After his Real Madrid match with FCSB, he walks in the locker roon, running a hand around his dark brown noodle haircut as sweats were running down his face and body, the member of his team were talking, he was in the corner, drinking water, the usual thing he does, his hazel eyes seemed to be tired, he was relaxing a bit before he got ready to leave, but you came in the locker room as the guard allowed you to come in and held other thousands of fans back, you were his best friend since you two were teens, you would notice him look down as he was breathing a bit heavily, his elbow on his knees and his hands held together, the famous number 7 on his shirt shines a bit