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The locker room was in outrage. Some of them were complaining about how the Arsenal players should've been sent off for time wasting and fouls. Others were loudly blaming themselves for missing an opportunity or ruining the match, while a couple were yelling at each other for not doing something.
Only a few people were silent. There was Konate, who'd received two yellows and a sending-off near the end of the match, and there was Thiago, who'd made his comeback from injury in the worst way possible. And then there were Alisson and Van Dijk, who hadn't looked at each other since a couple of minutes before the match ended.
Klopp was still stuck with gossip-hungry journalists, and there was no sign of him coming sooner. That left Adrian with the job of trying to sort some sense into this scene.
"We underperformed today, all of us! Where the hell was that heart that we've been talking about, where's putting our best performance for the boss?"
The room grew quiet, the shouts and angry protest morphing into hoarse whispers and disappointed sighs. Adrian rarely spoke up or made speeches, much less swore, so they all knew he was serious.
"Adrian's right. We can't give up now." Van Dijk finally stood from his place on the bench, but not before pulling the captain's armband off his arm. "Giving up on winning all four trophies is not only impractical, it's an insult to all the times the boss could've given up on us."
"Not only that." Alisson set his phone to the side and walked to the other side of the room, hugging Robertson like the Scotsman was a stuffed animal. Adrian frowned when he noticed that Alisson's hands had trembled like leaves in an autumn breeze ever since he'd picked up his phone. "Giving up now is giving up on each other. It's giving up on ourselves, and the bonds we made."
For the first time, he glanced at Van Dijk, although to Adrian it was more like a glare. Van Dijk opened his mouth to speak, but looked down at the floor once his coffee-brown eyes made contact with Alisson's mint-blue ones.
"Enough with all the sentimental words!" Nunez stood on top of the small table in the locker room, blowing a foghorn loud enough to get everybody's attention. "Here's the bottom line. We played… com miércoles ! So when we get back to Kirkby tomorrow, we are going to go over everything we all did wrong and improve on it. The defenders will clear up whatever misunderstanding or errors happened, while the midfielders will make some plan Bs. And as for me…I'll try not to win a 'hit the crossbar' challenge.”
A few laughs echoed around the otherwise empty dressing room as the tension broke. The mood lifted as some of them hugged, apologising for trying to throw the blame on each other. Others headed towards the showers, discussing the game and where they went wrong.
Adrian couldn’t help but notice that as soon as the team began to disperse, Van Dijk hurried off towards the showers along with the Double Dutch. And when Alisson pressed himself close to Adrian, taking his duffle bag along with him, Adrian had a feeling that all wasn't quite resolved just yet.
*
Adrian let Alisson follow him all the way onto the bus, during the whole bus ride, and into the hotel. Only once they were in front of Adrian's room door did Adrian finally decide to confront Alisson.
"Tell me what's going on between you and Virgil."
"It's nothing." Alisson shook his head, staring down at the floor beneath him. "Just the loss, that's all."
"No, that's not all," Adrian chided him, gently yet firmly. "I know when it's the loss, I know when you're blaming yourself. But you're not blaming yourself now, are you?"
"No..." Alisson trailed off, before pulling his phone out and showing it to Adrian. Adrian prepared himself for the usual petty and vile online hate comments about Alisson's performance, but what he did see beat anything he'd ever seen before.
"D-death threats?!” Adrian's head hurt even thinking about it, much less talking about it. Not only was Alisson one of his teammates and close friends, he was one of the kindest people on the team. He always had a hug or a piece of candy or a kind word for everyone else, and often went far out of his way to help with things that he wasn't necessarily obligated to help with. Heck, he'd even found kind words for Rico, one of their arch-enemies who played for two of their rivals. "What the hell is wrong with people? Do they not realise that you're a human being?"
"Every time we concede a goal and it's my fault, I know that it's my fault. The fans blame me, I blame myself, sometimes they forgive me. Bu-but Virgil gives the ball away and prevents me from kicking it away, and they send me these. I'm almost used to the hate by now, but—”
"Death threats?" Adrian pocketed Alisson's phone before he crushed it out of rage, with the internal promise to return it to him later. "Ali, this is insane! But why were you ignoring Virgil all this time?"
"Because every time he does something wrong, I end up taking the flak for it. Either I'm explaining to Cody why Virgil isn't there to rub ointment on his bruises from the match while Virgil himself is conducting one of his fashion photoshoots, or I'm reassuring Jarell and Trev that Virgil isn't thinking about leaving like he said in his extremely badly-timed bombshell interview. Or I'm having my life threatened because Virgil couldn't just clear the ball away!" Alisson sounded...like a lot of things. Defeated, for sure, but this was the sound of somebody who was tired. Tired of the things he had to put up with, without enough recognition of what he did do. "I just can't look at Virgil right now."
"But Virgil isn't—”
"I know, I know, Adri. Virgil isn't responsible for this, and if he saw it he'd be furious. But I'm tired of constantly letting the team down unless I'm perfect."
"No, you're not." Adrian put a hand on Alisson's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "You're one of the most consistent performers on this team, and you know it. And even if you weren't, that doesn't give anyone the right to threaten your life. You need to report this to the authorities, Ali. This isn't something to take lightly."
"I know, I know." Alisson ran a hand through his hair, looking more stressed from a match than Adrian had ever seen him. "But…Virgil was devastated after the match. Before we left the locker room, I heard him in the shower. His eyes were red, Adrian, you know how much Virgil hates feeling any kind of vulnerability. He's already beating himself up over what happened on the pitch today. If he knew I was getting death threats, he'd never forgive himself."
"I get it, Ali, but you can't keep carrying this burden alone. You need to talk to Virgil, let him know how you feel and what's been happening."
"But he's probably mad at me for not being able to bail him out."
"You're blaming yourself again, for something you couldn't do anything about."
"No, Adrian." Alisson sighed heavily, glancing towards the staircase as if Van Dijk would appear at any time. "We're a team. If one of us makes a mistake, it's up to the rest of us to make sure that mistake doesn't lead to a setback. Every one of us who played the game is as at fault as much as Virg is. It's...it's not fair that I'm not talking to him now."
With that, Alisson smiled at Adrian, a bit of the weight lifting from his shoulders. "Thanks for letting me vent, Adri. But now I've got to talk to Virgil before he thinks that I'm mad at him, too. I know how it feels to think that you've let everybody down."
Adrian patted his shoulder before heading into his room, feeling a mix of emotions. On one hand, he was glad that Alisson was finally opening up about what was bothering him. On the other hand, he couldn't believe that someone as kind as Alisson was receiving death threats over a game. And on another imaginary hand that he would've had if he were a squid, he was both proud and worried about Alisson's too-sudden-to-be-mentally-healthy change of perspective and attitude.
As he settled into bed, Adrian couldn't help but think about the weight of responsibility that came with being a leader and a teammate. Alisson and Van Dijk were part of the team's official leadership group, while Adrian wasn't but was often drafted into it due to him being the oldest player on the team. But he also knew that he wouldn't have it any other way.
Wait, that's not entirely true. He looked down at his pocket, which still held Alisson's phone along with the cursed death threats. I wish we didn’t hurt so much all the time.
*
"Virgil?" Alisson knocked at the door of the hotel room he was sharing with Van Dijk, resisting the urge to tear it down and check on his friend. He'd knocked four times, and the Dutchman still hadn't answered. Already, his mind began thinking of worst-case scenarios, some not dissimilar to his own feelings.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open and Van Dijk's dishevelled face appeared. His usually slicked back hair was now a mess, and his eyes were bloodshot.
"Hey," Alisson said softly, trying to gauge Van Dijk's mood. Despite his usual calm demeanour, it could be hard to tell exactly what Van Dijk was feeling at any time.
Van Dijk didn't say anything, just stepped aside to let Alisson in.
"Listen, I know things didn't go well today," Alisson began, trying to break the silence. "But I don't blame you for anything. We win as a team and we lose as a team, and it would be pretty ironic to hate you for making a mistake when I've made enough mistakes to fill an hour-long fail compilation on Youtube."
Van Dijk still didn't say anything, instead sitting down heavily on the edge of his bed. His gaze was distant, and Alisson couldn't shake the feeling that he wouldn't have been in such a sorry state if he'd gone and checked on him earlier. I s this what Virg feels like when I've forked up?
Alisson took a deep breath, pushing his thoughts to the side. He could deal with that later, with his guitar and poetry notebook. "There's...something else I need to tell you. After the game, I found out that I was getting death threats."
As if he'd pressed a button, Van Dijk's head shot up, his eyes widening in shock. "What? That's insane! Why would anyone do that?"
"I don't know," Alisson replied, shaking his head. "But I wanted to tell you because I don't want you to blame yourself for anything. You didn't cause the death threats. I know that right now you're probably tracking the locations of those people so you can scream at them, and that's how I know you love me. I love you too, remember that.”
Van Dijk looked like he was about to say something, but then he paused and looked away.
"What is it?" Alisson asked.
"I…I got a lot of hate online too," Van Dijk admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not threats, but people were saying some terrible things."
Alisson felt a pang of guilt. He had been so consumed by his own mind that he hadn't even thought to ask how Van Dijk was doing.
"Ay, caramelinho ..." Alisson placed a hand on Van Dijk's shoulder. All he wanted to do was hug him, but Van Dijk was tricky to read. Sometimes he wanted to launch himself into a hug, and other times he desperately craved space. "You don't deserve this. None of us do. We're already hard enough on ourselves as it is, hm?"
Van Dijk finally looked up, meeting Alisson's gaze. "You're right. I'm sorry I let you down."
"You didn't let me down," Alisson replied firmly, although his thoughts from earlier swarmed in his head like stinging gnats. "We win and lose as a team, remember? We're in this together."
Van Dijk gave a small smile, and Alisson felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders at the positive reaction. Slowly, the guilt began to ebb away, replaced by pure concern.
"Could you…” Van Dijk glanced at a black bag in the corner of the room, propped against the wall.
Instantly, Alisson knew what Van Dijk was asking him to do. He'd wanted to do it when he saw how devastated Van Dijk was after the match. "What should I play?"
Ten minutes later, Adrian opened the door to see Alisson and Van Dijk on the bed together, sitting only about a foot apart. Alisson was playing his guitar, no doubt some Brazilian song from yesteryear, and Van Dijk was humming along with him, tripping over some of the words. He quietly closed the door, smiling like he'd seen the sun shine after a hurricane.