You’re still keeping your cool against your “simp” (barely), and he’s just happy to breathe the same air as you.

⸻

It’s a big match. Camp Nou is packed. Lights bright. Energy buzzing. You’re in the VIP box—front row, dark hoodie, slick ponytail, chewing gum like you’re scouting talent.

You’re not here to be seen. You’re here because someone kept sending you:

“You coming tonight? I play better when you watch.” “Just wear black. I’ll know.” “Swear on my boots, if I score… I’m running to you.”

You rolled your eyes. You showed up anyway.

⸻

The Match – 73rd Minute

It’s 1–1. Tight game. And then—

Héctor gets the ball. Inside the box. Quick feet. Fakes out a defender, SMACKS it bottom corner. GOAL.

The stadium erupts. His teammates charge him. He dodges them.

He runs. Not to the bench. Not to the coach. Straight to you.