Become A Football Legend Chapter 227: João’s Turn (by Quads1)

That earned him a smile that lingered longer than the joke deserved.

She sighed, the good kind, then her shoulders dropped a little. "I’m sorry I can’t co over this weekend. My last written paper is on Monday, and I really need to focus."

"It’s fine," Lukas said without hesitation. "My exams start Monday too. Perfect timing. We’ll both be miserable together, just... separately."

They talked easily after that. About her revision schedule, about a funny mont from training, about nothing and everything. The comfort between them was effortless, the kind that didn’t need filling. But after a while, Joanna’s energy shifted. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Lukas noticed imdiately.

"You’re thinking very loudly," he said gently. "Did you see sothing?"

She hesitated. "There was an article. Tonight. They said you were seen at the hospital again."

He watched her swallow. "People are already speculating. A lot."

She forced a small smile. "I know why you were there. I just... I didn’t want to ask and stress you out."

Lukas sat up a little, resting his back against the headboard. "Hey. Look at ."

She did.

"It’s negative," he said calmly. "I’m fine."

For a second she didn’t react. Then she let out a long, shaky breath she clearly hadn’t realized she was holding, her hand flying to her chest.

"Oh my God," she whispered, smiling now for real. "You scared ."

"I know," he said softly. "I’m sorry. The doctor just said regular screening every four or five years, just to be safe. But right now, there’s nothing. I’m completely clear."

Her eyes glistened as she nodded. "Good. That’s all I needed to hear."

They stayed on the call a little longer after that, quieter now, calr. When they finally said goodnight, Lukas lay back down, the phone resting on his chest as the room returned to silence. Outside, the city humd on. Inside, his thoughts slowed.

Although he knew, from his previous life, that he did not have the cancer, he was still sowhat nervous since the day of the testing.

That was sowhat compounded by the loss to United the previous day and the job of having to co back from a 2-goal deficit in Manchester less than a week from now.

But confirming the negative result, and telling Joanna about it, had put so weird source of calm on the quiet storm.

For the first ti all week, his mind felt lighter.

* * *

Joanna ended the call still smiling, her phone warm in her hand as she set it down on the desk beside her notes. The room felt lighter sohow, like the air itself had shifted. She exhaled, long and slow, then leaned back against her pillows—

—just as there was a knock.

Before she could even say a word, the door opened and João stepped in, already halfway across the threshold.

"Excuse you?" she said, half-laughing. "Do you not know how to wait for permission?"

João lifted a finger and pointed back at the door. "I knocked."

"And then you walked in."

"Details," he said, dropping onto the edge of her bed. "Minor details."

She shook her head, amused despite herself. "Unbelievable. What do you want?"

He tilted his head, studying her face for a second longer than necessary. "You were on the phone with Lukas, weren’t you?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you eavesdropping now?"

João snorted. "These walls are paper thin. I didn’t need to. Also"—he gestured vaguely at her expression—"you’re glowing. Either he proposed or the news was good."

Joanna’s smile softened. "It was good. He’s fine. Everything ca back negative."

João let out a quiet breath and leaned back on his hands. "Knew it." Then, imdiately, the teasing grin returned. "And you were stressing yourself into an early grave for nothing."

"I was not," she protested, even as she felt her cheeks warm.

"Mhm," he said. "Sure. Absolutely calm. Totally relaxed."

She swatted at his arm. "Shut up."

He laughed, then sobered slightly. "Anyway. That’s why I ca. Just wanted to check." He paused, then added, "Now that that’s sorted—focus. You’ve got exams."

She raised an eyebrow. "That’s rich, coming from you."

He blinked. "What’s that supposed to an?"

"I’d tell you to do the sa," she said sweetly, "but I’d be wasting my breath. Focus on your football instead."

João groaned and flopped back onto the mattress. "Wow. Betrayal. From my own sister."

She smiled. "When’s your next match again?"

"Tomorrow," he said, staring up at the ceiling. "Second to last of the season. Then the final one next Sunday." His voice dipped. "And that’s it. Season over. Still no first-team minutes. Not even a bench call-up."

She turned fully toward him now. "João."

He glanced at her.

"They’d be insane not to promote you," she said, without hesitation. "Seven clean sheets in fifteen starts. Two goals. Three assists. From centre-back. You’ve been one of the best players in that squad."

His lips twitched despite himself. "You’ve been reading the stats again."

"I watch your gas," she corrected. "And I know what I’m talking about."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, clearing his throat, shoulders squaring a little as the words sank in. "Yeah... well. If they don’t give my chance next season, I’ll just pull a Lukas."

She laughed. "Oh please."

"I’m serious," he said, grinning now. "Eintracht Frankfurt, here I co."

"Good luck with that," she said, already nudging him toward the door. "Now get out. I actually have to study."

He let himself be pushed, still smiling as he stepped into the hallway. "Good luck with your exams," he said over his shoulder. "Both the written ones and the life ones."

She rolled her eyes and closed the door.

João stood there for a mont, then turned and headed toward his own room. He lay back on his bed, arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling—

—when his phone chid.

A notification lit up his screen.

* * *

Florian Kohfeldt sat back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes fixed on the far corner of his office as the rain tapped softly against the window overlooking the training pitches. The walls were decorated sparsely. A tactical board with magnets half-forgotten from the previous matchday, frad photos from promotion pushes that had stalled just short, and a whiteboard cluttered with dical tilines and squad lists that were slowly shrinking rather than growing.

Alexander Lesch stood nearest the desk, tablet in hand. He had the practiced calm of soone who delivered bad news far too often.

"It’s a grade-two muscle tear," the doctor said, scrolling once more as if hoping the numbers might change. "Adductor. Patric felt it imdiately after the sprint. We confird it this morning with imaging."

Kohfeldt exhaled slowly through his nose.

"How long?"

"At least three months," Lesch replied. "We’re talking rehabilitation through the sumr. No chance of him returning before the season ends."

That landed heavily. Patric Pfeiffer had been their most experienced center-back, the one they leaned on when gas got chaotic, when leads needed protecting.

Martin Heck shifted in his seat beside the coach and picked up where the doctor left off, his tone already edged with frustration.

"And to make things worse," he said, "Maglica’s red card from Karlsruhe was reviewed. Two-match suspension. Automatic. No appeal."

A/N: As you can see from the title, this is sponsored by the GOAT, Quads1. Thanks so much.

rry Christmas to you all. Hope you all had fun. Even if you don’t celebrate it, hope you enjoyed that day.

Love y’all

-Writ.