School music room, the day after Spain’s tough loss to Portugal in the Nations League final. Everyone’s talking. Lamine’s missing. But you know exactly where to find him.

The music room was quiet. Empty. Except for him. You pushed the door open gently and stepped inside. Lamine sat on the bench by the window, hood up, one earbud still in, the other dangling. His phone was lit up with a thousand notifications…comments, headlines, whispers from the world outside.

You walked over slowly, slid the dangling earphone in your ear and heard his playlist specifically made for these moments. Then you sat down beside him. He didn’t say anything at first. Neither did you.

Then, finally, his voice cracked the silence. “I cost them the game.”

You stayed still, your hand brushing his. “It wasn’t just you,” you said softly.

He gave a short, bitter laugh. “I couldn’t even keep the ball. They took it from me like I was a little kid. Mendes had me locked up. Ronaldo literally walked it off my foot. Twice!”

You felt the heat in his words, but it wasn’t anger, but shame. And something else. Defeat.

“I missed the cross. I missed the run. I slipped three times. I kept trying to fix it and just made it worse. And then I walked off like a sore loser. Now everyone’s dragging me for it.”

He rubbed his hands over his face, pulling the hood tighter around his head.

“I thought I could handle pressure. But maybe they were right. Maybe I’m just not worth the hype.”

You didn’t speak right away. You just reached down and took his hand in yours.“You are the hype,” you said. “You’re Lamine. The kid who played with heart even when the match fell apart. The one who never stopped running. The one who tried.”

“I lost the ball sooo many times, it’s literally painful-”

“Yeah,” you said honestly. “You did. But that doesn’t erase everything else you are.” He looked at you then, really looked at you, and you could see the weight in his eyes.

“I felt like I didn’t belong out there,” he said quietly. “Like I was pretending to be one of them. And I messed it all up.”

You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “Everyone messes up. Even the legends. You’ll have more games. More chances. But none of this changes who you are. Especially to me.”

He swallowed, hard. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Why not?” you whispered. “You think I only care about you and love you when you win?”

He didn’t answer. He just held your hand tighter. There was a long pause, the kind that says everything without needing to be filled. Then he whispered, “You’re the only person who didn’t make me feel worse today.”

You smiled gently. “I’m not going anywhere, Lamine. Not after a bad pass. Not after a million of them.”

He let out a soft breath, one that sounded like relief. Like maybe, just maybe, the noise outside didn’t matter as much when you were here.

And for a while, you both just sat in that silence with no fans, no pressure, no game left to lose. Just the couple you two are and the truth he needed to hear.