Archive of Our Own

A shrill whistle pierces the air, signalling the start of training at Manchester United’s under-17s, and Kobbie stands on the edge of the pitch, eyeing the new kid from Spain.

He’d heard rumours that there’d be a new signing around Carrington over the past few weeks, and after catching that this ‘Alejandro’ would be the same age as himself, Kobbie had taken an interest and looked him up briefly online.

Alejandro Garnacho, fresh from Atlético Madrid, and of Argentine descent.

Alejandro barely knows a word of English beyond simple greetings and ‘thank you’s, Kobbie quickly learns as the boy is introduced to their team and their coach explains.

Of course, it’s not a problem at Manchester United. Most of the coaching staff are bilingual as far as Kobbie is aware, but he can’t help but think that it must make the already intimidating transition even more challenging.

Kobbie remembers his own arrival to the team and the initial awkwardness and nerves that came with it. But Alejandro’s situation is much different—he’s thousands of miles from home, immersed in a language he doesn’t understand.

Even so, Alejandro nods determinedly as he seems to understand that their coach is introducing him, his brows pulled into a very serious frown as he says, “Hello.” The syllables tripping foreignly off of his tongue.

Kobbie ignores it when a couple of the boys beside him snicker at him and whisper between themselves. Their coach misses it.

Eventually they get split into two groups and Kobbie watches as Alejandro warms up with the team. The moment there’s a ball at the other boy’s feet, Kobbie feels his gaze drawn in his direction.

There’s a distinct flair in his movements, a confident ease that suggests he knows he belongs here. Kobbie admires that. He’s always been one to respect skill, and from what he’s just seen, Alejandro has it in spades.

Their first proper interaction comes during a 5-a-side drill. Kobbie pings the ball towards him as he sees the space open up in front of goal and watches in curiosity to see what Alejandro will do with the chance he’s created for him.

To his amazement, Alejandro meets the ball mid-air. Not with his head, like Kobbie had expected, but instead he watches as Alejandro’s foot stretches upwards to meet the ball and he sends the ball rocketing into the net with a bicycle kick.

It’s a stunning display of talent, one that leaves the team in stunned awe.

A full-teeth grin from Alejandro follows, his pride evident, and Kobbie can’t help but feel his cheeks twitch up into grin, impressed.

Alejandro catches Kobbie’s gaze as he stands and tilts his head in a way that reminds Kobbie of his family’s new puppy, beaming from every pore on his face as if to ask, See that?!

Kobbie nods, his own grin widening as he does so. The language of football really is universal.

“Ridiculous goal.” He muses to himself with a shake of his head as the whistle blows, calling them back to the center of the pitch.

When he finds himself facing the two boys who’d been snickering at Alejandro earlier, he hopes that his goal was enough to shut them up. He really wasn’t too keen on them in the first place anyway.

——

Training sessions continue, and Kobbie finds himself increasingly fascinated by Alejandro’s talent.

The Argentinian boy’s footwork is impeccable, his passes precise, and his shots powerful. It’s clear why Manchester United wanted him. Kobbie often watches him from a distance, wanting to approach but unsure how to bridge the language gap.

They’ve really only successfully communicated through football so far.

Kobbie often feeds passes into the box with his role in midfield, and somehow Alejandro is always there, picking up on Kobbie’s intentions like he’s read his mind and producing results for his hard efforts of getting the ball back. Something Kobbie has felt their team has lacked in the past.

Afterwards, in the dressing room, Alejandro often sits alone, headphones on, presumably listening to music from home because Kobbie never recognises any of the album covers when he tries to take a peek over his shoulder at his phone for some kind of conversation starter.

Kobbie’s mum raised him to be kind and welcoming, and he can’t stand to see anyone feeling left out, so he decides to make an effort. One day, he brings an extra energy drink and offers it to Alejandro.

Alejandro looks up, eyes wide, surprised at the cool touch of the can against his hand, then smiles gratefully. “Gracias,” He says, taking the drink.

“No problem,” Kobbie replies, hoping his friendly gesture conveys what words can’t as he takes a seat beside him on the bench to untie his boots.

——

Their first real conversation happens one afternoon when the heavens decide to split open with torrential rain.

It’s so bad that training is indefinitely postponed and the team is stuck indoors, which isn’t too bad really. Most of the lads are sat in the cafeteria chatting, others crowded around a particularly competitive game of ping pong.

Kobbie spots Alejandro sitting by himself, scrolling through his phone. Gathering his courage with a deep breath, Kobbie moves to sit next to him.

His friends give him questioning looks before following his gaze to where Alejandro is sitting. Dan just shakes his head at him, “Mate, you’re too nice.”

“He’s part of the team too.” Kobbie shrugs back at him before twisting around and making his way over. The others resume their conversation, unbothered.

“Hey,” Kobbie says. Alejandro looks up and nods, a faint smile on his lips. Slightly surprised, Kobbie thinks.

Kobbie pulls out his phone and opens a translation app. Yes, he’s really thought this through, okay?

He types, “How are you finding Manchester?” and shows it to Alejandro.

Alejandro’s eyes light up with understanding. He takes the phone and types back, the app translating as he does so, “It’s different, but I like it. Football is good.”

Kobbie smiles, glad that both his plan worked and that Alejandro seems to be appreciating his efforts.

He settles further into the couch beside the other as he takes his phone back to type out, “I’m glad. The weather isn’t always this shit, I promise.”

He’s unsure as to how well swear words will really translate, but Alejandro seems to get the gist at least when he shows it to him, his face cracking into a grin as he chuckles.

Plucking Kobbie’s phone out of his hands eagerly to answer, Alejandro types out, “I’m not sure I believe you.” to show him, jest clearly shimmering in his eyes, crinkling them upwards.

And Kobbie can’t help but think about how nice this is. That they’re communicating properly now and can read each other’s tone of voice by reading each other’s faces.

“The weather here always looks terrible,” Alejandro goes on to type, Kobbie leaning into his space to read by his shoulder, eager to see what the other has to say, “When I watch on TV it is always raining.”

“You should have known what you were getting yourself into then.” Kobbie replies quickly, his fingers dancing over the keys a little clumsily where he and Alejandro are both now leaning over his phone between them.

He flashes the other boy his teeth when he grins so he knows he’s joking. Alejandro laughs and only shrugs in reply to that. Kobbie goes on typing.

“What teams do you like to watch?”

It’s a nice feeling to watch Alejandro’s face light up in excitement at the question. He types concentratedly for a moment, then seems to decide something, his brow furrowing together in the way Kobbie is noticing it does a lot.

“Atlético. Because, I am from there,” Alejandro says to him instead of typing, turning to face Kobbie and apparently determined to struggle through some English, “And I watch Manchester United for Christiano Ronaldo.”

Kobbie nods through a grin, chuckling at his answer, and Alejandro seems very pleased that he understood him. For a second, it seems Alejandro will attempt to converse with him again, but the other boy gives up and reverts to typing after a moment of thinking hard, scrunching up his whole face.

“Sorry,” He types, “It is hard for me to speak English still.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” Kobbie reassures him, “That’s what this is for.”

He waggles his phone at Alejandro for good measure causing the other to grin again after feeling defeated by his failure to grasp onto the English words he’d wanted to.

“It’s important I practice too, however,” Alejandro types, taking a second to flick his gaze up to Kobbie before bringing it back down to the screen, “If you don’t mind speaking with me sometimes.”

Kobbie grins when he sees what Alejandro has said and the slightly hesitant manner in which he had asked.

“Of course.” He answers out loud with a pronounced nod just to make sure that Alejandro understands the gist of what he’s said. The toothy smile Kobbie gets in return is answer enough.

Their shoulders bump together again as Kobbie returns to typing on his phone.

“Feel free to ask me for help, or if you don’t understand something.”

Alejandro nods at him and Kobbie goes on.

“I’ll be like your English teacher.”

Alejandro snickers into his shoulder as he snatches Kobbie’s phone from him.

“I already have one of those!” He informs him, “She is a very attractive Spanish lady and it is difficult for me to concentrate.”

A belly-laugh falls from Kobbie’s lips and Alejandro looks pleased, his eyes dancing over his face.

“I can teach you the cool things, though. Like swear words and funny things you might not get.”

Alejandro pauses to look at him for a second after reading what it says on his phone, the corners of his lips twitching upwards in what Kobbie can only assume is sincere gratitude before he’s resting a hand on Kobbie’s arm and squeezing it.

“Maybe I teach you some Spanish in return.”

The other suggests after a moment of typing and he immediately bursts into laughter upon seeing the face Kobbie feels himself pull. It’s not that he’s unwilling, it’s more that the task daunts him.

“I’ll be terrible,” Kobbie shows Alejandro, chuckles wobbling his cheeks, “I’m barely making it through French in our classes.”

Alejandro’s brow creases, “They teach French but no Spanish?”

“No Spanish.”

Kobbie confirms with a shrug, amused by how offended Alejandro seems at the prospect.

“Ridiculous.”

Is all that Alejandro seems to have to say on the matter, and Kobbie is still grinning at him when their coach gleefully announces that the rain has eased up enough for them to train.

Both his and Alejandro’s groans join those echoed around the room, but Kobbie can’t help but feel like he’s accomplished something already today.

——

The chilly Manchester wind whips through Carrington as the under-17s squad gathers for another training session. Kobbie and Alejandro are side by side, like they always seem to be nowadays. The pitch is damp from the morning rain, and the grey clouds above show no signs of parting.

"Mate, it's freezing," Kobbie says, rubbing his hands together for warmth and wishing he’d remembered to bring his gloves out to the pitch with him.

Alejandro, his accent still thick but his English improving, grins at him. "You always complain about weather."

Kobbie laughs, nudging him playfully. "Yeah, well, I didn’t grow up in sunny Spain. Must be worse for you.”

Alejandro chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he shrugs. "I get used to it."

As they begin their drills, Kobbie watches Alejandro effortlessly control the ball with that same flair that had caught his attention on the first day. His mind wanders back to those early weeks when communication was mostly through gestures and the universal language of football. Now, they talk about everything. Well, almost everything.

During a break, they sit on the sidelines, sipping water. Kobbie pulls out his phone, opening the translation app he’s very familiar with by now. "Alright, today’s lesson," He says, his tone mock-serious. "This is a very important phrase. 'Can I get your number?'"

Alejandro raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. "I thought we learn English for football."

"Hey, it’s all part of the package. How will you get any girls?" Kobbie insists with one hand up in surrender, showing him the phrase on the screen. "Repeat after me."

Alejandro gives it a try, his pronunciation stumbling but close enough. Kobbie corrects him gently, and they go back and forth until Alejandro gets it right.

"You’re getting better," Kobbie praises, his tone genuine.

Alejandro smiles, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Gracias. Now, your turn. Say, '¿Puedo tener tu número?'"

Kobbie groans dramatically. "Why do I feel like you’re setting me up for failure?"

Alejandro laughs, and it’s a sound that makes the grey day seem a little brighter. Kobbie attempts the phrase, stumbling over the words. Alejandro corrects him, their roles reversed. There’s a warmth in Alejandro’s encouragement that makes Kobbie feel at ease, despite his numerous mistakes.

"Puedo tener tu número," Alejandro repeats slowly, enunciating each word.

Kobbie tries again, and this time, Alejandro nods approvingly. "Better. Much better."

They share a grin before their coach is calling them back onto the pitch. Their friendship has become a cornerstone of their daily lives, a constant amidst the ever-present pressure and expectations of being at Manchester United. Kobbie doesn’t really know what he’d done without it before.

On the pitch, their connection is almost magical. During a match against the Liverpool under-17s, Kobbie sends a perfectly timed through ball to Alejandro, who darts past the defenders with ease. Alejandro doesn’t hesitate, his shot hitting the back of the net with precision.

"Yes mate!" Kobbie shouts, jogging over to bump fists with him.

Alejandro beams, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Great pass, Kobbie!"

The coaches nod in approval from the sidelines, murmurs of praise circulating among them. Kobbie feels a surge of pride. Every goal Alejandro scores feels like a shared victory, a testament to their growing partnership.

In the locker room afterwards, the team’s teasing is light-hearted but persistent. "Look at the dynamic duo," one of the boys calls out, grinning.

Kobbie’s not that bothered, they won from their goal after all, and rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "You lot are just jealous I didn’t pass it to you."

Alejandro, still getting used to the banter, looks to Kobbie for a cue. When Kobbie smirks, Alejandro mimics him, his confidence bolstered by his friend’s support.

——

Their post-training ritual often involves huddling over Kobbie’s phone to watch clips of their favourite sportsmen. Today is no different.

Kobbie and Alejandro are huddled together on a bench in the quiet corner of the cafeteria, their heads nearly touching as they peer intently at Kobbie’s phone. The rest of the team has dispersed, the post-training bustle giving way to the gentle hum of the vending machine and the soft murmur of distant conversations. Outside, the sky is a blanket of grey.

Kobbie scrolls through the highlights, his fingers deftly navigating to the latest game. Cristiano Ronaldo’s face fills the screen; Kobbie knows he’s the other boy’s favourite. Alejandro leans in closer, his breath hitching slightly with anticipation.

“This one’s amazing,” Kobbie says, his voice low and reverent as he hits play. Ronaldo moves with the fluidity of a dancer, every step and motion purposeful, every touch of the ball a masterclass in control and finesse.

Alejandro’s eyes are wide, his face illuminated by the glow of the screen. “Cristiano is... incredible,” He says, his English slow and careful, each word measured. “I want to play like him... one day.”

Kobbie nods, feeling Alejandro’s excitement radiating off him in waves. He pulls up the translation app, quickly typing, “You will, Garna. You’re already halfway there.”

Alejandro reads the translation, a shy but pleased smile tugging at his lips. He takes the phone, typing back with focused concentration. “Gracias. Watching him... it gives me hope. That I can do it too. That I can be great.”

Kobbie watches him type, feeling a swell of admiration. Alejandro’s dedication is palpable, his dream clear and unwavering. “You came to United because of him, right?” Kobbie asks, speaking slowly so Alejandro can catch the words.

Alejandro nods eagerly. “Sí. Ronaldo. He is why I am here. I want to follow his footsteps, you know?”

The video shows Ronaldo executing a perfect free kick, the ball curving impossibly into the top corner of the net. Both boys exhale in awe, the brilliance of the goal leaving them momentarily speechless.

Kobbie quickly types, “His technique is perfect. Have you tried practicing his free kicks?”

Alejandro grins, eyes sparkling. “Every day,” he types back. “Sometimes, I think about how he must have practiced to be this good.”

Kobbie can’t help but smile at Alejandro’s enthusiasm. It’s infectious, this pure, unbridled passion. He types, “You’re on the right path. Keep working hard, and we’ll get there.”

Alejandro’s face softens, gratitude shining in his eyes as he reads the words. “Thank you, Kobbie,” He says, his voice sincere.

Kobbie shakes his head, a fond smile on his lips. “No need to thank me, Garna. It’s the truth.” He pauses, then adds, “Besides, it’s great having someone to look up to with you. Makes it all more real.”

Alejandro nods thoughtfully, his gaze returning to the screen as Ronaldo celebrates another goal, his trademark jump and spin sending the stadium into a frenzy. “Do you... have someone you look up to?” He asks, his English halting but clear.

Kobbie considers this, his mind flicking through the many players he admires. “There are a lot,” He admits. “But I think... Scholes. His creativity, his vision. I want to be that kind of midfielder.”

Alejandro’s eyes light up in understanding. “Scholes... is very good. You... you play like him. I see it.”

Kobbie chuckles, shaking his head. “I wish. But thanks.” He types, “Let’s both aim to be like our heroes. Maybe one day, someone will be watching our highlights and dreaming.”

Alejandro reads this, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Sí,” He says, his voice filled with determination. “One day.”

They continue watching the video, their heads still close, the world outside their little bubble fading away. Kobbie listens to Alejandro’s excited commentary, his English interspersed with rapid Spanish whenever he struggles to find the right words.

The video ends, and they sit back, the moment of shared awe settling between them. The cafeteria is quiet now, the evening drawing in.

As they gather their things and prepare to leave, Kobbie glances at Alejandro. “Same time tomorrow?” He asks.

Alejandro nods, his smile soft but certain. “Sí. Same time. Always.”

And with that, they head out into the evening.

——

The next season, a new player joins the team — Miguel, another Spanish-speaking boy. And ever since, Alejandro and Miguel have been inseparable.

Kobbie watches them joke around in Spanish, their laughter filling the spaces where he feels left out. His teammates tease him, saying he looks like a kicked puppy whenever Alejandro chooses to partner with Miguel for drills instead of him. Kobbie tells himself it shouldn’t matter so much, but the hurt is there, simmering beneath the surface.

Kobbie steals a glance at Alejandro, who is smiling at something on his phone in the dim light of the dressing room. He tries to push away the jealousy gnawing at him, but it’s harder than he thinks.

It all comes to a head when they’re staying in a hotel for a tournament down south. He and Alejandro are rooming together, which should be a comfort, but Kobbie knows it’s only because they’d been asked who they wanted to room with before Miguel joined.

“Hey, look at this,” Alejandro says suddenly, his voice filled with excitement as he holds out his phone to Kobbie. “Cristiano’s latest goal, it’s incredible!”

Kobbie, feeling the weight of his frustration, glances at the screen but doesn’t really see it. “Yeah, amazing,” He mutters, his tone unintentionally curt.

Alejandro’s face falls slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Something is wrong?”

Kobbie looks away, focusing on the knot in his bootlaces. “No, it’s nothing. Just tired.”

Alejandro’s eyes linger on Kobbie for a moment longer before he nods, a hint of hurt in his expression. He goes back to his phone, but the excitement from earlier has dimmed.

That night, they lie in their beds, the room dark except for the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. Kobbie stares at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The silence between them feels heavy, almost oppressive.

He takes a deep breath, deciding that this is ridiculous. He needs to say something. “Garna,” He begins, his voice barely more than a whisper in the darkness.

Alejandro shifts in his bed, turning to face him. Something about Alejandro not being able to sleep either comforts him, “Yeah?”

Kobbie hesitates, then pushes forward. “It’s been weird lately. Since Miguel joined.”

There’s a pause, and then Alejandro’s voice comes, soft and confused. “What do you mean?”

Kobbie sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I guess... I feel like you’ve been spending all your time with him. And it’s like... I don’t know, like I’m not important anymore.”

Alejandro sits up slightly, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light. “Kobbie — Miguel, he is great, and it’s nice I speak Spanish with someone, you know? But that doesn’t mean you’re not important to me.”

Kobbie feels a warmth spread through his chest, but the insecurity still lingers. “It’s just... you guys seem to have so much in common. And sometimes I feel left out when you’re joking around in Spanish. I know it’s silly, but...”

“Not silly,” Alejandro interrupts gently. “I should have realised. Sorry I made you feel that way.” He pauses, searching for the right words. “You know… when I first come here, I was really scared.”

Kobbie looks up, surprised by the admission. Alejandro rarely talks about his feelings so directly. “Yeah? I can’t imagine how tough that must have been.”

Alejandro nods, his eyes distant as he recalls those early days. “I didn’t know anyone. I struggle understanding anything. But you... you made it easier.”

Kobbie feels a warmth spread through his chest. “I’m glad. It’s been great getting to know you, Garna. You’re a good mate.”

Alejandro’s smile is small but genuine. “Gracias. You too. No one could ever replace you, Kobbie. You were my first friend here, and you mean a lot to me. I might spend time with Miguel, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you, okay?”

Kobbie feels a knot of tension unravel inside him, replaced by a sense of relief and gratitude that feels more momentous than Kobbie really thinks it should. “Thanks.”

They sit in silence for a moment, the weight of their words hanging in the air. Kobbie feels a deep sense of connection with Alejandro, a bond forged through shared experiences and mutual respect. He knows now that their friendship is strong, and that nothing will come between them.

As they lie back down, the room seems warmer, more comforting. Kobbie glances at Alejandro, feeling a sense of pride and gratitude. “Hey, let’s make a pact,” He says suddenly.

Alejandro looks at him, curious. “What kind of pact?”

“That we’ll always have each other’s backs, no matter what,” Kobbie says, extending his hand across the gap between their beds.

Alejandro’s eyes light up, and he clasps Kobbie’s hand firmly. “Deal.”

They shake on it, their hands warm against the cool night air. As they part ways and settle back into their beds, Kobbie feels a sense of contentment. He knows that whatever challenges lie ahead, he and Alejandro will face them together.

———

Alejandro makes his first team debut before Kobbie. But Kobbie's not bitter about it at all, in fact, quite the opposite. As he sits on his couch, the glow of the television lights up his face, illuminating his anticipation.

The game is a tense affair, down 1-0 against Chelsea. Kobbie’s heart races with every pass, every tackle, and every moment that brings Alejandro closer to the ball.

“Come on, Garna!” Kobbie yells at the screen, almost instinctively rising from his seat as if his energy could somehow transmit through the screen.

He can’t help but feel a swell of pride as he watches Alejandro dart around the pitch, his youthful exuberance evident in every move.

When Ronaldo scores a late goal to save United some points, Kobbie can’t help but let out a whoop of joy, punctuating the air with his excitement. “Yes! That’s what I’m talking about!”

Once the game ends, Kobbie pulls out his phone, a broad grin on his face. He types out a quick message, fingers flying across the screen.

Congrats on your debut, mate! You were amazing out there! Can’t wait to hear all about it :)

As he hits send, he thinks of how far Alejandro has come. Just months ago, they were training together, dreaming of moments like this.

The thought brings warmth to his chest, pushing away the shadow of his own insecurities. He knows how much playing with Ronaldo means to Alejandro, how he idolises the man.

Moments later, his phone buzzes. Kobbie's heart skips as he sees Alejandro's name flashing on the screen. He opens the message eagerly.

Gracias, Kobbie! I was so nervous but I still can't believe it.

Then, attached is a photo that makes Kobbie's cheeks heat up — Alejandro grinning from ear to ear, his match shirt off, muscles glistening under the dressing room lights with his fist pumped up.

Kobbie stares at the image for a moment longer than he should, his heart doing a little flip. He shakes his head, chuckling to himself as he tries to ignore the warmth pooling in his cheeks. Get a grip, Kobbie, he thinks, trying to focus on the congratulatory message he’s sending back.

You deserved it, mate! You did great out there!

As the weekend rolls around and training starts again, Kobbie feels the excitement buzzing in the air. When he steps onto the pitch, he spots Alejandro bouncing on his heels, an electrifying energy radiating from him. Kobbie can’t help but laugh as he jogs over.

“Oi, what’s got you so hyped today?” Kobbie teases, his grin wide.

Without warning, Alejandro jumps at him, wrapping his arms around Kobbie in an enthusiastic embrace. “I am just very, very happy. Old Trafford... there is nothing like it. And with Ronaldo? It was amazing, Kobbie.”

Kobbie laughs heartily, the sound echoing across the field. “If you’re like this now, what are you gonna be like if Ronaldo assists you?”

Alejandro’s eyes light up, a starry glint sparkling in their depths. “I might die,” He says, sincerity woven into his excitement. “Even better if I get to assist HIM! Can you imagine?”

Kobbie can’t help but chuckle at Alejandro’s unabashed enthusiasm. “You’re gonna need a medic on standby, mate. Just don’t forget when you're up in the big leagues.”

“Of course! You’ll be right there with me!” Alejandro says, a huge smile plastered across his face like it's obvious. The two of them share a moment of laughter, the bond between them palpable.

But beneath the surface, Kobbie can feel something deeper, a connection that runs more profound than just friendship. In this world of pressures and expectations, they find joy in each other’s successes and an unshakeable bond that continues to grow stronger with every passing day.

As they warm up for training, Kobbie feels grateful for Alejandro’s friendship and the journey they’re on together. He knows that Alejandro is the person most important to him, and he wants him there for everything, knowing that whatever happens next, they’ll face it side by side. It's almost a little scary to come to terms with.

——

The day of the match dawns bright and promising, the sun glinting off the streets of Manchester as the United U18s gather for the final of the FA Youth Cup. Excitement hangs in the air like the scent of fresh grass, and as Kobbie steps onto the coach alongside Alejandro, he can feel the buzz of anticipation coursing through his veins.

The bus is filled with chatter and laughter as the team settles in, but Kobbie and Alejandro find their usual spot near the back, sharing a pair of earbuds as they scroll through playlists on their phones.

“Hey, have you heard this one? Came out over the weekend.” Kobbie says, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He hits play on a track by a UK grime artist, letting the heavy beat pulse through their shared space.

Alejandro nods appreciatively, the corners of his mouth lifting. “Es bueno! But have you heard this one?” He quickly switches the song to a reggaeton track, the rhythm infectious. Kobbie watches as Alejandro sways slightly to the beat, his eyes sparkling with joy.

“I’m coming around to your music, you know,” Kobbie admits, laughing as he bumps his shoulder against Alejandro's. “But you’ve got to admit, UK grime is unmatched.”

“Si, si! But sometimes… can be too much, y'know?” Alejandro shoots back playfully, and Kobbie rolls his eyes, knowing they’ll always have this friendly rivalry over their music tastes.

As the coach makes its way to Old Trafford, the atmosphere becomes electric. Kobbie gazes out the window, taking in the vibrant streets filled with fans clad in red. They’re excited, full of hope, and he can’t help but feel the same energy buzzing in his chest.

“It’s going to be packed, isn’t it?” He says, glancing over at Alejandro, who nods enthusiastically.

Once they arrive at the stadium, the noise becomes deafening. The sight of Old Trafford, bathed in the afternoon sun and surrounded by throngs of supporters, fills them both with awe.

“This is it,” Kobbie breathes, a wave of pride washing over him. They walk towards the stadium, shoulder to shoulder, as they exchange excited chatter, their minds filled with dreams of victory.

When the match kicks off, the energy on the pitch is palpable. United starts fast, and within 20 seconds, Kobbie makes a quick run that wins the team a corner. He can hear the cheers from the stands, the thrill of the moment pushing him forward.

“Let’s go, lads!” He's shouting, adrenaline coursing through him as he leads the attack.

However, it’s Nottingham Forest who almost draws first blood. Four minutes in, Kobbie watches as Jamie McDonell heads a corner wide, unmarked. He should’ve scored that, Kobbie thinks to himself, counting themselves lucky, but he quickly refocuses.

The game begins to settle, with both teams exchanging possession. It’s United who finally breaks the deadlock when Isak wins them a free kick.

Kobbie holds his breath as Sam delivers it perfectly onto the head of their captain, who nods it past the Forest goalkeeper. The roar of the fans surges through the stadium, a sound that vibrates in Kobbie’s bones.

But as the first half progresses, Forest starts to apply pressure, and Kobbie can feel the tension rising. There are close calls; a shot from Powell is blocked, and Radek, in their goal, handles an acrobatic effort from Dale Taylor with ease.

“We need to tighten up at the back!” Kobbie urges, glancing at Alejandro, whose brows are furrowed in concentration.

When Forest finally equalises right before halftime, it feels like a punch to the gut, but it also felt inevitable. Powell’s low drive slips through Radek’s grasp, and Kobbie feels frustration bubbling within him.

“We had that!” He groans, but Alejandro places a hand on his shoulder as he passes by, regrounding him.

“It’s okay, we’ve got this,” Alejandro reassures, and Kobbie nods, feeling comforted by his presence.

The second half kicks off with renewed energy, and United is quick to respond. Alejandro begins to find his rhythm, making runs that put pressure on the Forest defense. When he gets the chance to score, Kobbie is on the edge of his seat, heart racing, willing him to find the back of the net.

Then, with less than 15 minutes to go, a moment of controversy ignites the pitch. Alejandro pounces on a heavy touch from one of the Forest players, and Kobbie holds his breath as Alejandro is brought down, earning a penalty. Kobbie wills him on in his mind, watching as Alejandro steps up to take the spot-kick.

With a coolness that belies the pressure, Alejandro slots the ball home, and the stadium erupts. Kobbie leaps to his feet, adrenaline pumping through him.

“Yes! That’s my guy!” He yells, feeling the rush of victory as he runs after Alejandro celebrating to scoop him into a hug.

Forest struggles to recover, and in the dying moments of the match, Kobbie watches as Alejandro strikes again. He deftly maneuvers through the defense, cutting onto his right and then back onto his left before unleashing a deflected shot that fires into the net.

The crowd explodes in joy, and Kobbie can hardly contain himself, bounding toward Alejandro as the final whistle blows.

As the trophy ceremony begins, the U18s gather on the pitch, basking in the moment of triumph. Kobbie can hardly believe they’ve done it — the FA Youth Cup is returning to Old Trafford for the eleventh time. He glances over at Alejandro, their eyes meeting in a shared moment of understanding.

In that instant, as the cheers and celebrations fade into a background hum, Kobbie feels a profound sense of completeness. Everything around him blurs, and for as long as Alejandro holds his gaze, it’s just the two of them. The connection they share goes beyond words, a bond that has only strengthened through the trials and triumphs of their journey together.

The moment shatters when one of the other lads jumps on his back, pulling him into the celebrations. “Kobbie! We did it!” Whoever it is yells, and Kobbie laughs, his heart still racing.

He glances back at Alejandro, who is now engulfed in the celebration, but Kobbie knows that moment — between them — will linger long after the noise fades away.

Old Trafford feels like a shrine to their shared dreams, and even as they bask in the afterglow of their FA Youth Cup triumph, the thought of a grand celebration tingles in the air.

The team has decided to throw a proper after-party, courtesy of their captain, Rhys. It’s a farewell to a season filled with highs, lows, and memories they’ll carry with them forever.

As they step into the lavishly decorated venue for the United party, Kobbie feels the warmth of the team wrap around him. The atmosphere is vibrant, the lights sparkling, and laughter erupts from every corner.

He can see the older players milling about, a few of them stopping to congratulate the U18s on their achievements. Kobbie beams as he clinks glasses with Dan, who is already a few drinks deep and sporting a goofy grin.

“Cheers to us, boys!” Dan hollers, his enthusiasm contagious. They all raise their glasses, and Kobbie takes a deep swig of his drink, the fizzy concoction bubbling down his throat.

“Where’s Rhys?” Kobbie asks, glancing around for their captain.

“Probably trying to impress some of the older girls,” Sam laughs, nudging Marc, who rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Come on, it’s Rhys,” Marc retorts, a smirk creeping onto his face. “He’ll never change.”

After mingling for a while, the night begins to shift gears. The group quickly decides to head out to a club, ready to celebrate the end of the season in style. Kobbie has been out with the lads before, but tonight feels different. There’s a sense of freedom in the air, a promise of no rules and no regulations, just friends letting loose.

As they pile into the back of the taxi, Kobbie feels a rush of anticipation mixed with a hint of nerves. He glances over at Alejandro, who is already bouncing in his seat, grinning widely. “This is going to be so fun!” Alejandro exclaims, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“‘Course, mate.” Kobbie replies, returning the enthusiasm.

The club is a whirlwind of flashing lights and pulsing music. The beat vibrates through the floor, wrapping around them like a warm embrace.

Kobbie spots a few familiar faces and raises his drink in greeting, but his focus quickly shifts back to Alejandro. It’s mesmerising to watch him get lost in the music, whether he knows the English tunes or not.

Alejandro leans in closer, pressing his lips against Kobbie’s ear. “You want another drink?” He shouts over the music, his breath warm against Kobbie's skin. Kobbie nods enthusiastically, his heart racing.

“Let’s go!” He replies, and Alejandro’s arm flings around his shoulder as they weave through the crowd toward the bar. Kobbie can’t help but feel a rush of affection as they navigate the chaos, laughter bubbling up between them.

Meanwhile, the other lads are getting increasingly rowdy. Dan and Charlie decide to start a dance-off on the floor, their movements exaggerated and ridiculous.

“Look at them!” Kobbie laughs, nudging Alejandro, who shakes his head, a fond smile spreading across his face.

“Fools!” Alejandro exclaims, his laughter bright and infectious.

Sam gets swept up in the fun, leaping into the mix and attempting to imitate Dan’s ridiculous moves. “If I win, I’m getting free drinks for life!” He shouts, arms flailing as he spins around.

“Yeah, good luck with that!” Kobbie yells back, laughter pouring from him.

The night rolls on, filled with loud music, drinks flowing freely, and laughter echoing through the air. Kobbie feels the warmth of alcohol easing his inhibitions, and he finds himself dancing closer to Alejandro, their bodies swaying together in rhythm. Each time Alejandro leans in to talk, Kobbie’s heart skips a beat, feeling the warmth of his presence.

“I might have to take you out dancing more often,” Kobbie teases, raising his drink to his lips.

“Only if you promise to keep dancing with me!” Alejandro shoots back, his eyes sparkling like the club lights.

As the hours pass, the energy becomes a dizzying blend of excitement and intoxication. The club is alive, and Kobbie can feel himself getting drunker by the minute. It’s exhilarating, the way the music pulses through him, and he can’t help but feel like this night is one they’ll remember forever.

Eventually, as the club winds down, Kobbie finds himself standing at the entrance, leaning against the cool wall for support. Alejandro laughs, a full, unrestrained sound that makes Kobbie’s heart flutter. “You okay there, hermano?” Alejandro teases, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I’m fine!” Kobbie retorts, half-heartedly as he tries to straighten up. But his head spins slightly, and he laughs, feeling utterly carefree.

As they make their way out into the night air, Kobbie realises he can’t quite remember how they ended up back at Alejandro’s house. “Wait, where do I live again?” He stammers, his mind foggy.

Alejandro bursts into laughter. “What? You don’t know your own address?” He asks, still giggling as he pushes open the front door.

“Shut up!” Kobbie responds, laughing despite himself, but then they stumble through the threshold, and Alejandro trips over his own feet.

They tumble together, Kobbie’s back hitting the wall as Alejandro crashes into him. The world slows for a moment, and they land in a heap against the foyer wall, breathless and giggling.

“Sorry!” Alejandro gasps, but he doesn’t move away.

Instead, their eyes lock, and the air between them shifts, thick with unspoken tension. Kobbie isn’t sure who moves first; maybe it’s the leftover adrenaline coursing through them or the intoxicating energy of the night.

But suddenly, they’re kissing. And it’s not a fleeting moment; it’s a deep, meaningful kiss that sends sparks racing through Kobbie’s body.

Kobbie feels a wave of warmth spread through him as Alejandro pulls him closer, their lips moving together in perfect harmony. It’s a kiss that feels right, a kiss that speaks volumes in the silence around them. When they finally part for air, Alejandro looks down at him, a soft smile lighting up his features.

“Eres mi alma gemela, Kobbie,” Alejandro whispers, his voice thick with affection. Kobbie giggles, feeling a rush of butterflies at the unfamiliar words.

“I, uh, what does that mean?” Kobbie asks, slightly embarrassed, but his heart swells at the sentiment.

Alejandro’s smile widens. “You’ll find out someday,” He teases, and Kobbie feels a warmth spread through him, giddy and lightheaded.

After that, everything becomes a blur of laughter and warmth. Kobbie barely remembers crashing on Alejandro’s comfy couch, the softness of the fabric wrapping around him like a blanket. When he finally wakes up in the morning, his head pounds painfully, and he squints against the light filtering through the curtains.

——

Kobbie wakes up to sunlight stabbing through the curtains, the throb of his head a merciless reminder of last night’s excess. He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face, and that’s when he notices the blanket draped over him.

It’s soft and warm, the kind you sink into — Alejandro’s, he realises, the pattern unmistakable from the times he’s lounged on the edge of his mate’s bed during FIFA marathons.

He shifts upright, the couch creaking beneath him, and the movement sends another wave of nausea rolling through him. The ache in his skull pulses like a warning not to move too quickly. Kobbie sits there for a moment, letting the world settle around him.

It’s quiet, save for the occasional sound of traffic outside Alejandro’s place, muffled and distant. The events of last night swirl hazily in his mind — flashes of strobe lights, the bass shaking the club walls, laughter, Alejandro’s arm slung around his shoulders, the warmth of his breath close against his ear.

And the kiss.

It hits him like a shot of cold water to the face. He can see it so clearly — the way they’d stumbled through the door, how Alejandro had laughed, low and amused, even as Kobbie told him to shut up.

The way they’d crashed against the wall, tangled limbs and slurred words turning into something more. Alejandro’s hands steadying him, his lips finding Kobbie’s with a certainty that made Kobbie’s head spin more than the alcohol already had.

And then there were the words. Alejandro had said something, murmured against his lips, something soft and foreign that Kobbie couldn’t place. He remembers the sound of it more than the meaning — gentle and weighted, like a secret meant for him alone.

Kobbie swallows, the memory igniting something in his chest that he’s not ready to name. He pulls out his phone, fingers clumsy but determined as he opens Google Translate.

He tries to piece the sounds together, typing them in with hesitant guesses. It doesn’t make much sense — he’s not even sure he’s remembering it right — but he’s too wrapped up in his search to notice Alejandro’s footsteps on the stairs.

“Morning,” Alejandro’s voice cuts through the quiet, raspy and unmistakably smug.

Kobbie fumbles with his phone, locking it quickly and shoving it between the couch cushions like it’s evidence of a crime.

Alejandro rounds the corner, his hair sticking up in every direction, his shirt rumpled but hanging loosely on his lean frame like it belongs there. He looks as rough as Kobbie feels, but his grin is blinding, as always, like he’s immune to hangovers.

Kobbie clears his throat, trying to act normal even though his heart’s pounding against his ribs. “Morning,” He croaks, his voice scratchy. He stretches his arms, hoping to look casual, but it only makes his muscles ache more.

Alejandro plops onto the armrest of the couch, looking far too cheerful for someone who was equally drunk a few hours ago. “You hungry?” He asks, eyes bright with a teasing glint.

Kobbie hesitates, studying Alejandro for a second, searching for any sign that he remembers. The kiss, the words — any flicker of recognition.

But Alejandro’s acting so normal, so completely Alejandro, that it throws Kobbie off balance. His grin hasn’t faltered, his gaze steady and open. If he remembers, he’s hiding it well.

“Yeah,” Kobbie finally replies, forcing his voice to stay even. “Starving, actually.”

“Good,” Alejandro says, already on his feet again. “I think we order from that place down the road. The one with the pancakes you love?”

Kobbie laughs lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sounds like exactly what I need.”

Alejandro’s already pulling out his phone, scrolling through the menu. “I’ll order then.” He pauses, glancing at Kobbie with a grin. “Anything specific, or you trust me?”

“You know what I like,” Kobbie says with a shrug, leaning back into the couch. He’s trying to match Alejandro’s ease, trying not to let the awkwardness seep in.

When the food arrives, Kobbie’s beyond grateful they only have to shuffle as far as the front door. The short walk feels like a marathon with his pounding head and queasy stomach.

He slumps back onto the couch as Alejandro starts unpacking the bags, the smell of warm food filling the space and making his stomach growl despite itself.

Alejandro moves around the small kitchen like it’s second nature, plating the food with a casual efficiency that Kobbie’s always admired. He doesn’t say much, just hums quietly under his breath, the kind of hum that’s more about keeping himself occupied than performing for an audience.

Kobbie watches him, trying not to overthink the moment, but it’s hard when every little detail about Alejandro feels magnified this morning.

When Alejandro sets the plate down in front of him, there’s a small packet of ibuprofen resting neatly on the edge. Kobbie looks up, startled, and Alejandro just shrugs, all nonchalant.

“I think you need,” He says, flopping onto the couch beside Kobbie with his own plate.

Kobbie takes the pills with a murmured, “Thanks,” and Alejandro knocks their knees together, a silent, playful acknowledgment that doesn’t need words.

And that’s that.

They eat in comfortable silence, the hum of the morning settling around them like a blanket.

Alejandro doesn’t bring up the kiss, doesn’t give any indication that he remembers it at all, and Kobbie follows his lead, pretending nothing’s changed.

But as they sit there, knees brushing, Kobbie can’t help but wonder if Alejandro’s playing it cool for his sake — or if he really doesn’t remember at all.

——

The morning of the match feels surreal.

Kobbie lies awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, running through every moment that’s brought him here. The 22/23 season has been a whirlwind — better than he could have ever dreamed.

He remembers the day vividly: October 16th, 2022, when his name appeared on the bench for the first time for a Premier League match against Newcastle. The buzz of excitement, the weight of the moment — it had been intoxicating, almost overwhelming.

He didn’t get to play that day, but it didn’t matter. Just being there, among the senior team, pulling on the United shirt and hearing his name called out — it made everything feel real. And now, here he is, on the brink of something even bigger.

His first start.

Kobbie can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face at the thought. He’s been replaying it in his mind ever since Ten Hag told him. The gaffer had pulled him aside after training, his voice steady and sure in that way that always made you believe in yourself.

“You’re starting against Charlton,” He’d said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You’ve earned it. I believe in you, Kobbie.”

Those words had stayed with him, replaying over and over, a mix of pride and nerves swirling in his chest every time he thought about them. Ten Hag doesn’t just say things for the sake of it.

When he speaks, he means it. He’s not afraid to tell the media, the team, anyone who’ll listen, exactly what he thinks of his players.

“Kobbie Mainoo has the potential to be one of the best,” The manager had said in an interview not long ago. Kobbie had watched it later, his heart thudding in his chest, a mix of pride and the heavy weight of expectations settling over him.

And the best part? Alejandro’s starting too.

Kobbie glances at his phone, the time blinking at him, and knows he needs to get up. The match is hours away, but the nerves are already settling in his stomach, a restless energy that has him pacing his room as he mentally runs through what he needs to do tonight. He knows he can prove himself. It’s just a matter of time.

The dressing room is alive with the hum of pre-match energy.

Senior players move with practiced ease, chatting amongst themselves or focusing on their routines. Kobbie sits at his locker, lacing up his boots with deliberate care, trying to channel his nervous energy into something productive.

He feels the eyes of a few of the older players on him — not in a bad way, but in that quiet, assessing way they have, like they’re curious to see how the young lad will handle himself tonight.

Alejandro, on the other hand, looks completely at ease. He’s perched on the bench nearby, his grin as wide as ever as he chats with some of the other players. He’s been here before, after all. Since his debut, Alejandro’s been a fixture on the bench, earning starts here and there. He’s confident, relaxed, and it shows.

Kobbie admires that about him — how he can light up a room without trying, how he always seems to know the right thing to say. Like now, when Alejandro leans over, nudging Kobbie lightly with his elbow.

“You look so serious, hermano,” Alejandro says, his voice laced with teasing. His English isn’t perfect, but it’s charming in its own way, his accent softening the edges of his words. “What, you forget how to smile?”

Kobbie glances at him, his lips twitching despite himself. “Just focused,” He says, trying to downplay it, but Alejandro isn’t having it.

“Focused is good,” Alejandro says with a mock-serious nod. “But not... what’s the word... too much focused.”

He leans closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You’ll scare the Charlton boys if you look like this.” He mimics a stern expression, furrowing his brow dramatically, and Kobbie can’t help but laugh, shaking his head.

“Shut up,” Kobbie says, his tone fond.

Alejandro grins, leaning back and spreading his arms like he’s just done Kobbie a huge favor. “There. Better. Now we win, no problem.”

Kobbie huffs a laugh, but he can feel himself relaxing, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. Alejandro has a way of doing that — making everything feel lighter, less daunting. Kobbie glances at him, catching the glint of mischief in his eyes, and offers him a small, grateful smile.

The match is electric. The Valley isn't full of United fans, but the fans who’ve come out are loud and passionate, their voices filling the stadium with a buzz that sends adrenaline coursing through Kobbie’s veins.

He steps onto the pitch, the bright lights casting everything in sharp relief, and for a moment, it’s almost overwhelming.

But then the whistle blows, and everything falls away.

Kobbie plays like he has something to prove — because he does. He moves with purpose, his touches clean, his passes sharp. Ten Hag’s voice echoes in his mind, grounding him, pushing him forward.

He knows his manager is watching, that the team is watching, and he wants to show them all why he deserves to be here.

Alejandro is everywhere, his energy infectious as he darts around the pitch, linking up with teammates and creating chances. They’ve played together plenty of times in training, and it shows tonight. Their chemistry is natural, seamless, and it’s not long before it pays off.

When the final whistle blows, United are 3-0 up, a clean victory that sends them into the next round of the cup. Kobbie’s chest swells with pride as he jogs off the pitch, the roar of the fans still ringing in his ears.

In the tunnel, the team is all smiles and congratulations, the buzz of victory carrying them back toward the dressing room. Kobbie feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to find Alejandro grinning at him, his face flushed with exertion but alight with joy.

“You did good, hermano,” Alejandro says, pulling him into a quick hug, and for a moment, Kobbie’s too caught up in the moment to overthink it. He hugs him back tightly, a smile breaking across his face.

This. This is it. This is what he wants. His life’s calling.

——

The American summer tour feels like a dream.

Kobbie and Alejandro had talked about it endlessly when the announcement came out.

They’d imagined themselves under the scorching sun, walking out in front of packed crowds wearing the United badge, showing the world exactly what they could do. Kobbie still remembers Alejandro’s grin the day the squad list went up.

“We’re going to America!” Alejandro had practically tackled him in the hallway at Carrington, his excitement infectious. “First stop Arsenal, eh? We will show them.”

And now they’re here, stepping out onto a pristine pitch in front of tens of thousands of fans under the New Jersey lights.

The energy is electric, and Kobbie feels it in his bones — the hum of anticipation, the thrill of being part of something bigger than himself. He’d been nervous at first, but the moment the game against Arsenal kicks off, all of that disappears.

He plays with confidence, the same sharpness and vision he’s worked so hard to hone over the past year. Every touch feels purposeful, every pass precise.

He can hear Ten Hag’s voice in his head, reminding him to trust his instincts, to play the way he knows he can. Alejandro is everywhere, buzzing up and down the left flank, and their chemistry is as natural as breathing.

When the final whistle blows, United have won 2-0, and Kobbie feels like he’s floating. He jogs off the pitch, his chest heaving, his legs burning, but the satisfaction coursing through him is worth every second. Alejandro is waiting for him just past the tunnel entrance, his face lit up with pride.

“Kobbie!” Alejandro shouts, pulling him into a tight hug. He’s sweating, breathless, but grinning so wide it almost hurts to look at him. “You were incredible! This season, hermano, we’re going to kill it, I know it.”

Kobbie can’t help but smile back, his heart swelling at Alejandro’s words. He claps him on the back, the weight of the moment settling over him. “We’ve got this,” He says, and for the first time, he really believes it.

But dreams can crumble in an instant.

It happens in the game against Real Madrid. Kobbie doesn’t even see it coming — one second, he’s chasing a loose ball, the next, Rodrigo collides into the back of his leg. His ankle twists unnaturally under the weight, and pain shoots through him so sharply it takes his breath away.

He knows immediately.

Even as the physio runs onto the pitch and tells him not to move, Kobbie knows. There’s no way he’s walking this off. No way he’s making the start of the season now.

His teammates hover around him, Alejandro among them, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Okay?” Alejandro asks, his voice low, urgent, but Kobbie can’t bring himself to answer. He can only shake his head as the physio helps him to his feet.

He’s limping as they guide him off the pitch, the roar of the crowd fading into the background, replaced by the dull throb of pain in his ankle and the crushing weight of disappointment.

In the back room, a staff member hands him an ice pack, and Kobbie presses it to his swollen ankle, staring blankly at the floor. The rest of the game passes in a blur; he barely registers the goals, the whistles, the cheers. All he can think about is what this means.

His first proper preseason, his chance to show Ten Hag what he’s capable of, to earn a starting spot — gone, just like that.

Kobbie beats Alejandro back to their shared hotel room. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, still icing his ankle, when the door swings open. Alejandro steps inside, his hair damp from a quick post-match shower, his face alight with excitement that falters the moment he sees Kobbie.

They don’t need words.

Alejandro’s expression softens immediately, his dark eyes searching Kobbie’s face, and Kobbie knows he sees everything — the disappointment, the frustration, the fear he’s trying so hard to keep under control.

“Come here,” Alejandro says, his voice quieter now, and Kobbie doesn’t hesitate. He lets himself collapse into Alejandro’s arms, his head resting against his friend’s shoulder as Alejandro holds him tightly.

“It’s shit,” Alejandro mutters after a moment, his voice tinged with anger. “It’s not your fault. That guy — Rodrigo — stupid tackle. I saw it. It’s not fair.”

Kobbie breathes out shakily, not trusting himself to speak. He doesn’t cry, but he feels like he might’ve if Alejandro wasn’t there, grounding him with his warmth and his quiet, simmering fury. He likes that Alejandro is angry for him.

It feels good, having someone on his side like that.

Alejandro guides them both to sit on the edge of the bed, his arm still wrapped around Kobbie’s shoulders.

“You’ll come back stronger,” Alejandro says firmly, his accent softening the edges of his words but not the conviction behind them. “This is not the end, my friend. You’ll see. They'll all see.”

Kobbie nods slowly, but the weight in his chest doesn’t lift. He wants to believe Alejandro, but right now, all he can think about is how much he’s losing.

They sit there in silence for a while, Alejandro’s arm still slung around him, until Alejandro leans back, pulling Kobbie with him. They end up lying on Kobbie’s bed, wrapped around each other, the room quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning.

“Want me to put on one of your stupid Marvel films?” Alejandro asks after a while, his tone light but tinged with affection. “The one with... the blue guy and the hammer?”

Kobbie huffs a wet laugh, turning his head to look at Alejandro. “Thor? He’s not blue.”

“Ah, whatever,” Alejandro says with a shrug, his grin softening into something gentler. “You want to watch or no?”

Kobbie nods, his smile small but genuine. Alejandro reaches for the remote, and soon enough, the sound of explosions and heroic music fills the room. Kobbie lets himself relax for the first time all evening, the warmth of Alejandro beside him chasing away the worst of the disappointment.

He’ll get through this. He doesn’t know how yet, but with Alejandro by his side, it doesn’t feel impossible.

——

The first time Kobbie feels like himself again is in training.

It’s a small-sided game, all quick touches and sharp movements, the kind of thing he’s always loved. He slips past Rasmus with a little shimmy of his shoulders and a perfectly timed cut, just enough to open up a shooting lane. The ball flies off his boot, crisp and true, and crashes into the top corner of the net.

Alejandro’s whooping before the ball’s even hit the ground. “Mirá, mirá! That is what I miss! Kobbie Mainoo is back!”

Kobbie tries not to beam too much, but his cheeks ache from holding it in. He jogs back to position as his teammates swarm around him, clapping him on the back, shouting things he barely registers. Alejandro’s the loudest, of course.

“You see this, míster?” Alejandro calls to Ten Hag on the sidelines, grinning like he’s just scored the goal himself. “You put him in the team, and we win everything!”

Kobbie laughs and shakes his head. “Chill, mate.”

“I won’t chill! You are too good! Everyone needs to see this!” Alejandro wraps an arm around Kobbie’s shoulders, practically bouncing on his feet.

His energy is infectious, impossible to ignore. Kobbie lets himself enjoy it, the warmth of being back, of being wanted again.

Rasmus jogs over, panting, but grinning too. “Alright, man,” He says, offering Kobbie a fist bump. “That was class. Can’t wait to see you do that in a match.”

Kobbie bumps his fist back, feeling a flicker of pride. He hadn’t been sure about Rasmus at first — he’d heard about how close the Dane had gotten with Alejandro while he was sidelined, and maybe, just maybe, he’d been a little jealous. But Rasmus has been nothing but encouraging since Kobbie’s return, and it’s hard not to like him.

“Soon,” Kobbie says, letting his confidence show. “Very soon.”

Alejandro smirks beside him. “Very soon, he says. Like it’s not going to be next game when he is already the best player.”

“Bruv, you chat so much,” Kobbie says, shoving Alejandro lightly, but his grin is wide and uncontainable.

The buzz of matchday at Goodison Park is electric, but Kobbie feels calm. Focused. He’s been dreaming about this for months — his first league start since the injury, a chance to prove that he belongs.

Alejandro’s sitting next to him on the coach, vibrating with excitement like he’s the one about to start. “You ready for this?” He asks, voice low but intense.

“Born ready,” Kobbie replies, lacing up his boots.

Alejandro’s grin is fierce, proud. “That’s what I like to hear. You do this, and we all eat good tonight. You play like training, and Everton don’t have a chance.”

The game is everything Kobbie hoped it would be. He’s sharp, composed, dictating play from midfield like he never left. He doesn’t just keep up; he stands out, threading passes through the smallest gaps, winning duels with ease.

The roar of the away fans when United score their third goal feels like it’s for him, and when the final whistle blows, his teammates swarm him again.

Alejandro finds him first, of course. He practically tackles Kobbie in a hug, shouting, “¡Qué jugador, hermano! You killed it!”

“Man of the match,” Rasmus says, clapping him on the back. “Called it.”

Kobbie just laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. But later, when Ten Hag pulls him aside to praise his performance, telling him he was the engine of the team, it sinks in. He’s back.

Three days later, he’s standing on the sideline in Istanbul, heart pounding as he watches the clock tick down in the Champions League. Ten Hag signals for him to come on, and Alejandro’s the first to pat him on the back.

“Go show them,” He says, eyes bright with encouragement.

Kobbie does. He’s only on for the last fifteen minutes, but he makes them count, helping United claw back a thrilling 3-3 draw against Galatasaray. When he walks off the pitch, Alejandro’s waiting for him with an arm slung over his shoulders.

“You belong here,” Alejandro tells him firmly. “Champions League, Premier League, wherever. This is where you are supposed to be.”

The goals come almost as a surprise.

The first, away at Newport in the FA Cup, is scrappy but satisfying — a poacher’s finish after a rebound falls kindly for him. Alejandro nearly jumps over the barrier celebrating, and when Kobbie joins the team huddle, he can hear him shouting, “¡Eso es, hermano!” loud enough to drown out everything else.

The second is pure instinct. A last-minute winner against Wolves, struck so cleanly it feels like time stops. The noise is deafening, and Kobbie finds himself mobbed by teammates before he even processes what’s happened. He looks up at the stands, at the sea of red and white erupting in joy, and feels like he’s floating.

Later, in the dressing room, Alejandro pulls him into another hug. “Goal of the month,” He declares confidently. “Maybe goal of the year!”

“Chill, man,” Kobbie says, but he can’t stop grinning.

The moment that means the most comes at Old Trafford.

It’s Liverpool, their fiercest rivals, and the atmosphere is electric, tense. Kobbie scores in the second half, a sharp finish into the bottom corner that sends the stadium into a frenzy. He runs to the corner flag, arms outstretched, soaking in the noise, the love.

Alejandro meets him halfway back to midfield, grabbing his face with both hands. “You are incredible,” He says, eyes shining. “I told you. I always told you.”

For a moment, Kobbie feels like the kid who watched these matches from the stands, dreaming of someday. But then he remembers Alejandro’s words, remembers everything he’s worked for, and lets himself believe it.

He belongs here. And he’s just getting started.

——

The memory plays in Kobbie’s mind like a highlight reel as he walks through the stadium tunnels, boots clutched in one hand, nerves simmering just below the surface.

He can still feel the echoes of Old Trafford from that semi-final night, the deafening roar of the fans, the way his chest had swelled with pride as he watched Alejandro and Amad combine to score the winning goal against Liverpool.

Alejandro had been electric, that raw energy he played with impossible to replicate. Kobbie remembers it vividly — the way Amad had nicked the ball off Harvey Elliott, quick and clever as ever, and Alejandro was off like a bullet, a blur of red and determination tearing down the pitch.

Kobbie hadn’t even been on the pitch by that point, legs drained after what felt like an endless stretch of pressing, passing, and setting up chance after chance. But it hadn’t mattered. From the bench, he had seen it all unfold, had seen Alejandro’s drive as he carved through Liverpool’s defense and set up Amad perfectly.

The noise when the ball hit the back of the net had been monstrous, a tidal wave of sound that made Kobbie’s ears ring and his heart race.

He remembers the way the bench had exploded, how he’d been practically tackled by Rapha and Rasmus in their excitement, the way he’d tried to crane his neck to see the big screen, but it was impossible to miss Alejandro — arms wide, chest puffed out, drinking in the adoration of the Stretford End before sprinting to join Amad in the far corner.

Kobbie’s pulse quickens just thinking about it. That night had felt like the peak of everything. But now — now there’s a chance to top it. A chance to rewrite the narrative from last year.

The FA Cup final. Another Manchester Derby.

Kobbie doesn’t even have to think about the pain of last year’s 2-1 loss; it sits heavy in his chest without effort. They’d been the better team that day. Everyone knew it. But sometimes football doesn’t care about fairness. Today, though, Kobbie is determined it will be different.

Alejandro finds him in the dressing room as he’s tying his boots, his usual grin lighting up his face. “You ready, my friend?” He asks, dropping onto the bench beside him.

Kobbie glances at him and snorts. “‘Course I am. Been ready since the whistle blew against Liverpool.”

Alejandro laughs, nudging him with an elbow. “Good. Because today? Today is ours. I feel it.” His English is peppered with his Argentine lilt, words slightly clipped but bursting with enthusiasm.

Kobbie shakes his head, smiling despite himself. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s true!” Alejandro insists, spreading his arms dramatically. “And look, last time, City won. This time? No. Not possible. We are better. We are more hungry. And you — you will score again. I know it.”

Kobbie’s cheeks warm, but he rolls his eyes. “You don’t know that.”

Alejandro leans closer, fixing him with that unwavering, almost childlike belief he always seems to carry. “I know. Trust me.”

They go through their usual pre-match rituals, Alejandro bouncing around the dressing room with restless energy, cracking jokes until he gets a laugh out of Kobbie, who tries to keep a straight face but can’t help but grin.

By the time they’re standing in the tunnel, waiting to walk out onto the Wembley pitch, Kobbie feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin. The noise of the crowd is thunderous, a mix of red and blue banners waving in the stands.

Alejandro is beside him, practically bouncing on his toes. “Vamos,” He says under his breath, nodding at Kobbie. “Let’s do this.”

The whistle blows, and the game begins. It’s fast-paced from the start, City pressing high, but United match their intensity, the ball zipping across the pitch with precision.

Kobbie and Alejandro link up early on, their movements instinctive after years of playing together. A quick one-two sees Alejandro break down the left wing, cutting inside before firing a shot that skims just wide of the post. The crowd groans, but it only fuels the fire.

Kobbie works tirelessly, intercepting passes, threading through balls to Rashford and Bruno, and testing the City defense with shots of his own. It feels like every player is dialed in, every touch purposeful. Still, City push back, testing Onana with a couple of dangerous shots that make the United fans hold their breath.

Then it happens. Alejandro is pressing high, hounding a City defender and their keeper, his relentless energy forcing them into a mistake. Kobbie watches from the middle of the pitch, heart in his throat as Alejandro pounces, nicking the ball away and slotting it home with a clinical finish.

Wembley erupts. The United end is a sea of red, the noise deafening as Alejandro sprints to the corner flag, arms outstretched, celebrating in front of the City fans. Kobbie smirks, watching his best mate revel in the moment. Typical Alejandro, he thinks fondly, always fearless, always soaking up the limelight.

Rashford almost doubles their lead shortly after, only for the goal to be ruled offside. But just before half-time, the breakthrough comes again. Rashford pings a perfect cross-field ball to Alejandro, who takes it in stride on the far side.

Kobbie recognises the run before it even happens — it’s the same one Alejandro had made in their very first training session together, the same one they’ve practiced a thousand times in the academy.

He charges towards the box, timing his run perfectly as Bruno flicks the ball into his path. Kobbie doesn’t hesitate, striking it cleanly and sending it flying into the back of the net.

He barely registers the roar of the crowd as he takes off running, leaping into the air and shouting at the top of his lungs. Rashford jumps on his back, laughing and yelling something Kobbie can’t quite hear over the chaos.

Their teammates swarm him, Bruno clapping him on the back and offering words of encouragement before pushing him towards Alejandro, who’s waiting with open arms, grinning from ear to ear.

“Go on,” Bruno says, laughing. “He’ll sulk if you don’t.”

Kobbie shakes his head, but he can’t help the laugh that escapes as he lets Alejandro pull him into a tight hug, the two of them beaming like kids on Christmas morning.

The second half is a battle, City pulling one back late on, but United hold firm. When the final whistle blows, it’s like a dam breaks. Kobbie drops to his knees in the center of the pitch, overwhelmed by the sheer relief and joy of it all. They’ve done it. They’ve won.

Alejandro is there in an instant, shouting and laughing as he collapses beside him. “I told you!” He yells, pulling Kobbie into another hug. “I told you today was ours!”

Their teammates join them, a mess of arms and laughter and celebration. It feels like a dream, the weight of the trophy in Kobbie’s hands later, the cheers of the fans, the bucket hat someone plops onto his head, Alejandro draping an Argentina flag around his own waist.

Kobbie’s cheeks ache from smiling, his heart full as they lift the trophy together.

Later, Kobbie sits back in his chair, watching the party unfold around him, a quiet grin playing at the edges of his lips. The United crest is projected in massive, golden letters across the far wall, the FA Cup trophy gleaming on the makeshift stage in the middle of the room.

Players and their families mill about, laughter and clinking glasses filling the air like music. There’s a certain kind of magic in the room tonight, the kind only victory can conjure.

Rasmus, predictably, is already unsteady on his feet. “Such a lightweight,” Kobbie mutters conspiratorially to Mason who just grins, chuckling as the big Dane sways while gesticulating wildly in conversation with Scott.

Scott’s laughing so hard he’s practically crying, red-faced and leaning against Rasmus for balance even though he’s clearly the steadier of the two.

“You two are a disaster,” Christian interjects, appearing out of nowhere with a glass of water in hand. “Here, drink this.”

Rasmus stares at the water like it’s personally offended him. “Why?” He whines, slurring slightly. “I’m fine, Papa Eriksen.”

Scott dissolves into another fit of giggles, and even Kobbie can’t help but laugh out loud. “Papa Eriksen,” He repeats under his breath, grinning.

“You laugh now,” Christian shoots Kobbie a look but can’t hide his smirk. “You won’t be laughing when you’re cleaning him off the floor later.”

Rasmus, ever the entertainer, throws an arm around Christian’s shoulders and says something in Danish that Kobbie doesn’t understand but can tell is teasing by the way Christian groans. “He just called you dad again, didn’t he?” Kobbie asks knowingly.

Christian sighs. “Yes. And he’s grounded.”

The whole thing warms Kobbie more than the single drink he’s been nursing. He takes a sip and sits back again, soaking it all in — the people, the atmosphere, the sheer joy in the air.

He’d hugged his parents earlier, a moment he knows he’ll carry with him for the rest of his life. His dad’s “Well done, son” had been quietly spoken, but the pride in his voice had been unmistakable. It had been the kind of hug that said everything they didn’t need to put into words.

Now, though, Kobbie’s attention is elsewhere. His gaze keeps drifting to Alejandro, who’s off to the side talking animatedly with Licha.

Alejandro’s still on his first drink, same as Kobbie, and he’s bouncing slightly on his feet, gesturing excitedly as Licha nods along, a small, knowing smile on his face. Alejandro’s eyes are bright, his expression so full of life it makes Kobbie’s chest ache in the best way.

He looks at Alejandro like he’s seeing him for the first time and every time all at once. This thing between them — it’s been there for so long now, simmering just beneath the surface, and Kobbie can’t shake the feeling that tonight, of all nights, is the time to do something about it.

The adrenaline from the match is still humming through him, and maybe that’s why he’s finally brave enough to admit to himself what he’s wanted for months, years even.

They could be something great together. He knows it. He feels it in the way Alejandro looks at him sometimes, in the way their rituals before every game feel so much more intimate than they probably should.

“Alright,” He mutters to himself, downing the last of his drink and setting the glass aside.

The decision is made before he’s even fully processed it. He watches Alejandro for a moment longer, waiting for the right time, and then he gets up, heart thudding in his chest.

“Garna,” He calls softly as he approaches, trying not to draw too much attention. Alejandro looks over, his face lighting up in that way that always manages to undo Kobbie just a little.

“Kobbie!” Alejandro grins, excusing himself from Licha. “What’s up?”

“Come with me,” Kobbie says, voice steady despite the way his stomach is flipping. He doesn’t wait for a response, just tilts his head toward the quieter side of the venue and starts walking. He hears Alejandro following, footsteps quick to catch up.

They stop in front of a small side room that Kobbie knows isn’t in use tonight. He opens the door, stepping inside and motioning for Alejandro to follow. The noise of the party dims as the door clicks shut behind them.

“What’s this about?” Alejandro asks, his brow furrowing slightly. He looks at Kobbie carefully, searching his face for clues.

Kobbie exhales a steadying breath, turning to face him fully. “I’m not drunk,” He says firmly, the words rushing out like he needs Alejandro to understand this part first and foremost.

Alejandro’s head tilts, confusion evident in his expression. “Okay...?”

“I just—” Kobbie pauses, collecting himself. “I just want you to know I know exactly what I’m doing when I do this.”

Alejandro blinks at him, his eyes wide and his lips parted like he’s about to ask a question, but Kobbie doesn’t give him the chance. He steps closer, his hands reaching for Alejandro’s face almost instinctively, and then he’s kissing him, and it feels like everything slots into place.

Alejandro freezes for a heartbeat, but then he’s kissing Kobbie back, tentative at first but quickly melting into it. His hands hover for a moment before settling lightly on Kobbie’s hips, pulling him closer as if the space between them is unbearable.

It’s not long, but it’s enough to send Kobbie’s head spinning. When he finally pulls back, he’s breathless, his heart pounding so loudly he’s sure Alejandro can hear it.

Alejandro looks at him like he’s trying to solve a puzzle, his cheeks flushed and his lips pink. “You... you just kiss me,” He says, his voice soft but full of wonder.

“Yeah,” Kobbie says, grinning despite himself. “I did.”

Alejandro’s mouth curves into a smile, slow and disbelieving but so, so bright.

“Okay,” He says simply, and Kobbie thinks it’s the best thing he’s ever heard.