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- The Changing Room
Huff, huff.
Jude wiped the sweat from his brow as he panted, chugging on his water bottle. Real Madrid happily chittered in front of him, clapping each other’s backs and still cheering at their Champions League Playoff victory. Their manager, Ancelotti, was congratulating them each in turn and offering more drinks.
Jude couldn’t believe it. He won the entire game with four minutes to spare. He would never forget the pride in his team member’s faces as they cheered his name and knuckled his head. The roaring crowd numbing his eardrums and turning into one continuous yell, the burn of his thighs from the exhaustion, the lack of breath; he felt so human. It was exhilarating, he couldn’t stop smiling.
He basked in the victory on the field, listening to the chants and blinding himself with staring directly at the lights. He allowed himself that, at least. He won the game. He won the Playoff.
But now, in the muted silence with no more cameras shove up his arse, he could stay in the back and wind down. Millions of eyes were on him tonight, and he wanted nothing more than to shower and sleep.
After a few moments of enjoying the relative quiet, something caught his attention in his peripheral.
Haaland.
Shit, he thought grimly.
Him and Haaland became good mates from the days of Borussia Dortmund, from them first joining in 2020 to playing together in the UCL Group Stage both times in 2022. They texted regularly, and more than once ended up doomscrolling on reels beside each other on coaches or played privately during their days off. It wasn’t for media attention or training, but for actual, genuine fun. Jude remembered the matches they played on random fields, away from cameras and responsibilities.
So he couldn’t help but feel so fucking bad for Erling. He was a beast of a man who worked hard and helped grandmas cross the street. He was also the only man who scored the two goals in the entire Playoff. Man City still lost 2-3, but it didn’t matter. If it weren’t for Jude, they would’ve drawn again. Not that he felt bad about winning, no. God no. He was ecstatic. But if only it weren’t against Haaland, maybe he wouldn’t have felt so bad.
Man City was walking back to their own changing rooms parallel to Real Madrid. The energy, whilst certainly disappointed and frustrated mainly due to Bellingham’s clutch shot, was mainly exhausted. It was the second time they had lost against Madrid with the time before that being a draw. Their disappointment was inevitable. Jude would’ve felt the same.
He wasn’t sure what Haaland’s face showed in their split second of eye contact, but there were no usual smiles this time around. No acknowledgement. Instead, Erling’s eyebrows were furrowed and his face still flush from the game. He was tired, that much was obvious. Everyone was. But whether he wished Jude death or sportsmanship, he couldn’t tell. And he wouldn’t get to decipher it either, as Madrid finally made it to their door and he was being pulled inside before he could muster a wave.
After the obvious congratulations and pep talk, they were finally waved away to get changed. As the rest of the team played music to sing and dance to, Jude sat in the corner half-dressed and fully-stressed with Shakira in his ears.
His fingers hovered above his contacts list, thumbs constantly moving and retracting in hesitation above ‘StErling’ before finally giving in and clicking.
You: good game, u were incredible
You: u good tho?
Seen.
.
.
.
Seen?!
“Ah, shit.” Jude kissed his teeth and threw his phone back into his bag with a sigh.
Vini raised an eyebrow beside him, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Jude hissed, finally tugging his shoes and socks off with too much urgency.
“Don’t give me that, Bellingham,” Vini rolled his eyes, “Something is bothering you. What is it?”
Federico snorted, “How much you wanna bet it’s about Haaland again?”
Brahim shook his head, “That’d be a losing gamble. We all know it’s about him.”
Vini rested a hand on Jude’s shoulder, pausing him in his erratic movements, “Losing is a part of football, you know that. And so does Erling.”
“He just left me on seen after I asked how he was. He’s probably pissed, fuuuuck!” He shoved his face into his hands.
Vini shrugged, “He has every right to do so. He scored both goals but it wasn’t enough. That would be hard on anybody.”
Federico nodded, “He’s a professional, he’ll get over it soon.”
“Plus,” Aurelian added, “He’s too nice to be angry for long. He’ll be fine.”
“I guess.” Jude slumped back with a dejected glance back at his phone. He waited for a notification for a beat or two before getting up and taking his shirt off. Once he did, Vini clapped his shoulder with a smile as he whispered,
“You did great today. You should be proud of yourself. It’s because of you that we won.” He made way too much eye contact than Jude wanted at the moment, but he simply smiled and thanked Vini before turning back to his clothes.
────────
Jude wrung his hands in front of the Man City changing room doors. He specifically waited until most of the players had left to go to physio rooms or attend interviews to come.
He knew he was expected to go speak to journalists or interviewers – he scored the winning goal after all – but instead he was waiting for Erling to come out like a highschooler. The man also had press to talk to, so it wasn’t like Erling could stay in there forever.
After two minutes of standing there, Jude was beginning to think he could.
He cleared his throat before knocking and opening the door, “Hey, Erling, you in here-”
SLAM.
.
.
.
The door was now shut.
Jude had slammed the door closed.
Because in the middle of the changing rooms, was a woman.
Tall with a delicate dip in the waist, a smooth back, and luscious blonde waves that cascaded past her shoulders.
Oh, and horribly, terribly topless.
He pivoted on his heel and ran the opposite direction.
He ran until he spotted Madrid talking amongst themselves in a random corner. Bolting forward, he ignored the surprised hellos and grabbed Vini tightly by the arm to hiss,
“I need your help like, right now.”
“Alright, alright, what’s the rush- ACK-” Vini was pulled away quickly into a hallway with a frantic Bellingham before him. He rubbed at his now sore arm, “You alright? You’re looking a bit, uh. Stressed.”
“Vini, there is a woman in the Man City changing rooms.”
“A what? Huh?” He rubbed his ear, “Surely I misheard you. I could’ve sworn you said-”
“There’s a woman getting changed in the Man City changing rooms!” He paced back and forth, “This has never happened to me. I’m too young, Vini, I can’t be caught in a scandal yet! Oh my god, Vini I’m gonna lose my job. It’s over for me-”
“Chill man, even if there was a scandal it’d have nothing to do with you.”
“I OPENED THE DOOR!”
“So?”
“SHE WAS NAKED!”
“Shit.” Vini rubbed his face, “Okay, stay calm. This is all just a misunderstanding.” He paused for a second, then raised a sceptical eyebrow, “Wait, what were you doing there to begin with?”
Jude groaned and squatted to the ground with his head in his hands, “I just wanted to check up on Erling, and now I’m gonna be the youngest football predator…”
“You’re gonna be the what, Bellingham?”
The two Madrids swerved around to see none other than Jack Grealish in all his 1.8 metre glory. He had a water bottle in hand and a phone in the other with a flabbergasted expression.
“NOTHING! Uhm, actually, we were just going!” He laughed forcibly, standing to pull at Vini’s arm as he hissed, “C’mon Vini, I think our manager is calling-”
“We have to tell him.” Vini said calmly amongst the pushing and pulling.
“What, no!”
“Tell me what?” Jack cocked his head with a raised eyebrow.
“Nothing!”
“Awful lot of nothing coming out of you today.”
“Jack.” Vini warned.
“Vinicius.” Jack parroted.
“Vini, shut up-”
“Why’s there a congregation happening over here?” Kevin De Bruyne came up from behind Jack sipping on a juice box, hand thrown over Jack’s shoulder.
“What’s all this commotion? Vini, Jude? Why are you here with them?” Brahim rounded the corner into the hallway with Federico, Aurelien, and Rodrygo in tow.
“Oh my fucking god, why is everyone and their mum here right now.” Jude groaned and dragged a palm down his face.
A cacophony of noise reverberated against the hall, making their voices unnecessarily louder with Jude right smack dab in the middle of it all. He lasted a whole 2, 3, 5 seconds before he put his hands up and yelled, “OKAY! OKAY, I’ll tell you, just shut up!”
“What are you talking about?” Aurelien said with Rodrygo nodding beside him.
“Could’ve sworn I heard something about you being the ‘youngest football predator’, Jude.” Jack stated with crossed arms. There was a sudden uproar from Madrid to which City pushed back on. They were suddenly face to face, Jude and Vini squished right in the middle, and once they tried to push out of the way, they began instantaneously reactions of ‘did you just push me?!’ ‘the fuck you gonna do about it!?’ and ‘THERE’S A WOMAN IN YOUR CHANGING ROOMS!’
A sudden stop from Jack caused Kevin to stop, which caused Federico and the rest in tow to stop, too.
The silence was deafening.
Not for the last time, Jude wished the floor could swallow him whole. Years of professional football and constant media attention never could’ve prepared him for the 7 pairs of eyes staring at him like he grew a second head.
“…Pardon?” Kevin blinked.
Jude’s tongue went dry in his mouth, but a slap upside the head from Vini had him blurting out, “There’s a woman in your changing room.”
“…Is she hot?”
“JACK.” Kevin elbowed him.
“Maybe she’s a girlfriend, or a wife?” Vini suggested. Kevin put his chin in his hand,
“What’d she look like?”
Jude scratched his head, “Uh, she was kinda tall. Blonde hair,” He pointed to his neck, “Just below shoulder length.” With that, Jack shook his head,
“No one we know on the team has a partner like that.”
“So wait, wait – a random woman just decided to walk right into these backroom ass hallways to enter the Manchester City changing rooms specifically to change there. Instead of the woman’s bathroom.” Federico slapped his face with his palm.
“Stranger things have happened, no?” Brahim shrugged.
“What were you doing there to begin with, Jude?” Jack asked. Jude groaned and slumped his shoulders as he pushed past the crowd to walk forward,
“I just wanted to talk to Erling.” Vini followed after him, then Rodrygo, then Brahim and the rest followed after like a pack of baby geese following their parents.
“Where is he, anyway?” Vini asked.
“I dunno, I’m not his babysitter.” Jack scrolled on twitter as he walked. Kevin wanted to snatch that damn rectangle out of his hand and put it in a zip lock bag to throw it in the ocean.
They bickered and theorised until they finally came face to face with the dastardly door. Jude wordlessly pushed Vini towards the handle. Vini slinked backwards and grabbed Brahim, who grabbed Rodrygo, who grabbed Jack, who grabbed Federico, who grabbed Kevin and shoved him towards the door.
“All yours, Kevin!” Jack grinned, “Ladies first, after all.”
“Waaaait, if she’s in a compromising position then I’m gonna get the brunt of it!” He turned to glare at the group who were pointedly ignoring that fact by whistling to the air.
Vini rolled his eyes and knocked Kevin’s shoulder, “We’ll vouch for you. Just open that fucking door already!”
Kevin sighed but turned back to the door. It silenced the group, who began shushing each other until a tense, thick silence shrouded them as Kevin reached for the handle.
Jude grabbed Vini’s arm, Brahim almost jumped into Federico’s arms, and Kevin was sweating profusely as he internally hyped himself up.
C’mon, it’s not that serious. Just turn the handle and it’ll be over. Whether it was his career or the situation was yet to be decided. Just do it. Just do it, Kevin! Turn the fucking handle!
Just DO IT!
Crreeaaaaakkkkkk.
Silence as Kevin poked his head inside. Then flung himself backwards as a loud SLAM reverberated against the hallway walls.
.
.
.
“Well?” Jude prompted.
“There is, indeed, a woman. And she is, indeed, very much half-naked.”
“Well don’t just close the door!” Vini hissed, “Tell her what’s happening! My god, let me through-” He pushed his way to the front and moved Kevin out the way and knocked.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Excuse me, ma’am? I believe you have the wrong room. You’re not in trouble, I’m just informing you of the mistake.” Then he turned around and gave the group a shrug. “Was that really so hard?”
Thud.
Vini spun around. Kevin jerked his head. Jude’s hands flew to his mouth. Jack was mid-sip of his drink. Rodrygo and Brahim held on to each other. Federico gripped at his hair.
The handle was turning.
Click.
Vini stepped backwards, dragging Kevin with him. He bumped into Jude, who almost fell over.
Crrreeeeaaaaakkkkk.
“Oh,” A surprised voice said, “Hello guys.”
.
.
.
“Wh-”
“Huh?!”
“What the fuck.”
Multiple exclamations were yelled all at once, overlapping each other until they were one big shout.
Before them stood a very tall, and a very topless, Erling Haaland with a towel hanging off his neck, his chest still slightly glistening from sweat.
Jack busted out laughing, doubling over and grabbing his knees and spitting his drink out on everyone. Fedrico and Brahim grabbed at each other as they yelled and howled. Rodrygo sat on the floor making a timeout gesture as he fought for breath. In front of them, Erling blinked impassively unsure of what to do next.
Vini let go of Kevin and turned around slowly, “Jude.” They made serious eye contact and Jude gulped, “Tall. Blond. Shoulder hair.” The group of howling hooligans behind them only laughed harder, slapping and falling over each other.
“No…no wait, I swear!” He waved his hands around, “I swear on my mother I genuinely thought it was a woman! Even Kevin thought the same thing!” He gestured aggressively to him, “Don’t single me out!”
Kevin pursed his lips to stop himself from laughing and put a hand on Erling’s shoulder, “Erling. Did you hear anything before you opened the door?”
“That was you? I thought there was a ghost talking to me. I got spooked.” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. Vini slapped a palm on his face, and Jude walked forward to rest his forehead on Erling’s chest,
“Dude. Next time, say something.”
“But what if it is a ghost next time and I respond?”
Jude groaned and shoved Erling forward, Kevin and Jack putting their arms over his shoulder with the rest of the Madrids still giggling in the back like high school girls.
Jack pinched Erling’s wait, “Dude, you look like a girl from the back.”
Erling blinked, “I do?”
“If you don’t look too hard, then yeah. Big time.” Kevin snickered.
“Put your shirt on, Haaland.” Vini shoved his Man City shirt into his hands and slapped him on t he back.
As the group began dispersing again, Jude pulled a no longer shirtless Erling aside,
“Hey, uh, are we cool?” Jude picked at his thumb.
“I mean, maybe. The media thinks we are.” Erling shrugged.
“Wh- no, that’s not what I mean!” Jude groaned, “I mean, are we, we,” His hands gestured between him and Erling, “Our friendship. Are we okay?”
“Yes, of course. Why would we not be?”
“You aired me over text.” Which now, looking back on it in hindsight, Jude realised how clingy and young he sounded. He cringed internally.
“Oh, my phone died before I could respond. But yes, I am fine, just disappointed as anybody else would be. But we are cool.”
Jude let out a sigh of relief, “Okay. Cool.” Silence for 2, 4 seconds before Jude blurted out, “Fifa later?”
Erling nodded, “They had an update, right?”
They talked for a while longer until they split to go into their respective media interviews and journalists. Jude pointedly ignored Vini sneaking glances at him from the side when somebody asked Erling about his hair.
- Snapchat
“A haircut?” Jude blinked, “I didn’t think you cared about that.”
Erling continued mining in their game, collecting iron for their armour, “Not really. But it’s nice to change once in a while.”
Suddenly Jude straightened up on the sofa they sat on, “Don’t tell me you’re cutting it.”
Erling shrugged, “I dunno. Maybe.”
Jude almost threw the controller at his head, “Bro, no. You look fine. What, did someone say something?”
“Not more than usual.”
Jude sighed heavily and dragged a hand down his face, “God, why do you have to be so cryptic...” He mumbled to himself before looking back at Erling, “Was it the whole changing room situation?”
“Meh.”
“Bro, you’ve gotta give me something more than that.”
“It’s not that deep, I just think it’d be a good change.”
Jude stopped running around in their Minecraft base and raised an eyebrow, “Is this because of your dad?” He knew he hit it right on the money when Erling responded by wordlessly shuffling further into his hoodie. Jude moved closer and clapped him on the shoulder, “Dude, no. You made the commitment in Dortmund, remember? To spite him. You can’t quit when you’re so far in.”
“I know, I know.”
“But…”
Erling shrugged. Again. “A man of many words you are.” Jude rolled his eyes, “What happened?”
“The Mbappe special. Nothing.”
“Haaland.”
Erling shoved his chin into his hoodie as he pressed the controller buttons a tad too hard, “We just got in an argument, and he started listing everything he doesn’t like about me.” He subconsciously twirled a strand in his fingers, “He really doesn’t like the hair.”
“Yeah, well, he can piss off,” Jude abandoned the controller, not like he was doing anything but jumping from chest to chest in their storage unit, “I say grow it out even more. Like, up to your hips. That’ll teach him to shut his mouth.” Jude grinned when Erling huffed a laugh,
“I think that length is a bit much, even for me.”
“You’d look cool! Like a blond Geto Suguru.” Jude pulled out his phone and started typing, “Maybe you just need a fresh style instead of a cut. Here,” He flipped the phone to Erling, “I can do this. Wanna try it out?”
“A half-up half-down braid?”
“Yeah, it’s simple. Come,” He took the controller out of Erling’s hands and tapped the floor in front of him, “Sit. I’ll do it.”
It took a second, but Erling shuffled off the sofa and sit cross-legged between Jude’s legs for easier access. It reminded Jude of braiding his mates’ hair in the year 9 toilets in return for vapes or sweets before his business was caught and promptly shut down.
Improvising with no brush, he raked his fingers through Erling’s hair to untangle the knots or wavy hair then got to work. It was easy, boring, repetitive motions of parting, sectioning, straightening, braiding, but it was comfortable and familiar for both of them.
It couldn’t’ve lasted longer than 5 minutes, but by the time Jude finished, Erling’s head was leaning on his thigh with his shoulder slouched and fists unfurled. Jude smiled, “I’m glad you found that so relaxing. Wanna see the back?” After taking a picture, he went to show Erling, who suspiciously didn’t move the whole time, “You like it?” He waited, then, raising an eyebrow at the lack of reaction, Jude leaned forward to look at his face, “Erling?” Only to find him fully knocked out cold, mouth slightly open and cheek smushed against Jude’s leg.
Huffing a laugh, he only puffed up the braid tied on the back of Erling’s head, picked the controller back up, and resumed building their base. Not without sneaking a few pictures before doing so.
At one point, Jude picked his phone up from a snapchat notification. It was Vini, who sent him a snap of him in the gym eating a packet of biscuits he most definitely snuck inside and away from his trainer. Chuckling, Jude sent him a snap back from a lower angle on his belly, in the frame was the back of Erling’s sleeping head and Minecraft on the screen. He didn’t think much of it before Vini replied to his snap a bit too quickly.
Vini the Pooh
damnnn congrats Bellingham
You
??? eh?
Vini the Pooh
on the shawty in between ur legs
Jude barked out a laugh, then shut himself up as Erling stirred a bit before settling back down. He bit his bottom lip as he grinned.
You
ohh right yeah lol
she’s fit
wanna see?
Vini the Pooh
go on
Giggling like a maniac, Jude sent a close-up snap of Erling’s sleeping face from the top.
Vini the Pooh
you’ve gotta be fucking shitting me
You
LMAOOOOO
Jude silenced his phone and threw it to the other side of the sofa. When Erling stirred, he pressed his head back into his leg with a pat and went back to building their base.
- The Club
In a rare weekend getaway, Erling’s mates somehow managed to convince him to go to a club in Manchester. Not thinking much of it, they got dressed and hurried out whilst the night was still young.
“Next time, let’s go to Berlin for clubs.” Jack said in the uber.
“No bro, yuck. Remember when we went that one time?” Kevin pulled a face.
Erling laughed, “All we heard the whole night was ‘schnitzel’.”
“And their beats can be so mid, bro. Just a whole lotta unc, unc, unc.” Phil Foden made a DJ hand motion.
Jack kissed his teeth, “You were guys just mad that those girls spoke to me half the night and not you.” He said pointedly to Kevin and Phil, knowing full well Erling couldn’t give less of a shit about hooking up with some randoms.
The three bantered until they got to their destination with Erling silently looking out the window. Once outside, they made sure to look unrecognisable (or as much as one could with a 6’5 giant as your friend) before entering the cue. There were a few girls who looked at them then giggled to their friend groups, and a few guys were taking double takes, but so far so good. The darkness was covering for them well enough.
Once inside, it was smooth sailing for most of the night. They took tequila shots, where Jack managed to dump the entire saltshaker on his hand, danced to club classics, and drank some more. At one point, Phil was crowd surfed onto the stage then dragged back by his ankles by some random guys to be crowd surfed once again.
Erling didn’t remember the last time he could let loose like this. No one knew their names, and no one bothered them just because of who they were. Erling forgot what anonymity looked like.
Finally sat after hours of pure bullshit, he ordered himself a desperados to sip on as he checked messages and emails. It was nasty as usual, he didn’t enjoy beer, but with a lime it was borderline enjoyable. The rest of his mates were still somewhere on the dance floor. He could only hope that Phil wasn’t being passed around again somewhere in the crowd.
Suddenly, an arm slung around his waist. Thinking it was Jack, he didn’t push it off and instead looked up only to meet eyes with a complete stranger. Before he could react, the stranger leaned down and said in his ear,
“Ey love, can I buy you a drink?”
Erling blinked once, twice, before fully turning to look at the man. In the light of the bar, the stranger finally saw his face. He blinked. Erling blinked. They both blinked.
The stranger’s arm retracted from his waist like it got burned, “Sorry mate, wrong bird- actually just, wrong. Wrong everything.” He took a step back, “I’m, uh.” He cleared his throat, “Gonna go. Now.” With that he disappeared back into the crowd.
Kevin sat down beside him, “You alright? I saw him touch you, just didn’t wanna intervene until I saw how you felt about it.”
“He thought I was a girl.”
Kevin slammed his fist on the counter as he howled, “Not AGAIN!” He wiped a tear from his eye, “I gotta tell Jack. JACK! C’MERE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED!”
Erling picked his drink up, took a sip, and said flatly, “He was not my type anyway.”
- The Tailor
“Now this is nice!” Bellingham spun around in the suit, earning a hiss in Norwegian from the tailor. Erling’s dad was circling around the shop as his mum talked with the lady at the front about altering lacing around the hem of her dress.
Erling sat in a dark corner away from the rest. It wasn’t as if it was loud, quite the contrary, actually. It was well-lit but not blindingly so, with softer yellow hues and scentless candles placed strategically in lanterns around the shop.
Norwegian shops were nothing like the ones in England. Those were fast paced with sterile white lights showing you every pore and every eye bag in the mirror with no mercy. It was like they were on a time limit as they roughly moved you this and that way. In Norway, they were slower, quieter, and actually made from charming wood rather than plastic marble trying to pass off as classy. There was gentle music playing in the background to fill the silence.
During some time off, Erling and Jude flew to stay at Erling’s parents place as they explored the city and did some chores that Haaland was much happier doing in his hometown, including buying and tailoring suits. Norwegian quality was superior to British in every way in his humble opinion. Jude didn’t agree, but that was the patriotism speaking.
“Vennligst slutt å bevege deg.” Said the tailor. Although Jude didn’t understand Norwegian, he knew when he was tiptoeing somebody’s last nerve, so he stopped moving and just stood there with his hands on his sides.
After a few more minutes of measuring and moving, the tailor stood and spoke in English, “You are finished, sir.” Jude took the suit off and passed it back to the man carefully.
“I am so scared that I’m gonna rip something.” Jude said in Erling’s general direction.
“Our materials are good, Mr Bellingham. Please, do not worry.” The tailor said as he helped Jude off the platform, “Now, and for you, Ms, we have your dress ready for a fitting.” He said also towards Erling’s general direction.
A second or two passed before Erling realised the tailor was speaking to him and not some ghost behind him. Jude snickered as he walked forward to grab at Erling’s arm, “C’mon, Ms, let’s get you to your dress.”
When he stood, the tailor looked up, up, and then up until finally he landed on his face and went pale. Jude busted out laughing as the already flustered tailor pat the air with his hands, “Jeg beklager! I am so sorry, Mr Håland. I was not thinking!”
“It’s okay, no worries.”
His dad came over and, when he learned of the mistake, doubled over, clapped Erling’s back as he wheezed into his knees. The tailor blushed from embarrassment as Erling stepped forward and into the light. He didn’t step on the podium as he didn’t need to and tried to keep as silent as he could. “Let’s get your tuxedo sorted, sir.” The tailor’s voice cracked on the ‘sir’, and it made Erling want to pull a hamstring and die.
Jude and his dad had too much fun cracking up in the corner as the tailor wrote his measurements down, muttering about being ‘half-blind’ and fumbling with the pen.
Once they finished and left, Erling’s dad bumped his shoulder, “Told you to get rid of the hair.” He chuckled gruffly before returning to his wife, who was stressing over the collection timings for the suits.
Erling frowned, subconsciously tucking his hair behind his ears. Jude walked beside him with his hands in his pockets. It was evening, and the streets were beginning to darken, “You know better than to listen to him.”
Erling smiled, pushing some hair back in front of his face.
- The Restaurant
“Cheers!”
Clinks and clanks were heard as pints and glasses met in the middle of the table. A giant booth was reserved specifically for the team to celebrate.
2026, the 6th of July. Just yesterday, Norway advanced to the quarter-finals.
“To Erling!” Ståle Solbakken, their manager, exclaimed before drinking his first pint of the night. The rest of the team followed.
An exhilarating win with beautiful goals and a weak opposing team. Erling didn’t mean to be harsh, but something about Brazil had changed since the 2010s. Regardless, he scored, they won, and suddenly the dream of winning the World Cup wasn’t as fantastical as it was just a day ago. It could be real. Then he thought about facing Bellingham, or Kane, or Mbappe, Messi, Ronaldo, and decided to not think about it for today.
They went to a self-service grill, where fresh meat was brought out for them to cook themselves however way they wanted. Erling, however, didn’t feel like micromanaging a steak, and instead waited for a server to come around and ask if they wanted to order anything extra.
Eventually, one did come, and the guys started on their orders. Erling waited quietly, juxtaposing his rumbunctious teammates, and waited until the server was free. Once he was, he was about to open his mouth and order when suddenly the server decided it was the best time to speak.
“And for the lady, perhaps a salad?”
There was silence for an impressive second before the table erupted in yowls and boisterous laughter. Kevin frowned and opened him mouth ready to speak for Erling, but Erling got there first,
“Perhaps not.” He stared at the server with a deadpan expression. The server looked up and startled at the masculine voice.
There was only one thing Erling could do now to get back at this restaurant.
He was going to eat their entire supply of food so that no one else could eat.
“I’ll have the steak- no, I’ll have 4 ribeye steaks, a tomahawk…”
────────
Jack was still laughing by the time they were waddling out of the restaurant, “Erling you fatass, you did not have to eat that many steaks.”
Nusa pat his stomach, “Damn Haaland, did you eat the server?” Another round of laughter.
Erling wanted to regret the stomach ache he got from eating over 10 steaks, but the satisfaction he got from ordering that salad at the end was worth it.
- +1, London
Walking along St. James’ Park, their group was having an extraordinary time visiting London. They separated into 4s, Erling being paired with Jude, Vini, and Jack. Wearing hats and sunglasses, they could only hope they wouldn’t be spotted. It was a random weekday in the morning, so kids were in schools and most people were either working or chudding at home and enjoying the weather.
They passed by the Churchill War Rooms, which they had to pull Vini away from entering and wasting 3 hours inside, then went further down to see Buckingham Palace, which was the most overrated piece of shit they had ever seen. Crowds upon crowds of people were stood right outside the gates for…whatever reason. What, was the King himself pop his head out and say hello?
Walking forwards, they made their way to Westminster Abbey and right beside the Big Ben, where many, many photos were taken in New Palace Yard on the right of it. People were sunbathing, some were peoplewatching, and others were businessmen and woman in suits holding handbags and backpacks.
They all collectively stopped below the Gandhi statue to stare at it.
“What’s the point of Britain commemorating Indian leaders that caused the descent of the British Empire if they're going to have Indian Viceroy statues around as well?” Jack put his hands on his hips as he squinted to read the plaque under the statue. “Defeats the whole point of redeeming themselves as a shit nation.”
Jude shrugged, “Same reason they still have Churchill on the fiver. He was a shit person but a good leader in times of crises.”
“He’s right behind us, actually.” Vini turned to point at the corner where the bronze statue of Winston Churchill stood tall and proud. Tourists grouped below it to take photos.
“Tossers, the lot of them. Shit Parliament, shit government, shit country.” Jack huffed. Jude nodded in agreement.
“What do you think Erling?” Vini asked as the group still looked at the statue.
.
.
.
Silence.
“Erling?” Vini turned around, looking from left to right before scratching his head, “Uh, where’s Haaland?”
“Eh?” Jude spun around before face palming, “How the fuck do we always lose the guy taller than Big Ben.”
“He’s just too quiet, man! He just sneaks away whenever he wants to.” Jack huffed as he attempted to fan himself with a Tesco meal deal chicken caesar wrap packaging.
They all looked in different directions with squinted eyes, surfing the crowd for any tall, blond men when suddenly Jude said, “Found him!”
In the crowd stood a tall figure with blond hair. Without thinking, they passed the crowd to get to him. Jude grabbed his arm, “Bro, you have to stop disappearing like this-”
Erling turned around.
Only it wasn’t Erling.
It was a woman.
A very young, very terrified woman.
“Uhm.” She said.
“Uh.” Said her friend.
“UHH.” Said Jude intelligently.
Truly the pinnacle of human interaction. Just caveman noises.
Jude snatched his hand back and apologised so profusely to her and her friend that his tongue was about to fall off. Vini died in the back, head in his hands from second hand embarrassment because it was always Jude. It happened to nobody else. As an apology, Jude offered a photo with the girls, who told him that he didn’t have to do that and that it was all good in true British fashion, to which Jude insisted, but they insisted too, until finally the photo was taken and they said their goodbyes. The girls were pissing themselves laughing as they walked off.
Vini just opened his arms for Jude to fall into his chest. Jude was so red he could’ve gotten heat stroke. Vini pat his back wordlessly, offering his total condolences because Jude was only so young. Poor guy.
They didn’t even realise Jack had left to find Erling before his towering presence shadowed over Vini and Jude. Jude looked up and glared at Erling, “Where the fuck have you been you fucking donut?”
“Go on, Haaland,” Jack shoved his shoulder forward, “Tell them where you were.”
“Uhm,” Erling said, “I was looking at a cool rock.”
Jude slammed his forehead back on Vini’s collarbone. Vini just sighed.
“No words, Haaland. No words.”