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“Ladies and gentlemen!” Tsimikas announced, striding into the locker room. “The Greek Scouser has received another divine message from the Greek gods to make another rap song!”
“At this point I don’t even care.” Milner sighed in pure bliss, lifting his favorite pair of weights. “We beat Manure by seven goals. I’m in heaven now!”
“So you can get excited,” Elliott remarked. His twinkling blue eyes revealed everything about his actual demeanor, though, as he clung onto Carvalho. “You know what this means?”
Salah shrugged, wrestling a comb through his hair. “A cup of chamomile tea?”
“Come on, Mo, leave the boringness to James!” Firmino took a portable radio out of his locker with a bright grin. “Disco party!!!”
The players hurried out of the locker room, excited by the idea of a disco party. Nobody caught a pair of dark brown eyes, holding a wistful gaze towards one of the forwards.
*
Lijnders couldn’t help but notice Klopp’s unusual silence. If Liverpool had played subpar that day it would make sense; but Liverpool had been practically perfect. Seven goals versus their greatest rivals, and a clean sheet. He’d been smiling for nearly the whole ninety minutes, and then some.
As he and Klopp strolled around Anfield, Lijnders tried to recall what could’ve gone wrong. Every goal was perfect. The saves were perfect.
"Let me guess," he said after some time. "This is about that fan that invaded the pitch?"
As soon as he mentioned the pitch invader, it was as if somebody flipped on a destruction button. Klopp went from quiet to absolutely furious, gesturing wildly as he ranted about the pitch invader.
"He just slid right into them, does he not care?! Robbo's ankle could be hurt, he could've injured any of them! What kind of fan gives net zero damn about the players on his team? Oh, when I get my hands on him he will be lucky that he's just a child..."
Lijnders listened with half an ear, nodding at every rhetorical question Klopp asked him while dodging his flying arms. In about half an hour Klopp would forget why he was ever angry, but right now it was best not to argue with him. His anger was simply a sign of his protectiveness, and it would pass--just like Liverpool's bad spell of form.
Hopefully.
*
"One kiss is all it takes!!! Falling in love with meee, pos-si-bil-i-tieeees!!!"
Fabinho watched the shenanigans from the snack table with a wry smile. Tsimikas had been hellbent on remixing "One Kiss" with his new rap song. Elliott and Carvalho had joined, and now the three threw around random lyrics bashing Man. U, as well as pumping up their teammates' self-confidence with lyrics praising their performance.
"I finally found you!" Firmino announced, sidling up next to Fabinho. "You were wonderful today, Flaco. I couldn't ask for a better performance from you, my friend.”
“Flaco’s kind of thin, can’t say the same about his defense!” Tsimikas sang, right on cue. “He was dubious, but now it all just makes sense! I look like all you need…”
“And your goal was beautiful! Truly a work of the gods.” Fabinho regarded his compatriot with a soft gaze. “I’m going to miss you, Bobby. The training ground will be so empty without you.”
“Si senor, give the ball to Bobby and he will score! Eventually he’s gonna go away, but we’ll celebrate him always! Fallin’ in love with me, possibilities!”
“Aww, Flaco.” Firmino grasped Fabinho’s hands and rubbed his head, even though there was no hair to ruffle. “We’ll keep in contact via text, and I’ll visit whenever I can.”
“You’d better,” Fabinho joked, gesturing around them. “You’ve made so many friends here, and I don’t want your future friends keeping you away from us.”
“I can make friends wherever I go.” Firmino gently tapped Fabinho’s chest with a soft smile. “But I can’t make another family.”
“Liverpool, Liverpool F-C! We’re not just a club, we’re a perfect family! Just one kiss is all it takes!”