are close.”

Jude’s mind races. He can feel his pulse pounding in his ears. “We’re teammates. We play together,” he says, trying to sound casual, brushing it off like it’s nothing.

Dani looks at him, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sure. But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

Jude’s heart is racing now. His mouth is dry, and for a second, he wonders if Dani is just fishing for information or if he knows —if somehow, he’s pieced it all together.

Before Jude can respond, Fede and Brahim return, laughing as they sit back down.

“Jude, you alright?” Fede asks, noticing the tension in his face.

Jude forces a tight smile, his hands trembling slightly under the table. “Yeah. Fine.”

But inside, he’s anything but fine.

Because if Dani knows—or even suspects—then how long until everyone else does?

Brahim glances at Dani. “What did you just say to him?”

Dani, ever casual, takes another bite of his food and shrugs. “Nothing. Just making conversation.”

Brahim narrows his eyes, not buying it. “Yeah? Cause it doesn’t look like nothing. ”

Jude shifts uncomfortably, gripping the edge of the table as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “It’s fine,” he mutters, voice tight. “Really.”

But Brahim isn’t letting it go. “Dani, seriously. What did you say?”

Dani leans back in his chair, his expression neutral but with a hint of amusement. “Relax, man. I just asked him about… you know, Kylian.”

Fede, who’s been sipping his coffee, lowers his cup slowly. “Kylian?” he echoes, confused. “What about him?”

Dani gives a small smirk. “Just… how close they are.”

The words hang in the air like a thundercloud, and Brahim’s face hardens immediately. He knows what Dani is implying. Everyone in the team has seen how Jude and Kylian interact—closer than most, sure, but different. But to say it aloud, even as a suggestion, feels like crossing a line.

“Seriously?” Brahim says, his voice low, protective. “That’s what you’re doing?”

Dani shrugs again, unapologetic. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just something people notice.”

Jude finally looks up, his eyes dark and stormy. “There’s nothing to notice,” he says, his voice steady but cold.

Brahim nods, standing firmly by Jude’s side. “Exactly. So maybe keep your observations to yourself.”

Fede leans in, frowning now, sensing the shift in mood. “Dani, man, come on. Don’t start stuff like that.”

Dani raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to get worked up. Just talking.”

But Jude knows it’s not just talking. Not anymore. Dani’s words have planted a seed—one that could spread, grow, and ruin everything if it isn’t stopped.

Brahim catches Jude’s eye, a silent question: Are you okay?

Jude nods, but it’s a lie. His world feels like it’s starting to crack, and all he can do now is hope that it doesn’t completely fall apart.

Jude's hands are shaking as he walks down the hallway, his thoughts spinning out of control. He needs to find Kylian. Now. Dani’s words echo in his head— Ceballos knows. That’s all it took to send Jude spiraling, and now he’s pacing the training complex like he’s lost.

He finally spots a staff member and quickly asks where Kylian is. “He’s in a meeting with the staff,” they say, pointing to a room down the hall. Jude doesn’t hesitate, heading straight there.

When he arrives, the door is closed, and voices filter through the crack. Jude stops, heart pounding, and leans against the wall just outside. He feels like a kid waiting outside the principal’s office, dreading what’s coming but knowing he can’t avoid it.

Minutes feel like hours.

He crosses his arms, uncrosses them. Runs a hand through his hair. Checks his phone for the time. His leg bounces with nervous energy as he leans back against the wall, eyes fixed on the door.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door opens, and Kylian steps out, still mid-conversation with one of the coaches. He’s smiling faintly, focused on something they’re discussing, but the second he sees Jude waiting for him, his expression shifts.

“Jude?” Kylian asks, concern flickering in his eyes. He excuses himself from the conversation and walks toward him. “What’s wrong? Why are you—”

Jude doesn’t wait. He grabs Kylian’s wrist, pulling him a few steps away from the others. His voice is low, urgent, but there’s a tremble in it. “Ceballos knows.”

Kylian blinks, taken aback. “What?”

“Dani,” Jude says, his breath uneven. “He… he knows. He said it. Not to everyone, but he said it to me. And he didn’t say how he found out, but—” Jude stops, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “He knows.”

For a moment, Kylian is silent, processing. His gaze sharpens, and his jaw clenches. “anyone else heard him?”

“No,” Jude replies. “Just Fede and Brahim. But it doesn’t matter. He’s not the kind of person to keep things to himself.”

Kylian takes a deep breath, reaching out to cup Jude’s face, his thumbs brushing over Jude’s tense jaw. “Hey. Look at me.” Jude’s wide, anxious eyes meet his. “We don’t know for sure if it’s going to spread. We’ll deal with it if it does, okay?”

“But what if it does, Kylian?” Jude whispers, his voice cracking. “What if everything—what if it all falls apart?”

“It won’t,” Kylian says firmly, but there’s a softness in his tone, a quiet reassurance meant only for Jude. “We won’t let it.”

Jude leans into Kylian’s touch, closing his eyes for a moment. He wants to believe him. He needs to believe him. But the fear is still there, gnawing at the edges of his mind.

Kylian presses a kiss to Jude’s hand, whispering, “We’ll handle it. Together.”

Jude’s voice trembles, his eyes locked onto Kylian’s. “He sells info to the press, Kylian. He’s done it before.” His throat feels tight, like each word is fighting its way out. He can barely keep himself from breaking down.

Kylian’s brow furrows, his hands still holding Jude’s face. “We don’t know if it was him,” he says softly, trying to steady him, but Jude shakes his head, stepping back.

“It was him.” Jude’s voice is almost a whisper now, brittle and close to breaking. “I know it. You didn’t see the way he said it, Kylian. He wasn’t just talking. He knows , and he’s going to tell them.”

Kylian reaches for him again, but Jude pulls away, running a hand through his hair as he takes a shaky breath. He looks at the floor, blinking rapidly. He can feel it—the overwhelming, crushing unfairness of it all. His heart pounds in his chest, his thoughts spiraling.

“I feel like…” Jude pauses, swallowing hard, fighting back tears. “I feel like the world is so selfish sometimes. Like—like someone can just take what’s ours , what I’ve held onto so tightly, so carefully… and share it with everyone if they feel like it. Just like that.”

Kylian’s eyes soften, and he takes a step closer, his voice gentle. “I know.”

“It’s not fair,” Jude chokes out, his fists clenching at his sides. “It’s not fair. They don’t care. They don’t care what it means to us. To me.”

Kylian pulls him into a tight embrace this time, refusing to let him pull away. Jude tenses for a second, then melts into it, gripping Kylian’s shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

“I know it’s unfair,” Kylian whispers against his ear, his voice steady and warm. “I hate it too. But listen to me.” He pulls back just enough to look Jude in the eyes. “They can’t take us from each other. No matter what happens, no matter what they say. We’re still us. No one gets to take that.”

Jude’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “But what if it changes everything?”

Kylian leans in, his forehead resting against Jude’s. “Then we change together. We face it together.”

Jude exhales shakily, nodding against him, holding on a little tighter. The fear is still there, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel so overwhelming. Not when Kylian’s here. Not when they’re in this together.

For a moment, Jude steps back from Kylian’s embrace, his chest rising and falling with determination. He straightens his back, lifting his chin as if something within him has clicked into place. His eyes, usually warm and full of light, are now steady and unwavering.

“We tell the world,” Jude says, his voice calm but resolute. “They can’t take that from us. This—” He gestures between them. “This is ours. Ours to share. No one gets to control it but us. So we tell them. On our terms.”

Kylian stares at him, stunned. He sees the fire in Jude’s eyes, the quiet strength of someone who’s been through enough, someone who has grown up too fast. Jude looks older than his 22 years in that moment—wiser, tougher, and determined not to let the world dictate how he loves or who he loves.

Kylian feels a mix of emotions swelling in his chest—pride, admiration, and a deep ache. He hates it. Hates the world that has forced Jude to carry this weight, to make decisions like this, to stand tall when he should still be carefree and unburdened. He hates that Jude has had to learn how to fight battles he shouldn’t have to fight.

But Kylian is so, so proud of him too.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Kylian murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. His hands find Jude’s again, squeezing them gently but firmly. “I hate that you have to do this, that we have to do this. But God, Jude… I’m so proud of you.”

Jude’s eyes soften, the edges of his determination giving way to something warmer. He squeezes Kylian’s hands back, a small smile forming on his lips. “I’m proud of us,” he says quietly. “And I’m done hiding. If we’re gonna do this… we do it together.”

“Together,” Kylian echoes, pulling him close again, their foreheads touching. “Always.”

Chapter Text

Less than two hours later, they’re seated in a private meeting room at Valdebebas. The PR team—heads of communications, social media strategists, and legal advisors—files in, their faces tight with concern. Everyone senses something big is coming, and they aren’t wrong.

Kylian and Jude sit side by side, hands brushing under the table as a silent show of support. Jude starts. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while now,” he says calmly, his voice unwavering. “We’re in a relationship. And we’re done hiding it.”

There’s a pause—stunned silence. The PR team exchanges glances, and for a moment, no one speaks. Then, one of the communications directors clears her throat.

“This… is big,” she says carefully. “We’ll need to control the narrative. Have you considered the backlash?”

Jude leans forward, his eyes steady and resolute. “We know there’ll be backlash. But it’s our life. We’re tired of hiding, of being scared someone else will take this from us. If it’s going to be public, we’ll make sure it’s our story.”

Kylian nods, his hand finding Jude’s under the table. “We want the announcement out today. Before any leaks, before anyone else can twist it.”

The PR head exhales slowly. “Okay. We’ll handle it. We’ll craft a statement—something respectful, clear, and to the point. Are you ready for the attention this will bring? It won’t be small.”

Jude glances at Kylian, and for a moment, their eyes meet. There’s fear, yes—but also love, trust, and the kind of courage that comes from knowing they’re in this together.

“We’re ready,” Jude says softly but firmly.

Within hours, the news drops.

"OFFICIAL: Kylian Mbappé and Jude Bellingham confirm their relationship."

Social media erupts. News outlets scramble to report it. Fans, commentators, and critics alike are thrown into a frenzy, the announcement hitting like a bombshell across the football world.

Photos of them together, subtle but undeniable, begin circulating. Clips of their interactions on the pitch suddenly take on new meaning. Speculation, support, and backlash flood the internet.

But amidst the chaos, Kylian and Jude sit in their shared house, watching the world react from the safety of their home. Jude’s hand trembles slightly as he scrolls through the news, but Kylian takes it in his own, lacing their fingers together.

“It’s done,” Kylian says quietly. “It’s out there. No more hiding.”

Jude exhales, leaning into Kylian’s side. “No more hiding,” he repeats, a small, relieved smile tugging at his lips.

And for the first time in a long time, they both feel free.

Kylian sits in the silence of their home, the weight of the news crashing over him again. His fingers are numb as they scroll through the endless feed of media coverage, headlines screaming their relationship, but it’s the undertone of the comments, the harshness of the words, that cuts through him. The homophobic slurs, the suggestions that their teammates might not want to work with them anymore, that they’re somehow less professional, less capable because of who they love— Kylian can’t stop the flood of anxiety that rises in his chest.

Jude is beside him, his expression unreadable, eyes fixed on the screen of his phone. But kylian can feel the tension in the air, the quiet that tells him Jude is processing it all just as deeply, just as painfully.

It’s not the hate from the fans that bothers them. It’s not even the hate from the trolls on social media—it’s the fear. The fear that those closest to him, the teammates he’s shared blood, sweat, and victories with, might distance themselves from him. That the bond they’ve built, the trust he thought was unshakable, could fracture over something that was never a choice, never a decision they made lightly.

Jude’s throat tightens as he pulls his knees to his chest, his head falling to rest against Kylian’s shoulder. He doesn’t say anything at first, doesn’t know how to voice the panic that’s been mounting inside him.

“It’s not the way we wanted this to go,” he whispers after a moment. “I should’ve told them earlier. I should’ve been open with everyone. I wanted to tell Luka first, you know? So he wouldn’t have to hear it on the news. But I didn’t. And now everything feels like it’s... wrong.”

Kylian looks down at him, his expression softening. “We couldn’t control how it went down,” Kylian says, his voice calm but full of the weight of understanding. “I know you wanted to be open with them. But you’ve been carrying a lot of this on your own for so long. You didn’t want to share it with the world, and I get that. We did it our way.”

Jude nods, but the guilt gnaws at him. “Yeah, but... maybe it wasn’t fair to them. To Luka, to the guys. They deserved to hear it from us. Not from the media.”

Kylian exhales, pulling Jude closer, his arm wrapping around him. “We didn’t do anything wrong. We’re just two people who love each other. It’s their issue, not ours.”

But Jude can’t stop the doubt. He pulls away slightly, looking up at Kylian, his voice quiet but full of worry. “What if they think we’re a distraction?”

Kylian’s gaze sharpens, the protective fierceness in his eyes rising. He leans in, cupping Jude’s face gently. “They will respect us. I know these guys. Luka is your big brother and captain, and the rest? They’re professionals. They know what’s important. This will pass.”

Jude nods, “and the press is the hardest part. But we can’t change it. We can’t hide who we are. We can’t let the world tell us who we should be.”

“This will settle. We’ll handle it, together. Whatever happens, I want you to know that it’s worth it. You’re worth it. And when all of this blows over, we’ll be stronger. We’ll have each other.”

Jude nods, allowing himself to believe it, just for a moment. He doesn’t know how long it will take for the storm to pass, for the whispers and the hatred to fade, but he knows Kylian will be there beside him, and that gives him a small sense of peace.

They sit together for a while, the weight of the world pressing down on them, but with each passing minute, the heaviness feels a little less. Kylian holds him, steady and unwavering, and Jude allows himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they can survive this storm. Together.

The locker room feels different now. The air is thicker, charged with unspoken thoughts and uncertain glances. Jude can feel the eyes on him—some curious, others guarded. He knows it’s not outright hostility, but the weight of the situation presses on him. The usual banter, the casual locker room chatter, feels off-kilter.

His close friends—Luka, Aurélien, Fede, Lunin and others are supportive, but even they seem to tread carefully, trying not to make it awkward, yet still offering the silent reassurance that they’ve got his back. It’s the others, the ones he doesn’t know as well, that make him uneasy. They’re not hostile, not overtly rude, but the way they avoid eye contact or glance at Kylian and then look away tells him everything he needs to know.

Two men, both athletes, in the same locker room, dating each other—it’s not something they’re used to. It’s not something they’ve had to deal with before.

Jude doesn’t blame them. In some ways, he gets it. He knows how people can be. It’s a locker room. A space that’s always been filled with a certain kind of brotherhood, with its own rules and expectations. And he and Kylian? They’ve just broken all those rules, shaken up the status quo. But that doesn’t make it easier.

He does his best to keep things casual. Keeps his distance from Kylian, tries not to be too touchy or affectionate in front of the others. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—god, he does. He wants to hold Kylian’s hand, kiss his lips, make the world know he’s proud to be with him. But in the locker room, it feels like the wrong time. Like an invasion of something sacred. He doesn’t want to make it harder for the others to adjust, even if it’s hard for him too.

He can’t help but notice the looks. The stares that last a little too long, the hushed whispers that disappear as soon as he turns his head. He pretends not to care. Pretends it doesn’t affect him.

In the showers, he keeps to himself, making quick work of his routine, trying to avoid any unnecessary contact with the others. When the team starts gathering to head out, he stays at the back, away from the group, silently praying that today’s practice goes by without incident.

But even as he tries to distance himself, he catches glimpses of Kylian. Every time their eyes meet, there's a flicker of something deeper, something more. Kylian’s never the one to hold back, but even he knows now isn’t the right time. So they exchange quiet smiles, small gestures, and Jude can see the understanding in Kylian’s eyes.

It's complicated. More than he expected it to be.

After practice, as they gather to head back to their respective homes, Jude can feel it again—the quiet distance between him and the rest of the team. He can feel their curiosity, their discomfort, like a tangible thing in the air. And while he wants to be strong, wants to be proud of who he is and who he’s with, he’s tired. Tired of wondering if his teammates are judging him, tired of questioning if things will ever truly feel normal again.

As he walks to the car, Kylian by his side, he catches Fede’s eye. The Spaniard offers him a small smile, one that says more than words ever could. Support, understanding. Jude returns the smile, but the ache in his chest doesn’t go away. He still wonders, when all of this dies down, will it be enough? Will they ever be able to just exist without all the tension, all the looks, all the questions?

“Do you think they’ll be okay with us?” Jude asks quietly as he gets into the car, not looking at Kylian but staring ahead at the road.

Kylian leans back in his seat, his hand brushing against Jude’s. “They’ll come around. People always do. And those who don’t? They aren’t worth our time.”

Jude nods, but the weight of the day presses on him. He wishes he could believe that fully, but for now, he just holds onto Kylian’s hand, letting his warmth seep into him, even if the rest of the world isn’t ready to do the same.

The paparazzi are relentless, as they always are. They line the streets outside their house like vultures, cameras aimed directly at them. Every time they leave or return, there’s no escape from their flashes, their lenses capturing moments of their lives, moments that aren’t theirs to take. It’s suffocating.

Jude hates it. He hates how it feels to be constantly watched, dissected. He hates how the world seems to believe it has a right to know everything about him—everything about his private life, his relationship with Kylian, like it’s entertainment. It eats at him every time they step out, every time they’re caught on camera. He never signed up for this kind of exposure, especially when it feels like it’s all just a game for the tabloids to win. And yet, here they are.

But Kylian? Kylian doesn’t care about any of that. At least, not the way Jude does. Kylian’s already been there, done that—he’s used to the attention, the photos, the rumors. He’s lived under the media’s microscope for years, built an empire out of his name, and there’s little the press can say that bothers him anymore. He’s already proved himself on the pitch, already cemented his legacy in football. What they say doesn’t change who he is or what he’s done.

But it’s different for Jude. Jude’s still carving his path, still proving himself every game, every training session. He knows the world is watching, and he knows that every single misstep will be magnified. He can’t afford to be seen as anything less than perfect. Not in a world that’s already so quick to judge him.

Kylian sees it. He sees how much it weighs on Jude—how it eats him up inside, how every rumor, every judgment feels like it’s another brick in a wall around his heart. Jude’s not the one who’s used to the spotlight. He didn’t ask for this kind of life, didn’t sign up for the kind of scrutiny that comes with being one of the best young players in the world and being in a relationship with Kylian Mbappé.

That’s why, as they pull into their driveway and the paparazzi swarm the car, Kylian reaches over to gently squeeze Jude’s hand, his thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“I don’t care about them, you know that, right?” Kylian’s voice is soft, but steady, like he’s reassuring both of them at once.

Jude doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares ahead, his grip tightening around Kylian’s hand, trying to block out the flashes outside the window. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Kylian’s words; he does. But the weight of the situation still presses on him. The constant scrutiny, the gossip—it’s exhausting. It’s overwhelming. He doesn’t know how long he can keep up this act of pretending like everything’s okay when the world won’t let him breathe.

Kylian notices the tension in Jude’s jaw, the way his eyes seem distant, clouded with the pressure. He wishes he could shield him from it, wishes there was something more he could do. He hates how much this is affecting Jude, but more than that, he hates that it’s happening at all.

“Jude,” Kylian starts, his voice low, like he’s trying to pull him back from wherever his thoughts have taken him. “You don’t have to worry about what they think. You don’t have to prove anything to them. You’re here with me. That’s all that matters. You’ve got time. We both do.”

Jude turns to look at him, his eyes softening just a little. “Every time I walk out that door, I feel like they’re watching me, waiting for me to mess up.”

Kylian sighs, “You were the one that telling me I don’t have to be perfect. LIsten to your own advice. We’re both still figuring it out. But you have to know—nothing about what anyone else says or thinks is gonna change how I feel about you. Not ever.”

Jude nods, swallowing the lump in his throat, but the tension doesn’t completely leave his shoulders. He wishes it was as easy as Kylian makes it sound.

Kylian knows that. He knows that, because even with all his achievements, all the praise, and the love he gets from the fans and the media, there’s always that part of him that questions if he’s enough. So he’s not going to let Jude carry this weight alone.

“Hey,” Kylian adds, his tone firm but gentle, “we’ll tell them together. You and me. We don’t owe them anything. Not even an explanation. This—” He gestures between the two of them, “—this is ours to keep. Don’t let anyone make you feel like it’s anything less.”

Jude lets out a shaky breath, “I know,” Jude says, his voice soft but steady now, “I just don’t want to drag you down with me.”

Kylian smiles, brushing his thumb over Jude’s lips. “Never. But right now, I want to be your shield. Let me handle the rest. All you have to do is be you.”

Jude gives a small, exhausted smile, the weight on his chest easing just a little bit. Maybe it won’t all be okay immediately, but with Kylian by his side, he feels like they can face it together. The world might watch them, might judge them, but that’s not what matters.

What matters is what they have.

And that’s enough.

Jude can't quite understand how Kylian does it, but somehow, he always seems to have a way of controlling the chaos around them. The paparazzi that once camped outside their house like vultures, ready to capture any moment of their lives, slowly begin to fade away. They start showing up less and less outside their door, and it doesn’t take long before they’re nowhere to be found.

At Valdebebas, Kylian pulls strings in a way Jude can’t even fathom. Conversations with the right people, the perfect word at the perfect moment. It’s not just their public relations team at work—it’s Kylian, with his experience, his calm, and his power. He knows how to silence the media, how to make the noise disappear, even when it feels like it’s consuming everything around them.

The first few days after the news broke were unbearable. Jude couldn’t go anywhere without being asked about Kylian. Every interview, every media appearance, was filled with questions he didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to talk about his relationship—not because he was ashamed, but because it felt like his private life had been stolen from him. It wasn’t for the world to dissect. But slowly, those questions began to disappear, and Jude wasn’t sure if it was the sheer exhaustion of the press or if Kylian had done something to silence them for good.

Kylian’s influence, his connections, the way he carried himself with unwavering confidence—it all played a part. By the time they were into two months after the news dropped, Jude found himself sitting in post-game interviews with nothing but football questions, the usual focus on his performance, the game, the next opponent. No more invasive questions about Kylian. No more speculation about their relationship. It was as if the world had moved on—like the storm had passed, leaving them both to breathe.

But what amazed Jude most was Kylian’s ability to handle it all. To shield him from the brunt of it, to protect him without ever making a big deal out of it. Kylian never brought it up—never told Jude what he was doing behind the scenes to take care of things, to keep the world from intruding on their happiness. And that’s exactly how Kylian worked. He did what needed to be done without expecting praise or attention.

Jude noticed the little things: the way Kylian would take him aside, quietly remind him not to worry about anything outside of football, the way his presence calmed Jude when he felt overwhelmed. Jude realized that with Kylian by his side, he didn’t have to fight the world alone. They were there, as always, taking the hits and making sure their path was clear to walk.

It felt almost surreal, walking around the training ground without the cameras hovering. It felt like they had reclaimed their space—like they had finally won a small victory in the battle for their privacy. Jude could focus on football, could focus on the game, without constantly glancing over his shoulder to see who might be watching or waiting for a moment to capitalize on their relationship.

It was in those quiet moments, when Kylian would look at him with that soft, reassuring smile, that Jude realized just how much Kylian had done for them both. He didn’t just protect Jude from the outside world—he protected him from himself, from his doubts, from the anxiety that had been building up since the moment their relationship went public.

And as the days went by, Jude started to feel like he could finally breathe again. The weight of the world didn’t feel so heavy anymore. With Kylian beside him, he knew he could handle whatever came next. No matter what the press said, no matter what the world thought—they had each other, and that was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

The match is tense from the start. The air is thick with competition, tackles flying in hard, tempers already bubbling close to the surface. Jude is holding it together, but barely. Kylian sees it from the sidelines—the frustration in the way Jude moves, the way his jaw clenches every time the referee ignores another foul against him.

But nothing prepares Kylian for what happens next.

The ball is nowhere near when it happens. Jude and his opponent lock eyes, words exchanged that no one else can hear. And then, without warning, Jude surges forward and headbutts him square in the face.

For a split second, the entire stadium falls silent.

Kylian freezes, his brain struggling to catch up with what his eyes have just witnessed. Jude—calm and collected Jude—has gone full Zidane. On a pitch. In front of thousands.

“Jude,” Kylian whispers, too stunned to even shout.

The scene erupts. Aurelien and Rudi are already on Jude, pulling him back as the opposing team rushes in. The referee’s whistle blares furiously, but it’s drowned out by the chaos. Players shove, voices roar, and amidst it all, Rodrigo De Paul—grinning, smug—steps toward Kylian.

“Your boy’s gone crazy,” De Paul sneers. “Keep that cocksucker’s leash short next time, eh? Look at thim acting all manly now like we don’t know he takes it up the ass—“

Kylian snaps.

In a flash, he’s on De Paul, hands gripping the man’s shirt, shoving him back until they’re nearly chest to chest. His vision blurs with rage, fingers tightening as if instinct alone is guiding him. Kylian has never thrown a punch in his life, but right now, he’s not sure if he’s about to strangle De Paul or hit him.

He strangles him.

“You fucking—I’ll kill you—” Kylian hisses through gritted teeth.

De Paul shoves him back, but Kylian doesn’t let go. The scuffle escalates, and suddenly, Vini and Rodrygo are on him, pulling him away. He hears the referee blowing the whistle again, shouting orders. The crowd is roaring, the stadium shaking, but all Kylian can see is De Paul’s smug face, all he can hear is that comment.

“Are you out of your fucking mind??!” Luka Modrić’s voice slices through the chaos as he rushes toward them, eyes wide with disbelief. His gaze locks on Kylian, who stands panting, fists still clenched, fury radiating off him.

“Get him out! Now!” Luka barks as they drag Kylian toward the tunnel.

Kylian’s chest heaves with adrenaline and rage as they push him along. He looks back once, only to see Jude standing there with his nose bleeding, still caught in the middle of the aftermath. The referee is already pulling out red cards—one for Jude, one for Kylian. A yellow for De Paul.

Kylian doesn’t care.

By the time Jude makes it to the tunnel, Kylian is already pacing, trying to calm himself down. Jude walks in quietly, blood dripping from his nose, face impassive but tense. For a moment, they stand there, breathing heavily, side by side.

Neither of them speaks. The silence between them is thick, almost suffocating. The weight of what has just happened looms over them, unspoken words hanging in the air.

Kylian glances at Jude, his mind racing. He doesn’t know whether he’s furious at him for losing control or worried sick about why he did it in the first place. Jude’s face is still flushed with adrenaline, eyes distant. Finally, Jude wipes the blood from his nose with the back of his hand and leans against the wall, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling as he tries to collect himself.

Kylian opens his mouth, ready to speak, to demand answers—but no words come.

Minutes pass, heavy and silent.

Finally, Jude whispers, his voice low, strained, almost broken.

“I don’t know what came over me.”

Kylian looks up, meeting Jude’s eyes, but he doesn’t respond. He can’t—not yet. Not when his heart is still racing, and his mind is filled with a thousand questions.

The tension in the tunnel is suffocating, thick with unsaid words and unprocessed emotions. Kylian stands there, fingers running through his hair as he tries to catch his breath, but the anger and adrenaline still course through him like fire. Jude leans against the wall, blood drying on his upper lip, eyes distant and unreadable.

Kylian breaks the silence first, his voice low and controlled. "I’m sure there are cams in here." He glances around the tunnel, knowing full well that any slip, any vulnerable moment could be caught and used against them later. "Let’s go inside."

He reaches out, fingers gripping the sleeve of Jude’s shirt. It isn’t gentle, but it isn’t rough either—just firm, urgent. Jude hesitates for a split second, but then follows without a word.

They walk silently through the narrow corridor, tension simmering between them. The sound of their footsteps echoes off the walls, and Kylian doesn’t look back. He doesn’t need to. Jude is right behind him, close enough that Kylian can hear the quiet, ragged breaths he’s trying to even out.

The door to the locker room swings open, and they step inside. The air is cooler here, quieter, but it doesn’t ease the tension.

Kylian doesn’t stop. He doesn’t say a word to Jude as he walks straight past the benches and heads for the showers. He needs space, needs the cold water to shock him back into control. His mind is spinning, replaying everything—De Paul’s words, Jude’s headbutt, the red cards, Luka’s voice echoing in his ears.

Two minutes later, the door opens again. Kylian hears the soft murmur of voices—medics.

"Jude’s nose."

He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t watch as they approach Jude, as they begin cleaning the blood from his face and checking for any fractures. He just keeps walking until he reaches the shower stall.

The water blasts down, cold and unforgiving, and Kylian lets it soak him completely, washing away the sweat, the anger, the tension. But not the worry. Not the image of Jude, standing there, blood dripping from his face, eyes wild and distant like he’s somewhere else entirely.

He leans against the tiled wall, water cascading over his head, and tries to steady his breathing. The cold water does little to cool the storm inside him.

Jude is unraveling. And Kylian doesn’t know how to fix it.

Kylian lets out a long, shaky breath, the cold water hitting his back but doing little to calm the turmoil inside him. He presses his forehead against the cold tile, eyes closed, as if the solid surface might give him some clarity.

He can guess what set Jude off—he’s seen it happen before. Some muttered slur, some homophobic jab disguised as trash talk. It’s not uncommon, especially when both of them are on the pitch. He remembers the tension building in Jude lately, the subtle signs—clenched fists, tight smiles, the restless energy that never seemed to leave him.

This time, though, it pushed Jude too far.

And Kylian? He wasn’t any better. He'd lost control too, letting his emotions get the better of him. He can still feel the weight of his hands around De Paul’s neck, the anger that surged so quickly, it scared him. He wasn’t even sure if he was angrier at De Paul for the comment or at Jude for reacting to it—or maybe at himself, for not knowing how to protect the person he loves most.

"How am I supposed to protect him from this?" The thought hits him like a punch to the gut.

How is he supposed to shield Jude from a world that’s so intent on tearing them down? When he can’t even hold himself together? When every insult, every glare, every rumor chips away at them?

Kylian lifts his head, staring blankly at the water running down the tiles. It’s not enough—this space, this cold shower, this attempt to drown out reality.

He knows Jude is hurting. He knows this life, this constant scrutiny, is too much for someone who’s still trying to find his footing in a world that doesn’t want to accept him for who he is and who he loves.

But how do you protect someone when you can barely keep yourself from breaking?

Kylian lets the water run a little longer, grounding himself in the cold, before finally turning it off. He stands there for a moment, dripping and shivering slightly, before grabbing a towel.

He knows he can’t stay in here forever. Jude is just outside, probably sitting quietly, holding everything in like he always does.

Kylian’s jaw tightens.

If the world won’t make it easy for them, then fine. But he won’t let Jude carry this burden alone. Not anymore.

Kylian walks out of the showers, towel slung over his shoulders, still damp but no longer cold. He finds Jude sitting on the bench, head tilted back slightly as the medics clean the blood from his nose. His face is tense, jaw tight, eyes staring ahead but seeing nothing.

Kylian doesn’t hesitate. He slides his fingers into Jude’s curls, the familiar touch meant to comfort, to ground them both. “Anything serious?” he asks the medics, his voice low but steady.

Before the medic can respond, Jude jerks his head away and slaps Kylian’s hand aside.

“Don’t act like I’m a child,” Jude mutters under his breath, his tone sharp, cutting.

Kylian freezes for a moment, blinking in surprise. His hand lingers in the air before he slowly pulls it back, wiping it against the towel draped over his shoulder. He hadn’t expected that.

“I wasn’t,” Kylian says quietly, his voice softer now, more careful.

Jude exhales sharply through his nose, still staring ahead. “Yeah, well, it sure feels like it.”

The medics exchange a glance, sensing the tension, and finish their work quickly before excusing themselves. Now it’s just the two of them, the quiet hum of the locker room filling the space between them.

Kylian sits down on the bench beside Jude, careful to leave a small gap between them. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together.

“I’m not trying to baby you,” Kylian says after a moment. “I just… I worry, Jude. Especially after what happened out there.”

Jude finally turns to look at him, eyes filled with frustration and something else—something deeper, more vulnerable. “I don’t need you to worry about me like that, Kylian. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can.” Kylian’s eyes meet his, steady and unwavering. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop. It doesn’t mean I don’t feel it every time they say something, every time they come at you.” He pauses, taking a breath. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Jude’s shoulders tense. “I’m not weak, Kylian. I’m not some kid who can’t handle the pressure.”

“No, you’re not.” Kylian’s voice is gentle but firm. “You’re the strongest person I know. But even the strongest people need someone sometimes. And I’m here. Whether you like it or not.”

Jude’s gaze softens, just a fraction, but the walls are still up. He looks away, staring at the floor. “I just hate it. All of it. The way they look at us. The things they say. It’s like… no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Kylian reaches out again, slower this time, resting his hand on Jude’s knee. He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand anything. He just stays there, a quiet presence.

“I know,” Kylian whispers. “But we’re enough. You and me. No matter what they say.”

For a moment, Jude doesn’t respond. Then, slowly, he places his hand over Kylian’s, squeezing it lightly.

The locker room is quiet, the hum of distant conversations filtering in from the hallway. Jude shifts slightly on the bench, his hand still resting over Kylian's. His fingers tremble just a little, not from fear, but from the weight of everything pressing down on him.

He leans closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry for snapping,” Jude says, eyes fixed on where their hands meet. “I didn’t mean to…” His voice trails off, but the regret is clear.

Kylian’s thumb brushes against the back of Jude’s hand in a slow, reassuring motion. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his tone warm and forgiving. “No need to apologize.”

But Jude does. He feels it deep in his chest—the guilt of pushing Kylian away when he’s only ever tried to help. His mind flashes back to the pitch, the red card, the fury in his chest when it all went down. And then, to the sneer, the words, the looks.

Jude swallows hard and lifts his gaze to Kylian’s. “What did he say to you?” he asks softly, but there’s a hardness beneath his words. He needs to know. Needs to hear it.

Kylian hesitates, his jaw tightening, eyes flickering with something Jude knows too well—protectiveness, mixed with a quiet rage. He doesn’t answer right away, his lips pressing into a thin line as if weighing the words in his mind.

But he doesn’t need to say them. Jude already knows.

Kylian’s silence is enough.

Jude’s heart clenches. His grip on Kylian’s hand tightens, and he closes his eyes for a second, steadying himself against the surge of anger, shame, and helplessness. He doesn’t have to hear it to know exactly what it was about. The same tired insults. The same slurs. The same cruel reminders that their love—something so natural to them—is something others see as wrong.

“He’s just another coward,” Kylian says quietly, finally breaking the silence. His voice is calm, but Jude can feel the tension simmering beneath it. “He thinks words can break us.”

Jude looks at him, his eyes dark, determined. “They did,” he says firmly.  Kylian shakes his head slowly, his eyes softening as they hold Jude’s. “No. They can’t.”

For a moment, they sit in silence, the weight of the world outside held at bay by their connection. Jude leans into Kylian slightly, resting his forehead against Kylian’s temple.

“I hate that you have to hear it,” Jude whispers. “I hate that I couldn’t stop myself today… that people had to see me like that.”

Kylian turns his head slightly, brushing his lips against Jude’s temple. “I’ve seen you angry, frustrated, scared… I’ve seen all of it, Jude. And none of it changes how I feel about you.”

Jude pulls back just enough to look into Kylian’s eyes, the storm in his chest settling just a little. “You’re too good for me,” he murmurs, a half-smile on his lips.

Kylian chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to Jude’s knuckles. “No. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“THE HELL YOU WERE THINKING?” Ancelotti’s voice thunders through the locker room as he slams the door open, the sound reverberating off the walls. Jude startles, immediately letting go of Kylian’s hand like a guilty child caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Kylian straightens, eyes narrowing as he steps slightly  beside Jude, protective even now. His hair is still damp from the shower, droplets of water running down his neck, but his expression is calm, composed. Jude, on the other hand, feels like he’s shrinking under the weight of Ancelotti’s glare.

The manager strides toward them, fury etched into every line of his face. “What the hell were you thinking, Jude?” he demands again, his voice sharp, cutting. “A headbutt? Are you trying to ruin your career? Are you trying to drag this club’s name through the mud?”

Jude clenches his jaw, his fists balling at his sides. He doesn’t know how to respond. He can’t tell Ancelotti the truth—not here, not like this.

“I—” Jude starts, but his voice falters. He feels Kylian’s presence beside him, steady, unyielding.

Ancelotti’s eyes flick to Kylian. “And you,” he says, his tone no less scathing. “Jumping into a fight like that? You’re supposed to be the experienced one. The leader. What were you thinking, Mbappé?”

Kylian’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t back down. “I was thinking,” he says slowly, deliberately, “that no one talks to him like that.”

Ancelotti’s eyes narrow. “That’s not an excuse for violence.”

“No,” Kylian agrees, his voice cold. “It’s not. But it’s a reason.”

Jude swallows hard, the tension in the room almost suffocating. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of anger, shame, and something else—something heavier.

“Do you know how many cameras were on you?” Ancelotti continues, his gaze flicking between them. “How many headlines are already being written? This isn’t just about you anymore. This is about the club. The team. Your teammates.”

Jude lowers his head, the weight of Ancelotti’s words sinking in. He knows. He knows he’s let everyone down.

“We know,” Jude murmurs, his voice barely audible.

Ancelotti exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You’ll both face consequences for this. Red cards, fines, possible suspensions. And the media… God help you both.”

There’s a heavy silence, the air thick with tension.

“Go home,” Ancelotti finally says, his tone softer but still firm. “Both of you. We’ll deal with this tomorrow.”

Jude nods, unable to meet his manager’s eyes. Kylian reaches out, his hand brushing against Jude’s back in a silent gesture of comfort. As they gather their things and prepare to leave, he can’t shake the feeling that the world outside is waiting to tear them apart.

Jude sits on the edge of his bed, phone pressed against his ear, heart pounding as his mother’s voice fills the line. Denise’s tone is calm, measured—but there’s a tightness to it, a layer of disappointment that cuts deeper than if she’d shouted.

"Jude," she says softly. "What were you thinking?"

Jude squeezes his eyes shut, fingers gripping the phone tighter. "I wasn’t, Mum," he admits. "I just—" He exhales shakily, searching for the words. "He said something. Something awful. About me. About Kylian."

There’s a pause on the other end. He can almost hear his mother exchanging a glance with his father, can feel their disapproval through the phone.

"Jude," his father’s voice comes through now, low and steady. "We understand that people will say things. Hurtful, ignorant things. But nothing justifies what you did. You can’t lose your head like that."

"I know," Jude murmurs, shame tightening his chest. "I know I messed up. I just… I couldn’t stand there and take it."

"You didn’t just ‘mess up,’" Denise interjects, her voice firmer now. "You let your emotions control you. On the pitch, in front of millions of people. Do you know how many kids look up to you? How many people saw that and thought it was okay to solve things with violence?"

Jude doesn’t answer. He can’t. His parents are right, and he knows it. The image of his head colliding with his opponent’s plays over and over in his mind, a reminder of his failure to control himself.

"Football is your passion, your career," his father continues. "But it’s also a platform. People are watching you, judging you—not just as a player, but as a person. You have to be better than this, son."

"I’ll be better," Jude promises quietly, his throat tight. "I swear."

There’s another pause, and then his mother’s voice softens, the disappointment still there, but now mingled with concern. "We know it’s not easy, Jude. We know how much pressure you’re under. And we know how much you care about Kylian. But you need to find a better way to handle it. For your sake. For his."

Jude nods, even though they can’t see him. "I’ll do better," he whispers again.

"Good," his father says. "Because this is your wake-up call, son. It has to be. We love you, boy.”

The call ends soon after, and Jude sits there in the silence of his room, the weight of his parents’ words heavy on his shoulders. He knows they’re right. He knows he has to find a way to handle the pressure, the slurs, the whispers behind his back.

He stands, glancing toward the door where Kylian waits in the next room, and makes a silent promise to himself: This can’t happen again. He won’t let it.

Jude is pacing the length of the room, replaying the conversation with his parents in his head when his phone buzzes. He glances down at the screen, seeing Fayza’s name flash across it. His stomach tightens. He’s not sure if he’s ready for another lecture, another reminder of how he lost control.

But he takes a deep breath and answers.

"Jude, sweetheart," Fayza’s voice is warm, softer than he expected. "How are you holding up?"

Jude exhales, the tension in his chest easing just a little at her tone. "I’m... I’m okay, I guess. Just... trying to figure things out."

"I can imagine," Fayza says gently. "I saw the game. And I know how hard things have been for you both lately. The media, the pressure, the things people say..." She trails off, sighing. "I just want you to know, I’m sorry. Sorry you had to deal with all of that."

Jude blinks, surprised. "You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault."

"I know," she replies. "But as Kylian’s mother, I feel responsible in a way. I know what kind of scrutiny this game brings, and now you’re caught in it too. It’s not fair, but it’s the reality we live in."

Jude sinks onto the couch, the weight of her words settling over him. "I just... I lost it," he admits quietly. "I knew I shouldn’t have, but he said things about me and Kylian, and I couldn’t just stand there."

"I understand," Fayza says. "Trust me, I understand. And I know how much you care about Kylian. But Jude, you have to stay calm. For both of you."

"I know. It’s just—" Jude runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "It’s hard, you know? Keeping it all in, pretending like it doesn’t bother me when it does."

"I know it’s hard," Fayza says softly. "But you’re not alone in this. You have Kylian, and you have us. We’re all here for you. And you’ve already proven how strong you are by being with him, by standing by his side when it’s not easy. But sometimes, being strong means walking away, not reacting. I gave Kylian the same speech earlier."

"You did?" Jude asks, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Of course. He’s just as stubborn as you are," Fayza says with a light laugh. "He’s protective of you, just like you’re protective of him. But the world is watching, Jude. They’re waiting for you both to stumble. Don’t give them that satisfaction."

Jude nods, even though she can’t see him. "I’ll try. I’ll be better."

"I know you will," Fayza says confidently. "You’re a good boy, Jude. And you and Kylian? You’re stronger together than any of this nonsense. Don’t let them take that away from you."

"Thank you," Jude whispers, his throat tight with emotion. "It means a lot, hearing that from you."

"Anytime," Fayza says warmly. "Now, take a deep breath, go talk to Kylian, and remember—you’re not fighting this alone."

As the call ends, Jude sits for a moment, letting Fayza’s words sink in. He feels a little lighter, a little more grounded. He stands, ready to find Kylian, ready to face whatever comes next—together.

Jude ends the call, staring at his phone for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. Fayza's words echo in his mind: "You're not fighting this alone." He takes a deep breath, the tension in his chest easing ever so slightly. But there's still a storm of emotions swirling inside him—regret, frustration, and an overwhelming sense of guilt. He let his anger take control, and now, everything feels on edge.

He heads to the kitchen, where the soft hum of the refrigerator is the only sound. He pours himself a glass of water, gripping it tightly, trying to steady his nerves. His mind drifts to Kylian—how calm he had been in the aftermath of the fight, how he tried to soothe Jude even when he himself was shaken.

Kylian. Jude can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. He’s dragged Kylian into this mess, and now the spotlight on them is even harsher. He knows how much Kylian worries about him, about how the scrutiny will affect his young career.

The sound of the front door opening pulls Jude from his thoughts. Kylian’s back.

Jude places the glass on the counter and walks towards the hallway. Kylian is there, the faintest hint of exhaustion in his eyes. He looks up and their gazes lock.

"Hey," Kylian greets softly, his voice warm but tired. "How was the call?"

"With your mom or mine?” Jude asks, leaning against the doorframe.

Kylian laughs. He probably received a call from Denise too.

Jude exhales. "Yours was... understanding. She told me to stay calm. That we’re stronger together. Mine was disappointed.”

Kylian smiles faintly, “Mom wasn’t that understanding with me but you’re her favorite anyway.” Reaching out to brush a hand against Jude’s cheek. "She’s right though. We are stronger together."

Jude leans into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth and comfort Kylian always seems to bring. "I’m sorry," Jude whispers, his voice strained. "For losing it. For dragging you into this."

"Jude," Kylian says softly, cupping his face with both hands now. "You didn’t drag me into anything. We’re in this together. I know why you did it. I don’t blame you."

"But they’re watching us," Jude says, his eyes filled with worry. "And now they’re waiting for us to fail. I can feel it. The questions in the locker room, the looks... It’s like they’re all waiting for us to mess up again."

Kylian pulls him into a gentle hug, resting his chin on Jude’s shoulder. "Let them watch. Let them think whatever they want. We don’t have to prove anything to them. We just have to be us."

Jude wraps his arms around Kylian, holding him tight. "It’s so unfair," he murmurs into Kylian’s neck. "All we want is to love each other, and they make it feel like a battle."

"I know," Kylian whispers, his hand running soothingly up and down Jude’s back. "But we’ll fight that battle together. And we’ll win, Jude. Because what we have? It’s real. It’s worth it."

Jude pulls back slightly, just enough to look into Kylian’s eyes. "You make me believe that," he says quietly. "Even when everything feels like it’s falling apart."

"That’s because I believe in us," Kylian says, his gaze steady and filled with unwavering affection. "And I always will."

Jude takes a deep breath, letting Kylian’s words ground him. For a moment, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of them in their little haven of peace.

"Come on," Kylian says, tugging Jude towards the living room. "Let’s sit down, relax. We’ll figure everything out, one step at a time."

Jude follows, the weight on his chest a little lighter. They settle onto the couch, Kylian’s arm draped around him, pulling him close. Jude shifts slightly, tucking his head under Kylian’s chin, his back snug against Kylian’s chest. The warmth of Kylian’s arms wrapped around him is comforting, but the tension still lingers in his body, his mind spinning with thoughts he can’t seem to shut off.

“The media is going to eat us alive,” Jude murmurs softly, his voice almost lost in the quiet of their living room. His fingers fidget with the hem of Kylian’s sweatshirt, a nervous habit he can’t quite shake.

Kylian tightens his hold around him, resting his chin gently atop Jude’s head. “Don’t think about it,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing. “At least not now. Not when we’re home. Not when we have this… this calm to ourselves.”

Jude exhales slowly, the weight of Kylian’s words settling over him like a blanket. Home. It’s such a simple word, but it carries so much. In Kylian’s arms, in this quiet space where the outside world can’t reach them, it feels like they’ve carved out a sanctuary, a place where the noise and judgment don’t exist.

“I can’t help it,” Jude admits softly, his voice tinged with frustration. “I can see headlines. I hear what they’re saying. I know how they look at us, Ky. Like we’re something… wrong.”

Kylian’s fingers trace gentle circles on Jude’s arm, calming, grounding. “Well, fuck them,” Kylian says quietly but firmly and Jude laughs. “Yeah well, we let them talk, I guess. It doesn’t change what we are. It doesn’t change us , Ky.”

Jude swallows hard, his throat tight with emotion “Because I won’t let it. I won’t let them take this from us.”

“That’s my boy.” Kylian whispers, his breath warm against his ear. “But we’re stronger than they think. And when it gets hard—when it feels like the world is against us—you don’t have to face it alone. I’m here. Always.”

Jude closes his eyes, leaning into Kylian’s touch, letting the steady rhythm of Kylian’s heartbeat against his back lull him into a moment of peace. For a while, they sit in silence, the only sound the faint hum of the world outside their window.

Jude whispers after a while, his voice barely audible. “Don’t let go.”

Kylian presses a gentle kiss to the top of Jude’s head. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

And in that quiet promise, Jude finally feels a sliver of calm break through the storm inside him.

He lets out a soft laugh, the sound shaky but real, as Kylian’s fingers slide under his shirt, warm and comforting against his skin. He can feel Kylian’s breath on his neck, the heat of his body pressed close, and for the first time all day, the tension in his chest starts to ease.

“I’m with you, mon bébé,” Kylian whispers softly, his lips brushing against Jude’s ear. “I don’t care what they say about you. About us.” His hand trails up, fingers splaying across Jude’s stomach, the touch gentle but firm. “And hey… you just did literally go full Zidane on a man for me. That’s sexy as fuck.”

Jude snorts, turning his head slightly to look at Kylian, a mix of amusement and disbelief in his eyes. “I got a red card and probably a fine for that, you know.”

Kylian grins, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles over Jude’s skin. “Worth it,” he says without hesitation, his eyes dark with affection and something else—something deeper. “You looked like a knight in shining armor. Or… well, a knight with anger issues.”

Jude laughs again, the sound freer now, lighter. “That’s one way to spin it.”

“It’s the only way,” Kylian murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to Jude’s neck, just below his ear. “You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone, Jude. Not to the media, not to the team, not to anyone. You stood up for us. For me.” He pulls Jude closer, their bodies fitting together seamlessly. “That means everything.”

Jude’s heart swells, the weight of the day fading with each word, each touch. He turns in Kylian’s arms, facing him fully, his eyes searching Kylian’s face. “You’re ridiculous,” he whispers, his voice soft but full of emotion. “But… thank you.”

Kylian smiles, a soft, genuine curve of his lips. “For what?”

“For reminding me why we’re worth it,” Jude says, his hand reaching up to cup Kylian’s cheek. “Even when it feels like the world’s against us.”

Kylian leans into the touch, his eyes shining with something tender, something unbreakable. “Let them come,” he whispers. “As long as I have you, mon cœur, the world can say whatever it wants.”

Jude doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he closes the distance between them, his lips capturing Kylian’s in a kiss that says everything he can’t—gratitude, love, and the promise that, no matter what, they’ll face it all together.

Chapter Text

“This can’t go on like this,” Ancelotti says, his voice steady but firm as he looks around the meeting table. The atmosphere is tense, the weight of the situation pressing down on everyone in the room. Jude is sitting beside Kylian, his leg bouncing restlessly under the table, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. He sneaks a glance at Kylian, who’s sitting with his arms crossed, calm and composed, like this is just another day at work.

It infuriates Jude. How can Kylian Mbappé sit there so unbothered, so collected, when they’re getting a lecture for the mess they’ve caused? Jude clenches his jaw, fighting the urge to elbow him in the ribs or, better yet, smack that stoic expression right off his face.

Ancelotti continues, his eyes flicking between the two of them. “You didn’t inform the club about your relationship beforehand.” His tone isn’t angry, but there’s a layer of disappointment beneath it. “That was your choice, and we respected it. Despite the media storm, despite the distractions, the president, the club, and your teammates have stood behind you. Everyone has shown you respect.”

Jude feels his stomach sink. He can hear it—the weight of what’s coming. His hands still, resting awkwardly on his lap, and he chances another glance at Kylian. Still nothing. Cool as ice.

Ancelotti’s gaze hardens, his next words cutting through the room like a blade. “But this?” He leans forward slightly, resting his hands on the table. “Fighting. Headbutting and strangling opponents. Brawling on the pitch like amateurs. This is how you repay that respect?”

Jude feels heat rise to his face. He wants to speak, to explain, but the words die in his throat. What could he even say? That he couldn’t help it? That the words had pushed him over the edge? That seeing Kylian held back by teammates, anger in his eyes, had sent him spiraling? It would sound weak, childish.

“I expect better from you both,” Ancelotti says, his voice low and calm but carrying the authority of a man who’s seen it all. “You’re not just players. You’re leaders. Role models. And more importantly—this club trust you. We trusted you. You can’t pay that back by turning every match into a spectacle for the wrong reasons.”

Jude swallows hard, his fingers curling into fists in his lap. The guilt is there, gnawing at him, but so is the anger. The injustice of it all. Why should they have to carry the burden of everyone’s expectations just because they’re together? Why should they have to be perfect when the world seems determined to tear them apart?

“I understand,” Kylian finally speaks, his voice steady, respectful, but lacking any trace of the frustration Jude feels. He sits up straighter, his eyes meeting Ancelotti’s without hesitation. “We’ve let the club down, and for that, we apologize.”

Jude stiffens beside him, the calmness in Kylian’s voice only making his own emotions swirl more chaotically. How is he so calm? Jude thinks. How is he not raging inside like I am?

Kylian continues, his tone measured. “It won’t happen again.”

Ancelotti nods, his expression softening just a fraction. “Good. Because it can’t happen again.” He looks between them once more. “I believe in both of you. This club believes in both of you. But if you want to succeed—both individually and together—you need to handle this better. Control your emotions. Support each other, but don’t lose yourselves in the process.”

Jude exhales slowly, his mind racing with everything he wants to say but can’t. When the meeting finally ends, and they’re dismissed, Jude stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. He doesn’t wait for Kylian. He needs air. Needs to get away before he says something he’ll regret.

As he steps out of the room, he hears Kylian behind him, calm as ever, calling his name softly. Jude doesn’t turn around. Not yet. Not while the fire is still burning in his chest. As Jude stands halfway out of his chair, Carlo’s voice cuts through the room, halting him in his tracks.

“You have a responsibility now.”

Jude freezes, his knuckles white as they grip the back of his chair. Kylian, still seated, doesn’t move either, his calm mask finally cracking just slightly as Ancelotti’s words sink in. The room falls silent, the weight of the statement pressing down on both of them.

“To those watching,” Carlo continues, his gaze steady and unwavering. “In the football world and outside of it. Whether you like it or not, people are looking at you. Some of them are looking for reasons to tear you down. But others?” He pauses, his eyes flicking between Jude and Kylian. “Others are looking to you for hope. For courage.”

Jude slowly sinks back into his seat, his pulse hammering in his ears. The fire that had been burning in his chest moments ago is now tempered by a different feeling—something heavier, something far more profound. Responsibility.

“You have to set an example,” Carlo says, his voice calm but carrying the weight of years of wisdom. “For the ones who are too afraid to come out. For the young boys and girls watching you who are terrified of being themselves. You represent something now. Whether you intended to or not, you’re their symbol of hope.”

Jude feels Kylian shift beside him, their arms brushing ever so slightly. It’s grounding, that touch. The warmth of Kylian’s presence when everything else feels cold and overwhelming.

“This,” Carlo gestures toward them, referencing not just the fight but everything—their relationship, the public scrutiny, the pressure. “Is bigger than you. Bigger than this club. Don’t forget that.”

Jude’s throat tightens, his mind replaying the chaos of the last few days: the fight, the media storm, the looks from teammates, the doubts in his own head. He’s never thought about it like this. Never thought about how much their actions, their very existence as a couple, could mean to people who need to see it. Who need to see them succeed.

Kylian speaks first, his voice softer now, more contemplative. “We understand.” He glances at Jude, a quiet strength in his eyes. “We’ll be better.”

Jude finally finds his voice, though it’s quieter than he intended. “We won’t let you down.” His hands unclench, resting on the table. “We won’t let them down.”

Carlo studies them for a moment longer, then nods. “Good. Because what you have—what you are—is important. Don’t waste it on anger. Channel it. Be better than those who try to tear you down.”

The meeting wraps up, and as they stand to leave, Carlo’s final words linger in the air: “Remember, the world is watching. Show them what strength looks like.”

Jude and Kylian step out of the room together, side by side. This time, Jude doesn’t walk away. He stays, letting Kylian’s calm anchor him, knowing they’re in this together.

Jude closes the door behind them as they step into the quiet of their home, the weight of Carlo’s words still pressing on his chest. Kylian’s hand is warm on his lower back, a silent reassurance, but it only makes the storm inside Jude swirl faster.

“I’m sorry,” Jude says softly, breaking the silence as they move toward the living room. He stops, turning to face Kylian, eyes clouded with guilt. “For acting like a child. For being frustrated like a child. I’ll stop.”

Kylian frowns, stepping closer. “Jude, you weren’t—”

“No.” Jude shakes his head firmly, his jaw tightening. “I have been a child. Getting worked up. Losing control. Headbutting someone like I’m... I don’t know, like I’m still a kid who can’t handle his emotions.” His voice cracks, and he exhales shakily, eyes cast downward. “I’ll change that. I’ll work on it.”

Kylian’s chest tightens at the sight of Jude—this man who carries the weight of the world on his young shoulders, who’s trying so hard to be perfect for everyone. He steps forward, gently cupping Jude’s face in his hands, tilting his head up so their eyes meet.

“Stop.” Kylian’s voice is soft but steady. “You’re only twenty-two, Jude.”

Jude’s brow furrows. “But—”

“You can be whoever you want,” Kylian says, his thumbs brushing along Jude’s cheekbones. “You have every right to be frustrated. To feel everything you’re feeling. To make mistakes. You don’t have to carry all of this like you’re supposed to have it all figured out.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against Jude’s. “You just have to be you. That’s enough. That’s all anyone who loves you wants.”

Jude’s eyes soften, his breath hitching as Kylian’s words sink in. “But it’s not enough for them. For the media. For the world.”

“To hell with them,” Kylian murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to Jude’s forehead. “The world will always expect too much. But you’re not here to live up to their expectations. You’re here to be Jud e. And that’s more than enough for me. For everyone who truly matters.”

Jude’s arms wrap around Kylian, pulling him close, holding on like he’s anchoring himself to something steady amidst the chaos. “I just... I don’t want to let you down.”

“You won’t,” Kylian whispers against his temple. “Not now. Not ever.”

Jude stands there, listening to Kylian, his heart aching with every word. It’s not just the reassurance in Kylian’s voice that gets to him—it’s the wisdom, the calm, the maturity that doesn’t belong to someone who’s only 26. Kylian talks like a man far older, like someone who’s seen too much, borne too much, and survived it all with grace.

And Jude hates it sometimes.

He hates how life forced Kylian to grow up too fast. He hates how the media tore him apart before he was even old enough to understand it. How his country turned him into a symbol rather than letting him be a boy. How even the president of France put pressure on his shoulders that no teenager should ever carry.

Jude knows.

He knows that behind Kylian’s composure is a boy who never got to just be a boy.

He knows Kylian is fighting so Jude won’t end up like that. Kylian is working so hard to protect him from the same fate, shielding him from the endless scrutiny, the demands, the impossible expectations.

And it breaks something inside Jude.

His breath hitches, his chest tightens, and he steps forward without a word, wrapping his arms around Kylian’s neck. He holds on tight, like if he lets go, the weight of everything might crush them both.

“I love you,” Jude whispers against Kylian’s skin, his voice trembling. “I love you so much.”

Kylian’s arms come around him, pulling him close, but Jude doesn’t loosen his grip. He just keeps saying it, over and over, like a mantra, like a promise.

“I love you, Kyky. I love you.”

Each word is heavy with emotion—with gratitude, with fear, with a desperate need to let Kylian know how much he means to him.

Kylian presses a kiss to Jude’s temple, his hand gently rubbing circles on his back. “I know, mon bébé. I know. And I love you too. More than anything.”

But Jude just holds him tighter, burying his face in Kylian’s neck, as if he can shield Kylian from the world the same way Kylian has been shielding him.

Jude grins through a mouthful of his dad’s homemade omelette, the familiar warmth of being home wrapping around him. It’s national break, and he’s back in England, surrounded by the people who have been his constant through every stage of his life.

Sitting at the breakfast table with his family, Jude feels a rare moment of peace. No pressure, no media, just family.

“I think I’m the luckiest guy on the planet,” Jude says, his words muffled by the food in his mouth.

Jobe narrows his eyes, already annoyed. “Don’t speak before you swallow, idiot.” He smacks Jude on the shoulder, making their parents chuckle softly.

But Jude is undeterred. He swallows, smirking at his younger brother. “I play for Real Madrid,” he begins dramatically, gesturing like he’s on stage accepting an award.

Jobe groans, rolling his eyes. “Oh, here we go…”

“And,” Jude continues, as if Jobe hadn’t said a word, “have an amazing family, the most annoying brother on earth and the most adorable, understanding boyfriend on the planet.” His grin widens, thinking of Kylian, and he’s pretty sure his face is practically glowing.

Jobe’s face scrunches up in mock horror. He immediately starts making exaggerated gagging noises. “Stop! Stop! You’re gross!”

Jude just laughs, pushing his brother playfully. “You’re just jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Jobe protests, kicking Jude under the table. “I just don’t want to hear about you and Mbappé while I’m eating breakfast.”

Mark and Denise exchange a look, both smiling at the banter between their boys. It’s been a while since the house has been this lively, and seeing Jude so happy—even after everything—fills them with pride.

Jude leans back in his chair, still grinning as Jobe mutters something under his breath. For once, life feels simple.

And even as Jobe complains, Jude knows deep down how much his brother supports him.

Jude raises an eyebrow, looking at Jobe with a smirk as he suddenly pauses mid-bite. “So who’s Eva?”, his voice teasing.

Jobe freezes, his face turning a shade of red as he starts to choke on his omelette. He coughs, sputtering, trying to clear his throat, and Jude's grin only widens.

“DID YOU TELL HIM?” Jobe gasps, turning to his dad, Mark, like he's just been caught in some kind of scandal.

Mark looks completely unbothered, but Jude can see the little twinkle in his dad’s eyes. “I didn’t tell him, Jobe. I thought you might have been the one to bring it up.”

Jobe groans, sinking in his chair and glaring at Jude. "Dad’s been talking to you.” Jobe looks like he’s about to die of embarrassment. "I swear, Dad!" He throws his hands up, exasperated. “I didn’t want to tell him! But now, thanks to you, it’s out in the open!”

Jude, thoroughly entertained, turns back to his brother. "Well, who’s Eva then? Should I be worried?" He leans in, acting all dramatic. "Is this another ‘secret’ girlfriend I should know about?"

Jobe kicks him under the table again, but it’s half-hearted. “Shut up. She’s just a friend. Just someone I’ve been talking to.” He shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, but it’s obvious he’s not fooling anyone.

Jude’s grin widens. "Oh, so you’ve been talking to her. What, like texting and stuff? Should I call her? Make sure she knows you’re still alive after the roast I just gave you?"

Jobe just rolls his eyes. "You’re impossible."

Denise chuckles softly, shaking her head at her two sons. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re both getting along again. No more fights, alright?” She smiles warmly at them both.

He looks at him pointedly. “I’ll need to meet her soon, right?”

Jobe groans again, his face turning an even deeper shade of red.

He’s glad he’s home.

Sometimes.

He sits on the bench in the dressing room, head tilted back, eyes shut tight as the noise of the world buzzes around him. Two assists. That’s what he gave them during the break. Two assists, countless runs, endless effort. But it’s never enough. Not for them. Not for the country that only seems to embrace him when he’s perfect—flawless—and tears him down the moment he slips, or worse, when he simply exists.

The headlines already sting: “Bellingham Underwhelms,” “Is He Focused on Football?” “More Drama Than Delivery.”

He breathes in slowly. The air feels heavier here in England. It always has. The pressure is suffocating, the expectations crushing. And now, the spotlight is harsher, the scrutiny sharper, because he’s not just Jude Bellingham—the young, gifted black man trying to prove himself. He’s Jude Bellingham, the young, gifted black gay man in a relationship with one of the most famous footballers in the world.

He hears the murmurs when he walks by. Feels the eyes on him, the whispers, the thinly veiled disdain. He ignores the tweets, the relentless opinions of people who’ve never kicked a ball in their life. He ignores the pundits dissecting his every move, questioning his commitment, his focus, his worth.

But what he can’t ignore is the look on his grandma’s face—the quiet sadness in her eyes when she reads the lies about him in the papers. Or the way his mom grits her teeth, hands clenched into fists, when someone shouts something vile about him and Kylian as they walk down the street.

He tries to push it away, to close his eyes and think of something else. His childhood. The days when it was just him and Jobe, kicking a ball around in the park until the sun dipped below the horizon. His dad’s voice, steady and warm, coaching them both, teaching them the game. The laughter, the simplicity of it all before the world grew so complicated.

But even those memories are tainted now, overshadowed by the reality of what he faces every day. The hate, the prejudice, the weight of being a symbol for something bigger than himself.

He feels the hurt gnawing at him, the frustration simmering beneath his skin. But he knows he can’t show it. Not here. Not now. He’s expected to be strong. To endure.

Soft sounds of footsteps pull him from his thoughts. It’s his mother, her eyes filled with quiet determination. She walks over, places a hand on his shoulder, and squeezes gently.

“You’re doing everything right,” she says softly. “Don’t let them make you forget who you are.”

Jude nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. He stands, shoulders back, chin high, because that’s what he has to do.

For his family. For himself.

And as he steps back out onto the pitch, he tells himself the same thing he’s told himself a thousand times before: Keep going. Keep fighting. Don’t let them break you.

Jude sits alone in the quiet of his hotel room, the glow of the city outside filtered through the drawn curtains. His legs ache from the game, his mind heavy with the weight of the day. He reaches for his phone on the bedside table, hesitating for a moment before unlocking it.

His fingers move almost instinctively, opening a message to Kylian.

miss you sm. love u.

It’s simple, but it says everything. He stares at the screen for a second longer, thumb hovering over the send button, before he presses it. Then, without waiting for a reply, he switches off his phone and places it face down.

No vibrations. No notifications. No distractions.

Jude leans back against the headboard, eyes closing as he exhales slowly. He wants silence. Peace. Just for a second. Just for an hour, if it’s possible.

His thoughts keep trying to pull him back—to the stadium, to the papers, to the street shouts—but he pushes them away, focusing on the stillness of the room.

Just breathe, he tells himself. One breath at a time.

The tension in the kitchen is palpable, the quiet hum of the refrigerator the only sound filling the space between Kylian and his mother. Fayza’s voice is calm, measured, but it cuts through him like a blade.

“You can’t protect him from everything,” she says softly, leaning against the counter, her arms crossed.

Kylian exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. “Just like you and Dad couldn’t protect me,” he mutters, already anticipating where this conversation is headed.

Fayza’s eyes soften. “Exactly. And we tried, Kylian. We did everything we could. We prevented a lot of things, but not everything.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “You weren’t experienced. You didn’t have the resources. I do. I can do more. You know I will.” His jaw is tight, the determination in his voice unyielding.

“Kylian…” She sighs, stepping closer. “Being this alert, this tough all the time—it might make him panic. Jude’s not a baby. You were a baby when it all started for you. He’s different.”

“I don’t care,” Kylian snaps, cutting her off. His eyes blaze with frustration. “I can’t let him go through the same shit I did. I won’t.”

Her lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, she just watches him, the son she’s seen carry the weight of a nation on his shoulders for years.

“ Stop interrupting me, Kylian.”

Kylian’s shoulders tense, but he doesn’t say anything.

“ I don’t want to interfere but he doesn’t need a parent.”

He clenches his fists, and Fayza reaches out, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“You just have to let go,” she whispers. “You can’t find peace like this. And neither can he.”

Kylian doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the floor. He knows she’s right. Deep down, he’s always known. But how do you let go when fear is the only thing holding you together.

“Sometimes I wonder…” Kylian says, his voice barely a whisper, almost swallowed by the silence in the room. His gaze is distant, fixed on the floor as if searching for answers that refuse to come. “If I ruined his life.”

Fayza’s heart aches at the vulnerability in her son’s voice, the rare crack in the armor he wears so well. She steps closer, her hand gentle on his arm, grounding him.

“I don’t think it matters,” she says softly but firmly, meeting his eyes. “He chose you, Kylian.”

He blinks, the words settling heavy in his chest.

“You have to respect his decision,” Fayza continues. “He’s not a child. He knows what he wants, what he’s choosing. And he chose you, with everything that comes with it—the good, the bad, and all the chaos in between.”

Kylian swallows hard, his throat tight. “But what if I—”

“No.” She cuts him off gently, her eyes filled with understanding. “You can’t keep questioning it. You’ll drive yourself mad. Love isn’t about protecting someone from every hardship, Kylian. It’s about being there when they face them.”

He nods slowly, her words seeping into the cracks of his doubt. “I just… I don’t want him to regret it.”

Fayza smiles softly. “He won’t. Not if you let him love you the way he wants to, not if you let yourself love him without trying to control everything.”

Kylian exhales shakily, the weight of her words settling over him.

Maybe it’s time to let go. For Jude. For himself.

Madrid is famous for its rooftop restaurants. The kind with breathtaking views, where the city sprawls out like a dream beneath a canopy of stars. Kylian has been to a few—dinners with friends, teammates, even his lawyers. But never Jude.

He hears his mother’s words in his head again. You just have to let go. He lets the thought linger as he strips off his dirty training kit and drops it onto the floor of the locker room.

Training had just finished, and the atmosphere is light. Kylian sits on the bench beside Jude, Cama sprawled between them, sweat still clinging to their skin.

“Who, me?” Cama grins, all teeth and mischief, as he glances at Kylian.

Kylian arches an eyebrow. “Not you, asshole. Get lost.”

Cama gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “Can’t even take me there as your kid or something?”

Kylian flashes him a sharp look, one that says not today.

Cama throws his hands up in surrender, standing. “Okay, okay. I’ll ask Vini to take me out then.”

Jude smacks him on the back as he walks off, a playful grin tugging at his lips. He scoots closer to Kylian, the warmth of their legs brushing together.

“You’re taking me out?” Jude asks, voice soft but teasing. “Like a date? A date date?”

Kylian turns to him, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Yeah. A date date. Somewhere nice. Somewhere we don’t have to hide.”

Jude’s smile grows, wide and full of light. He leans in a little, close enough that their foreheads almost touch. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Kylian murmurs, brushing his fingers against Jude’s. “It’s about time.”

Jude slaps Kylian’s leg playfully, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Take me home, then. Gotta make sure I look pretty enough for you, Monsieur Mbappé.”

Kylian tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “ Pretty enough? You? You’re always the prettiest thing in the room. Even when you’re sweaty and covered in grass.”

Jude rolls his eyes but can’t hide the blush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, yeah. Keep it up, and I might just make you wait.”

Kylian leans closer, voice low and teasing. “ Make me wait? You’d miss me too much.”

Before Jude can respond, Cama’s loud, exaggerated groan echoes through the locker room.

“OH MY GOD, STOP BEING GROSS IN THE LOCKER!”Cama screams, dramatically covering his ears. “Some of us are still recovering from training!”

Kylian and Jude burst into laughter, leaning into each other as Cama stalks off, muttering about lovebirds and no respect.

Cama strides over to Vini and, without warning, slaps him on the nape. “You’re taking me out tonight,” he declares, grinning from ear to ear.

Vini shoots him a look, rubbing the back of his head. “You know I have a girlfriend , right?”

Cama waves him off. “You have girlfriendS. I’m the boy , friend.”

Vini rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And we’re taking Rodry too,” Cama adds, completely ignoring Vini’s protest.

Jude, still leaning against Kylian, snorts. “You’re ruining our romantic moment.”

Cama glares over his shoulder. “Shut up. Some of us have to hang out with actual friends and not just whisper sweet nothings in the locker room.”

Kylian smirks. “Jealous much?”

Cama huffs. “Whatever. Vini, we leave at eight. Dress decent.”

Vini glares at Kylian, crossing his arms. “You know, you have a bad influence on him,” he says, pointing at Kylian. “You’re his captain , and yet whenever he gets jealous over Mama and Papa,”—he gestures to Jude and Kylian—“I have to take him out to calm him down.”

Kylian raises an eyebrow and grins, teasing, “You’re the boy , friend.”

Vini rolls his eyes dramatically. “And you’re the one making him all lovey-dovey.”

Jude chuckles, resting his head on Kylian’s shoulder. “Well, someone has to do it. Can’t let him get too carried away.”

Kylian laughs and pats Jude’s back. “I’m glad you have my back.”

Vini shakes his head with a dramatic sigh, throwing his hands up in the air as he walks out of the locker room. “You’re gross,” he mutters, but there's a grin tugging at his lips, despite his words.

Jude laughs, rolling his eyes. “Always the charmer, isn’t he?”

Kylian just smirks, his arm around Jude’s shoulders. “Let him talk. We know the truth.” He leans in closer, whispering, “You’re my favorite distraction.”

Jude looks up at him, his smile softening. “Same here, Mbappé.”

When Jude finally steps out of the closet, Kylian’s breath hitches in his throat. The white pants, the thin blue shirt—God, it’s almost too much. The fabric clings just right, and Jude’s confident walk toward him sends a jolt of heat through Kylian. His thoughts spiral for a moment, the temptation to cancel all their plans and lock them away in their bedroom for the night almost overwhelming.

He quickly shakes himself out of it, managing to recover just in time. As Jude reaches him, Kylian pulls him in, giving him a long, lingering kiss on the mouth. His hands slide to Jude’s waist, holding him close as he deepens the kiss.

“Too pretty,” Kylian mutters against Jude’s lips, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe I should just keep you in bed tonight.”

Jude chuckles, a playful spark in his eyes. “Not happening, baby. We’ve got plans.”

Kylian smiles, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he pulls back slightly, his fingers brushing over Jude’s cheek. “If I had it my way, I’d cancel them all.”

As soon as they step out of the car, Jude takes Kylian’s hand, his fingers slipping between his like they were always meant to be there. Kylian responds instinctively, intertwining their fingers tightly. It’s a simple gesture, but one that fills him with warmth and a sense of security.

The city lights of Madrid stretch before them, sparkling under the night sky as they walk towards their table. The rooftop restaurant is bustling with activity, a soft hum of conversations and clinking glasses in the background. Their table is just over the railings, the view breathtaking, but Jude’s focus is solely on Kylian. He doesn’t care about the people around them, the prying eyes, the noise of the world.

As they settle into their seats, Jude’s heart beats steadily, grounding him. The comfort of Kylian’s presence, the warmth of his hand in his own, makes everything else fade into the background. He can’t help but smile, a little embarrassed by the way his heart races, but grateful that this moment is theirs. They can have it all, together, regardless of the world around them.

“I’ve got you,” Kylian says softly, his eyes meeting Jude’s with an almost unreadable expression. 

Jude squeezes his hand, not needing words to express the depth of what he feels. For now, this is enough. This is more than enough.

As they sit at the table, enjoying the view and each other's company, the reality of their status begins to sink in. Their table is a small island in the sea of activity, but it doesn’t stay isolated for long. Before they know it, a group of kids rushes over, faces lighting up as they spot them. The excitement in their eyes is pure and unfiltered, and for a moment, the weight of everything else seems to vanish.

“Can we get your autographs?” one of them asks shyly, holding up a napkin, their voice full of admiration.

Kylian and Jude exchange a quick glance, and then, without hesitation, they both sign the items, smiling at the kids. It’s something they’ve gotten used to, but there’s something special about these moments. The kids don’t care about the rumors, the headlines, or who’s dating who. They love Kylian and Jude for one reason: because they’re good at what they do. They love them for their skills, their passion for the game, their dedication.

“Can we sit with you for a bit?” one of the girls asks, shy but eager. Kylian chuckles, nodding, and they all take their seats around the table, chatting casually. The kids ask about their favorite games, their biggest inspirations, and what it’s like to play for Real Madrid.

Jude listens, smiling at the innocence of it all. These kids don’t care who they love or what anyone says about them. They just love them for who they are and what they’ve accomplished. The simplicity of it is mesmerizing. No one’s judging, no one’s questioning. They just want to hear stories, share laughs, and enjoy the moment.

For a while, everything feels right. The pressure of the world outside, the whispers, the criticisms, all of it fades into the background. In this moment, it’s just them and the kids, and for the first time in a long time, Jude feels a sense of peace.

When the parents come to collect the kids, there are hugs and goodbyes, and Kylian and Jude are left in the quiet of their table again. Jude looks over at Kylian, a soft smile on his face.

“That's how it should be,” Jude says, his voice quiet, but full of conviction. “Love without exceptions. Just for what we do.”

Kylian nods, his gaze thoughtful. “Yeah. Just for what we do.”

The restaurant hums with activity around them, but at that moment, they feel like they’re in their own world. The city lights sparkle beneath them, and the cool evening breeze feels refreshing, carrying with it the weight of the day. But for now, they can forget about everything, everything except each other.

Kylian watches as Jude looks at him, his expression softening, a little smile playing on his lips. He doesn’t need to say anything; the love in his eyes is more than enough. But then, out of nowhere, Jude’s hand reaches across the table, his fingers brushing over Kylian’s. Their eyes lock as Jude gently takes Kylian's hand in his, intertwining their fingers with a familiarity and comfort that feels like second nature.

“Fuck them anyway,” Jude mutters under his breath, his voice low, but there's a fire behind his words. He glances up at Kylian, his gaze filled with something deeper, something that’s been building between them since the beginning.

And then, without hesitation, Jude leans forward, presses his lips softly against Kylian’s knuckles in a delicate kiss. The touch is full of affection, possessiveness, love. It’s a gesture of devotion, of feeling things he can’t always express.

“I love you so much,” Jude says, his voice quiet but steady, the words thick with meaning. His heart is heavy with everything he’s carried for so long, the weight of judgment, the scrutiny, the pressure. But in this moment, he doesn’t care about any of it. He just cares about Kylian, about what they have.

Kylian feels his heart swell at the words, at the raw sincerity in Jude's voice. It’s as if all the challenges, the obstacles, the noise from the outside world has faded away, leaving only them, the way it was always meant to be.

“I love you too,” Kylian says, his voice soft, but steady. He tightens his grip on Jude's hand, his fingers lacing together with his. “I always will.”

And in that moment, nothing else matters. Not the stares, not the whispers, not the judgment. It’s just them, in the quiet intimacy of their love, and it’s more than enough.

Jude’s voice drops a little, and he smirks playfully, leaning in closer to Kylian. His words are laced with teasing, his confidence growing as he looks at Kylian’s eyes, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Can’t wait for you to take me home and fuck my brains out,” he says with a dramatic flair, eyes sparkling with mischief. He watches as Kylian’s face shifts from amused to a mix of surprised and intrigued.

Kylian can’t help but chuckle, his cheeks slightly flushed, but he quickly tries to regain his composure. “God’s sake,” he starts, voice low but teasing. “I can’t take you anywhere fancy with that kind of talk.”

Jude grins wider, completely ignoring Kylian’s attempt at playing it cool. “Oh, come on. You love it,” he continues, now leaning back in his chair, exaggerating every movement, his words dripping with desire. “I mean, look at me. All dressed up and waiting for you to take me home and show me what you’ve got.”

Kylian’s laughter bubbles out, though there’s a definite shift in his expression as he tries to suppress the growing heat in his chest. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, trying to focus, but the playful challenge in Jude’s eyes is distracting. He lets out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head as he takes another sip of his drink, clearly enjoying the flirtation.

Jude leans in just enough for their lips to almost brush, his voice hushed but with that same playful edge. “You can’t resist me,” he murmurs with a teasing smile. “I’m too much for you.”

Kylian raises an eyebrow and smirks back, fully aware of the effect Jude’s words are having on him. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, mon amour,” he says, voice low with a mix of amusement and something else entirely.

Jude laughs, but there’s no hiding the fire in his eyes. “I’ll make sure to keep every one of them,” he replies, his hand inching across the table to rest on Kylian’s.

And just like that, the rest of the world falls away, and all that matters is the connection between them, the teasing, the challenge, the undeniable pull they have on each other.

Chapter Text

Jude’s screams tear through the quiet of the locker room, raw and broken, echoing off the cold walls. He’s on his knees, hands gripping the earth-stained fabric of his shorts, trembling under the weight of disappointment. His face is streaked with tears, mixing with the sweat and grime from ninety agonizing minutes on the pitch. The dirt beneath his nails, the sting of cuts on his knees—it all feels like proof of how hard they fought, how close they came, and how far they fell.

Kylian’s there, fingers threaded through Jude’s damp curls, pressing down gently, grounding him. His other hand clutches the back of Jude’s neck, pulling him in, their faces so close their breaths merge into one uneven rhythm. His cheek rests against Jude’s, skin damp with sweat and tears, their hearts pounding furiously, in sync with the pain of loss.

They lost UCL semis.

Jude’s voice is hoarse, cracking with every word. “We worked so hard for this.” His sob is a jagged whisper, the sound of something breaking inside him.

“I know, bébé.” Kylian’s voice shakes as he speaks, his own tears slipping silently down his face. He’s trying to be strong, to hold it together for Jude, but the weight of their defeat crushes him too. He presses his forehead to Jude’s temple, letting his own emotions bleed through, his chest heaving with the effort to keep it together. “We worked hard for this, and we’ll work more. Next year… next year, we’ll make them remember.”

Jude shakes his head, fingers clutching the hem of Kylian’s jersey like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely. His voice is thick with anguish. “I just— I wanted it. This year. After everything… after coming out, after everything they said. I wanted to lift that trophy. I wanted to show them. I wanted to tell them—” His breath hitches, and the words die in his throat, replaced by another shuddering sob.

“I know,” Kylian whispers, voice tight, eyes stinging as his own tears spill freely. He can feel Jude’s heart beating against his chest, fast and desperate, and it makes his own ache. “I know you did. I wanted it for you too. For us. To show them we belong here, no matter what they say.”

The bitterness of defeat lingers heavy in the air, wrapping around them, suffocating. Kylian knows what this means to Jude—knows that the headlines tomorrow won’t just talk about the loss but will dissect every moment, every mistake, and use it as ammunition against them. Against him. Against them.

But right now, none of that matters. All that matters is Jude, trembling in his arms, breaking under the weight of expectations and dreams that didn’t come true.

“We’ll show them,” Kylian says softly, his hand sliding from Jude’s hair to cradle his face, gently lifting it so their eyes meet. Jude’s eyes are red, glassy with unshed tears, and Kylian’s heart aches at the sight. “Not today, but we will. This isn’t the end, Jude. It’s just one season. One loss. We have more in us. So much more.”

Jude swallows hard, his lip trembling. He leans into Kylian’s touch, closing his eyes for a moment as if trying to absorb the comfort, the promise in Kylian’s words. “It doesn’t feel like it,” he whispers. “It feels like it’s over.”

“It’s not over,” Kylian says firmly, brushing his thumb over Jude’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. His voice steadies, becoming the anchor Jude needs. “We’ll rest. We’ll heal. And next year, we’ll come back stronger. Together.”

Jude nods slowly, the weight of Kylian’s words settling in his chest. It doesn’t erase the pain, doesn’t make the loss easier to bear, but it gives him something to hold onto—a flicker of hope in the darkness.

For a long moment, they stay like that, holding each other in the quiet of the locker room, two hearts beating as one. Two players, two lovers, two men who have fought battles on and off the pitch. And though tonight they lost, they know their fight is far from over.

Tomorrow, the world will still talk, still judge, still speculate. But for now, in this moment, it’s just them. And that’s enough.

A few seconds pass, the world around them a blur of silence and pain, until Kylian feels the presence of someone kneeling beside them. He glances up, and it’s Rodrygo. No words, just a quiet, steady embrace as he wraps his arms around both of them, pulling them into a comforting hold.

Jude, still trembling, leans into the warmth, his face pressed against Kylian’s chest. Kylian feels the tension in Jude’s body begin to ease, just slightly, as Rodrygo murmurs softly, “We’ve got you.”

It doesn’t take long before others follow. Vini is next, dropping to his knees beside them and wrapping his arms around all three of them. His voice is soft but firm, filled with conviction and a quiet strength. “We’ll come back stronger. Together.”

Kylian closes his eyes for a moment, the weight of his friends around him grounding him, reminding him that they’re not alone in this. Jude’s breath hitches again, but this time it’s less of a sob and more of a deep, shaky exhale—a release of some of the tension that’s been building inside him.

Then, without warning, Rudiger appears. He doesn’t kneel. He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he jumps on top of them with a dramatic, exaggerated flair, sending them all toppling to the floor in a tangled heap.

A collective gasp fills the room, followed by a burst of unexpected, broken laughter—raw and genuine, a mix of sadness and absurdity. Jude’s laugh is shaky but real, and Kylian’s chest vibrates with his own soft chuckle. It’s not much, but it’s something—a fleeting moment of light in the darkness.

"Rudi, you idiot!" Vinícius groans, half-laughing, half-annoyed, as he tries to push Rudiger off.

"You needed it," Rudiger says with a grin, lying flat on top of them as if he belongs there. “Can’t let you all be sad forever .”

More teammates join, forming a chaotic pile of limbs, laughter, and quiet support. Cama and Fede pull them into a tighter embrace, and soon even Luka and Dani, their experienced voices of reason, stand nearby, offering quiet words of reassurance.

“We’ll be back,” Luka says softly, his hand resting on Kylian’s shoulder. “This is just one battle. There will be more.”

Jude, lying on the floor under the weight of his teammates, feels something shift inside him. The loss still burns, but it no longer feels like a solitary burden. It’s shared now, carried by those who love them, who believe in them.

Kylian leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Jude’s temple, whispering just for him, “See? We’re not alone.”

And Jude believes it.

The drive home from the stadium is heavy with silence. Jude leans his head against the window, watching the Madrid streets blur past, every streetlight flickering like a reminder of the season they left behind. No UCL. No league title. Just disappointment weighing them down like a second skin.

Kylian sits beside him, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting gently on Jude’s knee. He doesn’t say anything—what could he say? They both know what it feels like. It’s like dying slowly, watching months of blood, sweat, and tears slip through their fingers.

When they finally reach home, Jude barely makes it through the door before collapsing onto the couch. His legs are heavy, and his chest feels tight. Kylian follows him, sitting down beside him, pulling him into his arms. Neither of them speaks. The silence is comforting, a quiet acknowledgment of their shared grief.

They have three and a half weeks off before preseason starts—a brief window of time to escape, to breathe, to remember that football isn’t everything.

“Three weeks,” Kylian murmurs, running his fingers through Jude’s curls. “We’ll be back stronger.”

Week 1: Birmingham, UK

When the plane touches down in England, Jude exhales deeply, the weight of the city wrapping around him like a familiar blanket. The airport is quieter than those in Madrid or Paris, and for once, no paparazzi trail them as they make their way out. His father, Mark, is waiting at arrivals, his face lighting up when he sees Jude.

“Welcome home, son,” Mark says, pulling him into a hug that lingers just a little longer than usual. Jude melts into the embrace, the scent of home—fresh air, familiar cologne, and love—settling in his chest.

Kylian stands behind him, waiting patiently, until Mark turns and hugs him. “Kylian. Always good to see you.”

They drive back to the house Jude grew up in, the car filled with easy conversation and comfortable silence. Denise and Jobe are waiting at the door. His mother wraps her arms around Jude tightly, whispering, “You look tired.”

“I’m okay,” Jude says softly, even though they both know it isn’t true.

Jobe is less sentimental. “Took you long enough,” he teases, pulling Jude into a playful headlock. “Thought you’d forgotten about us.”

That evening, the family gathers around the kitchen table for dinner—his grandma roast chicken with all the trimmings. It’s simple, hearty, and exactly what Jude needed. Kylian listens quietly, smiling at the banter between Jude and Jobe.

The next few days are a blur of nostalgia.

They visit old parks where Jude used to play as a child. Jobe drags him and Kylian to the backyard to kick a ball around. “Bet you’ve still got it,” Jobe grins, challenging Jude to a one-on-one.

“I never lost it,” Jude replies with a smirk, dodging Jobe’s attempts to steal the ball. Kylian watches from the sidelines, arms crossed, smiling. He joins in eventually, the three of them laughing until their sides hurt.

One night, Jude and Kylian sit on the roof of his childhood home, looking out at the quiet neighborhood. “It’s different here,” Kylian says softly.

“Yeah,” Jude replies, resting his head on Kylian’s shoulder. “But it’s home.”

Week 2: Paris, France

Paris greets them with its usual charm—cobblestone streets, elegant cafes, and the distant hum of life in the city. But Kylian doesn’t take Jude to the bustling heart of the city.

Fayza is waiting for them at the family home. She hugs Jude tightly, her warmth a quiet reminder that he’s part of their family now too.

For the next week, life is peaceful.

They visit a small vineyard where the air smells of grapes and sunshine. Jude sips wine with Kylian, their fingers entwined under the table. They tour the grounds, walking hand in hand through rows of grapevines.

“This is what peace feels like,” Kylian says one evening as they sit on a blanket, watching the sun set over the hills.

Jude leans into him, eyes closed. “I could stay here forever.”

One afternoon, Kylian takes Jude to a hidden café he used to visit as a teenager. It’s tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, far from the tourists and cameras. They sit by the window, sharing pastries and stories from their childhoods.

“That table,” Kylian points. “I used to sit there with my friends, planning how we’d take over the world.”

Jude smiles. “And look at you now.”

Later, they walk through the quiet streets, stopping to admire the architecture. They are just two young men in love, strolling through Paris as if the world belongs to them.

Week 3: Ibiza, Spain

Ibiza is everything they need it to be—sun-drenched beaches, turquoise waters, and the freedom to let go.

Their villa overlooks the ocean, and every morning, they wake up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore. Jude stands on the balcony, the sea breeze ruffling his hair, and Kylian watches him from the bed, thinking how beautiful he looks against the backdrop of blue.

They spend their days exploring hidden coves, swimming in crystal-clear waters, and lounging on the beach. Jude lies on a sunbed, sunglasses perched on his nose, while Kylian reads a book beside him.

“Wanna swim?” Jude asks, nudging Kylian with his foot.

Kylian looks up, smiling. “Race you.”

They sprint toward the water, splashing and laughing as they dive into the cool sea. Under the water, Kylian grabs Jude’s hand, pulling him close for a kiss.

Evenings in Ibiza are magical.

One night, they find a quiet beachside bar. They sit on the sand, sipping cocktails as the sun sets, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

Jude rests his head on Kylian’s shoulder. “I love you,” he whispers.

Kylian kisses his temple. “I love you too.”

On their last night, they dance under the stars at a small beach party. The music is soft, and the world feels distant. Kylian pulls Jude close, their bodies moving in sync.

“Let’s stay here forever,” Jude murmurs.

Kylian smiles, brushing a stray curl from Jude’s face. “We can come back. Anytime you want.”

As the stars twinkle above them, they hold each other, knowing that the world will wait. For now, they have this moment. Just the two of them, in a place where nothing else matters.

*

Jude stares at the paper in his hand, his eyes wide, voice almost cracking with disbelief. "You bought me a what?!"

Kylian, casually leaning against the kitchen counter, sips his coffee like he didn’t just drop a bomb. "A vineyard," he repeats, as if he’s talking about picking up groceries. "And the château."

Jude’s voice pitches higher. "You bought me a château ?! Just because I said I liked the place? Oh my god, Kylian, what am I supposed to do with a vineyard? I don’t know anything about wine or grapes or—"

"We have people for that," Kylian says smoothly, setting down his mug. He crosses the room in a few steps, gently taking the paper from Jude’s trembling hands. "Don’t act like I’m turning you into a housewife or something."

Jude blinks at him, then starts pacing the room, hands flying in the air. "Kylian, bébé , mon amour , my everything —" His eyes lock onto Kylian’s, incredulous. "You just bought me a fucking château in Bordeaux!"

Kylian shrugs, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "It’s a shame you can’t even pronounce it right, you know." His tone is light, but the glint in his eyes is pure mischief.

Jude freezes, narrowing his eyes. " Oh, fuck you, Mbappé. "

Kylian laughs, pulling Jude into his arms. "Anytime, baby." He kisses the side of Jude’s head. "But seriously, I thought you’d like it. You kept talking about how peaceful it was, how beautiful the vineyards looked at sunset."

Jude groans into Kylian’s chest. "I did say that, but I didn’t mean for you to buy it! Normal people just take another trip, not—" He pulls back, looking at Kylian with a mix of love and exasperation. "You’re unbelievable."

Kylian’s hands find Jude’s waist, pulling him close. "I just want you to have a place where you can breathe. Where we can breathe. No cameras. No noise. Just us."

Jude sighs, resting his forehead against Kylian’s. "You’re insane."

"And you love me for it."

"Yeah," Jude whispers, a soft smile spreading across his face. "I do. But next time, maybe give me a heads-up before buying me an entire estate ."

Kylian chuckles, pressing a kiss to Jude’s lips. "Deal. You just said how amazing it would be to grow old there," Kylian murmurs, his arms sliding around Jude’s waist, pulling him close. His voice is soft, sincere. "And I thought—"

Jude’s eyes widen, panic flashing across his face. "You’re not trying to—here" His heart skips. Oh shit. He’s not trying to propose, is he?

Kylian raises a brow, amused, and quickly pinches Jude’s side. "No."

"Good," Jude breathes out in relief, though his heart is still racing. " Good. 'Cause I’d kill you if you did it like this."

Kylian’s eyes gleam with mischief. "So buying an entire estate isn’t enough now?" he teases.

"That’s not the point," Jude says, swatting him lightly on the chest. "You know it."

Kylian knows it. And yes, the thought had crossed his mind once or twice—or a hundred times. But he isn’t planning to propose. Not yet.

He looks at Jude, his 24-year-old boyfriend, still finding his place in the world, still so full of life and potential. Kylian is willing to wait. He’s never been in a rush. They’ve never had to say it out loud, but it’s an unspoken agreement between them—a quiet understanding that they’ll take this at their own pace. No pressure. No expectations.

Kylian leans in, brushing a kiss against Jude’s temple. "I know," he whispers. "I’m not proposing."

"Yet," Jude adds softly, his fingers playing with the hem of Kylian’s shirt, a small smile on his lips.

"Yet," Kylian agrees, his arms tightening around him. "But for now, let’s just enjoy the château."

Jude tilts his head up, looking into Kylian’s eyes, and for a moment, the world feels simple. "Yeah," he whispers. "This is Carters-level shit, you know that, right?" Jude says, waving the paper in the air as he paces around the living room. "Buying a château and all that. They’re gonna call me the First Gentleman of France."

Kylian leans back on the couch, arms crossed, watching Jude with amusement. "I’m not running for presidency."

"Who cares?" Jude shoots back with a grin. "You are the president."

Kylian chuckles, shaking his head. "Exaggerating much?"

Jude stops, turns to face him, hands on his hips. "You attend presidential dinners about war and economy—"

"Now you’re making me sound like some boring old man," Kylian interrupts, smirking.

“Oh, there’s nothing boring about you. At all. " He pauses, eyes gleaming with mischief. " Oh god, I’m the new Carla Bruni of France, right?”

Kylian laughs, shaking his head. "You’re unbelievable."

"You love me," Jude sings softly, leaning in closer, their foreheads nearly touching.

"I love you," Kylian murmurs, pulling Jude even closer, his lips brushing against Jude’s. "Always."

Jude takes the paper and reads it again “ Monsieur Bellingham, ” Jude tries out, the words rolling off his tongue as if he’s testing their weight. He tilts his head, playful, watching Kylian’s reaction. Kylian bursts into a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Or… they could just call us both Monsieur Mbappé, " Jude adds with a mischievous smirk, his eyes sparkling with the challenge.

Kylian raises a brow, his voice low and warm. "Don’t tempt me. I’ll do it. Like—I’ll do it now, and your mum will kill me."

Jude laughs, a sound that melts into the soft glow of the room. "Okay, okay. I’m kidding. Don’t do it." He leans in closer, his forehead resting against Kylian’s, their breaths mingling in the space between them. His voice softens, a confession lingering at the edges of his words. "But… for the record, I like how it sounds."

Kylian’s heart stumbles for a beat, the air thick with something unspoken yet undeniable. Jude’s hands move to the buttons of Kylian’s shirt, fingers trembling slightly—not from nerves, but from the overwhelming weight of love that neither of them can fully articulate. It’s in the quiet moments, like this one, where their forever is written.

"Jude…" Kylian murmurs, his voice a mixture of want and tenderness, but before he can say more, Jude’s lips curve into a soft smile.

And Kylian can’t hold back anymore.

He closes the distance between them with a kiss—deep, slow, and consuming. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a promise. A promise of all the tomorrows they’ll share. Of the mornings waking up next to each other, the battles they’ll fight side by side, and the moments when words aren’t needed because love is louder than anything they could ever say.

Jude’s fingers pause for a second, the world fading into the warmth of Kylian’s touch. He doesn’t need a ring, a ceremony, or a new name to know what they have is real. He feels it in every heartbeat, every kiss, every whispered word.

They’ll get there. Not today, not tomorrow, but one day. Because what they have isn’t fleeting.

It’s forever.