“PASS! PASS!” Jude yelled, running down the flanks,

Arda noticed him too late, passing the ball backwards.

“What the hell?! Pass it!” Jude lashed out.

Arda flinched.

“wtf! I didn’t lose possession!” He screamed back.

Jude huffed. Whatever.

. ..

Suddenly, in the 55th minute,

Defenders trailing back for desperate girona,

Jude saw an opportunity.

That distinct grey, messy mop of hair.

And he didn’t think, as his feet pushed the ball through,

Through the stubbled grass and stumbling men,

To him. To Arda.

As the boy banged it into the low right corner.

..

Cheers and screams were heard, Madrid just scored their second. second.

And it was starboy.

Jude didn’t know why, or what he was doing really.

He just- ran up and picked the boy up. wtf-

He was so- so ecstatic he didn’t care.-

Arda did, immediately thrashing like a child.

“Ah! Let me go Jude!”

But he didn’t,

“You did it! You fucking did it oh my days-“

Everyone else celebrated, and eventually he had to let go. Or it would…be weird.

..

“You did so well-“ Jude immediately pulled Arda in after the game.

“Ahh- stop! Stop!” The Turkish boy rolled his eyes, shoving himself out.

Jude was appalled. I-

The friendly Arda just pushed him out. Wow.

..a day after, in training.

It was Jude’s turn to shoot, as he banged it into top left. Earning a few ‘ooos’ from the team.

Expect the boy. Who just scoffed.

.,and rolled his eyes. Great.

Jude hated that. Rolling his eyes thing. Pissed him off. Did he not know how to treat his elders?

Bitch.

And- god did Jude try. He always did.

Before Girona- a few days after arda got into Madrid-

He just..never got with Jude. Not..in that way. Well Jude wish- shut.

Sure they had football chemistry. Not..fucking talking?

“Trent, what the fuck is into him man?” Jude huffed.

“You in his pants maybe?” His mate snorted. TAA.

“Fuck off. I’m hanging up.”

.

Next day,

“Jude and Arda, you both. Pairs.” Ancelotti instructed.

For some..stupid stupid drill. God knows what.

But-

He needed to talk.