“𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐆𝐎”
★ michael olise x f!reader
a room full of people. a night that kept pulling them apart. and a pair of eyes that never stopped searching for her. sometimes, it isn’t about jealousy. sometimes, it’s about wanting to feel chosen.
angst, established relationship, hurt/comfort, emotional intimacy, hint of fluff.
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the annual end-of-season gala had always been one of the club’s biggest events.
it was the kind of evening where everyone traded training kits for tailored suits and elegant dresses. conversations overlapped beneath the soft hum of live music, champagne glasses clinked together, and camera flashes illuminated the room every few moments as players stopped to greet sponsors, teammates, coaches, and familiar faces they’d barely had the chance to speak to all season.
it was a night built for celebration, where everyone seemed to know everyone, and no one stayed in the same place for long.
for the players, however, the evening began long before the first guests arrived. there were interviews to film, sponsor obligations to fulfill, photographs to pose for, and media appearances scheduled down to the minute.
michael had left nearly an hour before she did. he’d kissed her goodbye in the apartment doorway, promising he’d see her soon.
“don’t take too long,” she’d teased, smoothing the lapel of his suit.
he’d smiled, leaning down to steal one last kiss.
“i’ll try.”
he expected it to be just another event. another evening of polite conversations, photographs, and speeches he’d probably forget by the end of the week.
then she walked in.
not in a way that made the room fall silent. no one stopped what they were doing. no heads turned.
but his did.
he’d watched her get ready barely an hour earlier. he’d seen the dress. he’d watched her smooth the fabric over her hips, frowning at her reflection as she quietly wondered if she should change. he’d been the one to zip it up before they left the apartment.
the one who’d smiled against the back of her shoulder and whispered,
“you look beautiful.” before pressing a lingering kiss to the warm curve of her skin.
he’d thought that would be enough. so he wasn’t prepared for what happened when she stepped into the ballroom. beneath the warm glow of the chandeliers, with laughter and conversation filling the room around them, she somehow stole the breath from his lungs all over again.
she stepped inside, taking it all in for a brief moment. then her eyes immediately began searching for him. they drifted across clusters of familiar faces, over teammates dressed in tailored suits, club staff moving from one conversation to the next, and sponsors gathered near the stage. but she didn’t have to look for long.
he was already looking at her.
standing across the ballroom, surrounded by cameras and half-listening to whatever question had just been asked, his eyes had drifted towards the entrance the moment the doors had opened. as though he’d been waiting for her.
as though he’d been checking every few minutes to see if she’d arrived yet.
the second he saw her, something in his expression softened. the polite smile he’d been wearing for photographers disappeared, replaced by one that belonged only to her.
she couldn’t help but smile back. he gave the smallest nod, barely noticeable to anyone else.
there you are.
it wasn’t spoken. it didn’t have to be. she understood it anyway.
she smiled politely at the people who greeted her, returning hugs and exchanging a few words, but her attention kept wandering.
at first, the evening felt effortless.
every chance he got, he found his way back to her. his hand settled instinctively at the small of her back as they wove through the crowd, guiding her without a word. beneath the dinner table, his fingers found hers, absentmindedly intertwining with them while someone else told a story.
every now and then, he’d lean down just to ask if she was alright, even though she was standing right beside him. sometimes, all it took was a glance from across the room, ending in a smile meant only for her.
quiet gestures. familiar habits. little reminders that, even in a room full of people, they never stopped looking for each other.
then the evening, almost cruelly, began asking for more of them than it had at the start. every conversation lasted a little longer than expected. every goodbye turned into another introduction. every time michael started making his way back to her, someone called his name before he could get there.
she never complained. she simply smiled, checking him over like she always did, before giving him a small nod.
“go.” she said softly. “i’ll be here.”
she reached up, gently fixing the collar of his suit before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.
he smiled softly against her lips, lingering for a moment longer than he meant to.
“i won’t be long.” he hesitated to pull away, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand.
she watched him disappear into the crowd, never imagining it would be nearly two hours before they stood beside each other again.
every time he looked up…
she was somewhere else.
at first, it was with one of the players girlfriends, the two of them laughing over something as they stood near the bar. the next time he found her, she was deep in conversation with one of the club’s physios, listening so intently that she hadn’t even noticed him looking.
a few minutes later, someone was introducing her to an older couple—parents of one of the academy players, if he remembered correctly. she greeted them with the same warm smile she seemed to reserve for everyone she met, her attention entirely on the conversation in front of her.
by the time another sponsor insisted on refilling her champagne, michael had already lost count of how many times he’d searched the room for her. he told himself it was nothing.
because it was.
she wasn’t flirting. she wasn’t doing anything she shouldn’t have been. she was simply being herself.
kind.
patient.
the sort of person who made complete strangers feel comfortable within minutes of meeting her. it was one of the things he loved most about her. tonight… it was also becoming one of the hardest things to watch.
his gaze lingered longer than it should have. he noticed things he normally would’ve ignored. the man who leaned in just a little too close to hear her over the music, even though there was more than enough space between them.
the sponsor who seemed in no hurry to end the conversation, smiling every time she laughed. the way another guest rested a hand lightly against her elbow as they spoke, casual enough that no one else would’ve thought twice about it.
michael did.
not because he believed any of it meant something. it didn’t.
he trusted her.
entirely.
but trust had never been the issue.
the issue was that she’d come to the gala as his girlfriend. they’d arrived hoping to spend the evening together. yet somehow…
everyone else seemed to have more of her than he did. every time he finally managed to excuse himself from one conversation and started making his way across the ballroom…
someone else reached her first. another greeting. another introduction. another laugh that wasn’t meant for him. he hated the feeling that settled in his chest.
quiet. unfamiliar. unreasonable. but impossible to ignore all the same.
meanwhile…
she had no idea she’d been the center of his attention all evening. as far as she was concerned, michael was just as impossible to catch as she was. every time she thought she’d finally get a moment with him…
someone called his name.
the ballroom had started to feel smaller. too warm. too loud. every conversation blended into the next until michael could barely distinguish one voice from another. he excused himself with a polite apology, murmuring something about needing some air before slipping through the doors leading out onto the terrace.
the night greeted him with a welcome breeze. he loosened his tie, resting his forearms against the stone balcony as the sounds of the gala became muffled behind the closed doors.
for the first time all evening… it was quiet. he exhaled slowly. he couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d forgotten he was even there.
it was ridiculous. she was his girlfriend. they promised they’d find each other once the media obligations were over. yet somehow, he’d spent the entire evening watching her from a distance while she laughed with everyone else.
the thought sat heavily in his chest. he hated it. hated himself for even thinking it. because he knew her. he knew the way she loved him.
knew she would never intentionally make him feel invisible.
but jealousy wasn’t reasonable. it didn’t care what he knew. it only cared what the evening had looked like. and from where he’d been standing…
it had felt like everyone else had more of her than he did. everyone else had managed to steal a piece of her evening. while he’d spent most of his wishing for a moment that was actually theirs.
two hours.
that was how long they’d been there. two hours since she’d walked through the ballroom doors. maybe she’d been having such a good time she hadn’t even noticed how long they’d been apart. he knew it wasn’t fair. he knew it didn’t sound like her.
but after nearly two hours of watching the evening pull her farther and farther out of reach… it became harder to convince himself otherwise. all he’d wanted, was to spend the night with the woman he’d come there with.
instead… he’d spent most of it missing her.
eventually, he stopped looking towards the door. stopped checking for her. stopped hoping for that moment where her eyes would finally meet his.
he didn’t want to leave angry. he wasn’t angry. he was just tired of feeling like he was asking for something he shouldn’t have to ask for. it was just him realizing that he didn’t want to stand there anymore, quietly hoping to be noticed.
he didn’t want to feel like he was asking for a place beside his own girlfriend. so he made the decision he hated making.
he left.
alone. quietly. without her.
without the small moment at the end of the night where they would walk out together, his hand in hers.
instead, he stepped outside into the cold air by himself, carrying the quiet disappointment he didn’t know how to explain. and eventually, the hope he had been holding onto started feeling heavier than the disappointment itself.
because he didn’t want to be someone who needed to be chosen every second. he didn’t want to feel forgotten. especially by her. that was the part he couldn’t ignore. the person he wanted beside him the most was the person he felt furthest away from.
so when he finally looked around one last time, he wasn’t searching anymore. he was accepting. the night wasn’t going to become what he had imagined. and maybe that was what hurt the most — not that she wasn’t there with him, but that for a while, he had been there waiting for her to notice.
the irony was…
she’d been looking for him, too. while he was standing there, slowly convincing himself that she wasn’t going to notice he was gone, she was doing the exact same thing, searching through the crowd, wondering where he had disappeared to.
they were both looking for each other. both waiting for the other person to close the distance. both unaware that they were only a few moments too late. and maybe that was the part that hurt the most. not that they didn’t care. not that one of them had stopped trying.
but that they had both been reaching for each other and somehow still ended up apart.
she didn’t know that he had already made the decision to leave. she didn’t know that, while she was walking through the room searching for him, he was already stepping outside. already accepting that he would go home without her.
and when she finally reached the place where he had been standing earlier, she found nothing. just an empty space. a space that felt strangely louder than all the noise around her.
her eyes moved through the crowd again, slower this time, almost like if she looked hard enough, he would somehow still be there.
but he wasn’t.
“have you seen michael?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
but the calmness was only on the surface. inside, panic was already beginning to take over. and the answer she got made her heart sink.
“he left.”
for a second, she just stared. because she hadn’t expected that. she had expected to find him somewhere nearby. she had expected him to be waiting. she hadn’t expected him to leave without her.
she was afraid she had missed something. afraid that while she was caught up in the night, he had been standing there waiting for her.
and she hadn’t seen him.
she suddenly remembered every time she had glanced across the room and thought she would go to him later. every moment she had told herself there was still time. but what if there wasn’t? what if he had been standing there, quietly hoping she would come over, while she had no idea he was already feeling alone?
her fingers tightened around her phone without even realizing it. she wanted to call him. she wanted to hear his voice.
she had prepared herself to walk over, apologize for taking so long, and see that familiar softness return to his face when he realized she was there. she had prepared herself for a conversation. for an apology.
not this. not the thought of him already being gone. she noticed too late.
she didn’t let herself think. not for another second. because if she stopped, if she stood there and let every possibility run through her mind, she knew the guilt would only grow heavier.
so she moved. quickly. almost too quickly.
she grabbed her things with unsteady hands, barely noticing the voices around her or the questions she didn’t answer. the room that had felt so warm only moments ago suddenly felt too crowded, too loud, too far away from the one person she needed to see.
michael.
that was the only thought she could hold onto. she didn’t care about explaining herself yet. she didn’t care about finding the perfect words. she just needed to get to him. needed to know he was okay.
needed to see him standing there in front of her instead of imagining him sitting alone, replaying the night in his head and convincing himself that leaving was easier than waiting. waiting for her.
the walk to the car felt longer than it ever had before. every second felt wasted. she checked her phone more than once, almost hoping for a message from him, some sign that he was still reaching for her too. but the screen stayed quiet. and somehow, that silence made her hurry even more.
he was really gone. her heart sank. because she knew michael. she knew he wasn’t the type to leave just because he was annoyed. he wasn’t someone who walked away to make a point or to make her chase after him.
if he left, it meant he had already convinced himself that staying would hurt more. and suddenly, she didn’t have to wonder where he went. her first thought came instantly.
home.
their apartment. the place he always went when he needed quiet.
by the time she reached their apartment, her heart was still racing. not from the distance. from the fear that she was already too late.
she stood in front of the door for a moment, staring at it like it was the only thing separating her from everything she had been imagining on the way there. her hand reached for the doorknob, but she hesitated.
what if he didn’t want to talk? what if he had already convinced himself that it didn’t matter?
her fingers tightened around it. she hated that she was scared.
not of him.
never of him.
she was scared of seeing the disappointment she had put there.
slowly, she unlocked the door. the small click sounded louder than it should have in the quiet hallway. she pushed it open carefully, almost afraid that moving too quickly would make the moment real.
“michael?” she called softly. silently hoping.
her voice shook slightly at the end of his name, betraying the panic she had been trying to keep under control since she walked through the door. she swallowed, forcing herself to take another step inside.
her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her bag, her heart still pounding as she waited for any sign of him — a movement, a sound, anything that would tell her she hadn’t come too late.
no answer.
her stomach twisted.
she closed the door behind her. a quiet click. her eyes immediately searching the apartment.
and then she saw him.
he was there. exactly where she had feared he would be. he was sitting alone on the couch, still wearing the same clothes from the night, like he had come home and never really moved again.
the same couch where they had spent countless quiet evenings together. the same couch that had held so many pieces of them — their laughter, their kisses, their whispered conversations, and the moments where they had let their guards down completely.
his gaze was lowered to his hands, his fingers moving absentmindedly against each other, like he had been sitting there for so long that even the smallest movement was enough to keep his mind from wandering too far.
for a second, she forgot everything she had planned to say. because seeing him there was different. the image in her head had been painful. but the reality was worse. he looked so quiet. so far away. and the worst part was knowing that he had come here because he thought being alone would hurt less than waiting for her.
her chest tightened.
“michael…” his name left her lips softer than she intended.
a plea for him to look at her.
there was something fragile in the way she said it — the quiet fear behind it, the worry she couldn’t hide anymore. her voice cracked slightly around his name, and she hated how much it revealed.
for a moment, he didn’t move. her voice reached him, but his mind seemed to take longer to understand it. he just sat there, letting the sound of her voice settle over him.
his name. the way she said it. soft enough that it almost hurt. because he had spent the entire walk home trying to accept that maybe she hadn’t been looking for him.
and now she was standing there, proving him wrong.
slowly, his eyes lifted to hers. and the second their eyes met, everything he had been trying to keep buried came rushing back.
the disappointment. the loneliness.
the hours of convincing himself that it was easier not to expect anything. but then he saw her. really saw her. the worry in her eyes. the way she was standing there like she had rushed home without thinking twice.
like finding him mattered. and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do with that. because a part of him had been prepared to see indifference. he had prepared himself for her to not understand. but he hadn’t prepared himself for her to look at him like she was scared of losing him.
“you left,” the words came out quieter than she expected.
not angry. not accusing. just hurt.
like she was still trying to understand it.
her eyes stayed on his, searching his face for something — an explanation, a sign that maybe she had misunderstood, that maybe this wasn’t what she thought it was.
“i was looking for you.” her voice trembled slightly, and she looked away for a moment, swallowing the ache in her chest.
a small confession. a little too late. but honest.
she was still trying to understand how they had ended up here — standing in the same room, looking at each other, after somehow missing each other all night.
michael stayed quiet.
his eyes dropped for a moment, not because he didn’t want to look at her, but because he didn’t know how to handle the weight of what she had just said. and for a second, he almost let himself believe that maybe the night had been different than he thought.
his fingers tightened together, resting between his knees as he sat there. he had spent the entire ride home trying to make peace with the disappointment.
“i didn’t know what else to do.” he murmured. his voice almost like a whisper.
not cold. not distant. just tired. like he had spent the entire night trying to figure out what the right thing was, and every option had somehow felt wrong.
their eyes met. and she saw it. not anger. not resentment. just the disappointment he had been carrying all night, the kind he hadn’t wanted to put on her because he knew she never meant to make him feel that way.
“i didn’t want to leave,” he admitted after a moment, his eyes dropping back to his hands.
hearing that hurt more than if he had told her he was angry.
he hadn’t wanted to leave. he had wanted to stay. he had wanted to be there with her.
her fingers curled slightly at her sides, fighting the urge to reach for him immediately. she wanted to close the distance between them, to take away the hurt she could see in him, but she also knew he needed to finish saying what he had been holding inside.
so she stayed quiet. she stayed there. letting him know she was listening.
“i kept thinking i’d wait a little longer.” a quiet breath left him. “then a little longer became the whole night.”
he paused, his gaze still lowered, like admitting it out loud made him feel more vulnerable than he expected.
“and i don’t know… i just started feeling stupid for standing there hoping you’d notice.”
her heart sank. because he didn’t say it like he was blaming her. he said it like he was blaming himself for caring. and somehow, that hurt even more. because she knew him.
she knew how much he tried not to ask for too much. she hated that he felt that way. because the last thing she ever wanted was for him to think he had to earn her attention, or that he was asking for too much.
how he would rather quietly step away than make someone feel like they had to choose him. she hated that for even a moment, he had felt like he wasn’t worth noticing.
she felt like saying less would be better. anything more felt like it would only get in the way. because she didn’t want to explain herself before he felt heard. she didn’t want to rush to tell him she didn’t mean it, when all he needed was for her to understand that, for a moment, she had made him feel alone.
so she took a small breath.
“i’m sorry.” the words carried everything she didn’t know how to say.
the regret. the guilt. the fact that she wished she had noticed sooner.
then, slowly, she moved closer. not all at once. not like she was trying to fix everything with one touch or pretend that a single moment could erase the way he had felt.
when she reached him, she stopped in front of the couch. she lowered herself beside him, leaving a little space between them at first. because she wanted him to know she was there. she didn’t want to take the feeling away from him.
she just wanted him to know he didn’t have to sit with it alone anymore.
he let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. his hands loosened, his fingers no longer twisting together as tightly as before. the silence between them was still there.
so was the hurt. but it didn’t feel quite as lonely anymore.
he felt her beside him. close enough that he could feel her warmth. she hadn’t tried to erase what he was feeling. she had simply chosen to sit with him. and somehow, that undid something inside him.
his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, the tension he had been carrying since he left the event easing just enough to notice.
he swallowed, his jaw tightening ever so slightly before he finally let it go. then, almost cautiously, he turned his head.
his eyes found hers. they lingered there. searching.
her eyes were glossy, as though she had been holding herself together ever since someone told her he had left, and now that she was finally looking at him, she wasn’t quite sure how to keep doing that.
she didn’t look at him like someone trying to defend herself. she looked at him like someone whose heart had broken the moment she realized he’d walked away alone.
she held his gaze without looking away, even as her bottom lip trembled almost imperceptibly. as if she wanted him to see it.
to see how sorry she was. to see that she had come.
the guarded look he’d worn all night began to disappear. the hurt on his face lost some of its sharp edges. because no matter how hurt he had been…
seeing her like this hurt too.
the disappointment he had carried all night suddenly felt different. smaller. not because it no longer mattered. but because, sitting there, looking at the tears she was trying so hard to keep from falling, he realized something that made his chest ache.
she had been hurting too.
maybe not in the same way. maybe not at the same time. but she was carrying it now. and the last thing he had ever wanted was to be the reason her eyes looked like that.
he loved those eyes. he loved the way they lit up when she laughed, the way they softened when she looked at him, the quiet warmth they always seemed to hold.
seeing them clouded with guilt instead… it broke something inside him. his throat felt tight as he fought the urge to reach for her. his heart sank as he watched her struggle to hold herself together.
because despite everything…
despite the disappointment. despite the lonely drive home. despite every moment he had spent wondering if she would notice he was gone.
he still couldn’t bear to see her cry.
his hand twitched towards her without him even realizing it, the familiar instinct to reach for her stronger than the hurt he was still carrying.
when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. rough around the edges. not because he had raised it. because he’d spent hours swallowing the words instead.
“i didn’t want the night to end like this.”
the confession hung between them.
gentle. heartbreakingly honest. like he was mourning the ending they were supposed to have.
the walk back to the car with her hand tucked into his. the quiet drive home filled with conversations that drifted from everything to nothing at all. the familiar glance she’d always give him before leaning in to steal a kiss at a red light. walking through the front door together. her stealing one of his shirts that always ended being more comfortable than her own. the absentminded kisses exchanged while one of them wandered into the kitchen. the lingering kiss that usually greeted the end of a night well spent.
the comfort of falling onto the couch together, laughing about the smallest moments of the evening until one of them inevitably pulled the other closer. all the little things that no one else would have noticed. the quiet rituals that had slowly become the way they loved each other.
the kind of moments that only mattered when you loved someone enough to treasure every one of them.
and he did. god, he did.
instead, he’d gone home alone. stepped into the silence alone. and for the first time in a long time, home hadn’t felt like home at all.
he had spent the entire night believing he had been the only one reaching for her. he hadn’t been.
she had been searching for him too. she had rushed home with fear written all over her face. she had walked through the front door looking like she was terrified she had already lost the chance to make things right.
and suddenly, the night didn’t feel so one-sided anymore. it felt like two people who loved each other so deeply that, somehow, they still managed to miss each other in the worst possible way.
he had spent the whole night wanting to reach for her. this time, he finally did.
his fingertips brushed gently against her cheek before his palm settled there, cradling her face with a tenderness that spoke long before he did. the moment his skin met hers, the tear she’d been fighting so hard to hold back finally slipped free.
it traced a slow path down her cheek. his thumb caught it halfway, brushing it away with heartbreaking care.
a sad smile tugged at the corner of his lips. his forehead rested against hers.
“i hate that i made you cry.” low and quiet. there was no frustration in it. only regret.
her breath caught. for a second, she could only look at him.
even after everything. even after he’d gone home alone. even after she’d been the reason he’d spent the night hurting…
his first instinct was still to comfort her.
a small, broken smile found its way onto her lips as another tear slipped free. she gave the faintest shake of her head. she lifted her hand to his wrist, her fingers curling gently around it where it rested against her cheek, holding it there.
“i just…” her eyes closed for a moment. “i hated knowing you thought you had to leave alone.”
when she looked at him again, there was so much love in her eyes it almost ached.
“so… please, don’t ever do that again.” it wasn’t a demand. it was a plea.
“come find me. interrupt me, steal me away if you have to.” a watery laugh escaped her. “i’ll always choose you.”
the words settled somewhere deep inside him.
softly. patiently. untangling every doubt that had followed him home. because now he understood. it had never been him against her. it had only ever been the night.
a misunderstanding. a painful one.
but still, only a misunderstanding. his heart refused to hold onto the hurt any longer.
“i’m sorry too.” he whispered. “i’ll always find you.”
there wasn’t a trace of doubt in his voice anymore. only certainty. his thumb brushed gently across her cheek one last time. then, without another word, he closed the small distance between them.
his lips found hers in a kiss so impossibly gentle it almost hurt.
there was no urgency. no desperation. only relief.
the quiet kind that settled deep in his chest after hours of wondering whether he’d ever get to hold her like this again. just two people finding their way back to each other after spending an entire night convinced they had somehow been left behind.
he kissed her slowly, as though he wanted her to feel everything he couldn’t quite put into words. that he had missed her. that he had never stopped loving her. that one painful night would never be enough to change that.
she melted into the kiss almost immediately.
her fingertips brushed lightly along his jaw before settling against the side of his neck, holding him with the same tenderness she’d been trying to put into words. her other hand came to rest against his chest, right above his heart, lingering there as she kissed him back.
“i love you.” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion but gentle enough to soothe the last of her fears.
and one bad night could never be bigger than that. she smiled through the tears gathering in her eyes.
and in that moment, with his love spoken so simply and honestly, she felt at peace.
“i know,” she whispered. “i love you too.”
her eyes shining as she looked at him. her smile trembled, not from sadness, but from the sheer weight of everything she felt in that moment. she looked at him like she was trying to hold onto the feeling.
for a moment, neither of them moved. they didn’t need to. the night had been messy.
it had been full of missed chances, wrong assumptions, and moments where they had both felt a little too far away from each other.
but they were here now. together.
his fingers found hers, intertwining slowly. a small reminder. a promise.
and this time, neither of them let go.
because sometimes love wasn’t about never getting things wrong.
sometimes it was about finding your way back.
and they always would.