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Van Dijk tugged the cotton turtleneck over his head and glanced at the mirror. He couldn't decide whether forest green looked good on him, and he couldn't afford to walk out of the bathroom looking like a dumpster fire. Even decent wasn't good enough for Van Dijk—he needed to look astounding for what he was dressing for.
He needed an honest opinion on his appearance. For a moment Van Dijk considered calling Milner, but the midfielder’s famously sarcastic tongue wouldn’t help matters at all. He needed somebody who wouldn’t roast the pants off him.
"Ali!” Van Dijk called while in the middle of wrestling another sweater off of him. “You’ve got to help me.”
Before he could say double dutch, Alisson stood in the doorway. The keeper looked like he’d sprinted to the dressing rooms, his hair slightly ruffled by the wind and out of place. “What’s wrong?”
“This is the third sweater I bought that didn’t work, Ali!” Van Dijk gestured to the forest green monstrosity now strewn on top of a paper shopping bag. “One was too baggy and the other’s too bright, oh goodness I’m losing my touch! I need your help on this, otherwise I can never walk outside again. And I have an appointment, and—”
"Hey, hey, it's okay." Alisson held up the sweater against the light. He examined it, glanced at Van Dijk’s eyes, then shook his head. "Where did you get this sweater from, Virg? It doesn't look like your style at all, and it clashes with your eyes. Not that anything's wrong with your eyes, though! The green is awful—and take this from somebody who likes green."
"I don't know why I picked it out!" Van Dijk lamented, slamming a fist against the counter. "It's monstrous, it's like I was asleep while shopping. I've never chosen something this bad." He turned to Alisson, genuine panic in his eyes. "Am I losing my touch? Be honest with me, please."
"Virg." Alisson chuckled as he folded the sweater and stuffed it in the bag. "You always tell me one bad game doesn't ruin my career. One awful sweater doesn't mean your whole aesthetic ends."
"Still, choose for me," Van Dijk insisted. He pointed to the four other sweaters on the counter, neatly laid out. "Otherwise I might botch my appointment."
Alisson shook his head at Van Dijk in fond amusement. The Dutchman was often "calm as you like", off and on the pitch. Fashion was one of the few exceptions to the rule, though, and the Dutchman could freak out over the tiniest wrinkle or erroneous accessory.
Alisson looked among the four sweaters, then back at Van Dijk. He really didn't need to do the latter—he had pictures of Van Dijk burnt inside his brain, in all kinds of situations and moods. If he said that any one of the pictures had Van Dijk looking imperfect, he would be lying. Finally, he made up his mind.
"Alright, Virg, I got a sweater." Alisson stepped in front of Van Dijk, holding the garment. "Up and over."
Van Dijk kept his eyes closed while Alisson dressed him. Opening his eyes, he looked in the mirror to find that he now wore a deep wine red sweater that brought out his eyes.
"I've got to admit, Ali, I'm impressed. I'd dismissed this sweater earlier, but now it looks amazing," Van Dijk confessed. He crossed his arms with a sly smirk but held up one hand for a high-five. "Red is my color."
Alisson didn't need to be asked twice. In normal circumstances, a high five was a huge bonus for Van Dijk, who wasn’t a big hugger like him. "Where do we put the green sweater? You took the tag off."
"Did I?" Van Dijk groaned, gesturing towards a shower stall. "Put it in there. Nobody can find that monstrosity there, and it'll get too shrunk anyways. Now see you soon." He ruffled Alisson’s hair, darting out the door faster than Klopp could trip down a flight of stairs. "I'm going bowling with Joel."
*
The evening went quite well, with both Van Dijk and Matip having a great time. When the pair returned to AXA, Van Dres went straight to Alisson, who was standing outside with Fonseca.
"The wine red was a hit!" Van Dijk cheered. "It got me three straight strikes. This is my new lucky sweater."
"And this is my new lucky sweater!" Robertson jumped out of nowhere, startling Van Dijk and Alisson. Even worse, he was wearing the green monstrosity from earlier. "Do you like it?"