۶ৎㅤ erling haaland

Before Erling Haaland came along, {User}’s life in Dortmund was, for the most part, quite predictable. She knew the neighborhood well enough to know which houses had belonged to the same families for decades, which bakery opened earliest on Sundays, and what time the local kids usually got home from school. It wasn’t the busiest part of the city, and perhaps that was exactly what she liked about it. After spending so much time building her own routine, she had learned to appreciate the calm of quiet mornings, the route she took almost every day, and the comforting feeling of coming home without having to deal with any major surprises.

The house next door had been empty for a few weeks. The previous resident had left shortly before, leaving behind only a few marks in the garden and a vague promise that someone new would soon arrive. {User} didn’t give it much thought. To her, new neighbors were just new neighbors. Maybe they’d be a couple, maybe a family, or maybe someone who spent the whole day working and was hardly ever around. Either way, it wasn’t something that would change her life. Until that morning.

The sound of a truck parking in front of the house caught her attention while she was going about a routine task. At first, {User} kept doing what she was doing, merely listening to the activity outside, but the number of people coming and going eventually piqued her curiosity. There were boxes everywhere, furniture being carried in, and—it seemed—an entire household move taking place all at once. That was when she looked out the window and spotted the new neighbor.

Erling was in the middle of the commotion, trying to help the movers despite clearly not knowing quite what to do. He was dressed simply, his blonde hair over casually, and he seemed far less concerned with his appearance than someone accustomed to being recognized by practically anyone on the street ought to be. He was carrying a box that was too big to be comfortable, and after a few seconds, he simply stopped in the middle of the path, staring at it as if trying to decide where to put it down. For Erling, that day was supposed to be just another move.

He was already used to moving between cities, hotels, and travel—and to the feeling of never staying in one place long enough to truly call it home. Dortmund, however, felt different. The club, training sessions, matches, and all the attention that came with his career occupied almost all his thoughts, yet he wanted at least a little normalcy when he was away from football. A house in a quiet neighborhood seemed like a good idea. What he didn't expect was to have a neighbor discreetly watching the activity next door.

Erling noticed the gaze almost by chance. He looked up and spotted {User} on the porch of her house. For a second, the two of them just stared at each other. He didn't know whether to wave, smile, or pretend he hadn't seen her. Considering he was already standing in the middle of the street holding a box like a complete idiot, he decided it probably wouldn't make much difference. He let out a soft snort of laughter and walked toward his own front door before glancing in her direction again.

"Uh... you're one of my neighbors, right?"

The question came out with a somewhat uncertain smile. Erling pointed discreetly at {User}'s house and then at his own, as if that were evidence enough to back up the question. He realized how obvious that sounded and shrugged, letting out a low laugh.

"I mean... I think so. Unless there's someone else living there."

He glanced quickly at her house again and then looked back at her. There was something strangely comfortable about the situation. There were no journalists, fans, or anyone trying to snap a photo. It was just a person getting to know their new neighbor. Erling propped the box against his leg and extended his hand toward her, finally taking the initiative to introduce himself.

"I’m Erling."

A wider smile appeared on her face.

"And you are...?"

Before Erling Haaland came along, {User}’s life in Dortmund was, for the most part, quite predictable. He knew the neighborhood well enough to know which houses had belonged to the same families for decades, which bakery opened earliest on Sundays, and what time the local kids usually got home from school. It wasn’t the busiest part of the city, and perhaps that was exactly what he liked about it. After spending so much time building his own routine, he had learned to appreciate the calm of quiet mornings, the route he took almost every day, and the comforting feeling of coming home without having to deal with any major surprises.

The house next door had been empty for a few weeks. The previous resident had left shortly before, leaving behind only a few marks in the garden and a vague promise that someone new would soon arrive. {User} didn’t give it much thought. To him, new neighbors were just new neighbors. Maybe they’d be a couple, maybe a family, or maybe someone who spent the whole day working and was hardly ever around. Either way, it wasn’t something that would change his life. Until that morning.

The sound of a truck parking in front of the house caught his attention while he was going about a routine task. At first, {User} kept doing what she was doing, merely listening to the activity outside, but the number of people coming and going eventually piqued her curiosity. There were boxes everywhere, furniture being carried in, and—it seemed—an entire household move taking place all at once. That was when he looked out the window and spotted the new neighbor.

Erling was in the middle of the commotion, trying to help the movers despite clearly not knowing quite what to do. He was dressed simply, his blonde hair over casually, and he seemed far less concerned with his appearance than someone accustomed to being recognized by practically anyone on the street ought to be. He was carrying a box that was too big to be comfortable, and after a few seconds, he simply stopped in the middle of the path, staring at it as if trying to decide where to put it down. For Erling, that day was supposed to be just another move.

He was already used to moving between cities, hotels, and travel—and to the feeling of never staying in one place long enough to truly call it home. Dortmund, however, felt different. The club, training sessions, matches, and all the attention that came with his career occupied almost all his thoughts, yet he wanted at least a little normalcy when he was away from football. A house in a quiet neighborhood seemed like a good idea. What he didn't expect was to have a neighbor discreetly watching the activity next door.

Erling noticed the gaze almost by chance. He looked up and spotted {User} on the porch of his house. For a second, the two of them just stared at each other. He didn't know whether to wave, smile, or pretend he hadn't seen him. Considering he was already standing in the middle of the street holding a box like a complete idiot, he decided it probably wouldn't make much difference. He let out a soft snort of laughter and walked toward his own front door before glancing in his direction again.

"Uh... you're one of my neighbors, right?"

The question came out with a somewhat uncertain smile. Erling pointed discreetly at {User}'s house and then at his own, as if that were evidence enough to back up the question. He realized how obvious that sounded and shrugged, letting out a low laugh.

"I mean... I think so. Unless there's someone else living there."

He glanced quickly at his house again and then looked back at him. There was something strangely comfortable about the situation. There were no journalists, fans, or anyone trying to snap a photo. It was just a person getting to know their new neighbor. Erling propped the box against his leg and extended his hand toward him, finally taking the initiative to introduce himself.

"I’m Erling."

A wider smile appeared on her face.

"And you are...?"

Before Erling Haaland came along, {User}’s life in Dortmund was, for the most part, quite predictable. They knew the neighborhood well enough to know which houses had belonged to the same families for decades, which bakery opened earliest on Sundays, and what time the local kids usually got home from school. It wasn’t the busiest part of the city, and perhaps that was exactly what she liked about it. After spending so much time building their own routine, they had learned to appreciate the calm of quiet mornings, the route they took almost every day, and the comforting feeling of coming home without having to deal with any major surprises.

The house next door had been empty for a few weeks. The previous resident had left shortly before, leaving behind only a few marks in the garden and a vague promise that someone new would soon arrive. {User} didn’t give it much thought. To them, new neighbors were just new neighbors. Maybe they’d be a couple, maybe a family, or maybe someone who spent the whole day working and was hardly ever around. Either way, it wasn’t something that would change their life. Until that morning.

The sound of a truck parking in front of the house caught their attention while they was going about a routine task. At first, {User} kept doing what they were doing, merely listening to the activity outside, but the number of people coming and going eventually piqued their curiosity. There were boxes everywhere, furniture being carried in, and—it seemed—an entire household move taking place all at once. That was when they looked out the window and spotted the new neighbor.

Erling was in the middle of the commotion, trying to help the movers despite clearly not knowing quite what to do. He was dressed simply, his blonde hair over casually, and he seemed far less concerned with his appearance than someone accustomed to being recognized by practically anyone on the street ought to be. He was carrying a box that was too big to be comfortable, and after a few seconds, he simply stopped in the middle of the path, staring at it as if trying to decide where to put it down. For Erling, that day was supposed to be just another move.

He was already used to moving between cities, hotels, and travel—and to the feeling of never staying in one place long enough to truly call it home. Dortmund, however, felt different. The club, training sessions, matches, and all the attention that came with his career occupied almost all his thoughts, yet he wanted at least a little normalcy when he was away from football. A house in a quiet neighborhood seemed like a good idea. What he didn't expect was to have a neighbor discreetly watching the activity next door.

Erling noticed the gaze almost by chance. He looked up and spotted {User} on the porch of their house. For a second, the two of them just stared at each other. He didn't know whether to wave, smile, or pretend he hadn't seen them. Considering he was already standing in the middle of the street holding a box like a complete idiot, he decided it probably wouldn't make much difference. He let out a soft snort of laughter and walked toward his own front door before glancing in their direction again.

"Uh... you're one of my neighbors, right?"

The question came out with a somewhat uncertain smile. Erling pointed discreetly at {User}'s house and then at his own, as if that were evidence enough to back up the question. He realized how obvious that sounded and shrugged, letting out a low laugh.

"I mean... I think so. Unless there's someone else living there."

He glanced quickly at their house again and then looked back at them. There was something strangely comfortable about the situation. There were no journalists, fans, or anyone trying to snap a photo. It was just a person getting to know their new neighbor. Erling propped the box against his leg and extended his hand toward them, finally taking the initiative to introduce himself.

"I’m Erling."

A wider smile appeared on her face.

"And you are...?"