Tuesday Night
St. Albans — January 2025
The compromise lasted three days before it became obvious neither of them had any self-control whatsoever.
By Tuesday night, Elle's suitcase already lived half-unpacked in Leah's bedroom while half her skincare remained in London.
Which honestly?
Summed them up perfectly.
"You realise this is chaos," Elle murmured while standing in Leah's kitchen wearing one of Leah's hoodies and making tea like she'd lived there for years.
Leah looked up from the sofa.
"We're adapting."
"You drove to London at midnight yesterday because you 'missed my face.'"
"That's adaptation."
"That's mental illness."
Rude.
Very rude.
But not entirely inaccurate.
Leah smiled helplessly anyway while Elle carried two mugs toward the sofa.
Outside, rain hammered softly against the windows while Arsenal highlights played quietly on television neither of them were watching.
Domesticity again.
Always dangerous.
Elle curled into Leah's side automatically the second she sat down and Leah immediately wrapped an arm around her waist like muscle memory now.
No hesitation.
No awkwardness.
Just instinct.
"You know what Katie asked me today?" Leah murmured softly against Elle's hair.
"What?"
"She asked if you officially live with me now."
Elle laughed quietly. "What did you say?"
Leah smiled faintly.
"I said technically you live in two postcodes."
Fair.
Very fair.
The truth was they'd settled into something unexpectedly natural frighteningly quickly.
Three nights in London.
Four in St. Albans.
Sometimes less structured than that.
Sometimes Leah just showed up in the city after training because she wanted to sleep beside her.
Sometimes Elle worked remotely from Leah's flat all day while Leah trained and then surprised her with dinner afterward.
It wasn't perfect.
But it fit.
And somehow that mattered more.
"You know what's weird?" Elle murmured eventually.
"What?"
"I thought moving here would feel dramatic."
Leah frowned slightly. "And?"
"It doesn't."
The softness in her voice settled warmly between them.
Because she was right.
There'd been no huge moment.
No life-changing speech.
Just small choices repeated over and over.
Staying another night.
Leaving clothes behind.
Learning each other's routines until separate lives quietly started blending together.
Leah looked down at her for a long second.
Then softer—
"I think that's because you already felt part of my life before you got here."
God.
That sentence.
Elle physically melted slightly against her chest.
Hopeless.
Absolutely hopeless.
Leah smiled faintly before kissing the top of her head.
And for a while they just stayed like that.
Warm apartment.
Rain outside.
Football forgotten in the background.
Peace.
Then suddenly Leah shifted slightly beneath her.
"What?" Elle murmured sleepily.
Leah looked strangely thoughtful.
"Come here."
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Elle followed her toward the piano in the corner of the apartment while rain continued tapping softly against the windows.
Leah sat down on the piano bench first.
Then gently pulled Elle between her knees.
"You're in a weird mood tonight," Elle murmured with a smile.
"Correct."
Leah rested her chin briefly against her shoulder before her fingers drifted lightly across the keys.
Soft notes filled the apartment almost immediately.
Warm.
Slow.
Comforting.
Elle smiled instantly.
She loved this part of Leah.
The quiet hidden part people didn't really know existed.
The girl who played piano late at night when her thoughts got too loud.
But then—
Leah started singing.
Very softly at first.
Almost under her breath.
And Elle physically froze.
Because—
"Oh my God."
Leah stopped immediately looking horrified.
"What?"
"You can SING?"
Leah blinked rapidly now.
"I absolutely cannot."
"You absolutely can."
Leah physically looked away from her in embarrassment.
Interesting.
Because Leah Williamson facing eighty thousand fans? Fine.
Leah Williamson being perceived emotionally in her own apartment? Immediate collapse.
"It's not a thing," Leah muttered.
"Leah."
"It's literally just because I know the song."
"But you can actually sing."
The pinkness spreading across Leah's cheeks immediately confirmed everything.
Hopeless.
Absolutely hopeless.
Elle turned slightly between her knees now, staring at her in disbelief.
"How did I not know this?"
Leah groaned dramatically.
"Because it's humiliating."
"No, it's attractive."
"That's worse."
God.
Cute.
Very cute.
Elle reached up gently touching her face.
"Sing again."
Leah narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"You're going to emotionally weaponise this against me later."
"Possibly."
"Traitor."
Still—
a minute later Leah started playing again anyway.
And slowly, softly, she sang.
Nothing performative.
Nothing polished.
Just warm low notes filling the apartment while rain hit the windows outside and Elle sat impossibly close listening like she'd discovered another hidden piece of her.
And maybe she had.
Because Leah only sang like this when she forgot herself completely.
When she felt safe.
Loved.
Home.
The song faded quietly into silence eventually.
Neither spoke immediately afterward.
Then softly—
"You never do things halfway, do you?" Elle whispered.
Leah frowned slightly. "What does that mean?"
"You're an international football captain."
"Correct."
"You secretly play piano."
Leah sighed already.
"And now apparently you sing too?"
Leah smiled helplessly to herself.
"I contain multitudes."
That finally made Elle laugh quietly before kissing her slowly.
And God—
Leah kissed her back like she still couldn't believe this was her life now.
Warm hands against her waist.
Piano music lingering in the apartment.
Someone loving every hidden version of her instead of just the public ones.
When they finally pulled apart, Leah rested her forehead lightly against hers.
Then quietly—
"You know what I realised last night?"
"What?"
"I woke up at like three in the morning."
Elle smiled slightly already. "Okay..."
"And for a second I forgot where we were."
The room softened instantly.
Leah's voice dropped quieter now.
"But then you were there."
God.
Elle's chest physically ached.
Because Leah still spoke about love like she was surprised by safety.
Like waking up beside someone peacefully remained the most extraordinary thing in the world.
Leah looked down at her then with that same devastating softness again.
And quietly—
"I don't think I ever want this to stop feeling special."
Silence wrapped gently around them.
Outside, London rain blurred against the windows of a flat that no longer really belonged to just one person anymore.
And somewhere between St. Albans and the city, between Arsenal training and agency meetings and middle-of-the-night drives just to sleep beside each other, both women realised something quietly life-changing:
they had stopped learning how to love each other.
Now they were learning how to build a life together.