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Haalingham
Tossing and turning in his bed that night, Jude struggles in vain to fall asleep. Kicking off the covers in frustration, he sighs and rubs his eyes. He grabs his phone from the bedside table to check the time. 1.16AM. Great.
He exhales slowly as he stares up at the ceiling, rolling onto his back. The phone slips from his fingers and clatters onto the table. A figure in the second bed across from him shifts slightly at the sound, a light snore emitting from the bundle of sheets. Car lights tracking across the room give his eyes something to latch onto.
This is the second night in a row that he hasn't been able to sleep properly. Ever since the Norwegian team checked into their hotel, it's like he's been on edge– waiting for a moment alone, anticipating the familiar laughter, familiar conversations, familiar hugs…
He huffs and shakes his head, blowing out his cheeks. “What am I talking about? Shut up and go to sleep…” he grumbles to himself. “We aren't teammates anymore. We're rivals… on the biggest stage on earth,” he groans, covering his face with his hands. He tries unsuccessfully to roll over and make himself comfortable.
Knowing that Erling is only a couple floors away really doesn't help. He wants to talk to him, snatch a few moments to catch up with him, away from teammates and cameras.
“That's never going to happen,” he mumbles into his pillow. It's like both teams by mutual consent are keeping the two players away from each other. The match on Saturday is too important a game for distractions and mutual friendships to reignite, to flare up. Not before such an important game.
England versus Norway. Who realised it would come to this? But Jude always knew that with Erling on the team, it was inevitable that Norway would make it as far as they have.
The mixture of emotions the upcoming match churns up in Jude is almost insupportable. The memories the viral videos provoke, of the many undocumented hours the two spent together, keep running through his mind.
He remembers how close they were. How at one time, it felt like they were joined at the hip. How their whole lives seemed to revolve around one another…
No wonder he wants to speak to him so badly he can't even sleep. Jude groans again, rubbing a hand over his eyes.
The only part of Haaland that he's seen for the past two days has been the back of his blonde head. His Norwegian teammates are astonishingly quick at herding the giant viking away whenever they spot Jude coming over.
Jude sinks his face into his pillow, defeated, when he hears a buzz from his phone. Twisting his head to one side, he picks his phone up to check the notification– and nearly drops it. A huge smile breaks out over his face as he turns his head back into the pillow, laughing silently.
Viking🤠 : you're awake right ?
Unable to stop smiling, and with his heart suddenly hammering ten thousand to the dozen, Jude rolls onto his back. His mind whirls with excitement as, snatching up the phone, he fires off a response without hesitation.
BALLERham🩰: i won't ask how you know that
Viking🤠 : come on bro! does BvB even mean anything anymore or? I know your sleeping habits bb girl
Jude snorts a laugh and covers his face with his arm. “Oh my days,” he wheezes. He's not all that surprised that Erling knew how he was feeling three floors away– being teammates for three years will do that to you. Jude was always a bad sleeper when it came to match night– or when it came to just about anything that made him nervous. Of course Haaland would remember.
The memories of late night calls, chats, and midnight escapades with the big blonde swirl around Jude’s mind. Right now though, it's the excitement of finally receiving the message he's been waiting for that makes the blood rush to his head.
BALLERham🩰: damn, my sleeping habits? You went there. i won't tell my girlfriend if you won't tell yours
Viking🤠 : hahahaha, let's sneak out😈
Jude chokes and has to sit up, coughing. He shoots a glance at his roommate Saka in the bed across from his, and is relieved to see that he hasn't stirred. Jude’s fingers fly over his screen as he shoots back a response.
BALLERham🩰: r u serious? right now?
Viking🤠: joking obv which is why you'll meet me in the 2nd floor corridor in five mins😱
Jude laughs as quietly as he can– he can't stop smiling mischievously to himself as he rolls out of bed and grabs a sweatshirt and joggers. His listlessness has all but disappeared. Now he feels a lightheaded recklessness, a giddy happiness, fizzing through his veins. He should have anticipated a Haaland scheme– suddenly he feels like he's a teenager back at Dortmund.
Quickly and quietly he pulls on trainers, grabbing sunglasses and a baseball cap to help hide his identity. Slipping silently out of the room, he holds his breath as he closes the door behind him with a click. He waits a moment, but he can't hear any movement in the room– Saka didn't hear him leave. His room key, phone and wallet bounce in his pockets as he practically runs away from the suffocatingly stuffy corridor.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he's lightly out of breath by the time he meets Haaland halfway between his team's floor and theirs. At least, it's a good excuse for feeling a little breathless around Erling.
The smile breaking out over Haaland's face when he sees Jude is another excuse for the younger player to run full pelt down the corridor and launch himself into the giant Norwegian's arms.
Erling's laugh is like sunlight as he swings Jude around, crushing him in a tight embrace. Jude's legs are dangling at least three inches off the ground, the way Erling is bear-hugging him. He almost cries when Erling sings softly, “Naa-a na, na, nanana na, nanana na– hey Jude!” It's an excuse to wrap his arms a little tighter around the broad shoulders.
“Did you miss me?” Haaland teases.
“Did I heck!” Jude’s response is muffled as he shoves his face into Erling's cheek with a resounding smack. He soon resolves the dangling leg problem by wrapping both appendages around Haaland's waist and tightening his arms about the Norwegian's neck.
“Still so babygirl, are you?” Erling chuckles as he walks down the corridor, carrying Jude towards the stairs while rubbing his back comfortingly.
Jude barks a laugh, curiously still breathless. “Still such a daddy, aren't you?” Jude jokes back, finally opening his eyes and pulling away, smiling down into the broad cheerful face of his six foot five viking.
“I'll always be your daddy, baby girl,” Haaland jokes, his eyes crinkling with fun. Jude can't help but laugh out loud, cupping Haaland's face in his hands and squeezing his cheeks affectionately.
“Just what I'd hoped you'd say,” Jude replies, highly amused by the straight-faced humour of his friend. “Although socials seem to cast you as the baby girl these days, you gorgeous thing.”
“Rightly so,” the Norwegian nods, pulling an approving face that makes Jude cackle. “Thank you for noticing, sir.”
“You’re welcome,” he laughs, folding his arms around the blonde's neck again, resting his cheek on top of Erling's head with a happy sigh. “I had to escape from Saka for this. Don't get me in too much trouble, will you?”
“Who, me?? I'm practically a born angel,” Haaland replies, a sarcastic grin curving across his face. “Nothing like some rebels I know, names starting with a J and ending with an ude.”
“Oi, you're the biggest bullshitter I know,” laughs Jude, tapping the Norwegian's forehead rapidly with his finger. “Where are we going then?” he asks, still comfortably wrapped in Erling's embrace as the Norwegian effortlessly trots down the stairs with him. “I feel like I'm being kidnapped. Not that I'm complaining.”
Erling pauses at the bottom of the staircase, peeking through a crack in the doorway into the deserted foyer.
“Away,” he replies simply. Dropping Jude back onto his feet, he turns and pulls a face. “Anywhere. I feel like I'm suffocating a bit. Don't you?” He straightens out his rumpled hoodie before pulling the hood over his head, tucking the blonde ponytail inside.
“I'm dying mate,” Jude concedes with a sigh. “I feel like they won't let me get anywhere near you,” he complains. His hands are on his waist as he shifts his feet and stares up into the Norwegian’s face. “Tell them to sort it out, won't you?”
“What can they do?” Haaland shrugs, pulling Jude’s cap down and fussing about the younger man's appearance. Bending, he throws a quick peck onto the soft cinnamon brown cheek. “I'm the most popular player in the world right now,” Haaland winks, his face inches from Jude’s. Reaching up he takes Jude’s sunglasses and slides them onto his own face, waggling his eyebrows and smirking.
“Here we go,” Jude rolls his eyes dramatically, nearly resisting the urge to giggle, kick his feet and shove his face into Haaland's chest for another hug. Erling sticks his tongue out at him, chuckling and red-faced when they finally pull away. “Hey, they're serious about protecting the asset.” He pulls another face, his finger and thumb forming an L-shaped prop for his chin as he strikes a pose. His amused smirk turns into stifled laughter as he grabs Jude by the wrist and hustles him through the reception and out into the Miami night.
Walking down the street unrecognised, exchanging banter and laughter feels incredible to Jude. He can't remember the last time they did this, the last time he felt so free.
By 4AM they end up in the corner of a cinema, cosied up in the bleachers at the back where none of the few other cinema goers can see them. They've got a sofa to themselves, and it feels like a little bit of heaven.
They may be two of the most popular players in the world right now, but this moment of normality means more to them than words can express. Jude, at any rate, is determined to savour every moment. After the match, one of them will be going home. Who knows how long until they get to see each other again?
Toy Story 5 plays out across the screen as they share popcorn. It's a nostalgia trip that reminds them both of their own friendship. Jude has swung his legs over Haaland’s lap. His back is curled up against the wall as he slouches comfortably in his seat.
Every now and again Erling looks across and catches his eye. Every time, he breaks out into the biggest smile, as though he just can't quite believe his own luck. He keeps alternating between singing snatches of Hey, Jude under his breath, and You've Got A Friend In Me, rocking his head from side to side, and tapping out the beat on Jude’s bent legs as though they were the catchiest tunes in the world.
Jude doesn't mind the interruptions. In fact, he couldn't be happier. His face hurts from smiling. Earlier, while grabbing a Coke, Erling had proposed a toast. “What to?” Jude had replied, a mega-watt sunshine grin creeping across his features. He had choked on his swig of the bottle when Erling had said straight-faced, “You never forget your first!”
“Your first what?” Jude asked, coughing and laughing breathlessly.
“Your first proper best friend,” the Norwegian grinned, thumping Jude on the back before leaning in and kissing his cheek for the umpteenth time that night.
Another memory for the books, Jude thought, glancing over at Haaland, who winked at him and patted Jude’s knees playfully. Jude knew he still had the silly grin on his face that had been plastered there since Haaland's text earlier that night, but he couldn't help it. He hadn't fallen asleep, this wasn't a dream. He had the right to forget about everything and be happy in this moment.
They'd chosen a movie they'd both already seen because Jude knew this would happen. He knew his attention would stray and he'd spend at least half the movie looking at Erling in the light of the screen.
“Come on then,” Haaland says, settling further into his seat and looking lazily over at Bellingham during a break in the action on-screen. His arms rest folded over Jude’s upturned knees, hugging them to his chest. “How do you really feel about the match on Saturday? Like really?” he asks in a low voice, his mirth momentarily suspended.
Jude pauses, pursing his lips as he gazes across at his friend with half-lidded eyes. He hoped they wouldn't have to talk about this tonight– but Haaland knows him much too well. The big Norwegian knows the match is burning at the back of Bellingham's mind the way it's burning in his. By now Jude knows Erling well enough to know he will bug him for the full truth.
So he sighs as he replies frankly, “I'm scared. Terrified, to be honest. This game is huge. It means so much to both of us, to both our countries…” He chews on his lip as he looks away, breaking eye contact as he gazes up at the screen.
“Yeah. There's a lot of pressure,” the Norwegian nods, his face becoming more serious. The big blonde sighs deeply and suddenly folds, laying his head against Jude’s chest and leaning heavily on him. Bellingham's arms slide around his shoulders and he feels the midfielder's chin resting on the crown of his head.
“I want you to play your best football, Jude,” he continues quietly, glancing up into the large brown eyes gazing at the characters on the screen. “Do you promise?” Jude nods slightly, his chin digging into Haaland’s scalp as he replies. “Don't worry big guy, I won't go easy on you.”
“That's my girl,” Erling grunts, shifting and making himself more comfortable. Besides a note of amusement from Jude, there's no response.
He must be really anxious about it.
“Whatever happens, don't read the comments,” Erling murmurs. “You're a winner, and you'll always be a winner to me.”
Jude’s breath is soft on his head as the player hugs him tightly. “You too, Sterling. I love you, man.”
Maybe the position is far too comfortable, or the sleepless nights have finally caught up with them, because the attendants have a hard time waking them in their 6AM rounds.
