Chapter 718: Familiar.

While the duo were engrossed in their act, Hori appeared from her room, arms folded loosely across her chest as she leaned against the doorframe, taking in the scene.

Her eyes flicked from Izan to Olivia, and then back again, and a slow shake of her head followed.

"You better be good and thank me when you come out, nephew or niece," she muttered, not bothering to raise her voice but loud enough for the pair on the couch to hear.

The corner of her mouth twitched like she was fighting off a smirk, though her eyes betrayed her amusement.

Olivia pulled back slightly, her cheeks warming, though Izan didn’t move much as he simply let out a quiet breath, his arm still curled protectively around her.

Hori gave them no more than a glance over her shoulder before pushing herself off the frame, and with a toss of her hair and the faintest sway of her luggage handle still left by her door, she disappeared back down the hallway, retreating toward the larger bedroom she had claimed earlier.

The apartment fell quiet again, save for the distant crash of waves against the shore outside their glass view.

....

A few hours later and away from the trio, ESPN’s official accounts posted an image across Instagram, Twitter, and YouTube’s community feed.

The photo was crisp: Izan Miura Hernández, dressed in plain black, slipping into the backseat of a waiting car outside Palm Springs International Airport and others of him, waiting before the car came.

The caption ESPN had chosen was deliberately sharp, fishing for engagement as much as clarity.

"Why is Arsenal star Izan Miura Hernández in California while recovering from injury?"

And within minutes, the floodgates opened.

Fans poured into the comment sections, some theorising, some joking, some circling into tangents the post had never asked for.

On Instagram.

thegoonervault

: What’s he doing in Palm Springs of all places? Surely not football-related.

footybrain99

: Maybe rehab? There are a few facilities out there that athletes use in the off-season.

CFCno10

: Nah, he’s done. Arsenal star is already checking out when the season hasn’t been done away with. I guess Arsenal are about to bottle everything now.

maribel.xo

: If he’s injured, why not stay in London? Makes no sense unless it’s personal.

samuelmarkson

: Visiting family? Maybe a distant relative, ’cause he lives with his gf and mother as well as sister in north London. Don’t think Arsenal would just let him fly off if it wasn’t cleared.

kop_culture

: California? Klopp would’ve never allowed that. Slot better be watching him.

poet27

: He looks too comfortable for someone out "injured."

And buried further down, as always, were the unexpected and unrelated topics.

goldeneagle33

: This is off-topic, but does anyone know when the new Nike drops are coming out in the UK?

lorraineMUA

: Forget football, that shirt looks expensive. Does anyone know the brand?

Nameyelus: It’s Saint Laurent.

On Twitter, where replies moved faster, the theories sharpened.

A user had pulled up another photograph almost immediately.

One of Izan in transit at LAX earlier in the day, caught mid-stride as he adjusted a mask over his face, the blurred crowd around him not realising who he was.

The account

@footballdetective

posted it underneath ESPN’s original tweet with the caption:

"So that’s why he looked familiar."

From there, the speculation doubled:

@ArsenalCircle

: He’s been spotted. So why Palm Springs?

@xaviology

: If it’s for rehab, fair enough. But why so quiet about it?

@RedmenBase

: Don’t kid yourself. He’s probably negotiating something. Madrid or Barca sniffing.

@fairfaxlocal

: Weird to see him here, the town and country isn’t exactly a football hub.

@DeclanRiceProp

: People overreacting. He’s just recovering and maybe needs space. It isn’t every day that a 17-year-old gets the world to talk, even when he’s taking a shank.

Comments stacked underneath ESPN’s glossy thumbnail.

Some fans congratulated him on Arsenal’s semi-final progression of both the UCL and FA cup, while others questioned why their supposed talisman wasn’t staying close to the club.

The likes ticked up in strange patterns, as if people weren’t sure which way the narrative was leaning.

......

[The next morning]

"Alright," Izan murmured as he ended the call, thumb brushing across the cracked screen before setting the phone down on the table.

Olivia, near the kitchenette, tilted her head at him.

"Who was that?"

"Arteta," Izan replied, sliding calmly into his seat, though the faint crease in his brow suggested there was more behind it.

Still, he left it there, reaching for his plate.

"Business as usual then," Olivia said softly, picking up her fork as she flopped onto the couch beside him.

Before either of them could begin properly, Hori pushed open her door, striding out with a crop top by its hanger.

She held it at arm’s length like she was walking a model down a runway, and then, "Alright, verdict time. What do we think?"

Her eyes went straight to Olivia, bypassing Izan entirely as the first of the latter set her fork down and blinked.

"It’s cute. Really cute."

"Cute?" Hori repeated, squinting.

"Cute is for puppies, Liv. I need transcendent. I need—’she walked in and everyone had to look twice.’"

"I think it works," Izan chimed in between bites, chewing before he added, "Honestly, it’s clean. The colour’s strong and shows you off without trying too hard. It’s a bit bare, but I like it."

Hori swivelled her head toward him like a hawk spotting prey.

"You?" She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head.

"If you were gay, maybe I’d weigh that opinion. But a straight man’s aesthetic? Nope. Can’t trust it."

Izan looked up from his plate, mock-offended.

"You’ve seen my posts, right? My shoots? My images? You don’t get those kinds of numbers if you don’t know aesthetics."

"You have stylists," Hori shot back immediately, already turning on her heel.

"And most of the time, your face and those blue eyes, which I wonder where mine went, do the heavy lifting. Rare genetics, bro—not style."

She wagged the dress for emphasis before disappearing back into her room.

Olivia chuckled, hiding it behind her hand as Izan threw her a look.

"She’s been like this all morning," Olivia teased.

"Don’t enable her," Izan muttered, though there was no bite in it.

From the other side of the door, Hori’s muffled voice rang out, sharp as ever.

"Don’t just sit there laughing, you two. Get serious and be ready for the show. This isn’t brunch at the corner café."

Olivia leaned back and glanced at her watch.

"It’s still five hours away, Hori," she called out.

"We need, what, thirty minutes to get there?" She lifted her phone and tapped at the screen.

"According to Google Maps."

The door flung open just enough for Hori to stick her head out, eyes narrowed.

"Yes, if Izan said it, I wouldn’t care much, but I also know you are going to take at least 4 hours and 40 minutes of those 5 to dress, so excuse me for planning ahead."

Her hair fell into her face before she tucked it back, a new dress now swaying in her hand like a flag of defiance.

"Why am I catching strays this time?" Olivia called as the door shut.

Olivia laughed and shook her head, turning her gaze toward Izan, only for her eyes to catch on the faint glow of his phone screen.

An ESPN post sat frozen on it, their logo in the corner above a headline and his own picture.

She reached across Izan’s arm, tapping the cracked screen lightly.

"When are you going to get a new phone?"

Izan looked down at the device of two years old with scuffed edges, but still functioning.

"I’m not liquid," he said, leaning back, a quiet smirk tugging at his lips as Olivia rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything else, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close enough that she felt the warmth of his words more than she heard them.

"I’d consider it if mommy buys it for me," he murmured, voice low and teasing.

Olivia’s cheeks burned instantly, and she pressed her hand against his chest, laughing but not quite pushing him away.

"Don’t say things like that here."

From the hallway came Hori’s flat, unimpressed call: "Get a room, you two."

Moments later, she re-emerged with not one but two outfits in hand, each draped carefully over her arms.

"Okay, serious business. Help me decide between these two."

Olivia got to her feet, smoothing her dress and giving Izan one last playful glance.

Then, just before following Hori, she stuck her tongue out at him like a mischievous schoolgirl, a flash of rebellion.

Izan just shook his head, unable to fight the grin that spread across his face, as the two disappeared into the bedroom.

The door clicked behind them, leaving him alone with his plate, which he tossed into the sink of the kitchenette before washing it.