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Jude laid back against the headboard of his bed; the white blanket bunched around his waist as he nervously scrolled through his phone. The facts? He couldn’t sleep so he was flipping through every social media app he could to try and get a hold of himself. He had a game tomorrow. A game against Norway. Norway, which has Erling on the team. Erling, who is one of his dearest friends, which should make tomorrow something to look forward to.
However, he was also Erling Haaland, the man Jude might have fancied since the young age of seventeen.
Normally, he would be fine. They had played plenty of times in the past as teammates in Dortmund then on opposite sides of the field as competitors. Jude would consider himself a master at ignoring his inconvenient feelings on the field and only focus on the addictive feeling of playing with Erling. Because that’s what it was, the shock of adrenaline and pure joy of running alongside Erling would be the world’s most addictive drug if Jude could bottle it up from his soul.
All of this would’ve been fine if the world was not throwing him and Erling together like starcrossed lovers. However (part two), all he had seen from social media ever since the match was announced was him and Erling. Them playing together at Dortmund, their goal celebration hugs, their undeniable chemistry (if Jude says so himself), and the kisses.
The fans had dug up his spur-of-the-moment cheek kiss while Erling was doing an interview. The leftover rush from their win was still sinking into Jude when he saw Erling, red and flushed with sweat making their way down his face, and he just kissed him. (Hours later, Jude had watched that clip of the interview over and over again; hoping he hadn’t imagined Erling’s eyes light up at the sight of him, and the delighted smile that came over his face after Jude left.)
He was taken back to his days in Dortmund, watching the tall and broad Norwegian boy shoot into goals with deadly accuracy. Jude had learned his name before he got to Germany, Erling Haaland, just two years older than he was but shined like the brightest stars in the galaxy. With long hair the color of sunlight and a kind, earnest personality, Jude’s teenage heart fell fast and hard.
After Erling had moved to Man City and Jude to Real Madrid, they had kept close contact. They met up whenever they had tournaments and matches, went to visit each other in the off season, and texted constantly. However, no matter how much they were in contact, it was inevitable that they would drift apart. Their lives were busy, football was brutal, and especially when they each grew to become prominent players on their teams, messages were exchanged less. A part of Jude understood this, that friendships do not last forever, that people change and tides shift, but he wanted him.
The more of a star Erling became, the more Jude wanted him to himself. He wanted to shout from the rooftops and declare on instagram that he knew Erling before anyone else did. That he was the one who knew him the best and that Erling holds a place in his heart just for Jude.
So when Norway made the cut to be in the World Cup, Jude had a small sliver of hope that they would play against each other, that he would see Erling in the same stadium again. The chances were against them, there were thousands of possible matchups and both of their teams could lose any of their knockout stage matches.
Except, luck was on his side, and England was going against Norway tomorrow.
And Jude was still plagued by Erling, laying on his bed with the smell of Hilton’s detergent around him. His thumb acted on its own accord and in two clicks, he landed on Erling’s contact.
They had exchanged texts over the course of the World Cup, congratulating each other and filling their inboxes with praise and funny clips. But Jude wanted more he wanted to hear the deep accented rumble of Erling and his huffed laughs because he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep without sating this urge.
“God, Jude you’re so pathetic.” He muttered to himself, his finger ghosting over the call button next to Erling’s name as he debated whether he should phone him or subject himself to a long night of binge watching Erling’s interviews.
Except his finger didn’t actually ghost over the phone and he pressed it. Jude looked in horror as his phone lit up to the call screen, the silly photo of Erling hugging him in one of the matches haunting the screen. He jolted up, his hands held his phone away as if it were a rabid animal.
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckfuck.” Jude tugged his hair in panic. ”Damn it.”
It’s okay though, he reasoned, it was ten and most players tend to sleep early especially for matches like tomorrow’s. Erling might not even pick up—
“Hello? Jude? You alright?” Erling asked in that devastating voice of his, the one that was guaranteed to make Jude melt into a puddle.
Jude choked, clutching the phone to his ear as he sat cross-legged under the sheets. “Sorry, t’was an accident mate. How are you, Erling?”
“Doin’ pretty good, er, nervous about tomorrow's match of course.”
“What? You already know we’re going to run you into the dirt?”
Erling huffed a laugh that ran straight down Jude’s spine. “Cheeky as always aren’t you? I don’t know, Norway s’ having a historic run right now, don't you know?”
Jude knows all about it, he has watched every single one of Norway’s matches and cheered for every win. He was probably the one who knows the most about it; since Erling chose to represent Norway instead of England. Back in 2022 (and again this year), Jude had secretly hoped they could play together in the World Cup but he understood why Erling chose Norway.
“Historically, England has always had a strong team.” Jude replied.
“Our win against Brazil was pretty historically accurate.”
He smiled, remembering his loud excitement as Erling scored both goals against Brazil. “Your goals were brilliant, Erling.”
“So were yours against Mexico, Jude. I swear you’re one of the best players in the world.”
Jude blushed, he could never get used to Erling praising him even though he had done it for years.
“…Thanks mate.”
They were both quiet for a minute, Jude’s mind trying to come up with something to say other than how he missed Erling. The faint buzzing from the phone was the only thing between them in their comfortable silence.
“Erling—“
”Jude—“
“Sorry you go.”
”Go on.”
”…” Jude cleared his throat. “No, you say it first.”
Erling snorted, then he quieted again. “I’m really excited to play you tomorrow.” He said earnestly. “I’ve missed playing with you.”
Jude looked up at the ceiling as those words traveled from his ears straight to his heart. Trust Erling to always kill him with his lovely words, he thought as his feelings threatened him with a heart attack.
“I’ve missed playing with you too.” He mumbled. “‘S why I phoned you, really; couldn’t sleep.”
”Couldn’t sleep ‘cause you kept thinkin’ ‘bout me?”
”Yeah.” Jude sucked a breath from anticipation. When his legs started to cramp, he stretched his leg out and winced from the pain. He tugged the blanket over his chest and under his armpits; now laying sideways as he stared at the glowing screen on the pillow.
”I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you too, Jude.” Admitted Erling, and Jude wished with his entire soul that Erling could just appear next to him.
“In what way?”
Because that has been the question since there was a ‘them’ to be talked about. With their touches that toed the line between brotherhood and romance. Erling’s ever constant gaze on him which Jude had a feeling that it held something deeper than friendship. That their protectiveness and trust for each other were always something more.
A pause.
“Romantically. It’s been romantic for a long time now, Jude.” Erling said in a hushed tone. “I like you.”
For a moment, Jude’s world froze as he mulled over his words. Erling Braut Haaland liked him back romantically.
And what came out of his mouth was, “hell of a time to say that Erling.”
”Yes well, I wanted to tell you either way. I think the media buzzing around us made it harder for me to ignore.”
“Yeah, I like you too, Erling.” Jude shivered, the weight of a six year secret leaving his mouth the night before a World Cup semi-final match and Erling was not next to him. He wished he could kiss him through the phone.
The man on the other side of the line let out a relieved sigh, “I hoped you did, otherwise I may be awkward tomorrow.”
”Mhm…” Jude trailed off before speaking again. “Can you see me tonight? I mean, I could go to your hotel or we could meet up somewhere private. I just want to see you, but it’s totally alright if you want to rest for the match.”
”Do you mind me staying in your hotel room?”
“No?..”
”Send me your location, I’ll stay with you.” Erling decided.
Minutes later, Jude is pacing around his room, biting his lip as he counts down the seconds for Erling’s arrival. He might actually be mad, maybe he had taken one too many footballs to the head because in what world is Erling coming to sleep in his hotel room after confessing to him?
A brisk knock on the door, and suddenly Erling is walking in with a hood over his head and a mask that has definitely been used before. Erling removes his jacket, mask, and shoes, standing in his pajamas just staring at Jude.
“Erling?…”
The blond strides forward, wrapping his arms around Jude and tackling him onto the bed. Jude is reminded of their goal celebrations on the field as Erling buries his cold nose into the crook of his neck. This time, with the knowledge that the man likes him.
“I’ve missed you.” Erling breathed, pushing himself onto his elbows and caging Jude in with his body; Jude was not a small bloke by any means but under him he felt like it. Blue eyes met brown as they stared at each other with every ounce of love they had to repress for years.
Jude wrapped his arms around Erling’s neck and tugged him down until they were nose to nose. “I missed you too.”
And then Erling pressed his lips to Jude, his hands stroking the sides of his face while Jude ran his hands through Erling’s golden hair. The slick sound of their mouths echoed through the room, and soon enough, small moans began to slip out of him. When they parted, Jude’s doe-eyes were half-lidded and the blue in Erling’s were almost swallowed entirely by black.
“It’s late. We should sleep.” Erling said, his eyes never leaving Jude’s face as if he was a man stranded on a desert and Jude was a brilliant oasis.
“We have a match tomorrow against each other. And you need to leave early.” Jude nuzzled the side of Erling’s cheek.
He pushed the other man away to crawl into the middle of the bed and beckoned him over. And in no time at all, Erling was under the covers too, with his arms wrapped securely around Jude’s waist.
“I really wanted to kiss you.” He said, his voice muffled into Erling’s chest as he pressed closer to the other man like an unstoppable magnet.
”Ever since Dortmund. Y’ know? I’ve always wanted to kiss you. And especially when you said you liked me.” Jude added.
Erling buried his nose into his hair, “I don’t know when I started to like you. Only that you became the only thing on my mind when we’re apart.” He said honestly.
“I like you.”
A kiss was pressed into his hair.
“I like you too.”
Jude reached up and pecked the side of Erling’s neck.
Tomorrow they are going to play against each other and each glance and stolen touch will remind them of the night before, but they are whole.
-
“Nice goal, Jude.” Erling muttered in his ear as the referee left to check the legibility of the second Norway goal.
“Thank you.” Jude said, wrapping his arms around Erling for a quick embrace, both of them were hyper-aware of the millions of eyes on them now. Jude felt smug, Erling was his.
-
As soon as the whistle blew through the stadium, the rush of adrenaline suddenly poured out of him and Jude felt in an instant every single cramp and burn his body had ignored for over two hours.
They had won. England had won and Jude had scored the only two goals from his team. He won.
Jude fell to his knees like a puppet whose strings were cut. The pressure of his country that was tied around his neck finally loosened and he sobbed. Jude had did it, he won the match for England but at the cost of Erling’s hope and he prayed it wouldn’t be held against him.
Jude looked over at Erling on the sidelines, his bright eyes were proud but laced with disappointment. As both teams walked onto the field, he let himself go for a moment, letting the crowd cheer and sing for him while his teammates hugged him tight.
He was talking with a player from Norway when Erling came over.
“Congrats, mate.” He said, patting him on the back after they stepped back from the hug.
“Thanks, Erling, you played really well.”
“Not as well as you.” The corners of his lips quirked up. “I’ll see you later.”
And it soothed his worries, because Jude knew it was a promise.
-
They were in bed after their own private celebration. Jude had confirmed that there were no hard feelings between them and they laid spent in Jude’s hotel. Erling was set to go home after tomorrow and they wanted to make use of every moment they had together before the World Cup came to a close.
”I’m playing Argentina on Wednesday.” Jude said as he stared at the blanket over their naked bodies.
“I hope your legs work before you play them.” Erling said smugly, his rough fingers drawing circles on Jude’s bicep.
He pinched the side of Erling’s waist, the warm light of the lamp washed over them like a filter. “Shut up you arse.”
He kissed his cheek chastely, “Don’t worry, I believe England has a chance.”
”Just a chance?”
”With you on the team, I believe you guys have a real shot at the final.”
Jude tilted his head back for a kiss as he interlaced their fingers together beside him. “I’ll phone you the night before the match.”
”Alright.” Erling grinned back.