𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬' 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐨 [☁️]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐧 || 𝐀. 𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐌𝐈 𝐱 𝐊. 𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄́

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐱 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬.

↳ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ kylian has a hard time swallowing france's loss against argentina in the finals, it's depressing him to no end. so he goes to the person he feels safest with.

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Probably the biggest loss of his life so far.

He was disgusted with himself on a whole new level.

It shouldn't be that big of a deal, really, but in his case, it was. Probably the biggest loss of his career.

He couldn't wait for all the racist comments coming from both the French side and the Argentinians. Winning was seemingly not enough for them. He just wanted to be left alone.

Maybe not all alone, but he wanted to be in somebody's arms. He knows exactly who.

He feels pathetic, really, just going to Achraf like that for comfort. When Morocco lost against them, he was the one who initiated in comforting the Moroccan, not the other way around.

He feels like shit, like all of this is his fault. Even if he was the one who did the most throughout the match, it clearly was not enough.

And there he was, standing at Achraf's hotel room door, trying his best not to break down right then and there, in the Moroccan's arms as soon as the other had opened the door.

That was exactly what happened. As soon as Achraf had let him in, a tear streamed down his cheek. Then another, and then he was a sobbing mess, while the Moroccan held him in his arms, quietly getting him to sit with him on the bed.

"Mi cariño, it's okay," he mixed his broken French with his native language, something Kylian couldn't help but get mesmerized to. Achraf's voice was so soothing to the point it was the only thing that could calm him down.

And by God, the pet names in Spanish made him melt like ice cream on a hot summer day in a Mediterranean country. Achraf just knew how to make him open up.

The Moroccan caressed his cheek softly, letting the Frenchman melt into his touch. His hand was so soft, he wanted to stay in contact with it forever; for once, he didn't have to make any decisions, he felt safe with Achraf.

"I just don't get it, how could it go wrong?" Kylian muttered, the strength to talk finally came back to him again. Achraf just listened, not saying a word until he would know Kylian is done.

"I did my best, i scored two points in the span of two minutes, and a penalty, and yet it wasn't enough. No one else did anything, I had to do everything on my own and it still wasn't enough for us to win. Am I really good enough?" The question made Achraf freeze in place, how could Kylian think of himself like that?

Just the sound of Kylian's voice breaking as he admitted those words saddened him to no end. The Frenchman sounded so broken, all the Moroccan wanted was to put his pieces back in place. Like a puzzle he liked solving every time. He just wanted to see Kylian happy. He grabbed the younger man's chin, getting him to look him in the eyes.

"Don't think of yourself that way," Achraf began, his voice as soft as ever, "I was more than rejoiced when you score those two points, we all were very happy. You did your best, Kylian, and that's all that matters." Kylian just melted at the words, his softening gaze made that clear. He was on the verge of crying again, but instead, he just accidentally asked out loud what he was thinking;

"Can I kiss you?"

The Moroccan was taken aback for a second, but the idea intrigued him. Kissing Kylian was something he had thought of a few times, something he hated himself for, but now, he didn't mind at all. Now that the idea was present in frony of him, he didn't hesitate. He nodded, unable to find words to express anything else. Kylian lifted himself up a bit so his face was at level with Achraf's, before pressing his lips onto the Moroccan's.

Achraf's lips were soft, Kylian noted. Achraf was experienced, so the Frenchman let him take the lead in the kiss, and it was the best decision ever. The kiss made him feel so hazy, he felt like he was in the clouds. Achraf was responsible for making him feel that way, and he fucking loved it.

When they pulled apart, Kylian could not stop smiling, so contagious it made the Moroccan smile as well. The Frenchman let his hand rest on Achraf's in need of more contact with him. Achraf was so beautiful, do dreamy, so comforting, so charming.

This charming man, the one he fell head over heals for, the one he feels safest with, the one that can fix him every time he breaks.

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