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Soulmates and Imposters
“You deserve it.”
The quiet voice is accompanied by a hand cradling his aching head. The gentle but firm pressure as he's pressed to the chest of the giant Norwegian is enough, and yet, not enough.
Jude takes a moment, no more than a split second, to close his eyes and relax into that friendly, familiar grip.
Then he remembers the eyes of the whole world are watching them, fixated on them: hungry for them. He twists towards Erling as he opens his eyes to thank his friend. As their eyes meet, his convey what his heart wants to say, and between them there is an understanding.
“Thanks big guy. We'll catch up, yeah, Sterling?”
Erling nods with a slight smile and pats the back of Jude’s head. A squeeze of the shoulders, and he's gone. In a moment, the interaction Jude's looked for the whole match is over; and with it a weight is lifted.
Erling is okay. He will be okay.
It's Jude that'll need all the help he can get to make it through what's next to come.
He closes his eyes and exhales, hands on his waist, snatching a moment to breathe. Hey Jude sung proudly by thousands of fans washes over him, and he chokes back the overflow of emotion.
His mind flashes back to Haaland in the hotel singing Hey Jude to him when they first saw each other after months apart. To Haaland in the cinema singing “Hey Jude, you've got a friend in me,” to him as they cosied up together at 4AM watching Toy Story 5.
They'd fallen fast asleep, each content and comfortable, woken only by a stunned cinema attendant long after the movie had ended. They'd trudged sluggishly back to the hotel, arm in arm, and back to their respective beds just as their roommates were waking up.
Of course Saka had quizzed Jude, and had shaken his head in disbelief that his sleepy roommate had snuck out to spend half the night about Miami with Haaland.
“You're flippin’ lucky no one snapped you, jeez,” Saka had sucked his teeth. “You'd never beat the “cleated rivalry” allegations man.”
Jude had just shrugged and laughed, collapsing onto his bed with a massive yawn. He didn't care at all: he didn't mind anything so long as he got to see Erling again one-to-one before one of them left post-match on Saturday.
And now the match is over, Jude has to see him again.
He has to talk to him again: properly, not just a hello hug, pitch banter, and a goodbye hug. Not just a Tiktok or a funny post sent via DMs.
But Jude knows that now that Norway is out, knocked out by his two goals, he doesn't have much time to talk. Haaland will be flying home the next day, and Jude will continue struggling. Alone.
The thought almost defeats him.
120 minutes of running in 30 degree heat will drain a man. Jude is drained, and not only by the heat.
The interviewers are up to their usual tricks, trying to wind him up and trap him in his words. More mind battles, after everything he's just come through, are unwelcome at best. Finally it's over, and he's more exhausted than ever.
He's almost running on empty.
In the changing rooms after the game, England are celebrating, noisily. Jude’s celebrating too, but he's also absently thinking about Erling next door. He washes up and packs up, and drifts out; he finds himself in the corridor outside the Norwegian dressing room, brooding and wandering around like a lost puppy.
Then standing before him, like the answer to his absentminded thoughts, is his viking.
He doesn't ask how Erling knew he was there. He doesn't need to. Wordlessly, the giant blonde opens his arms to Jude. He falls into them, and it feels like a good five minutes surrounded by that warm pressure before either of them speak.
And speak Jude must, because there's something burning at the back of his mind.
“You did that on purpose, didn't you?” he asks, his voice rough and quiet as he pulls back and looks up into Erling's deep gaze. “You let us win. You let me win.”
“No Jude,” Haaland smiles that amused half-smile, a gentle look on his face. “That was all you. You won because you're a winner, like I said.”
All of a sudden the huge emotions that Jude’s been bottling rise to the surface and tears rush to his eyes. His face contorts as he tries to hold back the flood.
“You're a good friend,” he manages to choke out before he succumbs and buries his head in Erling's shoulder.
The pats on his back and the safety of the grip surrounding him as he sobs is what he needed.
He doesn't need to explain. He and Erling have always been on the same wavelength. They've always gotten each other.
“It's like the Fox and the Hound all over again.” Haaland's gruff voice in his ear makes him smile, and then laugh through his tears as he pulls back and wipes his face.
“Makes me cry every time,” Jude jokes, sniffing deeply.
“I know you too well, Jude.” But Haaland's face is understanding, and it's just what Jude needs.
The release of built up pressure in his head, all his pent up emotions are relieved, and it finally feels like he can face what's to come after all.
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