Stay Away

christmas day

I wake up with a slight ache in my legs from working out the night before. After I had finished playing, Leah forced me to teach her some basic chords, which set my planned workout back by half an hour. She watched me the entire time, commenting on my form and analysing the difference between the exercises she would do for football. I washed her hair for her in the shower when she got frustrated about it being tangled, wanting to avoid a complete breakdown that would ruin the perfect evening we had been having. It worked.

Leah stirs as I roll down the legs of the new pyjamas Leah has gifted me, stretching out the material that has ridden up during the night. The green tartan is slightly starchy from how new it is. Leah told me that she had bought us the Christmas Eve pyjamas when I grumpily refused to go into any more shops. "Merry Christmas," she murmurs, rubbing her eyes. "What time is it?"

I check my phone. "Too early. We can sleep longer." I do not receive a reply, but am wrapped in Leah's arms soon enough. She made me a promise last night. In the shower, she offered to wash my hair for me, claiming it would help her relax. I confessed that I had never experienced that. No one has ever taken care of me in that way, apart from when I was a child. She wants to change that. She says I deserve it.

Maybe I do deserve it. That does not take away the guilt I feel for being here and not with Fleur. Lize says that she has occupied herself with arranging the details for her move. She does not want to feel.

We get up late enough for Ida to ring the phone in our room and ask if I would still like to borrow her car. Leah asks what we are doing today, rubbing her eyes, adjusting to both the light and the difference in Christmas celebrations probably. She hands me a neatly-wrapped parcel before she disappears into the bathroom to get ready.

The parcel is small and lumpy, though the brown paper is smooth with not a crinkle in sight. A white string holds the paper together, and is crisp and intact. I tug at the bow, undoing it, letting the paper fall open. Brown fur with a knitted, red scarf emerges. The teddy bear is holding a note.

I love you. Written in terrible, terrible handwriting. I wonder if the pen was giving her an electric shock, laughing at the image.

"Well?" Leah calls from the bathroom, toothbrush distorting her words. I open the door, slipping inside with my bare feet hardly making a sound. She jumps as I kiss her shoulder, but leans back into me as my arms slide around her waist from behind. "You liked him?"

"Him?" I question, smiling at how it seems she has already thought about this. She nods her head in confirmation. "Have you given him a name?"

"Milo," she says as if I should have known that. "De Voss or Williamson?"

I shrug. "Both. We can share him."

"Honoured to co-parent with you," she jokes, her head tilting back so that she can look at me without having to use the mirror in front of us. I wipe away the toothpaste around her lips. "Might need to work out a custody agreement, seeing as you are everywhere and I'm in London."

"Excessive travel is too unstructured for a child's development," I state matter-of-factly. "I will take him with me when I go home, though."

"When are you going home?" she asks, unsure of exactly how the tennis season works. So far, she gets the fact that some tournaments are more important than others and the concept of winning prize money so you can pay for everything yourself.

"Before the new year. My first tournament starts on the ninth, so it gives me a bit of time to adjust and train. Your transfer window is coming up." She has finished brushing her teeth, rinsing her toothbrush under the tap while I look through her toiletries bag to find the face wash I like using. "You're not leaving Arsenal, are you?"