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"Ali, you're coming back from a hamstring injury. I don't think pacing around is the best thing for you."
"But it's been thirty minutes after the match and I haven't heard from anyone!" Alisson crossed Alexander-Arnold's path for what had to be the sixtieth time since the final whistle had blown, checking his phone again. "Not the boss, not Virgil, not Adrian, not Jarell--oh my goodness, is Jarinho being protected? Who knows what those so-called ‘fans’ might be saying about that poor baby?"
"Ali..." Jota hesitated, trying to choose his words carefully. "Jarell made a huge mistake today, one that cost us a goal and potentially the win. The fans have the right to criticise him."
Alisson froze in his tracks, whirling around to glare at Jota. "Yeah, within reason. What they don't have the right to do is insult and abuse him like I just know they will! They do it to me, they do it to Trentski, they do it to you. Jarinho's twenty-one and just joined us this season, they're not going to spare him anything."
Jota nodded in understanding. "I know, Ali, but all we can do is focus on our performance and continue to support each other as a team."
Alisson sighed, knowing deep down that Jota was right. "When I got injured, I thought not being on the pitch meant that I could finally get some peace from the abusers. Now I’m on the side, helplessly watching as they start hurting the others. Kells, Cody, and now Jarell."
“And believe me, I feel the same. We all do.” Alexander-Arnold placed a reassuring hand on his teammates’ shoulders. "We have each other, and we have our fans. The real ones, who support us through thick and thin."
Jota flashed a brief smile, ruffling Alexander-Arnold's hair. “Yeah, but it still doesn’t stop the other fans from doing what they do. We can't prevent them from hurting Jarinho, no matter how much we love him."
A familiar ringing sound filled the air. Alisson sighed in relief when he saw it was Quansah, pressing the speaker on his phone and taking the call.
"Jarinho!"
The quick, shallow breaths of hyperventilation, while familiar to Alisson, were not something he expected from the other end of Quansah's phone.
"Jarell, are you okay?" Alisson tried his best not to panic as he began pacing around the room again. “What’s going on?”
“My m-mind’s fuzzy.” Quansah’s voice was weak and shaky over the speaker. “I can’t catch my breath, my heart’s beating too loud. Virgil’s in meetings—”
Alisson cursed internally, gripping the phone tighter. Those were the telltale signs of a panic attack, and it seemed to be Quansah’s first one. And worse, he seemed to be by himself.
“You’re going to be alright, okay? It’s okay.” Alisson took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down before continuing. "Can you tell me where you are? I'll come to you right now."
"Press conference room," Quansah managed to say through his heavy breathing. "I think it’s Room 306.”
"I'm on my way." Alisson was already heading out the door, speed-walking through the halls. "Just keep breathing, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. I'm coming."
He crashed into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor faster than he’d punched any ball. Alisson knew he wasn’t the only one on the squad who’d ever suffered a panic attack, and he wouldn’t be the last. But Quansah was one of the calmest, if not most serious, youngsters he’d ever seen. He’d never seen Quansah in such a vulnerable state, and he didn't know if what he knew was enough to help. But he had to try.
When he arrived at the conference room, which was thankfully empty, Alisson found Quansah curled up under a desk, his eyes closed and his breathing still erratic. Alisson sat down next to him and placed a hand on his back, trying to soothe him.
"Jarinho, I’m here now." Alisson resisted the urge to hug him, knowing that too much sudden movement or touch could startle him. "You're safe now. Just keep breathing with me, okay? Six in, hold for six, out for six."
Slowly but surely, Quansah's breathing began to regulate, and his body started to relax. Alisson stayed by his side, talking to him in a calm and reassuring voice until Quansah was able to sit up and look at him.
"Thanks," Quansah whispered, his voice still shaky. "I’m sorry, I don’t know. I was just here, thinking about the game, and I got…”
"Scared, I know. Esta bem, menino. ” Alisson hugged the young defender tightly, running his hands through his hair. “Did somebody say something to you?”
“No, nobody said anything. But I’m scared they will. I want to know, but…”
I know that feeling all too well. “They’ll say anything, whether it’s warranted or not. I know it’s tricky but stay off the news for now. Tomorrow we’re going to have a team meeting, and we’re all going to improve on our mistakes. Okay?”
Quansah nodded, looking up at Alisson with gratitude in his eyes. "Okay, I trust you. I just don't want to let the boss down.”
Alisson smiled, patting Quansah's back. While Quansah always called Van Dijk his mentor, his current thoughts were almost a clear reflection of Alisson’s own fears. "You're not going to let anyone down, Jarinho. We all make mistakes, but the important thing is what we do after we make them. Which is…?”
“Learning from them and never doing them again?”
“Exactly. That's what separates the mentality monsters and the mentality mice. You’re a smart kid, Jarell."
“Wasn’t so smart on the pitch, was I?”
“Trust me, we’ve all been there.”
Quansah took a deep breath, smiling for the first time since Alisson had found him. "Ali…you saved me there. I felt like I was drowning, I don't know what I would have done without you.”
Alisson tried not to recoil at the word drowned , instead taking Quansah’s hand and holding it tightly. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes until the door opened. It was Van Dijk. His hair was slipping out of the bun he’d confined it in, and he was sweating as if he was still running on the pitch.
“Jarell, there you are! Trent told me you’d gone missing while I was in the middle of an interview. I ran around the place to check as soon as they were finished with me.” Van Dijk reached down and pulled Quansah off the floor, dusting him off. “Are you okay?”
Quansah nodded, clinging to Van Dijk like a vine. "I’m fine…at least now, I am.”
“Good.” Van Dijk nodded towards the door, where the Double Dutch stood waiting. “Now, if I’m right, Cody and Ryan have been waiting to show you something.”
Quansah brightened up at the sight of the Double Dutch, speed-walking towards them. They met up with a quick hug and walked down the hall, discussing something about a glitter bomb.
As soon as the three were out of earshot, Van Dijk turned to Alisson, his expression morphing from relief to scepticism. “So…why were you two hiding under a desk?”
Alisson wanted to tell Van Dijk, but the elder Dutchman looked less ready to dive into conversation and more ready to dive into bed. So he brushed back his hair, stood up, and grasped Van Dijk’s arm.
“It was just a game of hide and seek.”