AN: you guys might probably be sick and tired of Misaki and Ayame by now, but this AU would not leave me alone and i just have to post it. This is in no way connected with FOLW and WOS so don't expect anything from there that will appear here.

anyway, in this AU, Ayame did not go to Japan to study but stayed in America to complete high school and take two years of gen ed college credits before transferring to Paris to continue studying fashion designing. and Misaki's already an established player of PSG for about two years now. Circumstances happen and they meet and let's see where this goes in the future, i am no idea exactly what im going to do with this.

so hopefully you like this story like all my other ones.

yeah i dont own captain tsubasa.

Chapter 1: Falling Apart

He wasn't usually one to get drunk, but either way, he found himself in a bar, nursing a glass of whiskey.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore."

Seven words. Seven words that he didn't know would hurt him so much. He couldn't exactly blame her. He would get frustrated with someone like him too. How couldn't you when your boyfriend of three years couldn't even find time to spend some time with you.

It's just that, it was hard to find free time when he had training in Camp de Loges and she had to go to her photoshoots for her modeling job. Then when she was off on weekends, he was either playing at Parc des Princes or he was playing away. And when he's not doing anywhere, she was off flying to another place to shoot a scene.

But, really he couldn't blame her for leaving him. He could have tried to find time, to put more effort into looking to be with her. But he didn't, and it's all his fault.

Azumi had every right to leave him, and he knew it.

He gulped the rest of his whiskey down. He didn't know how many glasses he already drank, but he was sure it was more than three he usually had. He probably drank a whole bottle, maybe even more. He could feel the buzz of intoxication running through his body, but he found that he could care less.

He knew that it would be bad if someone saw him like this. But he didn't care. This was the bar he usually came to with the rest of PSG's team when they feel like having a drink. The bar owner and its tenders already knew them, and he trusted them to not say anything.

He laid a couple of bills on the bar table before finally standing up. He was staggering a little bit, but he steadied himself. He could smell his breath and the pungent smell of alcohol entered his nose. He was drunk, he knew. But wasn't that what he wanted?

He was swaying heavily while he walked out of the building, and it was good thing he didn't hit into anything. His walk to his apartment shouldn't take that long. It was just close by anyway. It was one of the reasons why he liked that bar. Even if he was drunk, he shouldn't have that much mishap in the streets. Besides, it was late. The people of Paris was either asleep or out getting drunk like him. Except, they were having fun while he was wallowing in self-pity.

He arrived in his apartment building and mechanically headed for his room. He couldn't even remember pressing onto the elevator button to his floor. He just knew he wanted to go to his bed and forget about everything.

He was finally before his door, and he felt for his keys in his pocket. He got them out and tried to fit one of the keys –he wasn't thinking at this point- and jammed it into the keyhole. But, it wouldn't fit. It wouldn't open. He tried to push it further, but it just wouldn't budge.

"Damn it!" he cried in frustration and dropped the keys on the floor. He punched his door, and almost screamed in anger, when it didn't open. He turned away from his door and leaned against it, before he felt himself sink towards the floor, covering his face his with his hands.

He loved her, he loved her so damn much.

He was going to ask her to move in with him, damn it. He was ready to ask her to marry him. He had a ring ready to fit into her hand, and take their relationship further.

Ever since he moved to France when he was young, she's always been there by his side. She was there when he was new to the place, helping him get acquainted with Paris. She was there when he needed support during the Junior World Youth Tournament. She was there when he was getting over his injury in the World Youth. She was there when he decided to sign with Paris Saint-Germain.

She was always there, and he believed that she's never going to leave his side.

And maybe it was true that he took her for granted, but that didn't mean that he didn't love her.

All those years they've been through, all those moments they spent together, all those precious time he spent with her no matter how small they might have been; he held those close to him, held them dear to his heart.

He couldn't even describe the joy he felt when he agreed to be in a romantic relationship with him when he asked her after the World Youth. He couldn't remember how happy he was when they kissed for the first time and she didn't reject him. He couldn't stop smiling when he imagined what life would be when they finally, finally be bonded together 'til they die.

But everything was destroyed when she told him she couldn't take anything anymore.

He destroyed it, and he didn't even know if he could even fix it.

Azumi was everything he ever wanted, but he ruined it before anything could even happen between them.

He ran one of his hands through his hair. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the door, willing their memories to disappear from his mind.

It was no use trying to think about something that wasn't going to be fixed.

She sighed as she arrived before her apartment door. She didn't mean to stay this late at the workshop. It's just that she was totally immersed in her latest project and she just couldn't stop working it. The dress was finally taking shape and she finally sewed the skirt together and only have to add the lace on top of it. When she looked at the clock, it was already 11:30!

She totally forgot to eat dinner too. Oh well, she could just grab an apple from her fridge and crash on her bed. She didn't even notice that she was tired from working on the dress.

She rummaged through her bag to look for her keys. Actually, maybe she wasn't even going to eat an apple. Her eyes was falling over and she could barely keep them open. Sleep sounded nicer than food right now.

She was still searching through her bag when she heard someone take a sharp breath from behind her. She turned around and couldn't help but be surprised by who she saw.

Of course she knew the person who occupied the apartment across from her. She had to be blind and deaf if she couldn't recognize Misaki Taro. He was one of the city's beloved players from their biggest soccer team. He was one of the reasons why the PSG was doing great this season too.

(It also helped that she knew that he was Japanese. Although she was only half, she could feel a certain connection to him because of their heritage. But then again, the only thing that was Japanese about her was her looks, and she could speak the language fluently. Other than that, she was mostly American.)

She might not watch a lot of soccer, but she tried to be up to date with PSG at least. Most of the conversations starters were about Paris Saint-Germain after all.

But honestly, finding one of their prominent players on the floor –drunk no less- was a good way to start a conversation.

She didn't know why he decided to camp out of his apartment when it was just right there, and his keys seemed to be right beside him. It shouldn't be that hard to get inside his home even when he was drunk?

But when she noticed the small frown on his face, the way his eyebrows knitted together in a despairing way, and the way his form just seemed to slouch as if the whole world just betrayed him, she realized, maybe it was hard to get in his apartment in such a state, that it was hard to get back to normal when everything just fell apart.

She bit her lip and contemplated on whether to help him. The keys was just there, and she could get him into his apartment even though it was going to be hard supporting him with her short small stature. It would do him good to sleep anywhere beside the floor. PSG had a game on Sunday, and it wouldn't be good if he was sore.

On the other hand, they barely even talked, much less know each other. Sure, she knew him but that's because of the talks she hear in school about how the girls think he was attractive, and she could admit that he was nice to look at. But he didn't know her! How in the world would he know someone like her? He didn't have time to meet his neighbor.

It's irrational that she would help him. Who knows, maybe he wakes up and he thinks that she was going to molest him or something.

Really, there was more cons than pros in helping him.

She was about to put her keys in the hole, but she stopped and sighed.

Sometimes she hated being bitch but couldn't help to give a hand to someone who needed it. Damn her for having no backbone.

She put her keys back in her bag, and proceed to walk over to him, making sure that her steps were light enough that she wouldn't wake him up. She got his keys from the floor and tried each one of them. It was a good thing that there was only a few keys with them, that she found the right one easily. Once she had the door open wide enough, she crouched down and started to work.

She threw one of his arm over her shoulder and tried to stand up. Oh god, she knew this was a bad idea. She could barely even support his whole weight, and her heels made it all the harder. But she couldn't exactly just leave him. She already started it, might as well finish it.

With great difficulty, she managed to steady both of them and they fumbled into his apartment. She made sure she got his keys from the door before going further down the hallway. She could feel his breath near her face, and it really did reek of alcohol, but she could see a couch nearby and decided to tough it out. Besides, she could feel how defined his muscles were under his shirt and it kind of felt nice.

Reaching the couch, she tried to gently put him on it, but she accidentally dumped him quite hardly. She muffled a squeak from escaping from her mouth with her hand, and she almost had a heart attack when she heard him groan. Luckily, he didn't wake up.

He did mumble a name though, and everything started to finally make sense to her.

He was heartbroken, and this was the only way he knew how to cope.

She released a sigh and went towards his feet, taking off his shoes. Its uncomfortable sleeping with shoes on, and she figured he didn't need any further pain when wakes up aside from the massive headache he was going to get.

She should have left right then. After all, she was done with what she wanted to do. It's okay for her to leave. It's time to leave before she could even make this a disaster.

But no, she just had to be too nice.

She looked through her bag and searched for her emergency painkillers. She didn't exactly want to search through his apartment for his own painkillers when she was already trespassing as she already was. But she sincerely hoped he wouldn't mind that she had to go to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. She couldn't exactly give him her water bottle. That's unsanitary.

Once she put the glass of water beside the painkillers, she took out a pen and a piece of paper. Maybe, he would understand more if she wrote him a message explaining what happened. Hopefully, he'd be nice and doesn't sue her. She didn't exactly want a restraining order.

Signing her name, she finished her message and used the painkillers as a paperweight. Making sure that he was as comfortable as he could be, she gingerly stood up from where she kneeled. She took off her heels to make less noise than necessary. Grabbing her bag and leaving his keys on the table, she proceeded to walk silently down his hallway until she was out. She peered into the apartment once more, taking one last glance at his sleeping form. Once she was satisfied, she finally closed the door.

Hopefully, he was better by tomorrow. Such a broken-hearted expression didn't deserve to be on a face like his.

End Chapter

AN: title of story is from Walk the Moon's song called "Sidekick" which i also dont own. but give them a listen and buy their songs. They're a good band.

you might have noticed some differences with Ayame's personality but since she's already an adult by this point, i made her more mature than usual. but dont worry, her bitchiness and cheekiness will still appear, just a little toned down. also, im sorry Azumi fans! i didnt really want to make her a bad person for doing that to Misaki but i couldnt find someone that would be able to devastate our Misaki like she would. like, she's an okay character but i just dont see their chemistry and Azumi's not only lacking in screentime but in character development as well. we only know her as the "anego of france" according to Misaki too. so, i kind of took some liberties with her personality. i hope your all not angry at me.

but anyway, there's more to this story that im planning but i wont really be focusing on this that much but stay tuned?

thanks for reading and cya soon