The match had been on television one evening while they were at ho, and ever since then, ssi had quietly kept following him. Eintracht Frankfurt matches. Germany matches. Highlights. Clips online. Whenever Lukas played, sohow ssi always ended up watching.
And every ti—
he smiled.
Not because Lukas played exactly like him.
But because there were monts.
Certain touches.
Certain movents with the ball.
Certain instincts.
Things that reminded him of the joy football used to give him when he was younger.
Antonella noticed it every single ti.
Even their kids had started noticing it too.
Whenever Lukas played and sothing ridiculous happened on screen, ssi would lean forward slightly without even realizing it.
Watching closely.
Studying.
Enjoying it.
Antonella smiled softly to herself.
"It’s nice," she said quietly, "seeing that the future of football is safe."
ssi looked back out the window toward the Miami lights passing outside.
Then he nodded once.
"Yeah," he said.
"It really is."
* * *
The next day.
The afternoon heat sat heavily over the Lynn University campus in Boca Raton.
Even with the sea breeze occasionally drifting across the training grounds, Florida in July felt different from Europe. Hotter. Heavier. The sunlight reflected harshly off the pavent and the pitches nearby, forcing most of the players to narrow their eyes whenever they stepped outside too long.
Training had ended barely twenty minutes earlier.
The squad had already showered and changed into lighter training gear again — sleeveless training tops, shorts, sliders, so players wearing caps backwards while walking through the campus facilities.
The atmosphere around the team was relaxed.
Pep Guardiola had never been obsessed with endless physical drills during periods like this, especially after such a long season. The session had mostly focused on tactical structure, positioning during transitions, spacing in build-up, and helping the new arrivals settle into the team’s rhythm.
Lukas, Cherki, Reijnders, and Aït-Nouri had spent a large part of the session rotating through positional exercises while Pep constantly adjusted tiny details.
Body orientation.
Receiving angles.
Distance between lines.
When to drift centrally.
When to hold width.
Even movents of just a few ters mattered.
Now, though, the serious work for the day was over.
The quarterfinal against Fluminense was two days away, and most of the players had settled into the dining hall attached to the campus facilities.
The place was enormous, modern, and open, with long glass windows allowing sunlight to flood across the room. The noise inside never fully stopped — trays sliding across tables, players laughing loudly from different corners, staff moving around preparing als, music playing faintly sowhere in the background.
Lukas sat at one of the larger tables with Phil Foden, Nico O’Reilly, Rico Lewis, and Joško Gvardiol.
Their trays sat half-finished in front of them while the conversation drifted naturally from football into normal life.
"So wait," Rico said eventually, looking genuinely confused, "you actually haven’t finished school yet?"
Lukas laughed lightly. "No. I’m sixteen."
"That’s actually insane," Foden muttered while shaking his head. "I keep forgetting that."
"I swear," Rico added imdiately, "on the pitch you don’t act your age at all."
"Yeah," Foden agreed. "Honestly, you feel like so middle-aged football veteran trapped inside a teenager’s body."
That got a laugh from the table.
Lukas simply shrugged slightly. "Maybe I just had to grow up quick."
The answer sounded casual, but the slight shift in his expression afterward made the others naturally avoid pushing the topic further.
Instead, Nico leaned back in his chair.
"So are you actually planning to finish school properly here?"
"Of course," Lukas replied. "I already registered."
"Where?"
"St Bede’s."
Nico nodded imdiately.
"Yeah, that’s a good school," he said. "A bunch of academy lads went there. I’ll introduce you around once we get back."
"Thanks."
"It’ll still be weird though," Rico said with a grin. "Imagine sitting in class and then seeing this guy score in the Champions League three hours later."
"People already treat academy players weird enough," Foden added. "Now imagine him walking into class after scoring on debut."
Lukas laughed and shook his head lightly.
anwhile Nico had his phone resting beside his tray, scrolling through social dia.
Then he suddenly turned the screen toward the rest of the table.
"Your post is ridiculous, by the way."
Lukas glanced down.
It was the debut post from the Al Hilal match. The first image showed him celebrating in the number 17 shirt. Another showed him applauding the travelling fans after full ti.
But the final slide was the one everyone kept talking about.
The picture with Lionel ssi in the dressing room.
No caption.
Just the photos.
The post had already crossed half a million likes, and the number was still climbing rapidly.
"That ssi picture is unfair," Rico said imdiately. "You knew exactly what you were doing."
"I didn’t even post it," Lukas replied. "The dia team sent it to ."
"Sure," Foden said sarcastically, making the others laugh.
Then Gvardiol pointed toward the screen. "Actually, why 17?"
Lukas leaned back slightly in his chair before answering.
"I did want 10 first," he admitted. "But Rayan got it," he said as he nodded his head towards Cherki.
"That one disappeared imdiately," Rico said.
"Then I asked about 19," Lukas continued. "But Gündoğan still has it."
"So you settled for seventeen?" Foden asked.
Lukas shook his head.
"Not really. You guys already know who wore it previously."
That got a small reaction from the table.
"Fair enough. Kev, what a guy," Foden admitted.
"One of the best midfielders ever," Lukas said honestly. "I grew up watching him too. So I thought maybe so of the spirit cos with the shirt."
Rico nearly choked laughing.
"Oh my God."
"The spirit of De Bruyne," Nico repeated dramatically while placing a hand over his chest.
Even Gvardiol laughed at that.
Before Lukas could answer back, one of the club staff mbers approached the table carrying a dium-sized black package.
"Lukas," the man said, "this arrived for you."
Lukas frowned slightly. "For ?"
The staff mber nodded and handed over the box.
The others imdiately leaned closer while Lukas opened it.
Inside were three neatly folded jerseys.
The first was an Argentina shirt.
The second was an Inter Miami jersey.
The third—
a Barcelona shirt.
All three signed.
Not printed signatures.
Real ones.
From Lionel ssi.
For a second, the entire table went quiet.
Then Rico spoke first.
"No way."
Nico carefully lifted the Barcelona shirt from the box. "Nah, this is insane."
Even Foden looked genuinely impressed now.
"Okay," he admitted quietly, "that’s ridiculous."
Lukas carefully picked up the Argentina shirt, staring at the signature near the number for a mont before slowly exhaling through his nose.
Even now, it still did not feel completely real.
"I’m framing all three," he said imdiately.
"Obviously," Gvardiol replied.
"There’s no universe where these don’t end up on a wall."
Lukas laughed softly while carefully folding the shirts back into the box.
Honestly, a part of him still felt like he was dreaming.
A/N: Slow releases guys, I know. Been a hectic week. Thankfully next week is a national holiday... I promise y’all will get your mass releases almost daily for the whole of next week.
All the ko-fi supporters and mbers, I see you all. I haven’t forgotten any of you.
Your extra Chapters will be released next week.
Thank you all for your support,
Arrivederci.
Writ.
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