Archive of Our Own

Jude Bellingham had millions of fangirls who passionately refreshed his Instagram following list. One summer night after the World Cup, a new account appeared on it.

@CocoNinaBellingham.

When the first fan who noticed the account clicked on it, it had only two followers. The first was Jude, obviously.

The second made her question her own sanity.

Why the fuck was Lamine Yamal following Jude Bellingham’s dog?

She took a screenshot.

An hour later, nearly every football account—meme account or otherwise—was posting about the fact that Lamine Yamal now followed Jude Bellingham’s dog.

“We almost broke the internet,” Jude said, chuckling.

Lamine tried to read something behind his tone. Was Jude pleased? Worried? Lamine couldn’t tell.

He hated that he was actively trying to tell.

“Do you want me to unfollow her?” Lamine asked.

He thought he hid the trying part perfectly.

“Nah. That would look even more suspicious,” Jude said.

Nina barked, almost as if she agreed. Lamine smiled.

“Show me Nina.”

“It’s Coco.”

“She prefers Nina.”

“Bullshit.”

Jude still lifted the dog until the camera caught sight of a small puppy.

“Hola, bebé,” Lamine said in the sweetest voice he could manage.

Jude snorted.

“She doesn’t speak Spanish.”

“She lives in Spain.”

“Her dad is British.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you live in Madrid, unfortunately.”

Nina tilted her head at Lamine’s voice. Her ears were slightly too big for her face. She was mostly a brown poodle mix, with random patches of white across her body.

Jude had found her during a team volunteer event at a rescue center. According to Jude, she had followed him around for two hours and refused to leave his side.

According to Lamine, Jude had looked at her for five seconds and lost all common sense.

“You don’t even have a dog bed,” Lamine had said when Jude first showed her to him.

“I ordered one.”

“And you don’t have a bowl.”

“I have bowls.”

“For humans.”

“She doesn’t care.”

Now Nina was sitting in Jude’s lap, staring at the phone screen as though she could actually see Lamine.

“She likes me,” Lamine said.

“She’s reacting to the sound.”

“My sound.”

“Any sound.”

Lamine clicked his tongue. Nina’s ears immediately moved forward.

“See?”

Jude rolled his eyes, but he looked pleased. Not only with Nina. With the whole thing.

Lamine noticed that too, obviously.

“So,” Jude said. “You can keep following her account.”

“How generous.”

“But maybe don’t comment.”

“Why?”

“Because people are already insane.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You followed her from your main account.”

“You didn’t tell me not to.”

“I—” Jude stopped. “I didn’t know I had to.”

He was still smiling. He clearly thought this was funny.

Lamine didn’t.

“Fine,” Lamine said.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I said fine.”

Nina barked again. Jude looked down at her.

“Even Coco knows you’re lying.”

“Nina. And don’t involve my daughter in this.”

“Your daughter?”

“I named her.”

Lamine called her name again. Nina answered with a small bark.

Lamine stared at Jude and Nina for another second.

“Okay,” he said. “No comments.”

“Thank you.”

“But she’s Nina.”

“Coco.”

Lamine hung up. Then he opened Instagram again.

The account already had more than fifty thousand followers.

The first picture was Nina sleeping on Jude’s chest. The caption said:

First night home. Already owns everything.

Lamine liked the picture. He did not comment.

Trent did.

My niece 🤍

Then the rest of the Real Madrid players joined him.

Lamine stared at the comments, and at Jude’s replies to them, longer than necessary. Then he messaged Jude.

- She looks uncomfortable.

Jude answered almost immediately.

- She slept like that for two hours.

A few seconds later, Jude sent him the original picture. Then another one, where Nina was awake and looking directly at the camera.

- Second one is better. Why didn’t you post that one?

- You can barely see my face.

- Exactly.

Jude reacted with a middle-finger emoji.

Lamine smiled at his phone.

Soon, it became a pattern. Jude sent him pictures before posting them. Lamine chose the best ones, corrected the Spanish captions, and complained about Jude’s miserable selfies.

Lamine knew that Nina hated baths, loved ice cubes, and had already destroyed two pairs of expensive shoes.

On Instagram, Lamine did nothing except like the posts. Sometimes, he waited five or ten minutes before liking them because doing it immediately felt too obvious.

Fans noticed anyway. They noticed that Lamine liked every post. They also noticed that he followed no other personal dog accounts. Lamine saw long threads about it on Twitter. Instead of worrying, he was somehow pleased.

A week later, Nina went to Real Madrid’s training ground. Jude did not warn Lamine.

Lamine found out because Vinícius Júnior posted an Instagram story carrying her around like a baby. Nina had one paw over his shoulder.

The next story was from Aurélien. Nina was standing between his shoes, chewing the end of one of his laces.

Then Trent uploaded a picture of himself lying on the grass with Nina sitting on his chest.

She chose her favorite uncle.

Lamine watched every story from his alt account.

He was not jealous. That would have been ridiculous. He had never even met the dog in person. Nina did not know he existed outside a screen. She probably thought Lamine was a very small person who lived inside Jude’s phone.

He still messaged Jude.

- Why is she there?

- Team wanted to meet her.

- She looks stressed.

- She had the best day of her life.

Jude sent him a video. Nina was running around the pitch while several grown men tried to catch her. Someone was yelling in Portuguese. Someone else was laughing.

Lamine watched it twice. He did not reply.

A few hours later, Jude posted a collection of pictures from the training ground on Nina’s account. She was with almost every player.

Every Real Madrid player commented, and Jude replied to all of them.

Lamine liked the post. He did not comment.

He told himself he did not care.

The first time Lamine met Nina, she nearly knocked over the coffee table.

He had come to Madrid during a rare free afternoon, wearing a cap and a hoodie as though that could properly hide him from anyone.

Jude opened the door. Before either of them could say anything, Nina pushed between Jude’s legs and ran straight toward Lamine.

“Nina!”

She stopped and stared at him for half a second. Then she continued running. She jumped against his chest and started licking his chin. She moved so much that he could barely hold her.

“Oh, bebé,” Lamine laughed. “Por fin.”

Jude closed the door behind him.

“This is humiliating.”

“She knows me.”

“She knows your annoying voice.”

“She loves me.”

“She loves everyone.”

“Not like this.”

Jude tried to take her. Nina turned her face away from him. Lamine laughed harder.

“She’s my dog,” Jude said, almost pouting.

“She has made her choice.”

“You’ve been here for thirty seconds.”

“And I’ve already won. Like I always do.”

Jude rolled his eyes.

As he walked past them, his hand briefly brushed the back of Lamine’s neck. The touch was casual, but it was enough to make Lamine quiet for a second.

They spent the afternoon together, arguing about everything, including whether Nina should be allowed on the sofa. After the argument, they ordered food. Nina fell asleep between them, stretched across both their thighs as though she had known them together her entire life.

Jude took a picture.

Lamine glanced over.

“You gonna post that?”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Then why did you take it?”

“It’s just for me,” Jude said without looking away from the screen.

Something warm and uncomfortable moved through Lamine’s chest.

“Send it to me.”

Jude did.

Lamine saved it immediately.

After that, the pictures from Madrid’s training ground became more annoying. Before meeting Nina, Lamine had been jealous in an abstract way. Now he actually knew her.

She had slept on his legs. She had followed him into the bathroom and waited outside the door. She had cried for three minutes after he left Jude’s house.

At least, that was what Jude claimed.

The actual argument started because of a picture from Vinícius. Lamine did not want to admit that they were fighting because of Vinícius and his not-even-that-good picture.

Vinícius was sitting on the floor of Jude’s living room with Nina asleep in his lap. Jude was visible in the background, standing near the kitchen.

The caption said:

Visiting my second family. Coco has two dads now.

Lamine stared at the picture. Then at the caption.

It was obviously a joke. Vinícius had probably written it without thinking. Jude had probably laughed. Nobody looking at the picture would think there was anything behind it.

Lamine put his phone down. He lasted almost an hour before picking it up again.

Jude had sent him a video of Nina trying to climb onto the kitchen counter.

- Your daughter is committing crimes.

Lamine watched the video without smiling.

Then he replied.

- Thought she had a second dad now.

Jude’s reply came quickly.

- Are you jealous of Vini?

- No.

- You sound jealous.

- I’m not jealous of your teammate.

- Good. Because it was obviously a joke.

Lamine stared at the sentence.

He typed something, deleted it, then typed again.

- I know.

Jude sent him a picture of Nina looking guilty.

- Then stop being dramatic.

That made it worse. Lamine felt the last of his patience disappear. He called Jude.

Jude answered with a smile still on his face.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“You’re angry because Vini made a joke?”

“I said I’m not jealous of Vinícius.”

“Then what is this?”

Lamine sat up on his bed.

“He can say he’s her second dad.”

Jude blinked.

“What?”

“He can call your house his second family. Everyone can comment whatever they want.”

“Because they’re my teammates.”

“Exactly.”

“And everyone knows they’re joking.”

“Exactly. They can joke about being her family because nobody thinks it’s real.”

“Yes,” Jude said carefully. “That’s the point.”

“Right.”

Lamine laughed. He hadn’t known anger could make someone laugh.

“Lamine.”

“That’s the problem.”

“What problem?”

Jude looked genuinely confused. That made Lamine even angrier.

“I’m the only person with rules.”

Jude rubbed his forehead. He looked tired. He was doing that thing where he acted like he was the mature one.

Lamine fucking hated it.

“I told you not to comment because people already noticed you following her. It’s not the same.”

“I know it’s not the same.”

“Then why are we fighting?”

“Because you get to have this joke with everyone except me.”

“It’s an Instagram comment.”

“It’s not about the comment.”

“Then what is it about?”

Lamine opened his mouth. He knew what it was about. He just did not want to say it in a way that made him sound needy or childish. He chose his words carefully.

“I’m the person who helps you choose every picture.”

“I know.”

“I named her.”

“You suggested the name.”

“I’ve been to your house. She knows me. She sleeps on me.”

“Lamine—”

“But outside, I’m just some random footballer who follows your dog.”

“That’s not how I see you.”

“How do you see me?”

Jude went quiet. It lasted only a second, but the second was enough.

Lamine looked away from the screen.

“Right,” he said.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Ask something like that and then decide what my answer is before I say it.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“Because this isn’t a conversation we should have over a dog’s Instagram account.”

“You’re right. We shouldn’t have it at all. That’s been working perfectly.”

“Lamine.”

“Good night.”

He ended the call. Jude did not call back.

No, Lamine did not unfollow Nina.

That would have caused another internet investigation, and he refused to give strangers that much entertainment.

He just stopped liking the posts.

The first was a picture of Nina asleep under a chair. Lamine saw it five minutes after it was posted. He did nothing.

The second was a video of her barking at her reflection. He watched it four times. He did nothing.

By the third post, Jude sent it directly to him.

- No like?

Lamine replied twenty minutes later.

- Cute.

- That’s all?

- What else?

Jude did not respond.

Jude hated the silence more than he had expected.

He had become used to sending Lamine things without thinking. A bad picture from training. A video of Nina falling asleep. A screenshot of a stupid article. The first thing that came to mind when someone said something ridiculous.

Now, whenever he opened their chat, the last messages looked cold.

He tried not to care. It didn’t work.

Nina noticed something too. Or Jude imagined that she did.

One night, Jude played an old voice message from Lamine. It was only Lamine calling Nina’s name and telling her to sit.

Nina ran toward the phone, her tail moving so fast that her entire body followed.

Jude recorded it. He almost sent the video to Lamine. Instead, he saved it and put his phone down.

“You’re pathetic,” he told Nina. Or himself.

She climbed onto his lap.

El Clásico media week started before either of them was ready.

Every old confrontation was replayed. Every goal, tackle, and argument became content. Jude saw his own face next to Lamine’s on posters, televisions, and TikTok edits. It was impossible not to think about a man who had not called him in nine days.

Before a Barcelona training session, a reporter asked Lamine about Madrid. The questions were normal at first. The title race. Madrid’s midfield. Whether Barcelona planned to target a particular player.

Then someone asked, “Lamine, there was a funny story during the summer about you following Jude Bellingham’s dog. Do you still follow the account?”

A few journalists laughed. Lamine smiled professionally.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“She’s cute.”

“Are you and Jude friends?”

Lamine’s expression did not change.

“We know each other.”

The interview moved on. Jude couldn’t.

He watched the clip three times. Jude had asked Lamine to be careful. To act as though there was nothing unusual between them.

Lamine had done exactly that. Nos conocemos.

Still, hearing himself reduced to someone Lamine knew made his stomach twist.

Trent, sitting beside him in the recovery room, glanced over.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve watched the same interview three times.”

“I’m studying.”

Trent looked at the screen.

“His press conference?”

“He talks about the match.”

“He talked about a perro. C'mon, Jude.”

Trent’s Spanish was too good. Jude locked his phone. Trent raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

The night before the match, Jude opened their chat.

He typed:

- See you tomorrow.

Then deleted it.

- Nina misses you.

Deleted.

- We need to talk.

He stared at that one for a while. Then deleted it too.

Lamine’s status showed online for less than a minute. Neither of them sent anything.

The tunnel before El Clásico was not private. Cameras moved through spaces where they were technically not supposed to be.

Lamine stood in line, facing forward. He could feel Jude nearby even without looking back. Jude was two places behind him, speaking quietly to a teammate. When Lamine finally turned his head, Jude was already looking at him.

For a second, neither of them moved. Then the line shifted, and Jude stepped slightly closer.

“She misses you,” he said.

Lamine looked forward again.

“Which one?”

“Coco.”

“Her name is Nina.”

Usually, that would have made Jude smile. This time, his voice stayed serious.

“And I miss you too.”

Lamine’s jaw tightened. He wanted to turn around. He wanted to say something cruel. Or something honest. He was not sure which one would come out first.

An official told the players to move. The tunnel opened toward the pitch, and the crowd swallowed everything. Lamine walked out without answering.

The match was ugly in the way Clásicos often were.

There was no rhythm for more than a few minutes. Every promising attack ended in a foul, an argument, or someone throwing their arms toward the referee.

Barcelona scored first. Madrid equalized before halftime.

Lamine assisted Barcelona’s second goal, cutting inside and sending the ball across the box. While his teammates surrounded Ferran, Lamine looked toward Jude. Jude was already watching him.

Soon after, Jude carried the ball through midfield and drew two defenders before releasing it wide. Madrid scored from the move. After that, both teams became more careful and more desperate.

In the seventy-third minute, Lamine received the ball near the halfway line and turned. Jude stepped in.

Their legs tangled. Lamine hit the grass. The referee waved play on. Jude stopped anyway and offered his hand.

Lamine looked at it. Then he pushed himself up alone. Jude’s face hardened.

A few minutes later, Jude went down under a challenge. Lamine was the nearest player. Without thinking, he held out his hand.

Jude looked at it. Then at him. Lamine almost pulled it back, but Jude grabbed it. Lamine pulled him up.

Their hands stayed together for one beat longer than necessary.

“Thought you were done with me,” Jude said quietly.

“I’m trying.”

“How’s that going?”

Lamine let go.

“Badly.”

For the first time in over a week, Jude smiled properly. Lamine looked away before he did the same.

The match ended two-two.

Neither side was satisfied. Nobody had won, which meant everyone behaved as though they had lost.

The players shook hands. Cameras followed every interaction. Jude moved through the line until he reached Lamine. Their palms met. Jude did not let go immediately.

“Come home with me.”

Lamine glanced toward the cameras. Then back at Jude.

“To see Nina?”

Jude’s fingers tightened slightly.

“No.”

Lamine waited. Jude held his gaze.

“To see me.”

Someone behind Lamine touched his shoulder, pushing the line forward. Their hands separated. Lamine walked away without giving him an answer.

He arrived at Jude’s house almost three hours later. Jude opened the door before Lamine could knock a second time. Neither of them spoke.

Nina appeared from behind Jude and froze. Then she ran. She jumped into Lamine’s arms, making a high, excited sound that was almost embarrassing.

“Hola, bebé,” Lamine murmured. Nina licked his cheek. He held her close for a moment.

“At least one Bellingham is happy to see me.”

“Two,” Jude said.

Lamine looked up. Jude’s face was tired from the match. His hair was still slightly damp from the shower. There was a faint mark near his jaw. He looked serious.

Lamine stood, still holding Nina.

“I thought her name was Coco Bellingham.”

“You keep calling her Nina. I think she’s confused.”

“She knows her name.”

Nina turned at the sound of it. Jude sighed.

“Traitor.”

The old joke softened something between them, but it was not enough.

Lamine carried Nina into the living room and put her down. She immediately brought him a toy. They played with her for several minutes because it was easier than talking.

Eventually, Nina became bored and walked away. The silence she left behind was worse. Jude sat on the sofa. Lamine stayed standing.

“Are you still angry about Vini’s post?” Jude asked.

Lamine stared at him.

“You really think this is about Vini?”

“I know you said it wasn’t.”

“But?”

“But that was when you stopped talking to me.”

“I stopped talking because you still didn’t understand what I was saying.”

“Then explain it.”

“I did.”

“You talked about comments and pictures.”

“No. You heard comments and pictures.”

Jude leaned forward, looking up at him.

“What was I supposed to do? Let people build theories until they got something right?”

“I never asked you to do that.”

“You were angry because I told you not to comment.”

“I was angry because everyone else can be part of your life without even trying.”

“They’re my teammates.”

“I know.”

“And you’re not.”

The words landed badly.

Jude realized it immediately.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“You’re different.”

“Different how?”

“You know how.”

“No, Jude. I don’t.”

Jude stood.

“Of course you do.”

“You say that every time.”

“Because we both know.”

“Know what?”

Jude’s frustration finally showed.

“What do you want me to say?”

Lamine’s voice became quieter.

“The truth would be nice.”

“I’ve never lied to you.”

“Because you don’t have to lie. You just avoid saying anything specific.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

Jude moved closer.

“You know how I feel about you.”

“I know you want me.”

Jude stopped. Lamine swallowed, but kept going.

“I know you miss me. I know you hate it when I don’t answer. I know you like me in your house and in your bed.”

“Then—”

“But sometimes I don’t know if you’ve actually chosen me.”

“You think I haven’t?”

“I think you don’t want to decide.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then decide.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is when it’s only us.”

“It’s never only us.”

The tension drained from Lamine’s body. There it was.

Jude looked away for the first time.

“There are clubs. Teams. Sponsors. Cameras everywhere. You saw what happened because you followed a dog. If people find out, they won’t leave it alone.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you acting like I’m ashamed of you?”

“Because every time something gets too close to being real, you push me away.”

“I’m trying to protect this.”

“Protect what?”

Jude went silent. Lamine nodded.

“That. That’s exactly what I mean.”

Jude turned back toward him.

“I don’t know what word you want to hear.”

“I don’t want a word.”

“Then what the fuck do you want?”

“I want you to stop hiding behind everything else.”

Jude opened his mouth, but Lamine continued.

“You think that if we don’t name it, it can’t fail.”

“That’s not—”

“You think you can’t lose something you never officially had.”

The room was very quiet. Somewhere down the hallway, Nina’s collar made a small metallic sound.

Lamine looked directly at Jude.

“You can still lose me.”

Jude’s face went still. Lamine had imagined saying it with more anger. Instead, he just sounded tired.

“I’m not asking you to tell anyone,” he said. “I’m not asking you to post me. I don’t care if I never comment on her account again. I just need to know I’m not stupid for thinking this is something.”

“You’re not.”

“Then what is it?”

Jude moved closer. Lamine did not step back. Jude lifted one hand toward his face, but Lamine caught his wrist before he could touch him.

“No.”

Jude looked surprised.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Kiss me because you don’t want to answer.”

“That’s not why.”

“You always do it.”

“We both do.”

“Yes. We did.”

Lamine released his wrist.

“That’s the problem.”

Jude let his hand fall. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Jude said, “I told you not to comment because people would know.”

“Know what?”

“That you’re not just someone who follows my dog.”

Lamine waited. Jude looked frustrated by the silence, but continued.

“That you’ve been here. That you know my house. That you know her. That you know me.”

“Your teammates know you.”

“Not like you.”

“How?”

Jude stared at him. Lamine could almost see him searching for another safe answer. Something close enough to the truth without becoming the truth.

Jude breathed out slowly.

“You’re in everything.”

Lamine’s expression softened despite himself. Jude stepped closer again.

“When something happens, you’re the first person I want to tell. When we weren’t talking, I still kept picking up my phone to send you things.”

Jude raised his hand again. This time, Lamine did not stop him. His fingers touched Lamine’s jaw.

“I missed you,” Jude said. “I hated hearing you say we know each other.”

“You asked for that.”

“I know.”

Lamine leaned slightly into Jude’s hand before he could stop himself. Jude noticed that too.

“It’s real,” Jude said. “You’re real to me. More than I know how to handle.”

“That sounds like a problem.”

“You are a problem.”

Lamine almost smiled.

“You like problems?”

“I like difficult things.”

“That’s my line.”

“I improved it.”

Lamine shook his head. Jude’s thumb moved across his cheek. This time, when Jude leaned down, Lamine met him halfway.

Jude tasted like everything Lamine had wanted for the past nine days. Maybe longer.

Lamine did not want to let him go. Why did they have to breathe? They could suffocate together. Lamine would not have complained.

Jude was the one who broke the kiss.

“You want me so much,” Jude murmured.

Lamine did not answer. The silence answered for him. His fingers slipped under Jude’s shirt. He felt Jude’s muscles tense under his touch.

At least his body was honest.

“So do you,” Lamine said.

“I never said I didn’t.”

“You don’t say much at all.”

Lamine pushed him backward until Jude’s shoulders met the wall. Jude let him. His hands settled on Lamine’s waist, fingers tightening whenever Lamine moved closer.

Lamine dragged his thumb across Jude’s lower lip. Jude tried to catch it with his mouth. Lamine pulled his hand away.

“No.”

Jude looked almost offended.

“You were the one trying to suffocate me a minute ago.”

“And you were enjoying it.”

“I still am.”

“Then answer me.”

Jude’s grip tightened. Lamine could feel exactly how much Jude wanted to end the conversation the way they always did. With mouths and hands, until neither of them remembered what had started the argument.

“Why did you ask me to come?” Lamine asked.

“I told you. I wanted to see you.”

“Not enough.”

“It’s true.”

“Still not enough.”

Jude looked frustrated.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re avoiding me.”

Lamine pressed closer, fitting one thigh between Jude’s legs. Jude’s breathing changed immediately. Honest again.

Lamine smiled without kindness.

“You don’t like questions, but you like this.”

“Lamine.”

“What?”

Jude’s voice had dropped.

“You know what you’re doing.”

Lamine kissed the corner of his mouth. Then his jaw. He deliberately avoided his lips.

Jude tilted his head back against the wall, giving him more space despite himself.

“You thought I wouldn’t come tonight,” Lamine murmured against his skin.

Jude said nothing. Lamine bit lightly at the place beneath his jaw. Jude’s fingers dug into his waist.

“Say it.”

“I wasn’t sure.”

“And?”

“And I hated it.”

The admission came out rough. Lamine lifted his head. Jude looked irritated, as though Lamine had dragged something private out of him by force.

“You missed me,” Lamine said.

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“Don’t push it.”

Lamine pretended to move away. Jude pulled him back immediately. Lamine raised an eyebrow. Jude stared at him, jaw tense.

“Every fucking day,” he said. “Happy?”

Lamine was.

He hid it by grabbing the front of Jude’s shirt and pulling him down. Their lips almost met. Lamine studied him for another second.

Then he kissed him.

Jude responded as though he had been starving. He turned them around so quickly that Lamine’s back nearly hit the wall. Lamine caught Jude by the collar and stopped him before he could take control completely.

“Not so fast.”

Jude’s breathing was uneven.

“You got your answers.”

“Some of them.”

“What else do you want?”

Lamine kissed him once. Slowly. Slow enough that Jude chased him when he pulled away.

“You,” Lamine whispered.

“You have me.”

“No.”

Lamine’s fingers tightened in his shirt.

“I have this.”

He pressed closer.

“Your hands. Your mouth. Whatever you give me when you don’t want to talk.”

Jude went still.

“I want you to be honest.”

Jude looked at him as though that was the most dangerous thing Lamine could have asked for. Then he lowered his forehead to Lamine’s.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

“I’m trying,” Jude said.

Lamine’s hand softened against his collar.

“Try harder.”

Jude’s mouth curved slightly. Lamine pulled him back into the kiss before he could say anything clever.

Lamine woke up before sunrise. The room was dark except for a narrow strip of light coming through the curtains. Jude’s arm was around his waist. His breathing was slow and warm against the back of Lamine’s neck.

For a few minutes, Lamine stayed still. It would have been easy to let the night become the answer. They had done that before. Let touches explain what they did not want to say. Let morning arrive and turn everything serious into a joke.

Lamine looked at Jude’s hand resting against his stomach. Then he said, “What are we?”

Jude did not move. Lamine waited.

“I know you’re awake.”

“I was hoping you’d think I wasn’t.”

“Coward.”

Jude’s arm tightened around him.

“You’re asking this now?”

“Yes.”

“It’s five in the morning.”

“Do relationships stop existing before breakfast?”

Jude made a tired sound against the pillow.

“We’re together.”

“That’s not a noun.”

Jude finally lifted his head. In the dim light, he looked offended.

“You’ve been preparing this argument.”

“I had a lot of free time while you were avoiding the question.”

“I wasn’t avoiding it.”

Lamine turned to face him.

“Then you’re doing it right now.”

Jude stared at him. Lamine resisted the urge to fill the silence himself.

After a while, Jude said, “You’re mine.”

Lamine blinked. “That’s better. Still not enough.”

“Why?”

“Mine isn’t a relationship.”

“It could be.”

“No.”

Jude looked almost amused now.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say what you think I am. Not what you think I want to hear.”

Jude’s amusement faded. The silence returned. Lamine could hear Nina moving somewhere outside the bedroom.

“When you brought her home, there were papers,” Lamine said.

Jude frowned.

“What?”

“Nina.”

“Coco.”

“She became yours in one afternoon. She got paperwork, a name, an account. Everything.”

“Are you asking me to adopt you?”

“I’m saying your dog has more certainty than I do.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“You like it.”

“I do,” Jude admitted.

Lamine waited. Jude looked at him for another long moment.

Then he said, “My boyfriend.”

Lamine’s chest tightened. He tried to keep his face neutral.

“Whose boyfriend?”

Jude rolled his eyes.

“Don’t.”

“Whose?”

“Mine.”

“Actually?”

Jude blinked. Something in his expression softened.

“Mine, actually.”

Lamine smiled before he could stop himself.

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Say it one more time.”

Jude moved closer until their foreheads touched.

“You’re my boyfriend.”

There was no hesitation this time. Lamine let the words settle.

It was not a public statement. Nothing had changed outside the room. In a few hours, they would return to their teams. They would still have to be careful. They would still call each other rivals in interviews and avoid being seen in the same places.

But Jude had said it. Lamine touched the back of Jude’s neck.

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“What are you?”

Jude answered immediately.

“Yours.”

“Actually?”

“Don’t push it.”

Lamine laughed.

Jude kissed him, shorter and softer than before. When they separated, Lamine murmured, “Good.”

“That’s all?”

“No.”

He pulled Jude closer.

“Now make me believe it.”

Lamine returned to Barcelona that afternoon.

Nothing changed publicly. Football accounts continued tracking Nina’s followers. Fans continued making edits. Real Madrid players continued commenting under her pictures as though they were fighting for custody.

The difference was that Jude no longer sent Lamine pictures as an excuse to talk. He just talked to him. He called after training. He complained about matches. He asked what Lamine had eaten.

When Lamine mocked him for being clingy, Jude told him boyfriends were allowed to be annoying.

Lamine made him repeat the word.

Jude hung up. Then called back thirty seconds later.

A week after El Clásico, Jude posted a new picture on Nina’s account.

She was lying on his bed with her head resting on a black hoodie that Lamine recognized immediately.

The caption said:

Stolen property. No regrets.

Lamine stared at the comment box.

Jude had never explicitly told him he was allowed to comment now.

He typed something. Deleted it. Typed again. Then posted:

Found the hoodie thief.

The internet reacted before Jude did.

Screenshots appeared immediately. Accounts started posting in capital letters. People asked why Lamine Yamal was implying that Jude Bellingham’s dog had his hoodie.

Jude, who was online, did not reply for almost twenty minutes.

Then Lamine’s phone rang. He answered with a smile.

“You properly broke the internet this time,” Jude said.

“You sound pleased.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Nina barked somewhere behind him.

“Show me my daughter.”

Jude turned the camera. Nina was lying on the hoodie, chewing one of the strings.

“See?” Lamine said. “She misses me.”

Jude turned the camera back toward his face.

“She’s not the only one.”

Lamine’s smile softened.

“You could’ve just said that.”

“I just did.”

Lamine looked at him for a moment, deciding whether to let him get away with it.

Then he glanced down at the comment section, already filling with screenshots and theories.

“People are insane.”

“They usually are.”

“Should I delete it?”

Jude looked toward Nina, who was still chewing on Lamine’s hoodie.

“No.”

Lamine’s expression changed slightly.

“Okay.”

A short silence followed.

“Her name is still Nina,” Lamine said.

Jude ended the call.