Chapter Text
Julián arrived slightly late to the training. The night before, City had come out victorious against Chelsea, and although neither he or Erling could take the credit; they had decided to go out and drink a bit to celebrate. Of course, Erling was taller, bigger, and was used to drinking in a lot in parties during his youth; whereas Julián - who was also much smaller physically- grew up in a club where they didn't permit drinks, and he wasn't interested in partying anyway, so he wasn't known for holding up his alcohol. Therefore, he had woken up with his first headache of the year, in his bed, still wearing his jeans from the night before. In his right pocket, he found a small sheet of paper wrapping a little tablet with some pill in it, for the hangover. Julian looked back at the paper, and noticed it had written a little -H and a smiley face right to it. Even in pain, Julián couldn't help but to smile, a warm feeling pooling at his chest.
So, he had taken the pill, taken a shower, and between getting ready and having to take an Uber to reach the training camp, he had arrived late for the first time ever. He hurried through the entrance, running through the corridors, until he reached the main hall; and immediately stopped in his tracks, noticing something was clearly wrong. All the players were sitting, most of them in silence, some whispering to each other and some others scrolling in their phones mindlessly, while just outside of the main hall, two voices could be heard arguing. Julián -still staring at the door separating the room- left his bag and his boots on a chair, and just when he was about to greet the rest of the players, he noticed that the voices belonged to Pep and Erling, getting louder and louder, and although it was muffled by the wall and they couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, it was obvious it was getting tense.
Rodri noticed his presence, and immediately stood up and walked up to him, greeting him with a handshake and in what was basically whispers. Julián greeted him back, and asked:
"Rodri, escuchame, ¿Qué onda? ¿qué pasa? ¿Pep se enojó con Erling?"
"No tengo idea. Hemos llegado y esos dos ya estaban discutiendo, nos han saludado así, en plan apresurado, y se han ido a la otra sala, a seguir discutiendo. Ya deben hacer unos veinte minutos que están allí y no tenemos ni puta idea de qué pasa, macho." Rodri explained, his spanish accent getting thicker when whispering. "¿Tú por qué has llegado tarde? Que siempre sueles ser de los primeritos." The spanish player asked, watching Julián up and down, clearly noticing something was wrong.
"Eh, ayer salimos a festejar con Erling." Julián explained, uncomfortable. "Y me pegó mal el escabio. El alcohol, digo. Qué sé yo, falta de costumbre. Se ve que a él no le afecta mucho." He said, looking at the wall that separated them from Erling and Pep. "Me siento mejor ahora igual, estoy bien para entrenar." He clarified, but even so Rodri stared at him, rather suspiciously.
Julián sat down next to Rodri, and was about to take out his phone to kill the time, when he noticed that Kevin De Bruyne was staring right at him, along with Phil Foden and Jack Grealish, the latter covering his mouth to whisper something to Phil's ear that made him look away. However, Kevin was still staring at him, up and down, and Julián felt uncomfortable, feeling studied by the belgian player. He looked around the room, trying to avoid Kevin's gaze, and realized that most of the players had been staring at him, or at least throwing looks, and -not so subtly- whispering, or texting each other. Julián's body immediately tensed up, realizing what -or rather, who- may be the topic of Pep and Erling's argument.
"Rodri." Julián whispered, biting his nails without realizing. "¿Escucharon a Pep o a Erling… nombrar a alguien?" He asked, half knowing the answer but still hoping it was a no.
The spanish player simply nodded, and pointed at Julián with his head, his eyes turned in something like sympathy. Or perhaps pity. Julián took a deep breath, more tense than ever, knowing he was the topic of the argument. He stood up, suddenly, and he started walking towards the door, his feet moving on their own. The rest of the players stared at him, some clearly wanting to tell him it was a bad idea to intervene, and some others simply watching what was about to happen. However, the moment he was in front of the door, the knob turned and the door opened from the other side, revealing a rather tired Pep, holding the door knob, and Erling standing right behind him with an unreadable expression.
"Ah, Julián. Hola." Guardiola said, voice obviously tense, but he seemed to remember where he was, and he said: "How are you?" Julián nodded profusely and whispered a strained fine. Guardiola nodded in acknowledgment, and looked at the rest of the group: "Come in, boys, I got the formation for this sunday." He announced, referring to the second match against Chelsea.
All of them entered the smaller room, filled with chairs and a white board filled with graphics and drawings and illegible words. Julián saw Erling sit down at the back of the room, and decided to sit down next to him, if only to ask him what the hell was going on. When he sat down, Erling simply smiled at him, and patted his thigh. Julian raised a brow, just about to interrogate him, when Guardiola shut the door, and turned the white board around, revealing the formation for the next match, the whole team watching.
Julián's stomach dropped.
Right in the place where Kevin De Bruyne always played, there was Julián's name with the number 19. Not only Julián was going to be a starter, he was going to play in an unnatural position for him, and most importantly, he was basically stealing the place of who was probably the best midfielder in the world. Guardiola started to explain the mechanics of the formation, exactly what role everyone had on the team. But Julián's brain simply stared at his name on the board, eyes fixated on the letters and numbers, and couldn't help but notice that the 19 looked weird compared to the rest of the numbers on the board. It looks like Erling's handwriting. He thought, and suddenly he felt overwhelmed, his throat going dry. He looked around the room, and saw some of the players paying attention to Pep's words, and some others staring at him and Erling, the latter resting his hand against the small of Julian's back. Julián blinked a few times and tried his hardest to listen to Guardiola's words, while also trying to ignore the warm heat irradiating from Erling's warm hand, and the cold stare of Kevin De Bruyne, who watched him from the other side of the room.
After Guardiola finished explaining, everyone left the room and went to the field to start training. Julián practiced along Erling, handing him passes and avoiding obstacles, while the norwegian quickly received the passes, got himself into position, avoiding obstacles and kicked the balls inside the net from different angles. The practice was going well, Julian adapting to his new role better than Pep had anticipated, the spanish coach watching them play from a distance, torn between contentment and slight resentment to admitting that perhaps Haaland had been right.
Julian however, didn't feel at his best. His mind kept repeating the stares, the glances that the rest of the team gave him. They way they looked at him, knowing this new position was courtesy of City's Golden Boy. The argentinian player couldn't help but wonder how Erling had actually managed to convince Pep to replace one of his most reliable and regular players; but he remembered the week before, before New Year's Eve, when Haaland had told him that Kevin was not playing well, greatly affecting the team as a whole. Perhaps that was enough to convince Guardiola?
"Pep just said to take a break." Erling said, suddenly, pulling Julián out of his mind. "I can see the gears inside your brain turning, sit down and rest a little." He insisted, sitting on the grass and offering the older player a bottle of water.
Julián sat down, taking small blades of grass between his fingers, fiddling with them. "How?" He asked, knowing it was enough for Erling to understand.
Erling sighed, tilting his head back, enjoying the winter sun, so rare in England. "The dynamic in the team is a system built around me, right? Pep made it so that every pass, every center ends up in the penalty area, and I do my thing. That's what they brought me here for." He explained. "Yesterday, I couldn't, because they couldn't reach me. They couldn't pass through the defense, or connect two good passes. Partially because of Foden, partially because of Bernardo, but mostly because of Kevin, you know. He hasn't really been the same since the World Cup." He concluded, his gaze in the distance. "Yesterday we got lucky. We aren't gonna get lucky for long, you know that. So I… proposed to Pep that you could take Kevin's position, maybe for a while, maybe permanently."
"Proposed." Julián repeated, the word tasting metallic in his mouth.
"Yeah, well, I really didn't want to take a no for an answer." Erling said, eyes now open and looking around the field. "But I can't force him to do anything, at the end of the day, he's the coach, he's one of the best coaches in the world, I'm sure if he really didn't like my proposition he would say no and that would be the end of it."
"But he did tell you no. That was why you were arguing." Julian insisted, staring right at Erling's blue eyes, gazes locking.
"No. We were arguing because he said no -and had every right to, I know- and I said he could bench me then; because I wasn't playing with that system again." He explained, staring back at Julián. "Fortunately, we came to an agreement."
Julián clenched his jaw. "Amenazaste- you- Dios, you threatened not to play? To Guardiola?"
Erling shrugged. "Either he needs me for the team to win, and therefore I know what's best for the team, or I don't, therefore he doesn't need me playing."
"They could kick you out of the team for that." Julian said, worry filling his voice.
Erling shook his head and smiled. "Nah. Pep specifically asked for me, and the club bought me at his request. If he were to kick me or sell me, he would look bad to the City Group and all the managers and all that." He made a pause. "He also asked for you, so he should trust his own judgment too."
Julián knew Erling was right, but he also knew there was something else that he wasn't saying.
"And you think that the team can't win without you." Julián concluded.
"Do you?" Erling asked right back, a playful tone seeping into his voice. "I mean, I think the team needs both of us to win. But if you are happy watching the game from the bench..."
Alvarez frowned at his words. "No. I am not."
"Then I don't know what you are complaining about, pretty boy." Erling said, smirking and ruffling Julián's hair.
They went back to training, and continued doing their exercises until the lunch break. Once they were eating in the dining hall, Julián and Haaland found themselves sitting by themselves on a table, far away from the rest of the team, who hadn't spared much words to either of them. Erling didn't seem to care about this, simply eating his food calmly, making comments from time to time to cheer his teammate up; but Julián was as tense as he had ever been, and had barely eaten, having spent his time watching how the rest of the team had ignored them or stared at them while they whispered things that Julián couldn't hear, but could guess pretty well what they were.
"They're talking. About us." The argentinian player said, voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. "They have been, all day. Dios, Kevin looks like he will kill me in my sleep."
Erling shrugged. "It's normal. Only eleven of us can play, the rest have to be left out. It's not your fault. It's nothing personal, Pep has to choose who is the best for the team and that's it."
"But Pep didn't choose me. You did. You- You told him to do it." Julián argued, struggling to express himself in his second language. "Not fair. It's not fair to them. Now they're angry at us, at me."
Julián hadn't been this frustrated in a long time. He had already struggled to adapt to a new country with a new language and a team that was already so solidified, and where the expectations were very high. He had struggled to try and break the language barrier, to communicate with his peers, and then to prove himself to Guardiola, to be worthy as a player. The only thing he had been able to hold on during the first months, was Erling, who was also trying to adapt, who had even a greater pressure on him, and that tried his hardest to make Julián feel included, choosing him as his training companion, showing him the city and managing to chat with him even when the language barrier made itself present. And he felt grateful for it, and had grown to like Erling's company, perhaps a bit too much. Because now, he felt as if there was an invisible wall separating the two of them from the rest of the team, and it was growing bigger and bigger, until there was no coming back, and Julián was afraid, he was terrified, that the distance would grow until they were so alienated from their teammates they couldn't call themselves a part of the team anymore.
"You are overthinking, Juli." Erling cut in, interrupting his thoughts. "You always think what's best for everyone else, and don't think about what's best for you. You deserve this chance, you know? I think you being on the bench while having the World Cup champion medal hanging around your neck is a lot more unfair than Kevin or Phil being benched for actually having shitty games." He put his hand over Julian's in a reassuring manner. "You didn't have many opportunities to prove yourself here, don't you think? I think it is fair you have a try. Even the fans probably think the same as I do."
Julián sighed, his gaze switching between staring at Erling's hands on his, making him feel smaller than he was, and staring at the table where Kevin, Jack and Nathan were sitting.
"You know, you are being far too nice with someone who doesn't even talk to you." Erling muttered. "He's not your friend, you do know that, right? I don't think I've seen you two say anything to each other that wasn't «Hello», «Goodbye» or «Good game»."
"Not his fault. I'm too… Shy. I'm difficult to talk to. To most people." Julián argued. "You know it better than anyone."
"Yeah, when we met you only managed to speak in gestures and monosyllables, and I had a pretty rough english to begin with; and we still managed, right? So it wasn't impossible. They just didn't bother to try." Erling said with a frown, taking a sip of water.
Julián finally looked away from his teammates' table and looked back at Erling, and noticed that the norwegian seemed disappointed, his mouth almost twisted in a pout, and his eyes fixated on their hands. Julián felt a twist in his gut, knowing that his worries were making Erling feel bad, perhaps making Julián look ungrateful when his friend -if he could call him that- was simply trying to help.
"I'm not angry." Julián whispered, his thumb caressing Erling's hand. "I thank you for what you did. It was nice. I just- I don't understand why."
Erling looked up, his gaze locking with Julián's, and he stared at him for a few seconds, seemingly thinking about his answer.
"I want us to win." He said, his voice at a low volume. "Don't you?" He asked, his hands softly squeezing Julián's.
The argentine was about to answer, when he realized what the norwegian meant. Not "us" the team. But rather, "us" as in the two of them. The two of them against the world. Julián was reminded of what happened the day before New Years, Erling's touch, his kisses, his whispers. And a promise: that it would be the two of them against the rest of the world. A deep part of Julián knew it would be that way, eventually. That they were different from the rest. That they were meant for something greater. Julián just didn't know whether it was worth stepping on the others to do so. He had been taught to remain humble, to work hard and to keep his head low and out of trouble, to never bite more than he could chew. But Erling wasn't like him, he realized. He was more impatient, more rushed, cutting to the chase. He refused to answer stupid questions in interviews, he would kick back at the players who dared to foul him, he didn't hesitate to call out his teammates that were underperforming and he had no problem defying his figures of authority. He was efficient, before everything else, always trying to be better.
Erling always found the way to victory, one way or another. Julián always did his best, and eventually the victory found its way to him.
So different, and yet, exactly the same. They couldn't go against the other, it would be simply pointless, an unstoppable force against an immovable object, a struggle with no winner in sight, no. It was only reasonable that they should work together, to share the glory they could bring. Because in the end, it would make them better. And Julián understood, the tension leaving his body.
"Yes. I want us to win, and we will." He answered. "If you think I can play in Kevin's place, I will. I trust you."
Erling smiled, the expression reaching his eyes, and Julián couldn't help but to smile back, feeling like Erling's happiness could light up a room as much as the bright sun, and Julián could only reflect it, like the pale light of the moon.
"Good!" Erling said, getting up from his seat. "Because it's almost time for us to go back to training."
Julián hummed in agreement, standing up as well. Once they were all outside in the training pitch, both players started to practice with renewed force, Julián's passes being more efficient than ever, and sometimes even taking the shot himself, while Erling didn't miss once, even when Guardiola put them against three defenders and a goalie. At the end of the session, they were exhausted, sweat covering their skin, and the sun setting behind them. Even so, both of them were smiling, satisfied with their work, and happy they had managed to have fun playing once again.
"Good session, I know both of you will do great this sunday." Guardiola said, patting Julián on the back, and the young player couldn't help but notice that their coach didn't look mad nor disappointed, but actually content with their performance; and he even had smiled at Erling, their disagreement seemingly left behind.
Both of them said goodbye to their coach, and the rest of the physical trainers and the people who worked at the Club; and started to walk towards the exit. Julián and Erling were talking and giggling about some of the plays and tricks that they had managed to do, and planned some others for the upcoming game while they walked, Erling's hand was wrapped around his teammate's shoulder and Julián found himself leaning towards him while he talked about a prepared play he used to do at River Plate, and how they could try it on Sunday; their voices and laughs echoing loudly in the hallway.
And if Julián noticed Kevin and Jack walking behind them and staring at them with exasperation and annoyance, he didn't say anything about it.