Chapter 47 : Final(5)

The referee blew the whistle.

Nico took a deep breath, his emerald-green eyes locked onto the ball. One step. Two. Three. Then, in a flash, he struck it cleanly.

The ball rocketed toward the top left corner. Ter Stegen stretched—fingertips grazing air—but it was futile.

For a moment, time stood still.

The ball rippled against the net.

Silence.

Then, an explosion.

The Espanyol fans erupted in a deafening roar, a sound that shook the Mestalla to its core. The stands trembled as thousands jumped, screamed, and clutched each other in disbelief.

On the pitch, chaos unfolded.

The entire Espanyol bench—players, coaches, staff—sprinted toward Nico. The substitutes leaped over barriers, the staff threw tactics boards aside, and Sergio González dashed onto the field, fists pumping.

But Nico?

Nico was already running.

Straight to the Espanyol fans, his arms wide open, his lungs burning. He leaped past the advertising boards and into the sea of blue and white. They engulfed him—fans grabbing his shoulders, pulling him into tight embraces, hands ruffling his hair, tears mixing with sweat.

He was their hero. Their savior.

And tonight, Mestalla belonged to Espanyol.

_________

Ian Darke (on commentary):

"NICO CRUYFF WINS IT FOR ESPANYOL! The Prince of La Masia, the boy who was born and raised in Barcelona's academy, has just delivered heartbreak to the club that made him! Ice in his veins, top corner, no chance for Ter Stegen! And look at the scenes! The entire Espanyol squad is on the pitch!"

Àxel Torres (on commentary):

"Football is cruel, Ian. Barcelona nurtured him, trained him, and now he's the one who's crushed their dreams! What a performance, what a moment! Nico Cruyff has just written his name into Espanyol history!"

Ian Darke:

"The sheer drama of this match has been something special! From the 97th-minute equalizer to this! This is what football is all about—passion, chaos, and heroes rising to the occasion!"

Àxel Torres:

"And look at him! He's gone straight into the crowd! The Espanyol fans have taken him in as one of their own! This is football heritage, this is why we love the game! Nico Cruyff—remember the name!"

__________

The security rushed in, pulling back the wave of Espanyol players and staff as they tried to celebrate with Nico in the stands. The stadium was still shaking from the roar of the Espanyol faithful, but order had to be restored. The players, breathless and drenched in sweat, finally returned to the pitch.

As Nico stepped down from the stands, he found Lionel Messi waiting for him. Without a word, Messi pulled off his Barcelona jersey and handed it to him. Nico did the same, exchanging his Espanyol shirt with the Barça legend.

Messi patted his shoulder. "Eres especial, Nico. No cualquiera hace lo que hiciste hoy." (You're special, Nico. Not everyone can do what you did today.)

Busquets walked over, shaking his head with a small smirk. "You're making a habit of breaking our hearts, aren't you?"

Jordi Alba chuckled, ruffling Nico's hair. "Can't believe you nutmegged Ter Stegen. He's never going to hear the end of it."

Ter Stegen, standing nearby, sighed dramatically. "I don't even want to talk about it."

Nico smiled, shaking hands with each of them. There was no bad blood—only respect. He had played his heart out, and so had they.

__________

As the Espanyol players made their way back to the locker room, Nico wiped the sweat off his face, his mind still replaying the moment the ball hit the net. The roar of the crowd, the chaos, the pure euphoria.

Then, just beyond the tunnel, he saw her.

Aitana.

She didn't say a word—just ran straight at him. Before he could react, her arms wrapped around him, squeezing tight. He felt her breath against his neck, her heartbeat racing almost as fast as his.

"You're insane," she murmured, voice shaking slightly. "Absolutely insane."

Nico exhaled, a breathless chuckle escaping his lips. "You didn't tell me you were coming."

She pulled back slightly, just enough for him to see the bright excitement in her eyes. "If I did, it wouldn't have been a surprise."

He shook his head, smirking. "You love messing with me, don't you?"

"Not as much as you love giving me a heart attack," she shot back, nudging his shoulder. "Do you have any idea what it was like watching that? My soul left my body."

Nico huffed a quiet laugh, his hands resting lightly on her arms. "You weren't the only one."

She stared at him for a moment, then hugged him again, even tighter.

"I'm proud of you," she whispered.

For the first time that night, Nico felt something settle in his chest—a quiet, grounding warmth. He wasn't just hearing the cheers of thousands; he was hearing her.

He swallowed, giving a small nod. "Thanks."

Aitana pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. But before she could say anything else, he smirked.

"So… which team were you supporting?"

Her expression froze for a split second before she scoffed. "Seriously? After all that, that's what you ask me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "It's a fair question."

She huffed, crossing her arms. "I plead the fifth."

Nico chuckled. "That's not an answer."

Aitana groaned, rubbing her face dramatically. "Look, let's just say I was hoping for a good game."

"A diplomatic answer."

"Exactly," she said, pointing at him. "And if you ever ask me that again, I'm blocking your number."

Nico grinned, shaking his head. "Coward."

Aitana gasped, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me? Do you know how hard it was to watch this game? My heart was torn in two! My club, my team, versus…" Her voice trailed off, but her eyes softened.

Nico tilted his head. "Versus?"

She sighed dramatically. "Versus you, idiot."

For a moment, he just stared at her, that warmth in his chest growing. Then, unable to help himself, he reached out and flicked her forehead.

"Hey!" she yelped, swatting his hand away.

"You should've just said Espanyol," he teased.

She groaned again, grabbing his jersey and pushing him toward the tunnel. "Go. Before I change my mind and say Barcelona should've won."

Nico smirked, jogging backward. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

They locked eyes for a second—long enough for both of them to know the truth without saying it. Then, with a final grin, he turned and ran into the tunnel, disappearing into the chaos of the locker room.

Aitana watched him go, shaking her head with a small, knowing smile.

___________

The Espanyol players, now dressed in fresh jerseys, walked out of the tunnel with weary legs but triumphant hearts. The Mestalla was still roaring, the echoes of their victory reverberating through the stands. The podium stood tall at the center of the pitch, bathed in bright lights, draped in blue and white.

One by one, they ascended the stage, medals draped around their necks, their faces a mix of exhaustion and euphoria. When their captain stepped forward to receive the grand prize, the anticipation in the air was almost suffocating. He took the Copa del Rey trophy in his hands, its golden surface gleaming under the stadium floodlights.

He turned to face his teammates, to the thousands of Espanyol faithful in the stands, to the moment that would be etched in history. Then, with a deep breath, he lifted it high.

The stadium erupted.

A sea of blue and white exploded into cheers, chants, and pure, unfiltered joy. The sound was deafening, the emotion overwhelming. Players hugged, some collapsing onto the podium, some roaring into the night sky. Tears streamed down the faces of fans who had waited so long for this moment.

Espanyol—against all odds—were Copa del Rey champions.

_____________

The celebrations continued as the Espanyol players took turns posing with the trophy, their families joining them on the pitch. Some lifted their children onto their shoulders, others wrapped their arms around loved ones, their smiles wide, their eyes still filled with disbelief.

Nico stood near the podium, the gold medal resting against his chest, his hands running through his sweat-dampened hair. Then, he felt a familiar presence beside him. He turned—Aitana stood there, smiling, her eyes gleaming under the stadium lights.

Without a word, she reached for the trophy. Nico smirked and lifted it slightly, teasing her before finally handing it over. She rolled her eyes, but her smile never faded.

A photographer motioned for them, and they stepped closer together. Both of them, side by side, hands gripping the trophy. Aitana held it with a firm grasp, her Barcelona jacket still zipped up, while Nico, still in his Espanyol jersey, couldn't help but laugh at the contrast.

The camera flashed.

A moment frozen in time—two rising stars, two paths intertwined, one trophy in their hands.

As the camera flashed, Nico glanced at Aitana, her face still glowing with joy. The noise of the stadium faded into the background, the world shrinking down to just the two of them.

Without thinking, without hesitation, he pulled her closer. Aitana barely had time to react before his lips met hers. It was soft yet full of emotion, a kiss that spoke of everything they had been through—La Masia, the late-night conversations, the dreams they chased, and now, this moment.

The crowd roared, but it wasn't for them—it was for Espanyol, for the Copa del Rey. Yet, in that moment, it felt like the whole world was celebrating them.

As they pulled away, Aitana looked at him, a little breathless, a little surprised, but undeniably happy.

"You really don't care we're in front of everyone, huh?" she teased.

Nico chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Let them see."

Aitana laughed, shaking her head before gripping his jersey. "You're impossible."

He smirked. "And you love it."

She rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. Instead, she leaned in again, resting her forehead against his as the night continued around them, the trophy still in their hands.

________

Back at home, the weight of the victory was still heavy in the air, but Nico felt a sense of calm settle over him as he sat down at the dining table. His grandparents, Johan and Danny, were already there, smiling at him with pride, the way they always did after a big win.

"You were incredible today," Johan said, his voice steady but full of warmth. "That last goal... impossible. You've got a gift, Nico. It's in your blood."

Nico smiled modestly, running a hand through his hair. "It was a team effort, Grandpa. We all worked for this."

Danny, ever the loving grandmother, leaned in, her eyes glinting with excitement. "A beautiful win, darling. And that penalty... you held it together under so much pressure. We've never been more proud."

Nico shrugged, pretending to be unaffected, but the pride he felt in his family's words was undeniable. "It wasn't easy, but we did it. And we did it together."

Johan leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "I've watched you from the beginning, Nico. And there's something different about you, something that sets you apart. I'm glad to see it paying off."

"Thanks, Grandpa," Nico said softly, a hint of emotion in his voice. "Couldn't have done it without both of you."

Danny smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "The best is yet to come. But tonight, we celebrate. You've earned it."

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