The Fire Underneath

The silence hit harder than the scoreline.

4–0.the game ended and i was still standing Depressed cant believe what happened 

We were humiliated. Torn apart. 

The dressing room felt like a graveyard. No shouting. No blame. Just heavy breathing and heads down, the kind of silence where even the sound of a zipper feels too loud.

I sat in the corner, shirt off, sweat freezing to my skin. My mind still replaying the third goal — the mistake, the pass, the finish.

That's when I saw him.

Nico Brunner. One of our most experienced players. Thirty-one. Used to be captain before Jan. A veteran.

He was on his phone. Laughing at a meme.

Not even pretending to hide it.

I stood up.

"Is this funny to you?" I said.

He didn't look up. "Relax, Müller."

"No, you relax," I said louder. "Since Jan left, you haven't been the same. You play like you're doing us a favor just by showing up."

He finally looked at me.

"And you play like you've already won something," he said.

I stepped forward. "I train harder than anyone here. I give everything. You—"

"You think giving everything makes you a leader?" he snapped, standing up now too. "You score goals, yeah. But you walk around like you're better than everyone. You're arrogant."

I didn't back down. "I'm not arrogant. I'm just not okay with losing."

"Neither am I," he said, voice sharp, "but I don't throw tantrums when things fall apart."

I stared at him. Chest heaving. I wasn't angry at just him — I was angry at all of it. The performance. The silence. The weight on my shoulders. Two Years Earlier – The Night After the Super Cup

I remembered a very different locker room. Jan our ex captain who left the club after we won the super cup i think it was a russian club ,he was standing where Meyer was now, still in his full kit, holding the Super Cup trophy like it was nothing.

"You'll take this one day," he said, placing it gently at my feet.

I laughed. "Not if you keep scoring like that."

"Scoring's easy," he replied. "Holding a team together? That's the real job."

Back then, I didn't understand what he meant.

Now I did. Present

Across the room, Meyer watched from the entrance, arms crossed, saying nothing.

He looked... tired.

Even he couldn't control this anymore.

The media was killing him. The board was on his neck. And now the dressing room — it wasn't his anymore.

It was fractured.

I shook my head, grabbed my bag, and walked out.

I didn't even shower.

Outside the Tunnel

The moment I stepped out, the flashbulbs hit me.

A sea of microphones, shouting voices, questions I didn't want to hear.

"Müller! Is the tie over?!"

"Is Meyer finished?"

"Do you still believe in this team?!"

Elise was there. I caught her in the corner of my eye — notepad in hand, her eyes softer than the rest.

But I didn't stop.

Not for her. Not for anyone.

I kept walking, head down, boots in hand.

I didn't need a headline. I didn't need pity.

I needed answers.

Because something had to change. I didn't know what to fix. But I knew I couldn't sit in that silence anymore.