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It was a heated time for both of the soccer superpowers. The pressure was on, and it was higher than ever.
Bellingham was extremely competitive. He was a key player in every game, and he felt no need to slow down even one bit. Walking out of practice for the game, he wore his sweaty jersey and his even sweatier thick gray sweatpants, the most horrible choice of attire he'd ever made. Who knew the climate in North America was this cruel in the summer? And to make it worse, he wouldn't have any time to change sooner or later. Rather, he had to walk down the blistering hot streets, dodging paparazzi with a big black hat and big sunglasses on.
He thanked the lord once he made it to his Uber. Now he had to face this sorry loser at some restaurant. The giant, beastly man whose size made up for his lack of balls who wanted to 'clear the air' with him. In fact, Jude tried to look on the bright side as he stared out the window at the metropolitan city. He was trying to picture that sucker's overbite curling forward into a sad frown like a sad grizzly bear when Bellingham slammed him and his 'clear-the-air' plan. World Cups are meant to be this heated, and wanting a peace treaty would ruin it. People were looking forward to this game. They scream and shout at their TVs as they watch their team of choice score goal after goal.
To bring peace into it would be to turn it into a kids' league soccer tournament. And this was the biggest, most heated soccer game people would watch in years. How could Mr. Endearing Erling not get that through his thick skull?
Jude arrived at the restaurant. He thanked the driver, finished paying him, and walked out, flinging his mysterious shades back out to cover his identity from potential fans. Well, who wouldn't be a fan of a man who brings honor to his country?
The AC was blasting as he walked into the restaurant, thank god. He was able to pull his cover off as he walked into the pristine, perfect place. It was an immaculate backdrop for Jude's triumphant moment over the giant, a true David and Goliath reenactment. Lush green plants added a welcoming touch to the place, along with stained glass mosaics that served as walls, each tile with an intricate design garnishing it. It was just as Bellingham was admiring the design of a flower bouquet that he felt a tap on his shoulder. Ready to punch someone in the face, he turned around and faced the grinning blonde giant who caught his fist in perfect timing.
"The waiter said our table's ready three minutes ago," he chuckled, "You must really like those tiles."
Bellingham rolled his eyes. "And what if I do?.." he muttered under his breath as they walked with the waitress down to their table.
The table was placed in the center of the restaurant. Haaland must've arranged this, so neither of them could slam the other. It was subtle, but effective. Gosh, now Jude couldn't proceed with his plan to embarrass Erling! How could that thick-skulled, smooth-brained piece of-
"And for you, sir?"
Jude had completely forgotten he had to order a drink. He thought of the first thing that came to mind. It would be the most intimidating drink ever. A bold statement that said, 'don't mess with me and my drink.' Something that would cause Goliath in front of him to shake in his soccer cleats, or whatever dumb shoe he was wearing.
"Apple juice."
It took Bellingham and Haaland alike ten seconds to process their own orders. Then Jude slumped into his chair, ready to sink into a magical pothole in the floor and escape whatever torture Haaland still had in store for him. He and his smile with his overbite, his silly pink lips. What, did he put lip gloss on before coming? How stupid! His hair was slicked back into a ponytail, showing off his big forehead. It looked silly for him to have his hair up even off the field. That blinding forehead should've been preserved for blinding whatever player he headbutts in games! This had to have been some kind of war tactic. And by the looks of it, Haaland already had the upper hand. Bellingham, on the other hand, had been sitting here making a fool of himself. What kind of person orders apple juice?
"So," Haaland began, leaning back in his chair. "There's a lot of... tension brought to this upcoming game. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that, though."
Jude nodded, wanting to roll his eyes. Slightly out of annoyance, but also slightly out of wanting to die of embarrassment. "Yeah, yeah. Is it hard representing three countries at once?"
"I think we should, at least between ourselves, make it not so much of a big deal," Haaland continued, "I don't want to be your enemy."
There it was. The peace treaty. Now how would Jude finish him? That's when his apple juice arrived. He took a big sip from the straw to buy himself time.
What would he tell him now? He was at a loss for words. He came prepared for this. He wasn't even supposed to care about it this much anyway! This should've never happened! Under the table, his fists and toes were clenched. Then he realized something he never wanted to realize.
He didn't want to be Haaland's enemy, either.
It took him a while to digest that fact. That's when he realized he had to order.
"Oh- uh... the fish and chips?" He didn't know anything else on the menu. He'd just seen it while skimming over it once.
"That's on the kids' menu, but I'll take it." The server shrugged, completely indifferent to his order. Now Jude was more embarrassed than ever. He wanted to die, right there. Nothing else mattered more to him than that.
"You're starting to sweat, man," Haaland said sympathetically, "Are you okay? I mean no rush, but you haven't responded to me either."
Jude sat up straight and looked at him.
"I'm fine..." He mumbled, taking another sip of apple juice and wiping off the glistening sweat that was forming on his forehead.
"So," Haaland continued, "I know this is pretty insane, and I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't want to, but what if we score a tie at the game? Come on, we'll basically get more games out of it, and we won't have to watch one or the other disappointed."
Was this man insane? How could he not understand? To tie the match was to just run around a field doing nothing. There should be a winner in a game everyone's anticipating, and it should be a heated match. For it to end in a tie was like... well... a...
"De-!" he almost said, not realizing it until a few seconds later. Then his eyes widened as he realized how careless he was. Now Haaland was sticking his hand out. What would he do? He couldn't just shake his enemy's hand and promise millions of people a tie in one of the biggest games! He had to make a choice, it was now or never. He had a deal to make or deny. It took him a few seconds to clear the fogginess in his brain, and a sip of apple juice and a bite of his fresh fish and chips that had just been served.
And, thinking perfectly clear, he made a final promise.