Chapter 364: L
He slowly sat up, staring toward the referee as Chelsea’s celebrations erupted around him. Then he lay back down on the grass and looked up at the evening sky above MetLife Stadium.
Around him, blue shirts raced toward the corner flag.
The scoreboard glowed above the stadium.
Manchester City 2.
Chelsea 3.
The Club World Cup was over.
And for the first time since his professional debut, Lukas had tasted been knocked out of a tournament.
For several seconds after the final whistle, Lukas didn’t move.
Around him, Chelsea’s celebrations continued to grow louder. Players sprinted across the pitch toward João Pedro while others collapsed onto the grass in relief. On the opposite side, Manchester City’s players were still surrounding the referee, arguing that the match should not have ended before the penalty incident had at least been reviewed.
Lukas barely heard any of it.
He was still lying on the turf inside Chelsea’s penalty area, staring upward.
Then Nico O’Reilly appeared above him.
The young midfielder jogged over immediately, dropped to one knee beside him, and gently tapped him on the cheek.
"I’m sorry, man," he whispered. "I should’ve buried that."
Lukas finally looked at him.
For a moment he didn’t say anything.
Then he shook his head.
"No."
Nico wasn’t convinced.
"I should’ve scored."
Lukas sat up slowly before Nico grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. The midfielder immediately wrapped him in a quick hug and patted him twice on the back.
"We’ll get them next time."
Lukas nodded.
Then Nico walked away.
For the first time since his professional debut, Lukas found himself standing on the wrong side of a knockout match.
He had lost league games before.
He had drawn games before.
But this was different.
This was final.
There would be no second leg. No next match to make up for it. No chance to fix the mistake.
The tournament was over.
Lukas stood near the edge of the penalty area with both hands on his hips, biting his lower lip as he looked around the stadium. The emotions felt stronger than they probably should have for a Club World Cup semifinal, but deep down he knew exactly why it hurt.
He simply hated losing.
It didn’t matter whether it was a Champions League final, a preseason friendly, or a game of cards at home.
Losing always felt wrong.
And today, after coming back from 2-0 down, after scoring and assisting and dragging City back into the match, losing felt especially bitter.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
Gündoğan.
The German midfielder stepped beside him before pulling him into a brief hug.
Then he spoke quietly in German.
"Listen to me. You’re going to win far more competitions with this club than you’ll lose. Don’t let one result convince you otherwise."
Lukas lowered his head slightly and laughed through his frustration.
"Thanks."
Gündoğan squeezed his shoulder once before walking away to join the rest of the squad.
A few moments later Pep Guardiola arrived.
The City manager didn’t say anything at first. He simply wrapped Lukas in a hug.
Then he stepped back.
"You did everything I ask. More than everything."
Pep pointed toward the pitch.
"You change the game."
Lukas looked down.
"We still lost."
"Yes," Pep replied. "Football sometimes is stupid."
That finally earned a small smile.
Pep smiled too.
Then he patted Lukas on the chest.
"Remember this feeling. Use it."
After that, Lukas began making his way around the Chelsea players.
He congratulated Cole Palmer first. Then Caicedo. Then João Pedro, whose late winner had broken City’s hearts.
The Brazilian thanked him for the match before disappearing toward another group of celebrating teammates.
Eventually he reached Cucurella.
The Spanish fullback saw him coming and immediately started smiling.
"You got me again today."
Lukas laughed.
"Not enough."
Cucurella pointed toward the scoreboard.
"Maybe. But I won this battle."
Lukas shook his hand firmly.
"Be ready next time."
Cucurella grinned.
"I’ll try."
By the time the post-match handshakes ended, many of the Manchester City supporters were still standing and applauding.
Haaland draped an arm around Lukas’s shoulders and pulled him toward the away section.
The Norwegian ruffled his hair on the way.
"You’ll survive."
"I know."
"Good."
Together they walked toward the supporters.
Thousands of City fans remained in their seats despite the defeat. Instead of anger, they greeted the players with applause.
And when Lukas stepped forward, the noise somehow grew even louder.
His name echoed around the section.
"LUKAS! LUKAS! LUKAS!"
The teenager couldn’t stop himself from smiling.
His eyes were still red.
The disappointment was still there.
But the supporters were still singing, still clapping, they were very satisfied with their young star.
Lukas applauded them back and then glanced toward the family section.
Javi, Anne, Joanna, and João were there.
All 4 were applauding him.
Joanna’s eyes met his first.
She smiled and raised both thumbs.
Javi followed with an exaggerated nod of approval.
João was shouting something Lukas couldn’t hear from that distance, though judging by his expression it was probably something ridiculous.
For the first time since the final whistle, the disappointment eased.
Just a little.
Lukas raised both hands toward them, blew a kiss in their direction, and waved.
The 4 immediately waved back.
Around him, the supporters continued chanting his name.
And though the defeat still stung, though Chelsea were heading to the final and Manchester City were heading home, Lukas found himself smiling broadly as he applauded the fans one final time.
His eyes were still wet.
But he was smiling nonetheless.
* * *
♪ Broken glass in the hallway, bloodstained floors
Neighbors, look at every bag you bring through your doors
Lock the top lock, momma shoulda cuffed me to the radiator
Why not? It might’ve saved later from my block
N.Y. cops, hookers crawlin’ off the stroll, coughin’
Stitches in they head, stinkin and I dread thinkin they be snitchin’
But who else, could it be, shook at these, unmarked vans
Parked in the dark, Narc’s, where’s your heart?♪
The familiar rhythm of a Nas track echoed through the endless expanse of the LTC as Lukas pushed through another set of exercises.
His muscles burned.
His lungs felt like they were on fire.
Even after all these months, the training remained absurdly demanding. The difference now was that his body no longer felt like it was breaking apart every single time he stepped into the simulation. He was adapting. Slowly and painfully... but undeniably adapting.
Lukas completed the final repetition and collapsed onto his back, staring up at the artificial sky above him. Sweat soaked through his shirt while the music continued playing in the background. He closed his eyes for a moment and quietly followed along with parts of the song he remembered.
[So, where are we going?]
Lukas let out a groan.
"I don’t know."
[That is not a destination.]
"I mean after this. I don’t know where we’re going. New York, maybe somewhere else. I’ll figure it out when I get there."
[Most people would already have an itinerary prepared.]
"Most people aren’t trying to survive whatever fresh torture you’ve prepared for today."
TT ignored the complaint.
[You have noticed it too, haven’t you?]
Lukas opened one eye.
"Noticed what?"
[Your recovery.]
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