Kiss

The autumn air in Munich was beginning to bite, a crisp reminder that the winter break was still a distant dream for the players of FC Bayern. Inside the warmth of the apartment, however, the atmosphere was thick with a different kind of intensity. It wasn't the tactical pressure of the Säbener Strasse training grounds or the roar of the Allianz Arena; it was the sheer, unrelenting weight of Aleksandar Pavlović.

Nini sighed, though a small, helpless smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She was currently pinned to the plush velvet sofa, her laptop balanced precariously on her knees. Or rather, it was balanced on the small space of her lap that wasn't currently occupied by a six-foot-two professional midfielder who seemed to have forgotten he possessed his own skeletal structure.

Aleks had his head buried in the crook of her neck, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist like he was afraid she might suddenly evaporate if he loosened his grip by even a fraction of a millimeter.

"Aleks," Nini murmured, her fingers tangling in the soft dark hair at the nape of his neck. "I really need to finish this email. The gallery needs the inventory list by tonight."

"The gallery can wait five more minutes," Aleks mumbled against her skin, his voice muffled and vibrating through her chest.

"You said that twenty minutes ago," she pointed out, trying to shift her weight.

In response, he only squeezed tighter, his long legs entangling with hers. Nini was petite, a whirlwind of energy with a crown of unruly brown curls that Aleks seemed to find endlessly fascinating. When they stood together, she barely reached his shoulder, a fact he took great delight in by using her head as a chin rest whenever possible. Right now, she felt completely engulfed by him—warmth, the scent of his expensive cologne mixed with fresh laundry, and the steady, rhythmic thrum of an athlete’s heart.

"I haven't seen you all day," he complained, finally lifting his head just enough to look at her with those dark, soulful eyes that usually made the Bayern scouts rave about his 'vision' and 'composure.' Right now, they just looked incredibly pouty.

"You were at training for four hours, Aleks. And then you had physiotherapy. It wasn’t a tour of duty," she teased, reaching up to boop his nose.

"Four hours is a long time," he insisted, catching her hand and kissing her palm. He didn't let go, instead lacing his fingers through hers and pulling her hand down to rest on his chest. "Thomas was talking my ear off about horses again, and Harry was trying to explain cricket rules to me. I just wanted to come home to my girl."

Nini felt that familiar melt in her chest. It was hard to stay annoyed with him for being 'clingy' when his version of clinginess was so earnest. Since his breakout into the first team, the pressure on him had skyrocketed. The media called him the future of the German midfield; the fans chanted his name. But within these four walls, he was just Aleks—the boy who liked his coffee too sweet and who turned into a human koala the moment he stepped through the door.

"I'm right here," she said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere. But if I don't send this, I’m going to have to work all through dinner."

Aleks groaned, a dramatic sound that echoed in the quiet living room. He slowly uncoiled himself, sliding down so his head rested in her lap instead of across her entire torso. It was a compromise.

"Fine. Work. I will be silent and invisible," he declared, immediately reaching up to twirl one of her brown curls around his finger.

Nini laughed, the sound bright and airy. "You are many things, Aleks, but invisible is not one of them."

She turned her attention back to the screen, her fingers flying across the keys. For ten minutes, there was only the sound of typing and the low hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Then, she felt a soft pressure on her stomach. Aleks had started tracing patterns on the fabric of her sweater, his touch light but constant. Then came the chin. He had hooked his chin over her hip, watching the cursor move across the screen.

"What does 'provenance' mean?" he asked.

"Aleks," she warned, though her voice lacked any real bite.

"I'm just curious! I want to know what my brilliant girlfriend does while I'm kicking a ball around," he said, flashing that boyish grin that had graced the cover of Kicker magazine last month.

"It means the history of ownership of a work of art," she explained, giving in. She closed the laptop with a definitive click. "And there. Sent. Happy?"

Before she could even set the computer on the coffee table, Aleks had lunged. He didn't just sit up; he practically tackled her back into the cushions, his face buried in her neck again, his breath warm against her ear.

"Very happy," he whispered.

"You are so needy today," Nini said, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. "Is everything okay? Did training go alright? Kompany didn't work you too hard, did he?"

Aleks pulled back just an inch, his expression softening. The playfulness receded, replaced by a vulnerability he only ever showed her.

"It’s just a lot sometimes," he admitted quietly. "The expectations. Everyone talking about the next game, the next trophy, the next call-up. When I'm with you, I don't have to be 'Pavlović.' I can just be Aleks. And I think... I think I just need to feel that today. That I'm anchored to something real."

Nini’s heart ached for him. She ran her hand through his hair, smoothing the messy strands. She knew the weight he carried. At his age, most people were still figuring out their university majors, not carrying the hopes of one of the biggest clubs in the world.

"You’re very real to me," she whispered, pulling him down for a proper kiss.

It was slow and lingering, a silent promise that she was his safe harbor. When they broke apart, Aleks looked dazed, his eyes dark and focused entirely on her. The clinginess wasn't just a quirk; it was his way of recharging, of finding his center in a world that moved way too fast.

"Hungry?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood. "I was going to make that pasta you like."

"Only if you stay within arm's reach," Aleks said, sitting up but immediately grabbing her hand as she tried to stand.

"Aleks, I can't boil water while holding your hand. It’s a safety hazard."

"I'll help," he offered, standing up with her. He didn't let go of her hand. Instead, he followed her into the small kitchen, hovering just a few inches behind her.

As Nini moved to the pantry to grab the penne, Aleks was right there. As she reached for the salt, he was a shadow at her shoulder. When she stood at the stove, he draped himself over her back, his chin resting on her shoulder, his arms looped loosely around her waist.

"You're like a giant backpack," Nini giggled, struggling to stir the sauce with his weight leaning into her.

"A very handsome, very athletic backpack," he corrected.

"Do all the guys at the club know you’re like this?" she asked, tilting her head back to look at him. "Does Jamal know his midfield partner is actually a golden retriever in a human suit?"

Aleks chuckled, the sound vibrating through her spine. "Jamal knows I'm affectionate. But this? This is just for you. If I tried to cuddle Joshua, he’d probably put me in a headlock and make me watch match film as punishment."

Nini laughed, imagining the scene. She turned around in the circle of his arms, the wooden spoon still in her hand. "I like it, you know. Even when it makes it impossible to do anything. I like that you want to be near me."

Aleks’ expression turned serious, his hands moving to cup her face. His thumbs brushed over her cheekbones, his gaze intense.

"I don't just want to be near you, Nini. I need to be. You're the best part of my day. Every day."

He kissed her again, a deep, soul-searing thing that made her forget all about the pasta water coming to a boil behind her. For a moment, the world outside—the pressure, the fame, the looming matches—didn't exist. There was only the heat of the kitchen and the steady, grounding presence of the man who refused to let her go.

The pot hissed as water bubbled over the side, hitting the hot burner with a sharp crackle. Nini jumped, breaking the kiss.

"The pasta!" she cried, turning back to the stove.

Aleks didn't move away. He just shifted his position, keeping one hand firmly planted on the small of her back as she managed the flames.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice low and steady.

And as they stood there in the steam-filled kitchen, Nini realized he wasn't just being clingy. He was holding onto his world. And as long as he was holding onto her, she realized she didn't mind the weight at all.

"Can we watch a movie after this?" Aleks asked, already plotting their return to the sofa. "One where we don't have to move for at least two hours?"

Nini smiled, pouring the pasta into the colander. "Only if I get to pick. No documentaries about legendary German defenders tonight."

"Deal," Aleks said, leaning in to steal a piece of pasta, his other arm still firmly anchored around her waist. "As long as you're sitting exactly where you are now. Right next to me."

"Always, Aleks," she promised. "Always."