When I walk down that tunnel I walk into a wall of silence so heavy so absolute I hear my own blood pumping. Every breath I take is as loud as a thunder.

And then that buzz, that hum, that pressure building as I'm walking out. I step into the place brimming with noise. Roar I have never heard before in my life pierces my ears, giving the biggest high a person can get, a shot of adrenaline. I'm a gun ready to fire. I need this win.

As the whistle blows I start running for the ball and don't stop. I let myself feel it all, it's going through my body, the euphoria, the confidence, the love I have for this game.

The opposition are the team on top in their country and playing them is never easy. Our score against them isn't that great, only two wins and three loses. A few minutes in and they are effortlessly staring to edge towards our goal. Chance after chance, it feels like this is going to slip out of our hands. Half-time and still nill-nill on the score sheet but my teammates start pushing, creating more chances. I run like I've never run before, wound up too tight, knowing this can't be lost. I waited for this moment, for my family and my boyfriend to be here sitting in the same box, knowing that whatever the end result would be they'll be proud of me but still wanting to give them that joy.

I blast down the pitch, slide a foot in between the opponent's player legs and capture the ball, turning around quickly and I run towards the goal. I see it clearly then—only the goal in front of me, no defensive players in sight, the goalkeeper speeding and spreading his arms and legs in order to make himself bigger. But there is only one way this will go. I dodge around him and flick the ball once, second time. The sweat in my eyes and pain in the muscles and the noise around me doesn't matter as I take the final swing at the ball aiming for the top right corner of the goal. The net shakes. It's in! Five minutes before the final whistle and the ball was in. I score a winning goal.

The grin erupting across my face makes my cheeks hurt as I run in my teammates arms. They're lifting me, hugging me, cheering me. The stadium shakes with deep thunderous celebration and excitement and I point at the crowd, that place where he sits. I can't see him from here but I know he sees me. I bring my fingers to my lips and blow a kiss. For you, my sunshine. For our future.

The whole place vibrates with euphoria when the referee signals the end of the game and my team jumps in delight. It's madness around me. People start pouring onto the grass pitch to join us in celebration and there are only smiles and tears and claps.

My teammates are running to the stands for high fives and handshakes and quick interviews with TV reporters. Some hug their waves and lift their children off the ground spinning them around, others kiss their girlfriends with smiles bigger than the world.

I want that. To be able to stand up and declare my love in front of millions of people. Proudly. I turn my head and spot him in the distance, standing between my parents and Sonya and Marc, sharing hugs between each other. And in a split second he catches me staring. I have trouble looking away, his lips gradually stretch into a smile. I'm gone. I'm completely fucking in love with him. I want to be with this guy always. I want that more than anything. More than being inside an international football stadium. Everything about him grips me and tugs like a magnet. So I push through the crowd.

His eyes meet my eyes again as I move closer, a urgency pulsating inside me. I go to him like an invisible rope is reeling him to me, not breaking the penetrating eye contact. I find my way into the stands, and when he realizes what I am doing million unspoken emotions pass between us. His eyes melt with unshed tears. The affection I see in them is so powerful it's surprising no one else can see it.

As I jump over a few plastic seats with random people clapping my back, congratulating me, I find myself in front of my family, all jumping and screaming at the top of their lungs, with pure unbridled happiness. They hug me but I can't tear my eyes off his smiling face standing behind them.

There's not even a hint of fear or uncertainty in me. I feel nothing but desire and pure love that's endless in my mind, for life, and I'm tired of tamping it down. My chest feels heavy and Nico stops laughing the moment he sees my face, serious all of a sudden. The pounding in my chest drums into my ears mixed with fans cheering as I break apart from hugging my parents and go to him. I reach out and brush Nico's shirt, curling his fingers around the material, I tug and Nico stumbles towards me.

He jumps into my embrace holding tight. We're breathing into each other's necks, and time stands still, the world around blurred into insignificance as my arms contract around Nico hard enough to compress his ribs around his lungs.

"Fuck baby," Nico breathes out, shaking his head as he smiles, "You won."

I can't do anything but laugh. He squirms until he can get his arms around my neck and right there in full view of my teammates, my family and the half of the world who watches this I kiss him on the mouth. I flex my fingers in his hair and try to hold on to my spiralling joy. Closing my eyes, my heart hammering, I deepen the kiss. And it is such a fucking cliché but no other reaction makes sense.

Everything after that is a blur. I can't see as I stumble through the underground tunnels, a few security guards trailing after me, trying to stop the fans shoving their phones in my face and reporters with cameras and microphones and questions. Who did you kiss in the stands? How do you feel after winning? Are you gay? Are you leaving the club after this match? All the questions bleed together into jumble of words I'm struggling to understand.

I just want to get to Nico again. Is he doing ok, is he safe? We got abruptly separated from our embrace after one of the security guys caught up with me, urging me to go back down for the ceremony and the photograph of the whole team lifting the trophy. None of my teammates mentioned the kiss. I'd be surprised if any of them saw me, with how many people were on the pitch but now when everything starts to settle down reality has shifted in the different direction, leaving me hovering on the edge of a black hole. I hope I didn't fuck everything up for my team. I hope they understand. I hope I can still play football. Is there a price to pay for finding the love of your life?

Although my intent was to find Nico I'm unceremoniously shoved into the locker room and I don't know why, should I expect a trial of some sorts? But there's a full on party going on.

The music is blasting from someone's speakers, the champagne bottles are popping and spraying all over, the victory songs are being sung out of tune and Fernandez appears out of nowhere, pulling me into an embrace shouting in my ear like he's already quite drunk. "What a perfect time to come out, my friend. They all love you now."

It's hard for me to understand anything yet as I watch Fernandez. He hops onto the bench and puts his hands to his mouth and starts shouting. "One big fucking shout for the legend that is Jordan Maxwell!!"

Cheers and yeah's and my last name echoes around the crowded room forever and I smile timidly expecting questions and awkwardness. I know it's out there, some of the guys are on their phones tweeting and posting videos of celebration, they can see it. And I don't know what to say.

"I... It's not just me, it's this, it's the team." My voice grows stronger and I point at the elated crowd in front of me." You are the legends. Couldn't do this without you. And I hope you...Fuck... I guess you already heard..."

"Heard what? You're not leaving the team are you?" There's worry in my teammate's voice. Latest sports news started spreading a rumour about me leaving the club after this season if we win the trophy.

"No, I'm staying. If you still want me?"

"You mean because of this..." One of the guys lifts his phone and reads out loud. "Jordan Maxwell comes out as gay as he shares a passionate kiss with a Spanish celebrity Nico Silva in the aftermath of Real Madrid's Champions League victory..."

Inhale. Exhale. "I am a little bit gay, I guess."

I try for humor and hope for the best.

"A little?"

"Well I know I'm not gay for any of you ugly fuckers!" I tease and there's laughter in the background, there are hands on my shoulder in support and acceptance. I get a few long bear hugs and a lot of playful banter. A relieved laugh is bursting from me when someone tells me they're glad because more pussy for me.

The celebration continues where it left off, we're focusing on the victory and the good times and deserved couple of months holiday we'll be getting after this. There will be more questions about me. And I know I will have to face the management in the next few days, I can already see the worry on my agent's face. Some people may not agree, may not think it's right but the truth is I feel no fear now.

☀️

A/N

If anyone was offended by the very crude language I used in this chapter as a synonym for girls/women I do apologise. It is a very derogatory word that dehumanises women and I do not support it. I was just trying to imitate the "locker room talk". Boys can be pretty disgusting some times.

🧡