POV: Nerves and Scoring
You are dating Erling Haaland, you have been for a few months now, today was an important game, a World Cup fate deciding game, he was extremely nervous, although he was never able to admit it out loud but you could tell, you saw how he traiend, how he behaved in the closed doors of your shared hotel room.
“Relax Erling, you will do great like always” you assured him, however he didn’t believe it, no matter what you said and how you comforted him, he didn’t believe it “everyone is counting on me” he mumbled quietly, you nodded “and you are the man to count on, you trained your whole life for this, no one’s better than you out there” you encouraged, he pouted “you’re not helping eh?” you had no choice but to sigh and pull him into your arms, he accepted his fate and placed his head on your shoulder, seeking any comfort possible.
This tall, 6’5 man was now towering you, seeking comfort and reassurance, as if he wasn’t the greatest player out there “you’ll be there right?” you nodded “I cleared my schedule just for you” you placed a little kiss on his cheek and he nodded immediately “good, you’re my lucky charm” he mumbled against your skin “what time is it?” he asked without lifting his head to check the time himself, you looked at the clock “11:00” he groaned, knowing too well that he will have to leave pretty soon.
He untangled himself reluctently from your arms and sighed heavily “i should get going, the guys are probably there” he told her, she nodded, he grabbed his bag and left and it was the last time you saw him before the games.
Many hours later and it was game time, the team was doing their best but they were shorting a goal, one goal stood between them and making it to World Cup, the pressure was too high, Erling was being teased relentlessly by the rivaling team, it was getting on his nerve, everyone was waiting for him to take a stand, to do something.
You were nervous, you didn’t want him to lose, you didn’t understand football but you understood losing, in which he would climb into your arms and feel guilty for whatever caused the loss. even if it wasn’t related to him directly. You didn’t want to see him sad and upset, you really wanted Norway to get through, for him.
Then it happened, a miracle happened and he was able to score the winning goal, a marvelous event that had everyone in the Norway’s side of the stadium cheering and celebrating, you were among the first.
He ran the field in disbelief, his teammates following him, congradulating him, tapping his shoulders and back, picking him up in good spirit and with all the adrenaline coursing through his veins he found himself running towards you and pulling you into the tightest hug there is. You hugged back “I knew you could do it!” you said kissing his cheek and shoulder “Told you you were my lucky charm” he insisted with all the glory “Did you see that? Did you see how I scored at that impossible angle?” He said in complete disbelief “my hero” you simply said then pulled him into a kiss, one that he needed and craved.
