Leo had barely stepped inside when he dropped his boots by the door with a tired sigh.
Training had been intense, his muscles sore in that strangely satisfying way.
He was still in his sweaty shirt, one sock on, the other lost sowhere in his duffel bag when he heard Sofia’s voice call out from the kitchen.
"You might want to check the couch, future star."
He furrowed his brows, walking slowly into the living room.
There, on the couch, was a sleek black Nike box sitting perfectly in the middle like it was waiting for him.
He paused. "What’s this?"
Sofia didn’t reply—she just leaned against the doorfra with a mug of tea in her hands, watching his reaction with a calm smile.
Leo’s heartbeat kicked up a notch as he moved closer and slowly lifted the lid.
Inside was a fresh pair of football boots—matte black with chro detailing, brand new, untouched.
But what pulled at his heart weren’t the boots themselves.
It was the subtle, hand-painted red and pink heart-shaped figures carefully tucked into the swoosh on either side. Clean.
Precise. Playful.
He stared, stunned for a second.
"You like them?" ca a tiny voice from the hallway.
Mia poked her head in, her cheeks dotted with specks of red paint, and a hopeful smile stretched across her face.
Her paint-splattered fingers gripped the doorfra.
"You did this?" Leo asked, voice soft with disbelief.
She nodded quickly, stepping into the room.
"All . I asked Sofia if we could buy you new boots, and she said yes—but I didn’t want them to be just boots. I wanted you to have sothing different. Sothing lucky."
Leo’s brows lifted, a smile tugging at his lips as he took the boot in his hands, flipping it gently, admiring the brushstrokes.
They weren’t perfect. But they were full of sothing else—sothing more valuable.
"Lucky, huh?" he murmured.
"Yeah," Mia said brightly.
"They’ve got love in them. That ans goals, right? I saw it on a TikTok comnt once."
Sofia walked in behind her, taking a seat on the armrest of the couch.
"She chose the boots herself. The size, the design, even argued with the guy at the store about which pair had better ’goal vibes.’ I just paid for them."
Leo looked up at both of them—his little sister, her eyes shining with excitent, and his aunt, who never stopped giving even when she had so little left to give.
The warmth in his chest was almost overwhelming.
He cleared his throat. "Thank you," he said, voice thicker than before. "Seriously. This ans... nice."
Sofia ruffled his curls with one hand and gave his cheek a light pat. "Just don’t forget us when you’re out scoring in front of 50,000 people, alright?"
He laughed softly.
"I’ll point to the swoosh. Every ti."
Mia let out a squeal and clapped her paint-stained hands together. "Deal! Pinky promise?"
Leo held up his little finger, and Mia rushed over to lock hers with his.
Sofia just smiled to herself and took another sip of her tea.
And in that small apartnt that had weathered their hardest days, under the soft light of the ceiling lamp and the sll of takeaway food wafting in from the kitchen, Leo felt sothing rare.
Belonging. Hope.
A kid with a pair of "custom" boots and people who believed in him.
That was more than enough to build dreams on.
Two days passed in a blur of training, sleepless excitent, and quiet nerves.
Then the morning ca.
The air felt different—heavier sohow.
Not in a bad way, just full. Full of everything the next four weeks could an.
Dawson was already waiting outside in his car, engine idling by the curb.
The boot of the car was popped open, ready to swallow Leo’s duffel bag, his boots, and maybe a little piece of his heart too.
Inside the apartnt, Leo double-checked his bag one last ti before slinging it over his shoulder and stepping into the hallway.
Mia was already there.
She wasn’t crying—well, not really—but her eyes were glassy and a little puffy. She had made an effort to look normal, even wore one of his old oversized hoodies.
But the second she saw him with the bag on his shoulder, her face cracked a little.
"You’ll co back, right?" she asked, voice small but steady.
Leo dropped the bag by the door and crouched in front of her, resting his hands on her shoulders.
"Before you know it," he said, managing a grin.
"You’ll blink and I’ll be back, eating all the cereal again."
Mia sniffed and nodded, but her arms wrapped around him tightly.
"Promise?"
"Promise," he said, squeezing her back.
"And I’ll call you every day, yeah?"
She pulled away and gave him a teary smile. "Twice a day."
He laughed softly. "Bossy."
From the kitchen doorway, Sofia watched the exchange, arms folded, eyes softer than usual.
She stepped forward, brushing Leo’s curls into place, her thumb grazing the side of his cheek with that firm gentleness only she had.
"You know the rules," she said.
"Work hard. Be smart. Keep your head down and let your feet do the talking."
Leo nodded. "I will."
"Give it everything, mijo," she added, her voice a little tighter now.
"Even if it’s hard. Especially then."
"I will," he repeated, and sothing in the way he said it made her believe him completely.
He hugged her tightly. It wasn’t long, but it ant sothing.
When he stepped out of the apartnt, Mia and Sofia followed, waving from the top of the steps as Dawson got out of the car and gave Leo a nod.
"You ready?" he asked.
Leo looked back once more—at his sister, at his aunt, at the place he was leaving behind for a while—and then he looked ahead.
"Yeah," he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "Let’s go."
He tossed his bag into the boot and climbed in, the car pulling away from the curb slowly.
Mia stood barefoot on the concrete, fingers curled in the sleeve of her hoodie, watching until the taillights turned the corner.
Sofia placed a hand gently on her back.
"He’s going to be alright."
Mia nodded without taking her eyes off the road. "I know."
And sowhere in the distance, on a new road to sowhere he didn’t fully understand yet, Leo sat in the passenger seat of Dawson’s car—nervous, excited, and ready.
A/n: This is getting really hard to write. Damn.
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