He said a lot of things he had prepared long ago, and after he finished speaking, he saw everyone silent and bow their heads, and then he awkwardly lowered his head.
"What about you?" The elderly man in a wheelchair looked at the young girl, asking with a heavy expression.
The girl pointed at her mouth, shook her head, then took out a pen and paper from her pocket and wrote down a sentence: —— "I can’t speak, but I like Ma’el because he plays very well and is also very handso."
The group fell silent, the atmosphere of waiting beca deep.
...
At 5:43 in the afternoon, Ma’el drove his Ferrari into the underground parking lot of Emirates Stadium.
At the elevator entrance, he saw Mr. Wenger, who had been waiting expectantly, standing there alone.
"Just the two of us?" He approached and asked.
"Also Van Persie and Vermaelen." Wenger glanced at his watch and replied, "But Van Persie will arrive around 6:20, Vermaelen even later."
"Shall we go up first?"
Ma’el pointed to the elevator and, seeing Wenger nod, he walked with him.
They quickly reached the suite level, and after exiting the elevator, they saw four people sitting at a table in the distance.
"Mr. Wenger has arrived!"
The elderly man in the wheelchair was the first to notice, pointing excitedly at the elevator entrance, "And Ma’el!"
"Really?" The young boy turned his head towards the sound of footsteps, clapped his hands, unable to contain his excitent.
"Really, they’re not far from us!"
The elderly man in the wheelchair even had the impulse to stand up; for common fans... actually, not even common fans, they often faced prejudice and misunderstanding.
For them, to be in such a place and see the brilliant young star Ma’el and legendary coach Wenger so close was naturally thrilling.
The middle-aged man lifted his head, grinning foolishly at the two.
The young girl’s breathing was slightly rapid, her face anxious, yet she was only able to stamr... before shutting her mouth in frustration.
"Hello, everyone."
Wenger saw them, feeling a bit uncomfortable inside, but still showed his brightest smile, "Van Persie and Vermaelen will arrive later, let’s eat first."
Ma’el greeted the four, almost instantly deducing each person’s issues, except he was slightly uncertain about the middle-aged man.
During the al, their conversation was sparse, with Wenger occasionally introducing a topic, and Ma’el sotis doing the sa, but most of the ti the four fans couldn’t clearly respond.
"I’ll chat with these two."
After the al, Wenger had to choose to have private conversations, taking the elderly man and young boy away, leaving Ma’el with the middle-aged man and the young girl.
"Alright."
Ma’el went to sit beside the middle-aged man and the young girl, about to speak when he saw the middle-aged man’s head drop. "Because as a child....."
"....."
He repeated the words he’d just said to the others, word for word.
Ma’el felt a wave of emotion rise within him, seriously asking, "You watch almost every ga, and travel to away gas, isn’t that quite costly?"
"My parents left a house before they passed, and I now rent it out for 700 pounds a month, supplented by governnt aid, it’s barely enough."
The middle-aged man finally showed a hint of a smile, though it seed more like a preemptive self-mockery, fearful that Ma’el might ridicule him, "I don’t stay in hotels or eat at restaurants.
"I bring a blanket and cookware, usually find places to live and cook myself.... Have you seen the decorations of the 18th-century Grenadiers?
"When I travel, it’s sowhat like that, in winter I wear a very tall hat, haha....."
Ma’el’s expression remained serious, he gestured for the two to sit next to him, feeling conflicted about what to say.
He suddenly turned to glance at the young girl, who shyly avoided his gaze but her eyes were bright, and she had a smile on her lips.
She hadn’t spoken... Ma’el guessed she was probably mute, unsure why she wouldn’t write to communicate with him.
"You....."
After thinking for a long ti, he finally asked, "Do you have any regrets or wishes?"
He wanted to help them; if their desires were related to Arsenal, it should be easy for him to manage.
"I...."
The middle-aged man hesitated, his eyes suddenly becoming moist: "I want a season ticket with an away ga qualification, but I’m not on the list and have to wait for years.
"Many tis I can’t make it to away gas, sotis, despite making it, I can’t get a ticket, the scalper prices are too high, and I’m only left feeling disappointed."
A chord in Ma’el’s heart was suddenly tugged fiercely; he’d experienced the passion of European fans towards football, understood what football culture represented here.
But such a specific, tangible feeling, it was his first ti.
"Anything else?"
"No, I don’t need donations or autographs, I just hope to see the team’s matches weekly, that’s my biggest wish..... I think, if I watch for three more years, my illness should be cured."
Ma’el patted his shoulder, unsure what to say, finally only able to say: "Leave it to , I wish you a speedy recovery, I’ll keep your contact details.
"Once you’re better, I’ll take you on the club’s bus, travel with us to an away ga."
"Absolutely." The middle-aged man lifted his right hand to wipe his eyes, "My na is David."
Ma’el continued to pat his back, then turned to glance at the young girl, noticing she was writing sothing.
When she lifted the paper, an orderly, clear line of text appeared: —— "Ma’el, I like you.... I want to hug you, can I?"
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