By the time Leo found his footing, the dressing room was already in shambles.

Not from celebrations, as there was hardly anything to celebrate about, but because of how the players were scrambling to get the first bit of the hot shower.

In the centre of it all, Jake stood at the centre of the room with a towel wrapped around his waist despite not playing and a yawn on his face.

"I am absolutely starving," he said to no one in particular, but a few heads turned toward him, with some even shaking their heads at the towel he had on him.

"What are you doing, bro?" Fletcher said as he slipped on a pair of joggers.

"I want to wash away the emotional labour," Jake said, without missing a beat. "I was stressed the whole time."

"From the bench."

"From the bench, yes. Have you ever watched a game from the bench and not been able to do anything about it? It’s exhausting."

Before anyone could respond to that, the door opened, and Dawson came in.

He looked around the room for a moment, taking in the state of his squad, before his expression shifted to a smile.

"Good job today," he said as he walked forward and paused, eyes settling on Jake, who stood beside him until the latter gave way, acting shyly as he found space to sit.

"Seriously. You should be proud of yourselves," Dawson said as he shook his head at Jake’s actions.

A few sporadic applause resounded in the room, as the players nodded.

Then, just loud enough to be heard, Jake said, "All we need now is food, and we’re set."

Dawson looked in his direction as Jake met his gaze without flinching.

Dawson considered him for a moment and then said, "How about some fast food?"

The cheer that came up from the room was immediate and genuine, and then almost as immediately it turned into a collective groan as the implications arrived.

Because everyone in that room knew the deal, especially Dawson’s deal with fast food.

The more you ate, the more Dawson would make you work it out of your system the following morning.

To them, fast food had a specific tax attached to it that nobody was going to enjoy paying.

"Worth it though," someone, probably Jake, muttered, and nobody disagreed.

Dawson clapped once.

"Okay, so now that that is settled, let’s get moving. Eat it and be done before dinner, or you’ll be doing both and your bodies will hate you for it."

He turned to leave and got as far as the door before Nolan appeared in the frame and said something quietly into his ear.

Dawson’s expression shifted slightly.

"Media?" he said as Nolan nodded.

Dawson looked stumped for a second at the sudden obligation but shook his head and went with the flow nonetheless.

The door clicked behind him, and soon, the room returned to how it had been before he entered.

"Jake, take that fucking towel off," Fletcher made out, eliciting laughs from the players around as one of the Wigan staff members came through a few minutes later and made his way toward Leo, who was just slipping into his slides, with a camera in hand.

"So I got some good ones during the game," he said, tilting the screen toward Leo so he could see the thumbnails cycling through.

Leo looked at them and then looked up.

"These are good," he made out as he pulled the camera a bit closer and then glanced back up at the staff.

"I’ll get them on the laptop tonight, clean them up a bit and send them over to you."

"Appreciate it," Leo said.

The man nodded and moved on.

.......

[10:48 PM]

"They just posted it," Leo seemed to answer after pulling out his phone.

"Hold on," Ezra said as he also pulled his phone from his pocket.

The Wigan team account on Instagram had posted a picture of the squad crowded into a Burger King and having their food, with Reyes at the back looking like he was posing for a separate shoot entirely.

The comments were already moving by the time Leo found them.

A cheat meal is absolutely deserved after that performance tonight.

Reyes in the background, acting like he’s at fashion week, I cannot.

Pre-season draw at the Signal Iduna. Against DORTMUND. Someone tell me this is real.

The way Reyes shushed the Yellow Wall, I will never recover.

Carlo’s goal was everything. The composure on that finish. We might have something on our hands, boys!

Leo read through a few more and then set his phone back into his pocket, just as Jake’s elbow found his ribs.

He turned to face the latter, who was holding out a small cardboard box, the kind used for socks, with the look of someone doing a favour they expected to be acknowledged properly.

"You left this," Jake said.

"Cheers," Leo said, taking it.

"You’re welcome," Jake said, waiting.

Leo said nothing further, and Jake turned away with the expression of a man who had expected more and was processing the shortfall. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

By the time the players came out, the coach was idling, waiting to take them away from the hotel that was lit up behind them.

The players slowly made their way towards the coach, where Nolan stood at the door of the coach, counting heads as they boarded.

"Everyone on?" he called after the last of them had filtered through.

A murmur of confirmation came back from inside as Leo found his seat beside Jake.

When the engine turned over, the coach pulled away from the hotel and pointed itself toward the airport.

It was Milan next.

Somewhere else entirely, in a room that had everything to do with pre-season football they just played, a phone sat on a desk, and a man looked at it.

"Have we been able to get in contact with him?" he said.

"Not yet," the voice across from him said.

The man nodded once and straightened.

"Let’s be fast," he said.