Chapter Text
- Leroy Sané
For a good part of the night, Leroy didn't even notice Jamal.
He was simply too busy on his phone, answering messages. He'd let quite a few accumulate over the past couple of days, and he wanted to get them done with before their next match, which was tomorrow. So, he'd sat down on his hotel bed, back touching the headboard, and got to work.
After a while, when he was trying to figure out how to react to Kompany's message on the group chat (was the 🔥 emoji okay? Or would he think it was sarcastic?), his train of thought was cut off by a soft chuckle.
Leroy looked to his left, and spotted Jamal. The younger was laying on his bed, belly down, looking at his phone. He had a huge smile on his face, the type he rarely showed.
Jamal typed something, and then rubbed a hand on his face. After some seconds, it seemed like he'd gotten his answer; he laughed again, shoulders shaking and eyes lighting up.
It was quite obvious to Leroy who Jamal was texting. No one else got him to smile like this. But his curiosity still got the best out of him, and he decided to test it.
He answered Kompany's message (a simple 👍 emoji never hurt anyone), and then cleared his throat loudly.
Jamal turned his head towards him, his eyes following the movement a beat later.
"Yeah, man?" He asked, still trying to suppress his smile.
"Talking to Florian?" He half asked, half stated.
Jamal blinked, and his eyebrows shot up. He seemed genuinely shocked that Leroy knew, which was very funny.
"Uh, yeah." He said, rubbing at his nape with his right hand. "How... how'd you know?"
Cause you're never this happy for anyone that isn't him.
"Lucky guess." Leroy chose to answer instead.
Jamal nodded, slowly. "Ah, ok." He opened his mouth, but closed it a second later.
"Tell him I said hi." Leroy said. "And that Leipzig will crush them tomorrow."
His last comment got a laugh out of Jamal. One that wasn't even remotely comparable to the ones Florian had gotten out of him.
Leroy didn't mind. He didn't know the exact nature of Jamal and Florian's bond, but he knew it ran very deep.
Some time later, when he was almost done with his messages, Leroy heard Jamal call his name.
"Yeah?"
"Florian said hi, too." Jamal said. "And he told you to go fuck yourself." He added, another laugh escaping him at the words.
Leroy put his middle finger up at Jamal, like he was an extension of Florian. This wasn't that far from the truth.
- Manuel Neuer
If Manuel had to describe Jamal and Florian's relationship with one word, he'd choose frustrating.
The two were friends. The two were in love with each other. The two clearly didn't know that the other liked him back. The two didn't even seem to know that they liked the other.
It was utterly and incredibly frustrating.
Give them time, Manuel always thought to himself. They'll figure it out eventually. They're almost there.
Because these two always seemed very close to an answer. None had gotten there yet.
Thomas and him had even turned it into a sort of competition. The first betted that Jamal would notice things first, whilst the latter believed it'd be Florian.
He was also thinking this right now, as he guided a very intoxicated Florian to his hotel room. The midfielder had seemed almost more excited to be in the company of Jamal again than to have scored two goals for the German National Team.
As they walked down the hall, Manuel couldn't help but lightly scold the younger man. You shouldn't have had this much beer, I know that the thrill of victory is great, but you need to take care of yourself, know your limits, things of the sort. He knew most of these words would slip out of the little drunkard's mind, but he still had to try.
As they got to his room, Florian suddenly interrupted the string of advices.
"W'r's Jamal?" He asked, words slurring.
"In his room." Manuel answered, failing to take the room key out of Florian's surprisingly strong grip.
"W're not sha'ing a roo'?" He asked, sounding so miserable it was almost pitiful.
"No." Manuel said, the word making Florian's shoulders drop down. He took the opportunity and used the moment of distraction to snatch the key. "We got individual rooms this time."
Florian didn't say anything else as Manuel opened the door and helped him inside, but he seemed sad.
At the very least, he managed to convince Florian to take his shoes off and drink some water, before he plopped onto his bed unceremoniously. Manuel managed to hold in his smile.
"Think you'll be okay?" He asked, putting some headache medicine on the bedside table. Florian would be thankful for it when he woke up.
When Florian didn't answer, Manuel thought he was already asleep. But after a few seconds, the other spoke again, and talked about something that had nothing to do with the question.
"Jamal." He mumbled, face half pressed into his pillow.
Manuel took advantage of the fact that Florian had his eyes closed, and smiled freely. Ah, young love.
"What about Jamal?" He asked.
"I like him." Florian said, an enamoured smile on his lips. "I really like him."
A mixed feeling entered Manuel's heart then. A part of him felt happy to finally hear these words. But another side of him couldn't help but feel like he was trespassing. Florian was very drunk. He hadn't meant to confess this.
Florian started to say something else, but Manuel was quick to stop him.
"Get some rest." He said, scratching the other's nape lightly. "You need to sleep."
He kept the motion, and after a few seconds Florian's breathing evened out. Manuel waited a few more minutes, and then left. As he walked back to his own room, he silently promised himself never to tell anyone what he'd just heard. Not even Thomas.
Especially since he might not even have meant it like that, a voice in his head warned him. It could've been just a friendship thing.
He didn't think it was. But, either way, he was keeping this one a secret.
On the next day, Florian was grumpy, nauseous and tired, but he showed no signs of remembering what he'd said the night before.
Manuel didn't remind him, either. This whole thing had left him even more frustrated than before, but he still tried to remain hopeful.
They'll figure it out eventually.
- Alphonso Davies
It happened right before training.
Alphonso was about to enter the dressing room, when he saw many of the guys leaving the place at once. They were all dead silent, the expressions on their faces varying from worry to pity, with some occasional sprinkles of curiosity.
His eyes met Joshua's, and the german pointed inside the room. Alphonso peeked his head inside, and saw-
Jamal was there, sat down on one of the benches. Looking three seconds away from a panic attack.
He was looking at his phone, but Alphonso doubted that he could see anything in it, with the way his hands were shaking. His wide eyes were red, like he'd just cried. His bottom lip was quivering.
Manu was sitting by Jamal, rubbing a hand on his back. The captain was saying something softly, but the other didn't even seem to notice he was by his side. All of his focus was on the cellphone.
Alphonso turned back towards Joshua. The other man glanced at the dressing room quickly, before leaning in and whispering.
"It's Wirtz." Jo said. "He got hurt."
These words were less surprising to Alphonso than he'd expected them to be. Maybe ever since he saw that look on Jamal's face, his instincts told him it was something to do with Florian.
"Was it bad?" Alphonso asked.
Joshua's wince was already enough of an answer, but he still explained things.
"He got kicked in the head. Blacked out on the pitch."
"Shit." Alphonso whispered.
"He bled a lot, too." Joshua continued. "But he was already awake when they stretchered him out, so it's probably not anything too serious." He added, clearly trying to end this on a positive note.
Alphonso nodded, feeling his heart ache. Poor Florian. And poor Jamal.
"I'm gonna talk to him." Alphonso decided. Joshua mumbled something about Manu already being there, but didn't try to stop him.
He entered the dressing room, and looked at Manuel and Jamal. The first noticed him come in; the latter didn't, eyes still glued to his phone.
Alphonso noticed that Jamal had an empty water cup next to him. He went and grabbed him another one.
When he offered him the cup, Jamal startled, like he still hadn't noticed he was there. Despite this, he accepted the water, and drank it in a second.
Jamal tried to speak, but his throat just wobbled.
"I heard what happened to Florian." Alphonso said, not wanting to beat around the bush.
At these words, Jamal looked away, his expression ... haunted. Alphonso noticed it, but made no comment.
"I'm sorry." He continued.
"He'll be fine, Jamal." Manuel said, voice gentler than Alphonso had ever heard before.
"Head injuries tend to bleed a lot." Alphonso added, sitting on the other side of Jamal. "That's pretty common."
Manuel nodded, suddenly almost enthusiastic. "They really do bleed a lot!"
"It's just-" Jamal began, his voice small and weak. He burst into tears before he could continue.
Alphonso was shocked, but tried not to let it show. His eyes met Manuel's. The captain looked like he knew something no one else did, which only made him more curious.
After a few minutes and two more water cups, Jamal managed to speak a bit more. As it turns out, he was feeling guilty.
Apparently, right before Leverkusen's match, Jamal had talked to Florian on the phone. And he'd jokingly told the other that he should get an injury as an excuse to avoid his confrontation with Bayern (which would happen in a couple of weeks).
"I didn't mean it." Jamal said, seemingly more so to himself than to them. "I didn't mean it!" He exclaimed, tears running down his face.
Alphonso and Manuel tried to console him, telling him that it was just a joke and that Florian knew it. After a while, Jamal began to calm down. Some time later, he left to go clean his face, Manu accompanying him. Alphonso stayed behind in the dressing room.
When he stood up from the bench, something fell down on the floor. Alphonso picked it up, realising it was Jamal's phone. His curiosity bested him, and he turned it to look at the screen.
There was a video on the phone. He looked at the title: Leverkusen's Florian WIRTZ head INJURY! UNCONSCIOUS on the pitch! Alphonso scoffed at the journalistic lack of decorum.
The video was paused. The screen showed an image of Florian laying down on the pitch, swarmed by paramedics. You couldn't see his face on the video, but you could see the blood on his shirt, and even on the grass beneath him.
Alphonso shivered, locked the phone, and put it with the rest of Jamal's stuff. He thought about all that'd just happened, feeling his interest piqued.
He knew that Jamal was close to Florian, obviously. But he'd never expected... he'd never expected...
Before he could conclude that thought, Jamal entered the dressing room again, and Alphonso's attention was shifted.
/\/\/\
It wasn't their best training period.
Jamal was distracted and uncoordinated, and got in the way of the others more often than not.
"What's up with you today?!" Kompany asked after Jamal somehow managed to miss 10 shots in a row.
"I..." Jamal began.
"Wirtz got hurt!" Aleks exclaimed suddenly.
Kompany's expression shifted, and Alphonso saw in his eyes the same curiosity he felt in his heart. The coach motioned for Jamal to come closer.
The two talked for a while. After that, Jamal continued training, but it was clear that the coach was going lightly on him, giving him simpler exercises and less reps. Jamal managed to focus (a bit) better with this, and the rest of training went by more smoothly.
Every time he got a pause from training, Jamal grabbed his phone, and stayed glued to it until he was called back.
/\/\/\
After training, some of the guys got together to eat something. Jamal came too, but he seemed to be running more on autopilot than anything else.
Alphonso was incredibly curious, but he tried not to jump to any dangerous conclusions. Friends worried about each other all the time. This wasn't any different.
Or was it? He thought, looking at the way Jamal stared down at his phone. The way his hands hadn't stopped shaking all day. The way he'd been distracted and worried. The-
The sound of a phone ringing startled him. Alphonso noticed it was Jamal's phone. He also noticed that Jamal's phone was usually silent (he must've turned on the ringtone to make sure he wouldn't miss anything).
Jamal put his glass down on the table so quickly that it tipped sideways, spilling Coca-Cola all over his clothes. He didn't seem to mind it in the slightest.
Alphonso couldn't see the caller name from where he was standing, but you didn't need to be a genius to guess who it was. Jamal's expression already gave you the answer.
Because, as soon as he looked at his phone, Jamal opened one of the biggest smiles Alphonso had ever seen from him. It was such a genuine expression of happiness and relief, that he couldn't help but feel a smile appear on his own face.
Jamal grabbed the phone quickly, and ran out the table, presumably going somewhere quieter, where it'd be easier for him to talk to Florian.
Alphonso looked at Manu then. The captain kept his eyes on Jamal as long as he could, and then turned back towards the rest of the group. Neuer smiled softly to himself for a second, and then started helping Joshua clean the Coca-Cola that had fallen down.
A good while later, Jamal returned, looking like the definition of a good mood. He sat down on the table, smiling widely.
"Florian's good?" Thomas asked, a sly smile on his lips.
Jamal nodded excitedly. "He got some stitches, and he'll be out of the next game, but other than that he's fine!" He spoke quickly, waving his hands in front of himself.
"I'm happy to hear that." Manuel said.
"Thanks!" Jamal smiled even more. "Thank you for helping me out back in the dressing room. You too, Phonzy!"
Alphonso just shrugged, and the conversation on the table went back to normal. Jamal participated a bit more now, but he still spent most of his time texting, smile never leaving his lips.
The curiosity Alphonso had been feeling all day came back strong. He wondered how long it'd have taken him to notice it, if it weren't for today's events.
Jamal and Florian. Who would've thought?