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Summary
Jude Bellingham had everything he’d ever wanted: a starting spot at Real Madrid, awards, and a best friend he was stupidly in love with.
Admittedly, that last part was less ideal but whatever.
He had made peace with it. It wasn't Erling's fault. It was fine, really. Capital F.
Then Erling stopped touching him. Which, frankly, was taking the piss.
