If I were to say last night was a party, would you believe me?
Well… I think you should.
Yesterday marked one year since I joined the Botafogo FR academy. One year since I stepped onto that pitch thinking I belonged.
Now?
We'd won the Youth Brazil League.
And I was officially a Brazilian U-20 footballer.
Right now though?
I was hunched over a toilet, gripping the sides like my life depended on it.
"ugh."
Yeah.
Not my finest moment.
The room spun slightly as I coughed, trying to steady my breathing while the taste of regret sat firmly at the back of my throat.
I didn't even need to turn around to know people were behind me.
"…Really?" Anya's voice cut through first..
I groaned slightly, resting my forehead against the cool porcelain. "…It was a celebration…"
"A celebration?" she repeated. "You look like you've just been through a war."
"Feels like it," I muttered.
A sigh followed. Which somehow made it worse.
"I leave you alone for one night," Carlos said, arms likely folded. I could hear it in his tone. "and this is what happens?"
I wiped my mouth, finally pushing myself back slightly, though I stayed sitting on the floor.
"It was one year," I said, weakly defending myself. "We won the league… I got called up…"
"And your solution," Anya cut in, "was to drink like an idiot?"
I winced.
"…When you say it like that…"
"Because that's exactly what it is," she replied.
Carlos stepped a little closer now. I could feel it.
I frowned slightly, glancing up.
Carlos had his hand over his mouth, shoulders twitching.
"…Don't," I muttered.
That was all it took.
He lost it.
A full burst of laughter exploded out of him, echoing off the bathroom walls as he bent forward slightly, one hand on his knee like he couldn't even stand properly
.
"HAHA. Look at you!" he tried to speak, but couldn't finish, shaking his head as he laughed even harder. "This is the future of Brazil?!"
Anya sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Father…"
"No, no, wait," he waved his hand, trying to catch his breath, but one look at me again set him off. "You look like you've just survived a hurricane!"
I stared at him, unimpressed.
"…Glad you're enjoying this."
"Oh I am," he shot back instantly, wiping a tear from his eye. "I really am."
He straightened slightly, still chuckling under his breath as he pointed at me.
"You've got the U-20 call-up… you win the league…" he laughed again, shaking his head. "And this—this is how you celebrate?"
I leaned against the sink, arms crossed weakly.
"…I said it was a bad idea."
Anya gave me a look. "You did not say that."
"…I thought it."
Carlos burst out laughing again.
"Even better!" he grinned. "You knew it was a bad idea and did it anyway!"
I couldn't even argue with that.
He took a deep breath, finally calming down, though the grin never left his face.
"Take a good look at yourself," he said, nodding toward the mirror. "That's what bad decisions look like."
"…Alright," I muttered. "I get it."
Carlos smirked. "Good."
Anya folded her arms again, though there was the smallest hint of amusement in her expression now. "At least he's self-aware."
"Bare minimum," Carlos replied.
I shook my head slightly, pushing myself off the sink.
"Laugh it up," I said. "Give me a few hours."
Carlos raised an eyebrow. "A few hours, who you're facing in international friendlies is on in about. 15 seconds."
The TV flickered.
A low hum filled the room as the broadcast loaded in.
Noa was already sprawled across the sofa, one arm hanging off the side, eyes locked onto the screen like his life depended on it.
"Oi, hurry up!" he called out. "They're about to show it!"
I walked in slower, still rubbing the back of my neck, while Carlos leaned casually against the wall and Anya stood just behind the sofa.
The screen cut to a presenter, smiling like he was about to change someone's life.
"This is it…" Noa muttered, sitting up slightly now.
A graphic flashed.
Brazil U-20.
Then our opponents.
The badge appeared.
Red and White.
"Brazil U-20 will face… Peru national under-20 football team in their upcoming Youth international friendly."
Noa blinked.
"…Peru?"
I folded my arms, staring at the screen.
Carlos let out a small hum. "Good team. Technical. Quick."
Anya nodded slightly. "They'll test your
positioning more than your strength."
Noa leaned back again, exhaling. "So… this is real, huh?"
No one answered straight away.
Because it was.
I stared at the screen a second longer, my reflection faintly visible over the broadcast.
U-20 Brazil vs U-20 Peru.
September 17th 2026.
Peru National Stadium.
"You need a sick bag Gabi?" Noa turned.
"No."