Harbinger Of Glory

"So there it is, full time, and that is it for the end of this fixture. A very good game with exciting moments, lots of twists and turns, but Wigan clinch all three points at home."

There it was indeed!

Two goals down, reduced to ten men with their captain also forced off through injury, yet somehow...they had found a way.

Blue shirts scattered across the pitch before naturally finding one another.

Carlo, who had scored the winner, was once more swallowed by teammates before he could even take three steps.

Leo, on the other hand, stood still for just a second, hands on his hips, taking in the sight around him before glancing at the armband.

"This somehow feels heavy," he muttered right as Reyes reached him, followed by the rest of the Wigan team that looked like they wanted to maul him to his death.

Across the pitch, the Tottenham players remained where they were.

Some bent over with their hands on their knees, others stared blankly toward the scoreboard, but most just stood still.

Just over twenty minutes earlier, they had been leading comfortably, but now they walked away beaten.

Football had turned on them in the space of a single half, and Wigan had seized every moment of it.

Away from the thick of it all, Dawson and Ange met on the touchline and shook hands, and Ange looked at him with something genuinely warm in it.

"Hell of a player you’ve got," he said.

Hearing that, Dawson smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes and seeing that, Ange couldn’t help but laugh.

"Take it easy," he said while waving his hands.

"Those baldheads in our boardroom wouldn’t sign that kid even if I asked. Not even if their lives depended on it."

Dawson said nothing, and the smile became something more genuine, as Ange turned and went back to his players.

Leo, who was locked in a conversation, finished talking with Son.

The latter offered an exchange of clothes, and Leo didn’t decline.

The moment he was done thought, he moved toward Udogie, but for some reason, Udogie looked at him and kept walking, causing Leo to slow to a halt while watching him go.

"That’s rude," Leo muttered right as Carlo appeared at his shoulder.

"What’s wrong with him?" Carlo immediately asked, folding his arms at his chest, but Leo just shook his head and then shrugged.

"Beats me."

They stood and watched their Italian teammate move toward the tunnel.

Just when he disappeared down the tunnel, Carlo nudged Leo and nodded toward the sideline where one of the female medical staff was waving Leo over with a look and persistence that suggested that she had been trying to get his attention for a while.

Without keeping her for too long, Leo jogged over.

......

[An Apartment complex]

Noah’s laptop closed the laptop that he had been watching the game on more eagerly than he thought he would have.

He sat back and realised he was sweating more than the occasion strictly warranted.

He stuck his arm out the next moment, grabbed a tissue and wiped his forehead before looking up at the ceiling in his apartment.

"He needs a bigger stage," he said to the ceiling.

After he said that, he sat with those words for almost a quarter of an hour, seemingly in thought.

When he came back to his senses, he pulled a notepad toward him, picked up a pen and started writing.

Before he realised it, the rough ideas had become notes, and the notes had become pages.

Somewhere along the way, evening had slipped into night.

Night had quietly become late, and when he finally looked up, more than three hours had passed.

Several pages of the notepad were now filled with neat handwriting.

He leaned back in his chair, set the pen down on the table, and rubbed a hand across his face.

"I should eat," he muttered.

Then he pushed himself to his feet and left the table.

...

It had been four hours since the game now, and for Leo that meant another shower before he slept, since as Vittoria always said, ’those don’t count’.

By the time Leo came back into his room, the steam from the shower had long faded from his skin.

He changed into a pair of grey joggers and a matching grey hoodie while his damp hair still fell untidily over his forehead.

His phone rested against a stack of books on the desk, the video call already connected with Vittoria’s face filling the screen.

She was lying across her bed with her chin resting in her hand, though she straightened the moment he appeared on the screen.

"There he is," she said as Leo picked up the phone and settled into his chair.

"There I am," he replied before setting the phone down.

"Just a second," he said and then moved away to apply some of the ointment to his head injury before walking back.

"...What?" Leo muttered when he came back and found Vittoria staring instead of speaking.

"Nothing," Vittoria said and then absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before letting out another breath.

"So..."

"I thought you said nothing," Leo quickly interjected, earning a glare from Vittoria.

"...That never starts well," he added, seriously making her chuckle.

"It doesn’t," she said and then gave a small, nervous laugh before looking back at him.

"So, my dad knows. As in he knows about us. About you."

Leo’s smile softened.

"...About me?"

Leo wouldn’t say if you asked, but that made him sit a little straighter.

"Oh," he muttered and didn’t speak, but neither did Vittoria, at least for a while.

Finally, Leo rubbed the back of his neck.

"Okay then. So what did the man with great insight who said I looked like a model say?"

At that, Vittoria laughed despite all her attempts to keep serious.

"I’m just saying... but was it that glaring for him?"

"He has his ways, but he says we weren’t exactly subtle."

’

Leo thought back over the last few months and even the few days leading up to her departure, and he accepted that they had been a bit loose or more than a bit.

"...Fair enough," he said while looking back at her.

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