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The final whistle blew to seal Brazil’s defeat at Norway’s mercy and before Jude could begin to process what that meant, he was hot a with jarring excitement. Thanks to Erling’s two brilliant goals, what was initially a ‘what if’ scenario in his head was soon to be a reality for Jude: playing against his best mate once again.
By now they had played against each other a few times at club level, but like visits from an angel, they were few and far between; and never before at international level. Chills jolted Jude’s spine as he realised just how crucial this would be for them both, and that now, the last piece of the puzzle lay in Jude’s hands - or at his feet, rather - at the Estadio Azteca against Mexico.
Memories came flooding back at his time with Erling Haaland at Dortmund. The usual handshakes, embraces and affirming words of the footballing world became more… deliberate. Less casual. Instead, what came naturally to Jude was now second guessed out of nerves.
Judewanted to be closer, but it only made him more hesitant; he was addicted to Erling’s presence and like a drug, he could’t get enough of him. How his gaze lingered seconds too long, how his face couldn’t help but beam with pure admiration every time Erling walked into the room. Soon it was all reciprocated, and eye contact was held for seconds too long, quick kisses were shared when they were the last ones in the changing room. Jude noticed Erling’s blushes, eyes darting downwards whenever Jude caught him staring when he was changing. But in private the making out, ripping shirts off, hands sliding to dangerously low places, it was their ‘secret’. It was highly likely their teammates caught on based on their comments. The norms of affection for footballers acted as a guise: kisses mid-interviews, eye-fucking on the pitch. Who cared? It was perfect.
Before long the butterflies flitted away and it all started to feel natural for Jude. Erling was his best mate, after all, and once they went their separate ways, in different countries, different leagues altogether, He couldn’t help but feel homesick. It was his only weakness.
The week flashed by and Jude was tying his laces in the changing room at the Azteca, ready for what would soon be one of the biggest matches of his entire career.
“Hey, Jude? Hello...”
Declan’s waving hand snapped Jude out of his daze.
“You with us mate?”
“Huh… uh, yeah course!”
That night he made history: his brace catapulted England to the match he had been fantasising about that entire week. It was now set in stone for England to play Norway at the quarter final of the world cup, which to Jude, meant the whole world.
As he sang the words of Wonderwall with the fans, arms linked with his teammates, tears welling, his mind couldn’t help but linger on a certain someone. What was he going to say when they reunite? Is it going to feel exactly like reuniting for champions league last season, or more intense? Jude’s anticipation betted on the latter.
His reminiscing carried on into the night as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling in his hotel room.
He ended up back at early days at Dortmund, when he was young and first met Erling, and how despite both being native English speakers, their heavy accents clashed enough that they had a hard time understanding each other for the first few days. Those awkward days blossomed into bromance. But it was more than that, it was pure love. In Erling’s eyes, Jude found solace, he found confidence, but most of all, he found a soulmate.
His mate.
It didn’t help that the club paired them up for loads of promotions because of their ‘unmatched chemistry’. They only fell harder for one another.
Is it not normal to kiss your mate though? It may as well be commonplace in football, but the way his thoughts were always running at a hundred miles an hour, could instantly settle when their hands would intertwine- thats what made it special.
Their last proper kiss at their last encounter, foreheads pressed together, brows furrowed with concentration as they battled for savour tastes, hungry. Erling had initiated it and left with a teasing assertion of ‘you owe me’, taking all the warmth in Jude’s world with him. When he’s close to his love nothing else matters; Jude doubted even lifting the world cup trophy would be a better feeling.
Jude attempted to settle his mind by scrolling through their pictures in his camera roll, smiling to himself before passing out.
He woke up the next morning to find a text from the same man he spent all night dreaming about, a repost of his win last night with a ‘❤️’. Jude grinned.
From gruelling training sessions to flirty back and forth texts, the days leading up to their big showdown flew by.
Jude strolled into the tunnel, and there he was, towering above everyone else in his 6”4 glory. With a playful kick, he caught Erling’s attention.
The game ended in two goals from Jude to launch his team to the world cup semi-final. Erling could only look on in utter pride at how his Jude had taken the world by storm. Disappointment about losing? He barely felt any, as he was already proud of himself for taking Norway to its first ever world cup final. He couldn’t feel any pain, not when his Jude was basking in the praise he deserved, the world seeing him in the same light he was enamoured with for years.
After the post-match interviews, the two finally had a moment alone, the moment they had both, rather blatantly, been eagerly awaiting. To finally resolve the tension they couldn’t on-field. Erling immediately wrapped up Jude in a hug, one hand resting atop Jude’s head as Jude sighed into his chest.
The exhaustion from the long night had overcome them.
“Hm, you still owe me” Erling murmured into Jude’s ear.
Jude contemplated for a second what exactly he meant, before he realised.
“Oh yeahh.”
“You remember?”
“Oh, I remember alright…”
They both giggled as Jude pulled back slightly from the hug to face him.
“You’ve been killing me you know,” Jude groaned. “How am I supposed to have my dull attention on the footy when I have to deal with you?”
Erling only smirked in response as Jude leaned in for a kiss. It didn’t last long however, before more immature giggling could be heard.
“What’s so funny?” Jude protested at Erling chuckling against Jude’s lips.
“You still need to stand on your tippy toes to reach me,” he snickered.
“Ha ha, very funny. How old are we?” Jude rolled his eyes and reached up to ruffle Erling’s hair before pursuing another kiss.
An ache of melancholy found refuge in his heart as Jude realised their night was over, and things would go back as they were - in their separate ways.
“Wow you really have missed me.”
“Like hell.” Jude breathed.
“I missed you too,” Erling whispered.
God only knows when their next moment would be, so they both knew they had to make this one count.