Check out advanced chapters on P@treon: [email protected]/CosmicKaminari
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The Morning After
Lance had a dream.
He dreamt he was playing for Atlético Madrid against their cross-town rivals, Real Madrid.
Real Madrid exerted enormous pressure and took an early 2-0 lead. Atlético were equally resilient, equalising 2-2 in the final moments. With time nearly up, Atlético had one last chance to attack, and a teammate played the ball to his feet.
Lance felt anxious. He couldn't seem to put any power into the shot. His right leg felt weak, his standing foot unstable. He miskicked it. He tried again, still nothing. He was frantic, wanting to shout for a teammate to come and receive the ball, but no matter how wide he opened his mouth, not a single sound came out.
Hiss.
Lance jolted upright in the darkness.
He grabbed his phone and checked the time: 5:58 AM. Two minutes before his usual alarm. His pillow was soaked through with sweat, and the dream still had its grip on him, leaving him momentarily unsure of where he was.
He unlocked his phone, opened Twitter, and started scrolling.
Marca Official Twitter: "Real Madrid 2-3 Atlético Madrid. Lance delivers a perfect performance and completes the stoppage-time winner! He is the only protagonist at the Bernabéu tonight! #MadridDerby [Pic][Pic][Pic][Pic]"
Sky Sports: "Following the Madrid Derby, Cristiano Ronaldo's record against Lance this season now reads: 0 wins, 1 draw, 3 losses across 4 clashes. What do you make of Lance's stoppage-time winner? This extraordinary 41-metre long-range volley may well earn a Puskás Award nomination..."
Kevin De Bruyne: "Congrats Lance, amazing game, amazing performance! #LanceWinner"
Son Heung-min had commented: "If you'd played like that, Manchester City might have actually won something."
De Bruyne had replied: "Piss off!"
Sport1 football commentator Mehmet Scholl: "Here's a belated prediction: when the game entered the final minute, I had a feeling Lance might conjure something special and score the winner. Turns out I was right. He is a superhero on the football pitch. I told you he had superpowers!"
France Football Magazine: "If Lance can maintain this form, he may well be in contention for this year's Ballon d'Or. Good news: starting this year, the Ballon d'Or selection process returns to its traditional format, completely parting ways with the FIFA Ballon d'Or. #LanceWorldieWinner"
He tapped the search bar, and at least three of the top ten trending topics were dominated by Lance. He had once again become a talking point across the world.
He switched out of Twitter and opened the international version of Weibo.
The Chinese internet was buzzing in much the same way, aside from a handful of trending topics that were clearly paid for by celebrity PR teams. Everything else was about last night's Madrid Derby.
He clicked onto his profile and saw his follower count had surpassed 31 million. That was fewer than the big celebrity Da Mimi, who effortlessly racked up hundreds of millions of followers, but as a sportsman, Lance's popularity on Weibo already outstripped most entertainment personalities. This was supposed to be their territory.
As for the celebrity influencers who seemed to trend every other day, who knew how many of their followers were even real? Lance's were genuine fans, every one of them.
Just this month, Weibo had quietly rolled out "Super Topics" as part of a soft launch. Lance was among the first public figures to have one. He tapped into the Super Topic and fan groups, where supporters were deep in discussion about the match.
"We're still four points behind Barcelona. We'll probably have to wait for the direct clash."
"Barcelona are so consistent against the smaller sides. This season's been a strange one."
"MSN is absolutely ridiculous."
"No matter how many goals Messi scores, he'll never outscore my God Lance."
"I was so excited watching yesterday, I nearly had my neighbours knocking on my door at midnight."
"My neighbour was shouting too."
"Everyone in our halls was watching. When God Lance scored the winner, the entire male block went mental."
"Who'd have thought that six months ago, I didn't even know what La Liga was."
"That's the charm of football. Never give up until the final second!"
"God Lance is my God!"
Lance grinned reading it all, chuckling quietly to himself whilst brushing his teeth.
He then checked the general Weibo feed. Commentators Jian Jun, Huang Jianxiang, Dong Lu, Yan Qiang and others from the sports world were all singing his praises. Even entertainment celebrities were cashing in on his moment.
Da Mimi had posted a photo of herself watching the match, holding a can of beer, sat up late in her living room. On the TV screen behind her was Lance's celebration after scoring the winner.
"Good heavens, was the timing of that shot really so perfect?"
Lance stared at the screen, genuinely taken aback.
Yang Mi: "Wonderful game! God Lance is amazing!"
As he scrolled on, entertainment gossip accounts were busily speculating about a supposed relationship between Yang Mi and Lance, with various bloggers spinning it into vivid detail, as though the two were actually involved.
Lance was baffled.
Who are you lot! I have absolutely nothing to do with her!
All he could say was that Da Mimi had a real talent for riding a trend.
He switched over to his messages. Plenty of people had sent him texts and congratulations: De Bruyne, Son Heung-min, Kießling, Maguire, Hyypiä, Sascha, as well as media contacts like Ma Fanshu.
Ma Fanshu: "Congratulations, God Lance! Truly incredible! By the way, the film crew will be heading back to Madrid next week to carry on shooting the documentary. See you then!"
Lance washed his face, hesitated, and didn't reply. He wasn't sure what to say. They weren't really friends, just collaborators at best.
Chloe's message, though, was one he couldn't ignore.
Chloe: "Are you alright after that tackle in the second half? You looked like you were limping a bit. If you're hurt, please don't try to tough it out. Get it checked straight away."
Clearly, his previous ankle injury had left Chloe on edge, and she'd been quietly fretting about him ever since. Everyone else was focused on how brilliant the performance had been, but this girl was acting like his mum, fixated entirely on whether he was injured.
Was that really the main point here?
He had just scored a stoppage-time winner against Real Madrid, for goodness' sake.
Lance: "I scored an absolute worldie and you're not going to say anything about it?"
The reply came almost instantly.
Chloe: "You're up so early! Get some more sleep, you daft thing."
Lance: "You're talking to me like I'm a child. I'm up to train."
Chloe: "Is your leg okay though? Do you want to get it checked? I'm worried."
Lance: "I'm completely fine. Want me to send a picture to prove it?"
Lance laughed despite himself. This German girl worried far too much. Yes, Casemiro's tackle in the second half had looked nasty enough from the outside. But Lance had the newly acquired [Substitute Paper Figurine], which had absorbed the impact, so he hadn't given it a second thought.
Chloe: "As long as you're not hurt, that's fine. Don't push yourself though! And yes, I want to see your leg."
Lance: "Only if you show me yours first."
There was a two-minute pause.
His phone only buzzed again once Lance had already brewed a cup of espresso on his coffee machine.
Chloe: "[/Hammer hitting head emoji]"
Lance smiled and left it at that. It was only a bit of banter. Given how shy she was, there was no way she'd actually send anything.
Two minutes later, Lance finished his coffee, ate a slice of Iberian ham with bread, wolfed down a banana, and was heading to his home gym to lift weights.
His phone buzzed again.
Chloe: "[Pic]"
The barbell used for bench pressing was very hard.
And Lance, being a young man first thing in the morning, was experiencing the sort of biological situation common to young men first thing in the morning.
In the photo, her face wasn't visible. But she had held up her pale, slender legs and soft white feet, toenails painted in pink polish. It looked like she had just been doing her own pedicure.
Meanwhile, at a University of Munich halls of residence, Laila rubbed her eyes as she stirred awake. She spotted her cute roommate sitting up early, doing her nails and taking photos on her phone.
"Chloe, you're up early. What's wrong with your face? You're absolutely red. Have you got a fever?"
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"Weird," Laila mumbled, pulling her duvet back over her head.
Chloe pressed her hands to her burning cheeks.
"What am I doing! Oh no, oh no... I can't believe I did that!"
And then, to make everything worse, her phone buzzed.
Lance: "Cute. [/Thumbs up emoji]"
Chloe let out a strangled noise, threw herself down onto her pillow, and pulled the duvet entirely over her head.
"Cute, my foot!! I should never have sent that! You absolute creep!"