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fletchysohot · 9 months

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Le grand rendez-vous

Who hasn't wanted a romantic italian summer romance with Kai Havertz?

WORD COUNT: 2.6K

The Italian riviera is exhilarating, from the way the sun makes the sea glisten the most beautiful shade of turquoise, bleeding into bright white when waves hit the cliff beneath the road, to the way white birds swoop in and out among white boats, with sails that disappear and reappear along the horizon like tiny meteorites in an endless sky. Driving along the coastline where the mountains meet the depths of the sea makes your breath hitch at every turn Kai takes on the small roads built into the rock walls of the cliff. You feel your knuckles turn white every time you grip into the handle of the door or edge of your car seat and your stomach drop whenever the car takes a sharper turn, grazing the pebbles of the road side.

You look over to Kai as the wind plays with his hair, his features framed by a pair of dark vintage frames and a black tshirt that hugs his torso perfectly, his tattoo peeking out when he moves his arm. He looks like a heartthrob plucked straight out of an old movie. Like he will turn to you and feed you a line just for it to be followed by a million women swooning and fainting. You are mesmerised by the way his hands steadily hold the wheel of the vintage BMW cabriolet, guiding the car, traversing it between the cliffside and rock wall. You admire the way his face is not showing any sign of worry or concentration, as if one wrong move would not send the two of you tumbling straight into the mouth of the sea with glistening white teeth of the crashing waves a hundred of metres below. The way the corners of his pink lips curl upward resemble those of a cat laying in the perfect spot of sun, you think, content and happy - a man at peace.

If you consider the past six months you don't think you have seen Kai look this way in a long time, his mind always torturing him about could-have-beens and should-have-beens. Even after games that he's won his mind would always trap him in a spiral of self pity for not doing better. It is almost as if you are not sitting next to the same man anymore, this Kai is not pale from the constant rain clouds and time spent indoors, instead his skin is glowing a light olive colour, reflecting the warm summer rays.

“You're thinking again,” he chuckles.

“I just don't like looking at the sea right now.” You throw your eyes over your shoulder and your stomach drops as he nears the edge of the lane again to pass an oncoming car.

“We'll be done with this road soon,” he soothes you, “schatz.”

You know he adds the last part to make your worries trickle away. He only uses that nickname on special occasions, in fear of it somehow wearing off, of becoming less special. Even though he is aware of the effect it has on you.

“You called me schatz.” You smile at him, letting your cheek fall onto the headrest as you look at him dreamily.

“I know I did,” he chuckles, not taking his eyes off the road.

“You look happy,” you observe.

“Yes, I'm with you, of course I'm happy!” He chuckles and the way his face lights up makes your stomach erupt in butterflies.

“I like you happy,” you sigh contently, “I like it so much.”

The car goes back to being silent, the italian radio station mixed with the sound of wind whizzing over your heads. You keep sneaking glances at the man next to you, your attention drawn to the fleeting views passing by the car.

—

The apartment you are staying in is small and quaint and humble in contrast to your spacious and luxurious house in England. The building is old, with old creaky floorboards and pale blue walls in the kitchen and living room faded from the decades of history that the bones of the home carries. The rooms are connected by heavy wooden double doors on rusty old hinges. The bedroom, much like the living room, is adorned by big windows framed by white linen curtains moving slowly in the breeze, beyond them a balcony overlooking the town below and the beautiful sea beyond the lively streets. The air of the space is heavy with the evening heat and humidity that mixes seamlessly with the smell of saltwater and wind that has seeped into every wall of the apartment over the decades. The distant bustle of the streets floats in through the open window making the apartment fill with life and warmth.

“Do you like it?” Kai's soft voice startles you.

You turn to look at him, your mind trying to find the words to encompass how everything, the trip and apartment, feels.

Even though the apartment is a stark contrast to what you would expect a professional football player to book as a holiday getaway, it is somehow perfectly Kai. Simple and humble, yet beautiful and extravagant in its own way. Special and one of a kind. You see him in every nook and cranny of the place. From the walls the colour of his eyes or to the sturdy and reliable furniture. A treasure tucked away from prying eyes.

And there he is, standing in the midst of it all, in a loose white t-shirt and a pair of simple shorts, hair still messy and windswept from spending all day driving a cabriolet, illuminated by the aura of the apartment. As if he was made for this place. This moment. Made for you only. The light from the cheap bulbs and windows illuminating him like he is something sent from heaven. An angel that has been cursed to walk the world until he finds his true love and now, here, in this moment, he's looking right at her. His eyes glisten in the evening glow filled with love and care and excitement.

“It's perfect Kai,” you say. Perfect seems like such a dumb and bland word to describe this place. You scramble for more words - superb, magical, breathtaking. None of them would describe the way you feel. None of them live up to the moment.

He doesn't reply instantly, taking his time to walk towards you, slowly, to let his eyes take you in. Finally he cups your cheek with his palm, slender fingers tracing shapes on your cheek. You lean into his touch the same way a sunflower always finds the sun. Kai slowly reaches down and kisses you. Your lips move slowly, lazily, both of you aware that you have nowhere to rush, nowhere to be. You tangle your fingers in his ebony hair and his hand cups your lower back as a cellist would hold his beloved cello. You feel his muscles ease against your body bit by bit, Kai melting into your body, finally letting himself relax.

“I think it's pretty great too.” He smiles pullin back and looking down at you. “I was thinking we could maybe go get dinner and explore the town?”

“Only if you hold my hand the whole time,” you tease him.

“Who said there was any other possible way of doing this?” He kisses your nose letting his hand slide from your cheek, down your shoulder and arm finally finding your fingers, intertwining them.

You try to find words or a stupid question, to stay here, in this moment, not to leave this perfect bubble of love. To have him kiss you again in your perfect safe haven from the world beyond the doors. To lock him away from prying eyes and sharpened tongues that make him doubt himself. To protect him.

But you know you cannot. He is not yours to lock up in an ivory tower, or in this case a small apartment by the sea in a small Italian coastal town. The worry lines on his forehead will come back and his muscles will tense again, this Kai in front of you, right now, is all but a mirage, smoke and mirrors. A sight only occurring once in a blood moon. A fleeting image that you are desperately trying to catch before it fades.

And then, like clockwork, as quickly as it appeared the air of peace and relaxation is gone. Even if he tries to hide it his shoulders become more rigid and the hints of self doubt and pain sneak back into his eyes. Your heart breaks seeing how easily, like it's second nature to him, Kai slides right back into the role of the tortured and haunted prodigy that will never live up to the expectations set on him by the world. Like Sisyphus always trekking up the hill just to be knocked down again when he thinks he's reached the summit. Never giving up or giving in - determined to bring every ounce of glory home to his team and family and friends.

“You ready to go?” you ask him, kissing his cheek. You are scared that if you stand here for a moment longer, look in his eyes for a second longer, you will break down. Fall to your knees sobbing. Beg for him to give up football. To move here. To run away with you. So the vultures can't get him. So he is safe.

“Yes ” he smiles, leaning down to kiss you, as soft as before. His touch feather light against your body, like a warm summer breeze.

—

The streets of the town are lined by citrus trees, the smell of oranges and lemons mixing with the warm sea air sends your head spinning. Kai swings your hands between the two of you as both of you exit the little pizzeria, bellies full of cheese and bread and wine. Cheeks already sore from smiling and laughing.

“That wine was amazing!” you say to him as you near the seaside.

“It was phenomenal,” he exclaims, bringing your hands to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

Phenomenal. Another word that seemingly loses all its magnitude and weight if you were to try and use it to describe this place and feeling. It feels too overused and mundane if you were to use it as a verbal expression of your feelings. Many things are phenomenal - meals, songs, films or football games. But if you tried to describe the smell of the fruit trees lingering on the nightly streets of this city or the way waves crashing against the rocks by the seaside create a perfect symphony of background ambience to your walk it would not be phenomenal. It's too much of an overused word for that.

“Do you wanna go in here?” he asks, pointing at a small outdoor bar, swallowed by flower vines and adorned by metal tables, music playing from the speakers, people milling around the courtyard.

You nod enthusiastically. The place looks like pure magic, out of a movie. The kind of place people go to fall in love.

You find a place to sit while Kai goes to fetch the two of you a bottle of wine and glasses. As he walks through the crowd you sigh happily. It's the way his face can't help but light up at the sight of you, every millimetre of his features filled with pure unadulterated love and joy. He slides into the seat next to you and pours the wine. The two of you begin to talk about the surroundings, looking at the people passing by. You tell him about how you think you should plant roses like these at home, a reminder of the trip always with you, growing and wrapping around the sleek and seemingly perfect terrace of your England home, breaking up the sterile feeling that the home has even after years of living there. He tells you about how the two of you must find out who makes this wine before you leave so he can import it, so there is always a piece of Italy with you, because never has he tasted a better wine ever. You debate about whether you should stay here another night or move on to Lake Como. Both of you captivated by the sheer beauty of the seemingly meek town that has rooted itself into your hearts. You take turns picking the bottles of wine and making a game of it.

Currently you are on your third bottle watching an old italian couple slow dance to the upbeat music. Both of you grinning at the seemingly oblivious pair, lost in their own world, moving to a beat completely opposite of the current song.

“You think that's going to be us in a few years?” you ask, chuckling.

“Definitely,” he says when you look at him, he isn't watching the elderly couple, instead his eyes are glued to you.

“Kai...” you chuckle, blushing.

“Come on! I'll give you a taste!” He says getting up.

“Kai...” you laugh.

“Come on!” he laughs gripping your wrist. “I want to dance with you!”

He pulls you up from the seat grinning like a maniac, and you don't protest. His eyes are dark like the sky above, the light from the lanterns above illuminating them with flicks of light like stars. You let his limbs pull you after him, the two of you soon moving to the rhythm of the song. Suddenly the air around you is light and time doesn't matter.

“What are you thinking about in that head of yours?” You ask him.

For a moment Kai forgets the missed penalties, the goals that should have been, the booing of fans at away stadiums and fans dressed in blue. His muscles relax and briefly his heart is not weighed down by worries and pain. In the moment, under the moon in this small quaint Italian town, he is not “Kai Havertz - football player”, he is just Kai, a man from Aachen, dancing with the love of his life under the starry skies, not worrying about tomorrow. The way she looks at him makes his heart skip a beat, as if she saved him from himself and nothing matters anymore, he's not pushing a rock up the hill just for it to tumble down again. He's not searching for glory, tripping and falling over his feet. Having her look up at him like he put the stars in the sky and pulled down the moon just for her, makes him feel like there is nothing he can't do. Having her in his arms, knowing she doesn't hate him, even if the whole world does, and knowing she is always in his corner is enough to bring him to his knees. She was sent from heaven above to save him from himself.

“Just how much I love you…” he smiles. His smile is different. Brighter, more genuine. “What are you thinking about?”

“Just how much I love you.” You nuzzle your face into his neck, kissing the warm skin earning a laugh. The kind that makes even the deepest parts of his chest rumble.

In that moment you feel like nothing matters, like no one can ever break this moment. Like in one of those postmodernism books your mother used to read on holidays, time is a construct, and you and Kai have briefly become timeless. Stuck in this moment that is filled with love and calmness, passion and excitement. Excitement for the future and what stands before the two of you. You realise that the magic is not hidden in the apartment, or growing in the vines of flowers everywhere or even bottled and corked here, it is instead rooted between you. Like a secret only you and Kai are in on. Finally the word comes to you. Finally you find words that describe the place, the moment, the feelings. Everything and everything and everything. It's all - Kai Havertz.

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