Chapter Text
The grass at the park was always too long. Patches of dirt showed where countless kids had played before them, but still the ball stuck every time it rolled over the uneven ground. To Jude, though, it might as well have been Wembley. He was only eight, legs wiry and restless, curls bouncing as he tried to dribble past his best friend.
“Go on, J, show me what you’ve got!” Trent called out, arms spread like he was guarding the Kop.
Jude darted forward, his little trainers slipping slightly in the grass. He gave the ball a determined shove with his foot, but Trent was quick — always quicker. With one neat step, he hooked it away.
“Not again!” Jude’s voice cracked between laughter and frustration as he stumbled, then gave chase.
Trent only grinned, jogging back with the ball at his feet like he was showing off in front of a crowd. “You’ve got to be faster than that, bro.”
“You’re bigger than me! It’s not fair.”
“Excuses.”
They went back and forth like that until their lungs burned and their laughter drowned out the sound of birds above. Eventually, they collapsed side by side on the damp grass, chests heaving, arms brushing against each other as though neither noticed — or maybe both did.
⸻
Years later.
The sound of whistles carried across the training ground. Trent bent forward, hands on his knees, sweat dampening his shirt. His legs felt heavier than he wanted them to, but that was normal — training at this level was meant to burn.
Still, as he straightened and caught sight of the figure across the pitch, something flickered.
Jude.
It still felt strange sometimes, seeing him here. Taller now, stronger, the kid with curls and wide eyes replaced by a young man carving his own place in football. Yet somehow, Trent still saw that boy in the park every time he looked at him.
Jude was laughing with Saka, shoulders shaking, smile wide. And for a second, just a second, Jude’s eyes flicked across the pitch and caught Trent’s. The smile softened into something else. Something private. Something familiar.
It almost winded Trent.
⸻
The rain hammered against the window of Trent’s room, tapping against the glass like it wanted to join in. They were supposed to be asleep, but the glow of the TV lit their faces under the blanket they’d thrown over their heads.
“Pass, pass, pass!” Jude yelled, wriggling like he was physically on the pitch.
“I am passing!” Trent laughed, fingers flying over the controller. “Calm yourself!”
When their team scored, Jude launched his arms up in triumph — smacking Trent square in the face with the controller cord.
“Ouch! You’re mad, you know that?” Trent groaned, rubbing his cheek, though he was grinning.
Jude was already laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, curls flopping into his eyes. He fell back against the pillow, eyes watery, face bright.
And when the laughter finally died down, he spoke so softly it almost got lost under the sound of the rain.
“Promise we’ll always be like this?”
Trent blinked. Jude’s voice was shy now, almost uncertain.
“‘Course we will,” Trent said without hesitation. “Always.”
Jude smiled. And he believed it.
⸻
The whistle blew again. Training switched drills. Trent dragged his eyes away and forced himself back into rhythm, but the weight in his chest lingered.
Some things hadn’t changed — Jude’s grin, his laugh, the way he lit up the space around him. But so much else had. They weren’t those kids anymore.
And sometimes, Trent hated that.
⸻
It was summer, and the evening air was warm as they sprinted down the street. Jude’s trainers slapped against the pavement, Trent’s longer strides keeping him just ahead.
“Last one to the shop pays for the sweets!” Trent shouted over his shoulder.
“That’s not fair, you’ve got longer legs!” Jude gasped, but he pushed harder anyway, arms pumping.
Trent skidded to a stop just outside the shop, grinning as Jude stumbled in a few seconds later, bent over and panting.
“Told you,” Trent said smugly.
“Cheater.” Jude shoved his shoulder but couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
Inside, they debated over which crisps to buy, argued over chocolate bars, and left with their pockets stuffed and fingers sticky from melted sweets. On the walk back, Jude nudged him.
“You’re still paying next time, though.”
“In your dreams.”
Their voices carried into the night like they had all the time in the world.
⸻
By the time Trent was fifteen, things started to change. His training schedule grew heavier, evenings and weekends swallowed up by academy matches and sessions. Jude, still younger, still figuring out his own path, waited for him sometimes — at the park, outside his house — only for Trent to come home late, too tired to play.
“You said we’d go kickabout,” Jude muttered once, voice quiet but sharp.
“I know, J, I’m sorry. I had training. I can’t just skip it.”
“I’m not saying skip it,” Jude said, scuffing the ground with his shoe. “Just… I dunno. Forget it.”
And he walked off before Trent could answer.
It was the first time Trent realised their worlds might not always line up the way they used to.
⸻
Training wrapped. The lads filed back toward the changing rooms, the usual banter echoing around them. Jude was ahead, still laughing at something Saka had said, but he slowed when he felt Trent fall into step beside him.
“You alright?” Trent asked, casual but not.
Jude glanced at him, smile softening again. “Yeah. Just tired.”
They walked in silence for a few steps. It wasn’t uncomfortable — it never really was — but it carried weight. Like there were a thousand things unsaid between them, waiting for the right moment.
That night, lying in bed, Trent stared at the ceiling. His phone buzzed with a new message.
Jude: Remember when we stayed up all night playing FIFA and your mum nearly killed us? 😂
Trent’s lips tugged into a smile. His reply came quick.
Trent: Course I remember. You cheated though.
Jude: You wish. Still the champ.
Trent: Dreaming, bro.
He stared at the screen longer than he meant to, thumb hovering like he wanted to type more. Something honest. Something like I miss that. I miss us.
But he didn’t. Instead, he locked the screen and turned over.
The thing about childhood friendships was that they ran deep, like roots under the surface. Even if life pulled the branches apart, even if distance stretched the space between them, those roots didn’t die.
And Trent realised — lying there in the dark — that no matter how much time had passed, Jude had always been home .