"If you love somebody, better tell them while they're here, 'cause they just may run away from youuuuuuu—"
Mateo and Gavi had locked arms on the balcony, swinging side to side, voices loud enough to rattle the railing. Mateo's head was thrown back, eyes shut, the whole performance going at full volume. Gavi did not even know the language fully, but the song was the song. Anyone who had played FIFA in the last decade and a half knew every word by heartbeat.
"You guys are clowns," Fermín said, leaning back in his chair, shaking his head.
The two singers did not stop. They were locked in. Mateo was leading and Gavi was following half a beat behind, neither of them really hitting the notes, both of them trying.
Pedri was laughing. He looked at the screen mounted on the projector, the broadcast cutting back to the studio for replays, and shook his head.
"Guess we are facing Chelsea," he said.
Mateo finally sat down. The grin had not left his face.
"Yeah. I guess so."
Real Madrid had been pushing for the equaliser most of the second half, but the moment of the night had been Mason Mount's solo run twenty minutes earlier. He had picked the ball up around the halfway line, got past Casemiro with a touch that should not have worked, then beat Modrić with a body feint that made Modrić, of all people, look like he was tied to the spot. The shot from outside the box had curled past Courtois before Courtois had even fully committed to a side.
Three for Chelsea. Second of the night for Mount. Aggregate four-one. Twenty minutes left before extra time was even a possibility.
It was over. Everyone in the studio knew it. Everyone on the balcony knew it. Chelsea were going to Porto.
"Mount is really good," Casado said. He was scrolling through his phone, glancing up at the screen between scrolls.
Gavi hummed. He was sprawled on the long chair, one leg up over the armrest. "You really think so?"
"Isn't he called the future of England or something?" Balde said.
"Yeah," Pedri said. "And he has more than 20 goal contributions this season."
"Yeah," Mateo said. "Didn't he also score both home and away against Madrid."
"Yeah." Pedri nodded, slower this time. "He would be one of the ones to look out for in the final."
Gavi shifted on the chair. He still had not picked his head up properly, but his voice came out clearer.
"I get what you all are saying. But I think you all are still too worried about him. More than Mount, what you should be worried about is Chelsea's defence."
The balcony went quiet for a second.
Fermín tilted his head. "Yeah. Now that you mention it. I think they are the team who has conceded the least this competition."
Casado looked at his phone again. He scrolled, tapped, scrolled.
"Yeah. Just checked it. They have eight clean sheets already."
"Thanks, stats man," Mateo said.
The whole balcony broke up at that.
"Your welcome," Casado said, still smiling, head down, scrolling again.
Pedri wiped at his eye. "But they are right. James, Kanté, Azpilicueta, Silva. Their defence is tight. It might cause us serious problems."
Mateo had been drinking from his water bottle. He put it down on the small table beside him, deliberately.
"I don't see that, honestly."
He let it sit for a second.
"I mean, I am not saying they would be easy or whatnot. Come on. They are about to enter the Champions League final. No team that can reach there should be taken lightly."
He was leaning forward now, elbows on his knees.
"What I am saying is, their defence, yeah, it is tough, but I am not really worried. I mean, we have the most lethal offence in football right now. I don't believe there is a defence in this world we can't get the better off. Break one good chance or opportunity. The damage I can do."
Pedri laughed.
"Ignoring the subtle bragging there. Mateo is right."
"Yeah, Barça offence is lethal," Fermín said.
Balde leaned over to Mateo, grinning wide.
"Dude. You really had to prop yourself up, ehn?"
Mateo shrugged. "At this point what is the point of hiding my perfection?"
The whole balcony went again. Aina, on the long chair beside Olivia, rolled her eyes so hard her whole head moved with it. Olivia was just laughing.
"Humble much?" Aina said.
Mateo took a sip of his water. "I try."
They laughed again.
Gavi pushed himself up on the chair properly, sat forward.
"While I love the confidence, I wasn't talking about just that."
The room turned back to him.
"When I say their defence, I mostly mean him."
He pointed.
The screen was cutting through a montage of the match's biggest moments while the commentators spoke over it. The frame they were on now was a Chelsea defender sliding into Benzema near the touchline, the contact heavy, Benzema going to the ground hard. The defender had stood up, screamed at the home stand, the number 2 large and bold across his back.
"Rüdiger?" Balde said.
"Yeah." Gavi nodded. "The dude is very rough. Watch his games. He defends like he wants to break something. He is not even trying to win the ball half the time. He is trying to make sure the striker Fear him it seems."
Mateo was watching the screen now properly. The replay had been swapped out for another Rüdiger clip. A challenge from behind, then the German on his feet again, in the face of the player he had taken down, saying something nobody could hear but everyone could read.
He thought back. He had watched a lot of Chelsea this season. Bits of it for fun, more of it as preparation for matches Barcelona might face down the line. The Rüdiger thing was real. It had been there in the Porto matches, in the Atlético tie, in the Madrid first leg. The kind of defender who collected yellow cards the way other people collected loose change.
"Now that you mention it," Mateo said.
"Yeah." Gavi was still watching the screen. "Very rough. Very physical. Goes through you sometimes, not the ball."
"I hate those types," Pedri said.
Mateo kept watching for another few seconds. Rüdiger on the screen was now in a Chelsea celebration scrum, arm around Mount, screaming into Mount's face.
He shrugged.
"I guess."
The match wound down.
Real Madrid pushed in the dying minutes the way teams pushed when they knew it was already gone but had to be seen pushing. Hazard came on. Asensio came on. Vinicius drifted further and further forward until he was practically a second striker. None of it produced anything. Chelsea sat deep, absorbed, kicked the ball away into the corners when the pressure came, and the referee gave five minutes of added time that felt to everyone watching like a formality.
94:53. Still 2-1. The whistle went.
Chelsea were officially in the Champions League final.
Barcelona vs Chelsea. May 29th. Less than a month away. Estádio do Dragão, Porto, Portugal.
Mateo sat for a moment, watching the screen. The Chelsea fans in the stadium were going. Mount was on the grass, lying flat on his back, both arms wide. Tuchel was hugging his assistants. The cameras were doing what cameras did at moments like this, picking out the faces, holding on the ones that were crying or laughing or staring blankly into the distance with the particular look of a person who had just achieved something and had not yet caught up with it.
A small smile came onto Mateo's face.
He spoke quietly. Mostly to the screen. Mostly to himself.
"See you there."
...
"Are you talking to yourself?"
He turned. Aina was looking at him from the next chair over, eyebrows up, the start of a smirk on her face.
"What. I'm just. It's normal."
"Why so touchy?" she said, already laughing.
Olivia leaned over and pushed Aina's shoulder.
"Stop teasing him."
"I wasn't even—"
"You were."
The two girls moved away laughing, Aina making one last face at Mateo over her shoulder.
Mateo just shook his head, smiling.
The boys had all gotten passes to stay the night. Their parents and the academy staff had agreed because Mateo had asked and because Mateo had asked the academy staff agreed to almost anything within reason, which was a privilege he was aware of and was trying not to abuse but was definitely using on this particular Wednesday.
After the game wrapped up, the six of them headed to Ansu Fati's side of the building. They had said earlier in the day they would check in on him, see how he was holding up, just spend a few minutes if he was around. Mateo rang the bell.
Nothing.
He waited. Rang again.
Still nothing.
He pulled out his phone and messaged Fati. The reply came back two minutes later. Fati was out. He was surprised to hear Mateo had moved into the apartment building. He said they needed to catch up one of these days, that he had been meaning to reach out, that things had just been busy with rehab and everything.
Mateo replied saying same, soon, take care.
They headed back to the apartment. Same balcony. Same projection screen, this time with the PS5 hooked back up and the FIFA menu loading.
It was past ten now. Nobody showed any sign of stopping.
These were boys who spent most of their time training, eating, sleeping, repeating the cycle. Days like this where they could just sit around for hours doing nothing in particular were rare.
"Yesss yess!"
Balde was on his feet. He had just scored a late winner against Fermín, and the celebration was full body. He was pointing at the screen, then at Fermín, then back at the screen.
Gavi and Casado were both laughing. Casado had his head in his hands, shaking it.
"Dude," Balde said, dropping back into his chair. "You are not a challenge. You are dulling my hand."
"So funny," Fermín said, flat.
"No. Seriously."
"If you are so good let's play one more."
"Dude. Aren't you tired?"
Balde stretched, the controller still in one hand. "Plus. I need fresh meat."
He turned, scanning the balcony. "Where is Mateo?"
Casado glanced up from his phone. "Pedri went to get water. Not sure about Mateo."
Balde looked around. The balcony was wide, with the seating arrangement spread along most of it, and the lighting from inside was softer than the outdoor lights, which meant the corners were a bit in shadow. He looked toward the railing on the far side.
"Ooh. See him."
He was about to call Mateo's name. He had the breath in. The mouth was halfway open.
Then he stopped.
Mateo was at the railing on the far side of the balcony. He was leaning on it with both arms, laughing. Olivia was beside him, also at the railing, also laughing, the two of them angled toward each other with the kind of body language that did not happen between people who were just chatting.
Balde said, very quietly, "no way."
Gavi looked up. "What?"
He followed Balde's eyeline. He saw it. His mouth opened slowly.
He saw Olivia laugh and rest her hand on Mateo's shoulder, leaving it there a beat longer than the joke required. Saw her not pull it back immediately. Saw Mateo not do anything about it.
Gavi put both hands over his own mouth.
"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck."
Balde was shaking him by the shoulder. "Are you seeing this. Are you seeing this."
"I am seeing this."
Casado and Fermín had clocked it now. Casado had set his phone down. Fermín had paused the game without looking at the controller.
"Oh my god," Fermín said.
"Look at his face," Casado said.
"I cannot believe it," Balde said. He was muttering to himself now. "No way. No way he beat me to it."
Then he straightened up. The smirk arrived slowly.
"The student has become the master. Nice one, young padawan."
Casado looked at him with a completely flat face.
"You need to have a certificate to be a teacher."
...
Across the balcony, oblivious to the circus their friends were having about them, Mateo and Olivia kept laughing.
Mateo had been telling her something about a training drill that had gone wrong earlier in the season, the time Koeman had set up cones for a passing exercise and Dembélé had hit one of the cones at full power on his first attempt and the cone had gone flying into the goalkeeper. Olivia had been laughing through the whole story. He had to keep stopping to let her catch her breath.
He shook his head, getting his own laugh under control.
"Yeah," he said.
He took a breath.
"Okay enough about me. Let's talk about you."
She was still smiling, recovering. "What about me?"
"Well let's start easy. How is your trip? Hope you are enjoying your trip in Spain?"
"Ooh." Olivia tilted her head back, looked at the night sky for a second. "You have no idea. This is the best trip I have ever been on."
"Really?"
"Well." She laughed at herself. "It's the only country outside the US I have been to. But it's in my top two."
Mateo laughed.
"But honestly," she said, leaning forward on the railing now, both elbows on the metal. "I am enjoying the trip. The culture. The stars at night here are different, I do not know why. The food."
She paused.
She glanced at him, then back out at the view, the smile a little smaller but not gone.
"The people."
She let it sit for half a second.
Then she turned away from him properly, looking out into the city, voice softer.
"It's honestly what I needed."
Mateo caught the shift.
He leaned forward on the railing also, mirroring her, his shoulder a small distance from hers.
"I'm glad to hear that."
A few seconds went by.
She turned and faced him again. The smile had come back.
"What about you?"
"Me?"
"Yes. You." She tilted her head. "You said you went to France when you were younger. I also know you have visited England. You said you want to visit the US. Is that it? Don't you want to visit more places? Go to different countries?"
"I guess." He thought about it. "I mean, just the past few months, I have been to. What. Paris. Manchester. Munich. Then Porto is coming in a few weeks."
He was looking out into the city as he said it.
She was looking at him.
He shrugged. "So I guess that's that."
"No. That doesn't count."
"Why?"
"Those are for work. It is not the same thing."
He shrugged again. "Potato potato."
She pushed his shoulder.
It was a small push, the same playful push she had given him that first day in the kitchen, but he had not been braced for it, and his shoulder was on the railing, and his weight tipped sideways for a second.
"Ooh sorry sorry."
She caught his arm.
He got his footing back. "It's fine. It's fine."
"Sorry. I don't normally push or hit. I only do it wh..."
Her voice trailed off.
She had heard herself. She had heard exactly what the next word was about to be, and she had stopped it, but the silence she had stopped it with was loud enough to communicate the word anyway.
Mateo caught it. He smirked.
"Don't worry. It's fine."
He paused.
"I think it's cute."
Olivia's whole face froze for a second. She pulled herself back to the railing properly and started fake-coughing into the back of her hand.
"Cough cough. Well. Yeah. I mean. Yeah."
Mateo laughed, leaning back on the railing, the grin enormous.
She fake-coughed once more for good measure, then took a breath, recovering. She stared up at the sky again, away from him.
"Well. Me. I want to travel."
Her voice was different now, more her own.
"I have always wanted to travel. But with shooting and the Disney stuff, all the school work fitted around the schedule, I was just never chanced. But now this trip."
She paused.
"It just brought back all those feelings."
She was talking faster now. The thing she actually cared about coming out.
"I want to visit Italy. Properly. Not just Rome, like everywhere, the small towns, the coast. I want to go to Japan. I have wanted to go to Japan since I was nine years old and I do not even fully know why. I want to go to Brazil, like Rio and Salvador and the north, there is this Micheal Jackson music video he did there i really want to visit that place once in my live. I want to be in cities I have only seen in pictures. I want to eat food I cannot pronounce. I want to hear languages I do not understand all around me, like, just being in it, surrounded."
She was smiling now without realising it.
"And I want to sing in those cities. Not big concerts necessarily. I mean, eventually, big concerts, sure. But I mean small ones too. Tiny venues. Like, a hundred people in a basement somewhere in Berlin. A rooftop in São Paulo. Somewhere in Tokyo where nobody speaks English and they all came because they actually like the music."
She breathed out.
"I want all of it."
The love for it was coming off her in waves.
Mateo was watching her.
He had stopped saying anything a while ago. He was just standing at the railing watching her face as she talked, the small movements of her hands when she got excited, the way her eyes lit up at the Tokyo part. The breeze had picked up a little and was lifting bits of her hair, and she had not noticed yet because she was inside the description.
She turned to face him.
She caught the way he was looking at her.
The smile came back, smaller now. A little uncertain.
"Whattt."
She reached up and packed her hair back, the wind still moving it, having to reach up again.
He just kept looking at her.
She tucked the hair behind her ear, then again because the wind would not let her.
"What."
He opened his mouth.
The word came out before he could get hold of it.
"Nothing. You just, ehm—"
He stopped himself. Tried to.
"You just looked beautiful."
His own face did something. He realised what he had said.
"No. Not just then. You look beautiful. Always."
He was now in deeper than he had meant to be.
"I mean. Now more than usual. Not that you aren't usually. Beautiful. You are always beautiful. I just meant that right now you, I mean—"
He closed his eyes.
He took a breath.
He opened his eyes.
"You look beautiful."
Olivia was looking at him.
The smile that came onto her face was a different smile from the ones earlier. Smaller. Quieter. The smile of a person who had just heard something they were going to think about later, in the dark, in their bed, before they fell asleep.
"Thank you."
She turned her face back toward the sky as she said it. Tried to make it casual. Did not quite manage.
"You look handsome also."
Mateo nodded slowly. He licked his lips. He held the railing with both hands.
"Alrighty."
They stayed like that for a few minutes. Not saying much. The breeze. The lights of Barcelona going on past the building. The small distance between their elbows on the railing.
Eventually Olivia stood up properly.
"I should call it a night."
Mateo straightened. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I want to get up early. There is one part on the last track I have not been happy with. I want to go in fresh tomorrow and try it again."
"That happens often?"
"More than I would like to admit."
He laughed.
She was looking at him properly now. Not the deflected look from earlier. Not the sky. Him. The smile on her face was the small, slow kind, the one that took its own time.
"Goodnight, Mateo."
The way she said his name was different from the way she had been saying it all evening. Softer. Holding the o at the end a little longer than the word required.
"Goodnight."
She held the look for another second.
Then she turned, and she went.
She moved across the balcony. She said goodnight to the boys, who all waved back with various levels of suspicious smiling that Olivia either did not notice or chose not to. She said goodnight to Aina, who hugged her at the door. Then she went inside.
Mateo stayed at the railing for a few seconds longer, looking out at the city.
Then he went back to the couch.
He should have gone to bed too. Training tomorrow. But he was on the couch within thirty seconds, dropping into it sideways, and the night kept going.
...
"Ehn?"
Mateo was looking at Balde with the specific expression of a person who had heard the words and processed the words and was now hoping the words had been a mistake.
Gavi just shook his head, slowly.
"Dude. What is wrong with you."
Aina, on the long chair with her legs tucked under her, started laughing.
Balde was sitting up, completely serious. He had the look of a man who had been thinking about this for hours and was finally about to find out whether anybody else had been thinking about it too.
"No. I am serious. It is just a thought that used to come to my mind."
He spread his hands.
"I mean, think about it. If humans cannot see air. Can fish see water. But since humans can see water. Can fish see air?"
He looked around the couch. He waited.
Casado's mouth was just open. Fermín had paused with his thumb halfway through scrolling.
Then Fermín said, "Wait. The question kind of makes sense."
Everyone turned to look at him.
He raised his hands. "What. It kinda makes sense if you think about it."
"Thank you," Balde said, pointing at him.
Then he leaned forward.
"It is not just that. If camera lenses are round. Why are photos rectangular?"
Fermín squinted. "Okay you lost me there."
Pedri stood up.
"That is my cue to leave."
He did the rounds. Shook Mateo's hand, told him he would see him tomorrow at training. Shook Gavi, Casado, Fermín. Then he got to Balde.
"You need help."
Balde laughed.
Pedri turned to Aina last.
She was lying down a bit on the long chair, half curled, the soft light from inside catching her.
"I guess I would see you later then," he said.
She smiled. Slow.
"See you later."
Pedri smiled back. He held the look for a second longer than he needed to. Then he turned and headed for the door.
Balde watched the whole thing. His face had gone through several stages.
"No way. Not again."
Twenty minutes later Pedri was gone and Aina had gone inside too. The balcony was just the La Masia boys now.
Fermín was deep into FIFA Manager Mode on the projector. Building the squad screen up, cycling through tactics, planning two transfer windows ahead with the focus of a man who took his career mode seriously.
The balcony itself had settled into late-night mode. The wind had picked up a little. There was a slight cold edge to it now, the kind of cold that was not uncomfortable but made you reach for a hoodie if you had one. The boys were spread across the chairs and the couch, some lying down, some on their phones, a couple still half-watching the screen.
Casado leaned over and shoved Fermín's shoulder.
"Shift. Let me play."
"Nah dude. About to play super cup."
"Who and who?"
"Playing against Dortmund."
Casado leaned back. "Then set the second pad to use Dortmund. Let's play the final."
Fermín considered it for a second.
"Bet."
On the couch, Balde was pointing at Mateo.
"That is true. I—"
"Dude please not again," Mateo said.
Gavi laughed. "Yeah my head is still paining from the previous one."
Balde laughed too. "Nah bro. Not that."
He turned, looked at Mateo properly, and his eyebrows started doing something.
"So. Ehm."
He wiggled them.
Mateo looked at him with the same expression he had used on the air-and-fish question. He pushed Balde's face away with one hand.
"Dude. Stop that."
Balde slapped his hand away. "Don't act dumb."
"I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Dude. You and Olivia."
He started making the faces again. Eyes up. Eyebrows up.
"When did that start?"
Mateo rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you are talking about."
Gavi, from the chair beside him, said one word.
"Lie."
Casado, still half-watching the screen. "Lie."
Fermín, pausing the FIFA menu. "Lie."
Mateo sat up properly now.
"Not you guys too."
Balde shifted closer on the couch.
"Dude. I am the love guru. You cannot hide this thing. It is clear as day."
"At least get one girlfriend first, Mr Love guru" Fermín said laughing at his own joke.
Balde turned, completely composed.
"I am saving myself for your sister."
Fermín fake-laughed, picked up an empty bottle from beside his chair, and threw it. Balde dodged it laughing, the bottle bouncing off the cushion behind him as the rest of the guys also laughed at the jab.
He turned back to Mateo.
"Serious dude. We all saw you. What is there to be shy about?"
Mateo rolled his eyes again.
"Well. It's complicated."
Balde shifted even closer, like a man who had finally found the topic he had been waiting all night to find.
"Why is it complicated?"
He clapped his hands once, simply.
"Boy like girl. Girl like boy. They date."
Mateo hearing that just rolled his eyes saying sarcastically "So profound "
Casado, without looking up from his phone, said, "Unless she doesn't like him."
The boys laughed.
Mateo waved a hand. "Nah. It's not that. She likes me."
He paused.
"I think. At least."
He sounded less sure than he had wanted to.
"Not sure."
Casado looked up. "Well you better be sure. Girls are something else, bro. They can be acting close and nice and all that and still not like you."
He paused.
"You guys should start watching telenovelas. It would help you all."
Balde waved him off. "Don't mind that one. Go on."
Mateo took a breath.
"Even if she doesn't like me or not. That doesn't matter. That is not the problem."
He sighed.
"So like. The thing is. Well. Ehm. Apparently it seems that, not quite long ago, she was. Ehm."
He kept stopping.
"She was in a relationship not that long ago. A few months ago, actually. More like Last month, The dude is an actor, I guess."
Gavi put his phone down properly now.
"She has a boyfriend?"
Balde shook his head fast. "Dude if that is the problem, that is simple. I mean it is just a boyfriend."
"Nah," Mateo said. "Seems they are broken up."
"I am not seeing the problem here," Balde said.
Mateo sighed. The kind of sigh that meant he was about to explain something he had been turning over in his own head for days.
"From what I gathered, it was a messy break up. So like. She would still be dealing with all that. So like. I don't want to make a run too early, you know?"
He looked at the ceiling for a second.
"I don't want to end up offside. You feel?"
Despite the weird football analogy, every single boy on the balcony understood instantly.
Balde nodded slowly.
"Yeah. I can see how that would be an issue."
Gavi just shook his head, picked his phone back up.
"That's rough, buddy."
Mateo lay down further on the couch.
For a few seconds, nobody said anything. The FIFA menu music was looping on the projector. The wind moved the corner of the curtain in the doorway.
Then Casado, in the most serious voice he could manage, said, "I don't have time for relationships, blah blah blah blah."
Balde lost it.
Fermín pointed. "Yes. That is exactly his energy."
"All it took was a fine girl staying in his place for like 2 days. Mans down."
Gavi was laughing now too. "Weak man."
Mateo was laughing through it, hands over his face. "Guys. Guys."
"Mans down," Fermín repeated.
"Two whole days," Balde said, shaking his head with mock disappointment. "Two."
"Weak. Man," Gavi said again.
Mateo was lying on his back on the couch now, one arm over his eyes, laughing through it, the whole couch shaking with it. The boys were going. Fermín had the bottle ready in case Balde said anything else. Casado had finally put his phone down because he could not scroll while laughing.
And the night kept going.
For another hour. Then another. Balde lost two more matches on FIFA. Gavi fell asleep on the long chair without realising he had fallen asleep. Casado and Fermín ended up arguing about whether Ronaldinho or Zidane on who had a better career, an argument they were never going to resolve, conducted in volumes that woke Gavi up twice. The cold wind on the balcony eventually pushed them all inside, where Mateo found extra blankets and threw them across the boys who had claimed the couches.
It went the way the best nights go. Without anyone deciding it should. Without anyone wanting it to end. With the small accumulations of jokes that would become the kind of jokes the boys would still be making to each other in ten years time, when they were professionals at different clubs, when their lives had moved further apart than they could currently imagine.
Mateo lay in his own bed sometime around two in the morning and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before he slept. He was tired. The good kind. He thought about Olivia at the railing. He thought about the boys on the couch. He thought about Chelsea and Porto and the four weeks ahead.
It was a good day.
It was the last calm day of the season for Mateo King.
After tonight, the pressure would come the way pressure came when seasons reached their final stretches. It would come from every direction. It would not stop coming until the season was over, one way or another.
But tonight he smiled.
A/N
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