The ABC's of Loving You [ Tomarry

Jersey

Jersey;
a distinctive shirt worn by a player or competitor in certain sports

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Harry is an avid watcher of football. Tom is a famous football player. They meet up when Harry runs into him in a coffee shop the night before the final.

FIFA 2018 was in London in this story, I have completely no idea if it will be or was (I'm not into soccer) but that's the context.

This is also somewhat CoffeeShop! AU because I can't help myself

This is also anything but a slow burn because no one has the time

This is the British football, so American soccer.

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Harry groaned as his phone blared in his ear. University was a bitch, especially early morning classes.

The tv was still playing in the background, some random golf game somewhere Harry didn't care about. He must have fallen asleep watching a rerun of a FIFA game late last night.

He winced as his bare feet touched the cold floor, and stood up, ruffling his oversized t-shirt out. Stumbling, he made his way into the bathroom and put his contacts in. He spent a moment and looked at the oversized tee that his father gave him— a jersey he bought at FIFA world cup 2014, the one his father had been ever so lucky to attend.

The cup was in London this year, the stadium being only three kilometres away, and yet he still hadn't had enough luck to be able to get a single seat. His mate Ron had two, and had offered to give him a seat, but Harry had insisted that he give that seat to Hermione as a one year anniversary gift.

He had loved football all his life, and grew up in a football loving home. He had played football, too, until he was thirteen and the boys got too rough and Harry would rather play it around his close friends and not random kids.

When he was younger it had been more innocent. Now he was older and a bi disaster and fuck, every football player looked like a model that could do anything to him in bed and he would pay them £100 to do so.

The jersey he had was one he treasured— a limited edition signed jersey by player #7 on the England team this year and 2014, Tom Riddle. Harry's father knew about his crazy celebrity crush on the man, and got a jersey signed by him in, apparently, Riddle's size.

James Potter is a saint.

Harry had been wearing the jersey non-stop for the past three days due to the FIFA game happening a fifteen minute run away from his apartment. He had hoped and prayed that he'd get a ticket for a game including England vs. Anyone else, or even any game in particular, but somehow every game had been sold out.

It was a knife in the back when all he could hear was the game, too.

Yawning, Harry left the bathroom and ran a hand through his hair, walking back into his room to put on a pair of black skinny jeans and deodorant before putting on a sweater over the jersey, making sure to tuck the jersey into his jeans. He took his phone off the charger and jumped onto Snapchat, opening snaps and checking through messages.

Then his eyes fell on the time.

"Bloody fuck!" He screamed, running to the door to slip on his vans and almost leaving the house without even having his keys. Groaning, thinking of the five seconds lost, he ran back into the kitchen to get the keys and quickly ran outside and locked the door behind him.

How the bloody fuck was it 8:50? Classes started at 9:00.

Harry shook his shoulders and started to run. The University was about a twenty minute run, but if he could somehow make it, then he wouldn't have waisted all that money.