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The echo of the final whistle repeats through his mind, background yells of celebration from the other side of the pitch is more of a whisper than the pure shouting he’s sure Argentina are doing. He tries to think about where they went wrong, how did they come so close yet not close enough. Although he can’t say much, he didn’t even score a goal this match.
He feels the hands of his teammates on his shoulders, he knows he talks back to them in bittersweet syllables letting them know they did their best. He guesses Kane is doing his best to keep their spirits high in such a low moment but it doesn’t even seem to touch him. Moments upon moments keep flickering through, trying to estimate who lacked what and what they could have done differently.
He supposes it doesn’t matter exactly, they lost and they won’t have another chance for another four years. He watches the Argentina players collapse into each other, some laughing, some crying.
He wonders if England looked like that after the Euros, He can’t remember because everything feels strangely blurry.
He has to turn away before he does something impulsive like smack the smug look off one of their faces. The entire Argentina team was aggressive the entire night, Anderson knows that the most out of everyone. But he has to give it to them, they are world champions for a reason.
When he comes back to himself, he can hear a song playing which he doesn’t pay much attention to. It’s popular and familiar but it doesn’t seem important enough for him to think about who sings the song or even let the lyrics flow through his head. He lets out a deep sigh and walks slowly down to where the rest of the players are standing.
“Listen, we did our best and we will get even better. We are going to train harder and better.” Harry voices out to them all, sweat drips down his face into his shirt, his skin almost reflects as he speaks.
Harry’s words blur together. Jude tries to hold onto them, really he does, but they slide straight through him. His chest feels strangely hollow, his fingers twitching against the fabric of his shorts as though they need something to do.
There is suddenly a loud gasp from the crowd, an almost hush spreading through the stadium until it reaches the point of silence. The screams of joy slowly die down and even the children who had been crying seem to sense the sudden tension, instinctively moving closer to their parents.
It doesn’t happen all at once, one person stops cheering.
Then another.
Then another.
Until thousands of people are all looking in the same direction, Jude furrows his brow. He glances towards Harry, only to find him looking over his shoulder. Gordon has the same confused expression, Anthony’s mouth slightly parted as though he’d forgotten what he was about to say.
What could possibly make an entire stadium go quiet?
Even the Argentina supporters have stopped celebrating.The song continues playing through the speakers, oddly cheerful against the silence that has settled over everyone, and somehow that only makes the atmosphere stranger.
A camera beside the England bench suddenly swings away from the players.
Another follows.
Then another.
They’re all pointing in the same direction.
Erling is walking towards them.
Actually… he’s walking towards him.
He looks around in shock before letting out a small, breathless laugh. How is Erling even here? Didn’t he leave with his team a few days ago? Either way he’s here, his hair tied up in a tiny ponytail and dressed in a black tracksuit with a small soft smile plastered across his face.
“Hey Jude.” He says quietly once he’s in front of him, tilting his head slightly when he sees Jude breathe out shakily.
“Erling… didn’t you leave like… a few days ago?” Jude asks, almost in disbelief.
He watches the corner of Erling’s mouth twitch upwards.
“Hmm… I was supposed to.” He pauses for a second. “I decided not to.”
Jude just stares at him. He doesn’t really know what to say. He hadn’t realised just how heavy everything had become until Erling was suddenly standing in front of him. Somehow the shouting, the cameras, the people calling his name all seem further away than they did a few seconds ago.
Erling looks as though he’s taking notice of everything. The way Jude’s shoulders are still tense, The slight tremble in his hands and how he keeps trying to smile but can’t quite seem to hold it.
“Come here.” His voice is barely above a whisper.
“People are watching” Jude whispers back, his fingers twitching even more as though his body doesn’t agree with the motion of staying still.
“I don’t care” he responded back instantly, and Jude doesn’t even think.
His feet move before his brain has the chance to argue. His arms wrap around Erling almost desperately, he doesn’t even remember deciding to hug him. His face burying itself into the crook of his neck as he breathes out slowly, the shaky breath catching halfway through.
Erling’s arms tighten around his waist without hesitation, his face smushed into Jude’s hair as he breathes with him instead of saying anything.
For a few seconds neither of them speaks.
Jude simply stands there, his eyes squeezed shut as his breathing slowly begins to steady. The tightness in his chest eases ever so slightly, enough that he finally feels like he can breathe properly again.
“You did so well” Erling whispers softly. One of his hands moves from Jude’s waist into his hair, gently playing with the strands. Jude lets his eyes close again. Just for another second.
If he thinks about it enough, he’s sure he could hear a pin drop in the stadium.
It even looks like the Argentina team are just staring in shock. Perhaps it’s the sight of a completely different team’s player currently cradling someone from the losing side. Or maybe it’s the fact Jude doesn’t even seem to care who’s watching.
The England team seem just as lost, though there’s a softness to their expressions that certainly wasn’t there a few moments ago.
“This isn’t helping with the rumours” Jude eventually mumbles. His face doesn’t leave Erling’s neck, the words coming out muffled against the fabric.
Erling only hums. His arms tighten around Jude almost automatically.
“Fuck the rumours.”
Jude can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes him.He feels relieved Erling is here, like a missing part of himself has finally found its way back.
But another part of him wants to let go. He knows people are filming this and he knows the rumours this will cause. And yet something inside of him silently begs he never does let go.
He feels Erling shift slightly. For a second he thinks he’s about to pull away. Instead something warm brushes softly against the top of his head.
A carefully hidden kiss.
Only then does Erling slowly lean back, keeping one arm comfortably around Jude’s waist as the noise of the stadium suddenly comes rushing back all at once. Shouts of shock ripple around the stands, cameras flashing from almost every direction.
Neither of them seems particularly bothered.
“Way to make an audience there” Gordon speaks suddenly, he looks almost like he wants to laugh at the impulsive action Erling proceeded to do.
“Eh well…had to make sure my boy was okay” he responds back with a laugh, his arm tightening around his waist once again. He can feel Jude shaking his head in laughter.
“I’m good, man. Don’t worry.” he looks towards him and he seems to believe him, he looks more relaxed and an almost softness appears in his eyes. Which was much better than the hollow ache he had at the end of the match.
Erling studies him for a moment before the tension finally leaves his shoulders.
“Love you.” Erling nudges him lightly with his shoulder, a teasing grin spreading across his face.
Jude rolls his eyes fondly at him, a quiet laugh escaping.
“Yeah, love you too.”