The bus started rolling slowly.

And the celebration became something else entirely.

Players spread out across the top deck, some sitting along the edges, others standing, waving, filming, laughing. Music played from somewhere behind them, mixing with the chants from the crowd, creating a rhythm that carried the entire parade forward.

At one point, someone passed Lukas the trophy.

The moment his hands touched it, the reaction was instant.

The noise surged.

He raised it—

and the city exploded.

Scarves went up, voices screamed, people jumped, flags waved harder, faster, louder. It wasn’t just celebration anymore—it was release.

He lowered it slightly, laughing, shaking his head, then lifted it again. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Even louder.

"Do it again!" Larsson shouted from behind him.

"Relax," Lukas said, grinning.

"You’re enjoying this too much," Ekitike added.

"You would too," Lukas shot back.

"I am," Ekitike replied, already holding his phone up, recording everything.

Uzun appeared beside him at some point, leaning over the railing slightly, looking down at the sea of people.

"You realize they’re not going to let you leave this city now, right?" he said.

Lukas glanced at him. "Good thing I wasn’t planning to."

Uzun smirked. "I sure hope so"

The bus rolled through street after street, the crowd never thinning, never quieting. Every turn brought more people, more noise, more movement. Some ran alongside for short stretches, others stood and watched, phones held high, capturing every second.

At one point, Larsson grabbed a microphone from somewhere and started leading chants, completely off-beat but fully committed, while Knauff tried—and failed—to correct him again. Ekitike poured water over someone’s head, only to get hit back immediately, the entire top deck descending briefly into chaos again.

Lukas stood near the front, one hand resting on the rail, the other still holding the trophy.

He looked out over the crowd.

Over the city.

Over everything that had come together in this one moment.

And he smiled.

Because right now—

this was all that existed.

The noise.

The celebration.

The feeling.

He didn’t know what had already been decided behind closed doors.

He didn’t know what conversations had already taken place.

He didn’t know that this—

this exact moment—

was the end of something.

* * *

By the time Lukas got back to his apartment that evening, the noise of the city had finally begun to fade.

Not completely—Frankfurt was still alive, still buzzing from the parade, still carrying echoes of chants and celebration—but inside the ProfiCamp, things had settled. The energy had burned itself out into something quieter, something slower.

He stepped out of the shower a few minutes later, towel around his shoulders, the last of the day washing off him along with the noise, the attention, the weight of everything that had happened. For the first time since the final whistle, there was no one shouting his name, no cameras, no movement around him.

Just space.

Just calm.

He changed into something simple and dropped onto the couch, letting his body sink into it as the television played in front of him. Joanna was already there, sitting comfortably, her legs stretched slightly along the length of the couch.

Without thinking too much about it, Lukas shifted, laying his head across her thighs, adjusting slightly until he found a comfortable position.

She didn’t say anything at first.

She just let her fingers move into his hair, gently brushing through it, slow and steady, the kind of motion that didn’t need attention but filled the silence anyway.

"You’re not going anywhere," she said after a moment, her tone soft but certain. "At least not anytime soon."

Lukas let out a small breath, eyes still on the television. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said. "I’ve decided. I’m not letting you leave my side."

He smirked faintly. "You’ve decided?"

"I have."

"And what if I don’t agree?"

She tilted her head slightly, her fingers pausing for just a second before continuing again. "You don’t have a choice."

He huffed quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting. "That sounds fair."

She smiled to herself, looking down at him for a second longer before returning her attention to the screen.

On the television, the broadcast had shifted to the DFB Campus in Frankfurt. The backdrop was familiar—press room, microphones lined up, cameras fixed on the podium.

Then—

Julian Nagelsmann stepped forward.

The room quieted.

"Alright," Lukas muttered under his breath. "Let’s see."

Joanna’s fingers slowed slightly in his hair.

Nagelsmann began speaking, his tone composed, measured as always, outlining the importance of the upcoming Nations League Final Four before moving on to the squad announcement.

"Here we go," Joanna said quietly.

The names started.

Goalkeepers first.

"Manuel Neuer... Marc-André ter Stegen... Oliver Baumann..."

Defenders followed.

"Joshua Kimmich... Antonio Rüdiger... Nico Schlotterbeck... Jonathan Tah... Benjamin Henrichs... Robin Koch... Maximilian Mittelstädt..."

Lukas shifted slightly on her lap, his eyes fixed now, more focused.

Midfielders.

"Angelo Stiller... Leon Goretzka... Pascal Groß... Felix Nmecha... Florian Wirtz..."

There was a brief pause.

Joanna’s hand stilled for just a fraction.

"And..."

Nagelsmann glanced down at his sheet briefly.

"...Lukas Brandt."

Joanna’s reaction was immediate.

Her fingers tightened slightly in his hair without thinking.

"Ouch—" Lukas flinched, lifting his head slightly. "Hey—"

She looked down at him, her eyes wide, a smile already breaking through. "I’m not too happy."

He blinked. "You’re not happy?"

"Of course I’m happy," she said quickly, shaking her head. "Why wouldn’t I be?"

"Then why are you pulling my hair?"

She paused, then tilted her head slightly, a small, mischievous smile forming.

"Well..." she said, leaning down a little closer, "why don’t you grab mine?"

Lukas stared at her for half a second.

Then huffed out a quiet laugh.

Before he could respond, she leaned down the rest of the way and kissed him, soft at first, then just a little longer than before, her hand finally relaxing in his hair.

And for that moment—

there was nothing else.

The television continued in the background, Nagelsmann moving through the rest of the squad list, but Lukas wasn’t really listening anymore.

He was still lying across Joanna’s thighs, her fingers moving slowly through his hair, steady and absent-minded. The room was quiet, calm in a way that felt earned after everything that had happened.

Then his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen.

Didn’t react.

Just picked it up.

"Hello?"

A voice came through immediately, familiar and lively.

"Hey! How are you feeling?"

Lukas shifted slightly, adjusting his head on Joanna’s lap. "I’m good. You?"

"I’m alright now," the voice replied. "Listen—congrats, man. Seriously. I watched everything. A hat-trick in a final? That’s crazy. You’re actually insane."

Lukas let out a quiet breath, a faint smile forming despite himself. "Thanks."

He paused for a second, then asked, "You back on the grass yet?"

"Almost," the voice said. "I’ve just started getting back into full training. I wish I was part of the squad, but... not yet."

Lukas nodded slightly. "Yeah. Take your time."

"Don’t worry," the voice continued. "You guys are fine. I trust you. With you there, you’ll handle it."