I finish the last lap a little out of breath, my calves throbbing, promising pain tomorrow. For hours I was kicking the ball with full power, running and tackling my teammates with extra force in a vain attempt to keep my mind occupied. The training is done for today but I'm thinking of hitting the gym as well. As I wipe the sweat off my face with the hem of my T-shirt I see my coach on the sidelines waving me over.

"Maxwell! I've got some good news, my man, come into my office."

I knock on the door and as I step inside he nods towards the laptop that's on his desk. I sense it's something to do with the summer transfer window, the period during the year in which football clubs can transfer players to another one, sell them or send them on a loan. There's been a few European clubs interested in me and offers kept coming in the last few months but I never expected to hear what he says next.

"Real Madrid, mate. You're going straight for the stars."

And I think I laugh and cry at the same time as I call my parents and tell them that we're not going to be poor anymore. Not only that I'll be playing for one of the most prestigious, most popular clubs in the world which holds the record of winning the most trophies but I'll be getting quite a lot of money. That fact makes my heart swell because finally I would be able to give back to my parents for everything they've sacrificed and done for me. For every tear my mum wiped after a lost match in the youth team, for all the bloody knees she tended to, for daily dropping off and picking up, for bills and expensive training camps and new football cleats every other month that my dad had to work extra hours for to be able to afford it.

The next month is a blur. Flying on a club's private jet to Spain's capital, getting a new apartment and a car and saying goodbye to my old life, my old team and my parents. It is all, drive there, answer another phone call, sign this, and with one signature, my world changes.

After only one month I'm officially living in Spain and I hardly ever think about what happened the last time I was in this country. The memories of that weekend in Valencia and a few days in London afterwards are beginning to fade a little bit. It's not cold yet, not enough for autumn to have fully left, but there is something in the Madrid air that seems to whisper that winter is right around the corner. The cold makes it easier to breathe, to be less nostalgic about summertime.

Between the stress of moving, getting to know my new manager and teammates, hard training, and intense gym workout, I have little time to let my mind wander anywhere. This club has such a big fan base that on top of playing every week in front of thousands of football fans I'll be attending lots of club's promotional events and charities in the country and world so I'll be in the spotlight more than before. Media can be very brutal in Spain and even a little mistake on or off the pitch can cause a storm of unwanted attention. They all already report how I already made it, just by having the opportunity to wear this kit but they have no idea how much pressure those statements already are on a young player like me. I have to remind myself to focus only on the game and ignore all the distractions.

To communicate better with my new team they even provided me with a Spanish tutor and I struggle with that, not because I can't pick it up but because that activity specifically reminds me of the last time I've been learning Spanish and a completely different techniques of teaching that my previous tutor used. But that's just a small inconvenience in my life. Like an annoying mosquito bite— it itches for a few moments but then you completely forget about it.

I've played a good first match of the season and I was feeling really good on the pitch—like I belonged. These other things, large spacious venues with bright lights where I am now, attending a charity event with the rest of the Real Madrid players, well, it doesn't feel as good. All the cameras and interviews, it will take some time getting used to.

Plus, I'm wearing a suit. My dislike for suits hasn't changed since the last time I wore one— that day when my sister got married to Marc Silva and his brother turned my world upside down. Although I must admit that there was one part of wearing that suit that I enjoyed and that was taking it off in front of Nico Silva.

And there it is again. Flashback. These little snippets of our time together randomly keep appearing in my brain, but I'm used to it, I know it will stop one day completely. So I pull myself together quickly and nod at something my teammates said, pretending I'm interested in the conversation.

And then I hear a loud laugh from the corner of this posh shiny venue. And it's too familiar, too real to be my fucked up imagination. I don't want to turn around but I have to and he is here.

I see Nico Silva.

☀

A/N

Hey everyone! Destiny worked its magic and they meet again! Do you think it will be a happy reunion or... not so much?

Thanks for being patient with me and this story, I don't update as often as I want to but summers are always super busy for me. Anyway, this chapter is more of a filler. Initially, it was one really big chapter so I decided to divide it in half and now it has this very annoying cliffhanger lol

But! The next one is coming sooner than you think!

Don't forget to vote and comment! Sending you all my love 🧡