Harbinger Of Glory-Chapter 231: Thin Lines!

The fan who had his arms wrapped around Leo seemed to be muttering something, but it was hard to hear over all the chaos.

Whatever he said, Leo agreed, and to commemorate, the fan took out his phone before taking a selfie with Leo, knowing what was soon to come.

Leo patted his back twice as the stewards arrived and peeled him away, and the fan went laughing, arms raised, not remotely sorry.

In the next moment, Leo found Dawson right beside him.

He pulled Leo in and kissed him on the cheek, quickly and unashamedly, then grabbed him by the shoulders before turning him toward the interview platform and shoving him in that direction.

Leo went ahead, walking towards the platform that had been set up, but he slowed just as he got there because he was seeing the contrast.

Dean Handon was near the United bench with his head down, and one of the coaching staff members beside him saying something with a hand on his back.

Leo looked at him for a moment and couldn’t help but think about the penalty.

About De Gea going the right way and the ball somehow still going in.

About how thin the line was between the two of them right now.

He wasn’t always going to be that lucky.

And when his leg was right, when he came back properly and completely, he was going to work until luck stopped being part of the conversation entirely.

Until there was nothing left to chance.

While in his reverie, he felt a hand close around his arm and tug him out of it.

The interviewer had caught him just before he walked past the platform entirely, and she steered him back towards the platform like someone who had been in the game long enough.

He realised where he was supposed to be standing and stood there.

With that out of the way, she flipped towards her professional personality and turned to the camera first.

"What a game we have had here at Wembley, ending with Wigan Athletic claiming the final ticket to the FA Cup final on penalties. And this young man beside me was at the heart of almost everything good that Wigan did tonight."

She turned to Leo.

"Leo, first things first. How are you feeling?"

"Honestly?" He exhaled.

"Relieved. More than anything else. Just relieved."

"You came on in the eighty-second minute, a goal down, and from that point, Wigan looked like a different team. You had a hand in the equaliser; you scored the penalty that, looking back on it now, was probably what won it for Wigan. Does it feel real yet?"

Leo smiled.

"Ask me in the morning."

She laughed and then turned towards the camera.

"I’ll hold you to that. Now, a lot of people are going to talk about what you did tonight, particularly that run before the equaliser. Walk me through it."

"I don’t really remember most of it," he said. "I just had too many thoughts running through my head, and I am glad I settled on the right one for that moment!"

"And the penalty? That took some nerve after the first one was saved."

"I just told myself to pass it into the net after the first effort, He shrugged.

"Simple as that, and I’m glad it really was that simple because De Gea was like a wall tonight for our opponents.

She smiled, sensing something, and leaned slightly forward.

"Your opponents, huh?"

"And would I be wrong to say they were a motivation? I mean...." she added before he could answer, "was there any extra motivation tonight, given that it’s your former club that was on the other side?"

Leo raised a brow, looked at her and then laughed quietly and shook his head.

"My motivation is the Wigan fans," he said.

"These people pay good money every week to watch us. They travel, they sing, they stay until the end. Aside from not wanting to feel the sting of losing, they are my biggest motivation at the moment."

She smiled at the redirect and didn’t push it.

"Last question. The final. What happens next for Leo Calderon?"

He looked at her, and she looked at him, and they both knew what she was really asking.

"We’ll have to wait and see," he said simply.

And before she could follow up, he was already stepping back from the microphone, nodding once, and walking away into the noise.

Higher up the pitch and behind all the glass, things were a bit different.

The moment Ben Amos caught it, Jonas put his glass down.

That was all he did.

Just set it on the armrest quietly while around him, the room tried to figure out what expression to wear.

A few people reached for their phones while a few others sat very still.

And somewhere in that stillness, eyes began drifting his way, subtle and sideways, like the room was trying to assign the result of the game around the neck of Jonas but didn’t give them anything to work with.

Beside him, Noah Sarin sat back and exhaled like he’d been holding it since the start of the second half, which wasn’t far from the truth.

Then he threw both hands above his head and swung them around like a man who had completely forgotten where he was, grinning at nothing in particular with the kind of joy that doesn’t bother making itself presentable.

Jonas watched him with a wry expression and said nothing for a moment. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Then he shook his head and got to his feet, knowing he’d have probably done the same if he were in the man’s position.

Maybe, he might have even done more than this.

The movement caught Noah mid-celebration, and for reasons he probably couldn’t have explained, he stood too.

Seeing Noah on his feet, Jonas extended his hand before looking the former right in the eye.

"I thought it was our night," he said, before he started glancing out toward the pitch and then back.

"But I suppose not."

He held Noah’s gaze for a minute before he continued.

"You’ve got a hell of a player under your brand."

Noah took the hand and shook it, but couldn’t help but correct one little thing about Jonas’s statement.

"It’s more like he’s got me under his," he said, not for performance but because it was the truth.

Jonas looked at him for a moment, a bit shocked at the bluntness, but then remembered what he had heard of how the former used to be and nodded once.

Then turned and walked out with his assistant at his shoulder.

Noah watched the door close.

Then he sat back down and smiled at nothing in particular for a while.

...

[Etihad Campus]

Carlo was still on his feet when the interview ended, eyes on the screen where Leo had been standing a moment ago and now had the microphone already being taken away.

It looked as if he could stand for days, but a voice soon drew him back.

"Carlo."

He turned and found one of the team coaches by the door with a paper in hand.

"We’ve got the evening session. And you know how Pep feels about punctuality, especially with your new lot."

Carlo nodded at the words of the latter before grabbing his plate and then looking at the screen one more time before dropping the plates by the dishes next to the staff area.

Then he followed the coach out of the complex.

...

On the Wigan end of things, their bus was anything but quiet.

Leo had his headphones on and something slow playing, and it was doing a reasonable job of it.

Outside the window, the lights of London were thinning as they got further from the stadium, and inside, the Wigan players were doing what players do after something like that.

McClean, who suddenly found himself at the front, now had his arm over the seat in front of him, leaning toward the driver.

"Find us a good club, will you," he said, loud enough for half the bus to hear.

"Somewhere with a bit of ambition."

A few laughed, but those who knew McClean knew he was somewhere between joking and completely serious, and that was a line he had always been comfortable sitting on.

Also at the front, Nolan leaned across toward Dawson.

"Are you not going to say something to them?"

But when Nolan finished, he found that the one he was addressing was already pulling a sleeping mask down over his eyes, settling back into his seat, and adjusting it until it sat right.

"If it doesn’t harm themselves or anyone, leave them to it."

Nolan looked at him for a moment while Dawson said nothing further, because he was already gone, and truth be told, he had barely slept in the two days leading up to the game, and the bus moving was enough to lull him to deep sleep.