The Penalty Goal

The best?

Christiano was the best. Be it sports or academics. He was a star.

He was insanely good at football. It was a surprise to no one when he got invited to play for Sporting FC and later Manchester United. But he was still grateful, though he was pretty full of himself.

Opponents feared whatever team he was in. People started calling him the best. It was normal for Christiano. He was sure he was not going to lose any time soon.

[Age 19]

On Friday night, he was celebrating another win with his team. Although he was quite bored. All he wanted was a good sleep.

"We won again! That was a beautiful score, Ronny! you're the reason we won!" Wayne laughs, ruffling Christiano's hair. he groans at the atrocious nickname. 

"Can you not?" he sighs 

"Sorry, Ronny." Wayne laughs again and gets a light shove from Christiano

Christiano scowls at the nickname but lets it slide. He was used to it now.

"Don't call me that-" he says and Wayne grins, "What's wrong with it? I think it's cute and suits you"

"it doesn't! It sounds ridiculous. Stop calling me that!" Christiano complains, crossing his arms. Wayne bursts out laughing at his childish behavior and ruffles his hair again. "Why're you always such a little kid?" he teases.

Christiano groans and ducks, swatting away his hand. "I'm not a little kid, I'm 19!" he retorts. Wayne chuckles and puts his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, I'll stop calling you that. Just kidding," he grins.

The rest of the team is enjoying the banter and Christiano's annoyed look. Rio, a close friend, pats his shoulder. "Lighten up a bit, Ronaldo. Wayne's just messing with you." Christiano grumbles, but can't help a small smile. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he mutters.

The team starts chatting about the upcoming games and potential rivals. Christiano's ears perk up when the topic turns to his arch-rival, Lionel Messi. He's never seen the dude or talked to him. He's getting the spotlight and Christiano despises it.

"Have you heard about this new kid at Barcelona? They say he's got serious skills," Rio says.

Wayne chimes in, "Oh yeah, I've heard about him. They're calling him the new prodigy or something."

Christiano clenches his jaw. He kept hearing about the Argentine. He couldn't let him become a threat to his reputation.

The conversation moves on, but Christiano's mind is elsewhere. He can't help but feel a pang of jealousy and annoyance thinking about this new kid stealing the spotlight.

"We should watch out for him. He could be trouble," Christiano says, trying to sound casual.

Wayne smirks. "Sounds like someone's feeling threatened."

Christiano shoots him a glare. "No, I'm not. I just don't want us to underestimate any competitors," he protests.

Rio raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Right, because the great Christiano Ronaldo is never threatened by anyone." Christiano just rolls his eyes at him, but it was true. He had a reputation to maintain, and he wasn't gonna let some kid for Argentina ruin it.

They continued bickering for a while, but Christiano's mind was elsewhere, and it pissed him off. Why was he so bothered by this guy? He probably won't end up being an actual threat anyways. He needed to clear his mind, so he excuses himself from the others, and slips out of the hotel they were staying at. They just let him, knowing it would be dumb to question him.

As soon as he stepped out, the harsh cold air hits his face, maybe this was a bad idea? But he was out anyways. Might as well get something to eat.

Christiano decides to take a walk to clear his head and maybe grab a snack. He leaves the hotel and heads towards a small convenience store nearby.

The night is cool, and the streets are mostly empty. Christiano hums a tune as he walks, trying to push all thoughts of soccer and Messi out of his mind.

He reaches the store and enters. It's quiet inside, with only a few other customers browsing the shelves. Christiano makes his way to the snacks aisle, browsing some drinks, and bumps into someone.

Christiano looks down at the person he bumped into and is surprised to see a boy who looks around his age. He has messy brown hair and soft, brown eyes. There's something familiar about him, but Christiano can't quite place it.

"Watch where you're going," he snaps, still in a pissy mood.

The boy looks up at him, and Christiano is struck by how beautiful he is. He immediately tries to brush away these thoughts. Why is he thinking that way?

"Sorry," the boy responds sheepishly, looking a bit embarrassed. "I wasn't paying attention." he says, he had an accent. Christiano stares at him, trying to place the accent. But he's too focused on the boy's pretty face, and the strange feeling of familiarity. "Where are you from?" he asks, his tone gruff.

The boy blinks in surprise at the question but answers anyway. "Argentina," he says. Wondering why the mean stranger wanted to know where he was from.

As soon as he says that, a realisation hits Christiano. No way. No way it was him, right? There's absolutely no way. Christiano's mind is racing. Could it really be the same guy? He shakes his head, trying to shake off the thoughts. There's no way this pretty boy is the one everyone's talking about. Not every Argentine is Lionel Messi. He doesn't even know how he looks like! He could be old or ugly as hell.

He tries to act indifferent and walks away, but not before stealing another glance at the boy.

Christiano grabs a few snacks and heads to the cash register. He tries to keep his cool, but his mind keeps going back to the boy. He can't help but notice he's still around, browsing some nearby shelves.

He pays for his items and walks out of the store, feeling a mixture of annoyance and perplexity. Once he's outside, he takes a deep breath and leans against the wall, trying to make sense of this encounter. He glances back inside the store and sees the boy still there, picking up a bottle of water.

He tries to convince himself it's just a coincidence, just some random pretty boy with an Argentine accent. Christiano frowns. Why does it even matter if it is him? He shouldn't care.

Just as he's about to push off the wall, the boy exits the shop, sipping from the water bottle. Christiano quickly looks away, pretending to be checking his phone. But he quickly steals a glance at him, curse the heavens, the boy was looking at him too. They made eye contact for a brief second before the boy turned away and started walking off. Leaving Christiano flustered.

Christiano watches him walk away, a strange feeling of disappointment and relief washing over him.

"Get it together, Christiano," he mutters to himself. He needs to focus on his training and the upcoming games, not some random boy.

With that thought in mind, he starts making his way back to the stadium, determined to forget about the boy and keep his mind on soccer. Little does he know, fate has other plans.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

[A/N]

Hiii, I created this fanfic as a joke so don't mind this lolll

ALSO I REALISTED I SPELLED CRISTIANO WRONG GN