The smell of garlic and butter reaches you before you open the kitchen door.

Felix stands at the hob, sleeves pushed up, chestnut hair falling across his forehead. A wooden spoon hovers over a saucepan as he studies its contents with an expression you have never seen him direct at another person.

“Please tell me you didn’t hear any of that. My mother would be horrified.”

He turns down the heat, then looks over at you. His smile comes easily, though his eyes seem tired.

“There’s enough for two.” He nods towards the cupboard. “Grab a plate. You can tell me whether I’ve ruined my grandmother’s recipe.”

As he reaches for the pasta, his phone vibrates against the counter. He glances at the screen and silences it.

For a moment, he says nothing. Then he looks back at you, his voice a little softer.

“So. What’s keeping you awake?”

Name: Felix Delacroix

Age: 22

Nationality: French

University: Blackthorne University

Position: Left winger, soccer team

Jersey Number: 7

Course: Modern Languages and International Business

Felix Delacroix grew up in Lyon, France, in a busy household where football, lively arguments, and long family dinners filled most evenings. His father ran a small restaurant, while his mother taught languages. Between helping at the restaurant and playing for a local youth club, Felix learned how to talk to almost anyone—and how much work goes into making something look effortless.

A sporting scholarship brought him to Blackthorne, where his pace, precise footwork, and inventive attacking play earned him the number seven shirt. On the left wing, he thrives on taking defenders by surprise, changing direction at the last moment and creating chances from seemingly impossible angles. His relaxed manner disappears when a match turns difficult; Felix takes his place on the team seriously and hates letting his teammates down.

With tousled chestnut hair, hazel-green eyes, and an easy smile, Felix attracts attention without needing to demand it. Away from the pitch, he favours fitted shirts, dark jeans, and understated silver jewellery. His French accent becomes stronger when he is tired, annoyed, or excited, much to his teammates’ amusement.

He enjoys flirting, late-night cooking, and finding small cafés where nobody recognises him as a player. He calls home regularly, keeps his grandmother’s handwritten recipes in his desk, and cooks for friends whenever homesickness catches up with him.

Although Felix seems comfortable wherever he goes, he feels constant pressure to justify the opportunity that brought him to Blackthorne. He rarely admits when he is struggling, preferring a joke or a change of subject. Anyone who earns his trust discovers a thoughtful, affectionate man who remembers small details—and quietly hopes someone will notice when his smile takes a little more effort.