Chapter Text
Some people think that Germany is not a nice place to live. That France is way better, with better weather (true), better food (maybe true), and a better lifestyle (not true at all, have you ever visited Strasbourg?!)
So, when his parents decided to move here, to Germany, and leave England behind, Jamal was furious. How dare they? But Germany has a lot in common with England. Shitty weather, tons of weird food, and an absolute disdain for the French. He quickly felt at home here, and before he knew it, he was moving to Munich for his studies. It was nice. This city had much to offer and had tons of world-famous museums like the Alte Pinakothek, the Neue Pinakothek, the Pinakothek der Moderne (lots of Pinakothek right ?), and the Lenbachhaus. He made some friends at university and even found a part-time job in a local bookshop, so yeah, life was good.
Except… for the fucking local football team.
FC Bayern Munich, Fußball-Club Bayern München, was a living nightmare. It was not a sport. Not an institution. It was some kind of religious shit from his point of view! The city lived and died with its club ! When Bayern Munich was leading and winning, the whole city was basically in a festive mood. He could hear people cheering on campus all night long and, sue him for being crazy, but he swore to God that the club only won when he had midterms the next day. And when the club lost, the air turned into despair and misery. He couldn’t navigate between these two extremes!
So yeah, Jamal wasn’t a big fan of football here, in Munich. But he loved football in England. He knew that didn’t even make sense, but hey, at least when his team was winning in England, he didn’t have to listen to endless shouting. Sue him!
-Hey, did you see the match last night? Bayern won against Dortmund! said his co-worker, Lisa, a really nice girl who was also a student at his university.
Lisa was also a big fan of Bayern, so he politely nodded his head, suppressing the urge to scream, "Yeah, I fucking heard it all night long".
-Who’s your favourite player? On the team, I mean? she asked.
-The quietest one, I guess,he responded, not knowing a single name on the team.
Lisa’s eyes sparkled.
-I didn’t know you were an Olise fan! You already know that mine is Harry Kane, but I get you. Olise is unstoppable! And he’s British like you. Also French. But mostly British… I think?
French and British? At the same time? Poor guy!
Again, he only nodded to be polite, but Lisa was on autopilot. It was an early Sunday morning. The city was still dead asleep thanks to yesterday’s win, and not a single soul was in the shop (well, except for him and Lisa, who counted as two souls with all her energy).
-Hey, do you want some coffee? It’s on me ! she said.
-We are working, Lisa.
-And capitalism already stole the light from your eyes, love. Let me try to resurrect you with an… black coffee? Like your soul?
-Hey, it’s not my fault if you drink the equivalent of the Willy Wonka factory in one cup, with a little bit of coffee and tons of milk and ice.
-It’s called an iced caramel macchiato, honey! It’s called happiness!
-It’s also called diabetes. You’re gonna die young if you continue.
-Yeah, yeah, grumpy cat. Gosh, you are a pretty face but such an old soul. Anyways, do you want some or not?
-Yes, please.
-On it!
-Oh, and tell Felix I said hi.
-Fuck you !
She gave him the middle finger and he laughed so hard, watching her walk to the coffee shop literally across the road. He knew she would be gone for fifteen minutes, but he didn’t mind at all. Lisa was a great support for him, covering his shifts when he was studying. Plus, even if he never said that out loud, he was a sucker for love. They were already cute in their flirting and talking stage, and he couldn’t wait to see them together, like the final act of a television show.
The door suddenly opened, making the bell ring.
-Already here?he said without turning back. Your crush wasn’t there?
He turned around, expecting Lisa to be back with her cheeks bright red and ready to make a joke, but the girl was nowhere to be seen.
Actually, two men were standing there.
Two big men. One of them was fucking huge !
And here’s the thing with Jamal. He cannot lie. He cannot hide his feelings or his emotions, heaven knows he tries. He knew that he looked at the tallest guy with pure terror for a second.
-You scared the shit out of him, said the second one in perfect English.
The tallest one responded with something that was neither English nor German, but even without understanding the words, Jamal felt the need to explain himself.
-I’m truly sorry. I was waiting for my co-worker, and I wasn’t expecting anyone here this morning with, you know, the win yesterday. But tell me, how can I help you?
The two guys exchanged a rapid glance, and Jamal felt like he knew them. Not personally, of course, but they seemed familiar, especially the shorter one, with his dreads. Maybe they were also students on campus?
-We’re looking for a book, said the first man.
Jamal waited for more details, but that was it. He looked at the tallest one, who gave him an apologetic smile, and Jamal decided that he would only speak to him.
-What kind of book?
-A book that says, ‘Sorry for ruining your night?’ Or ‘It was not you, it was me, I’m always the problem’?
-Fuck you Dayot, I’m not the problem ! Jobe plays like shit, I don’t even know why I have to give him a present !
-Because it’s his birthday, mate! Have a little respect, decorum, a heart! Your friend is hurting, and what do we do when our friends are sad?
-Tell them to accept it and stop being such a little…
-We try to comfort them! Jesus, Michael, people are hard on the boy right now. He’s only twenty and has a lot of pressure on his shoulders. Be nice to him.
Dayot, or whatever his name was, was definitely a kind man. The other seemed unbothered, or, on the contrary, very bothered to be there. If Lisa were there, she would definitely say something like, “A pretty face but an ugly heart.”
-Okay, so what does Jobe like? he asked Dayot. Fantasy? Thriller? Some rom-coms, maybe?
-More like philosophy and things about climate change, social justice, and maybe a little bit of dystopia. He was reading Dune last time I checked.
-Oh, so he’s really your friend, Jamal said without thinking.
Michael just stared at him until he made him uncomfortable (which happened pretty quickly). But luckily for him, he was also a reader of all those subjects, so he tried his best to find them a good book. Dayot seemed a little lost and, without his help, Jamal had no other choice but to speak to Michael. The man was… assertive, at best. He rejected all the books, one by one, until the last one, which was a dystopian story about climate change. He checked the cover and the synopsis at least three times before nodding.
-That’ll do, I guess. We’ll take it.
Thank God, get out of here !
-Please,said Dayot.
Jamal wrapped the book in wrapping paper and gave it to Dayot.
-Thanks for coming. You can come back anytime!
Please, don’t ever come back.
-We will, responded Dayot. It was really nice to be… you know, treated like anyone else. And Michael is really picky about books. It’s a miracle that we even purchased one today, so thank you!
-What’s that supposed to mean? said Michael.
- That you are an insufferable man, and if you weren’t such a little shit yesterday, we would actually be sleeping now! I’m tired, man. You could just let it slide!
For the first time, Michael smiled. Okay, it was not really a smile, more like a smirk, but his whole face softened. He seems suddenly more gentle.
-Tell that to the coach. I’m begging you, go actually tell that to the coach! We won thanks to me! And Jobe’s shitty act, but still!
Oh.
Oh no.
He knew them! Their faces were familiar because they were footballers! On Bayern Munich! They had won last night! He quickly put the book in a bag and took the money, feeling like the biggest idiot on Earth. Michael looked at him like he knew. That realization had just hit, and his smile widened a little. Jamal decided that he didn’t like the man.
Just a pretty face with an ugly heart.
Lisa came back when they were at the door. She smiled at them, entered the bookshop, put the coffee on the table, and looked back.
-Tell me it was a dream? An hallucination ?
-Do you mean a nightmare?
-Jamal, I swear to God! Was it Upamecano? With Olise?
-I don’t know. They said their names were Dayot and Michael.
Lisa looked him dead in the eyes, and he quickly nodded.
-I can’t believe it!! They’re going to France soon. I’ll never have this opportunity again.
-They’ll come back, Lisa. It’s only one game in France. I don’t think Bayern Munich will leave them there.
-What are you talking about? They’re not playing for Bayern in France. They’re playing for the national team! They’re French, Jamal! You said you were a fan !
-Yeah, about that...
Lise looks at him like he was crazy. Oh, well, good riddance. He hoped he would never see Olise again.