novelraw Chapter 351 - 26: The Morning After I
Chapter 351 - 26: The Morning After I
Saturday, June 17, 2023Team Hotel — St George’s Bay, Malta6:00 AM
The alarm went at six and the phone was already buzzing before the sound fully registered, and when he unlocked it the screen showed 47 unread messages and the Instagram notification had stopped counting at 999+ and the Twitter mentions column was a continuous scroll that wasn’t distinguishing between individual names anymore.
He silenced it and set it face-down.
Eze was awake across the room with his own phone up, and the blue of the screen lit the ceiling above his bed while the room was still dark outside the window.
"You’re still trending," Eze said. "Number one on UK Twitter. Football and overall."
Demien sat up. "What time did it happen?"
"The goal went past four million views sometime around three in the morning," Eze said. "It’s been building since."
Demien sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the window where the Mediterranean sky was turning from black to pale grey, and the sea was somewhere out there in the dark and the morning smelled of salt through the crack he’d left open overnight.
Four million people in twelve hours.
He went to the shower.
Hotel Restaurant — 6:45 AM
The squad was scattered across the tables in the particular low-energy pattern of a group that had done what it came to do and was ready to go home, and the conversations were quieter than any morning since St George’s Park and the food was the same eggs and toast it had been every morning but eaten with the specific absence of pre-match weight.
He collected his plate and moved toward a table and Kane looked up and tapped the surface in front of the empty seat beside him.
Demien sat down. Rice was across from him and Saka was at the end of the table with his ankle wrapped and an ice pack sitting against the chair leg.
Rice looked at him. "Sleep alright?"
"Yeah," Demien said.
Saka grinned. "Checked your phone yet?"
"Briefly."
Kane was cutting toast without looking up. "Don’t. Not until we land." He looked up. "You’ll still be trending when we get to Birmingham. It’ll still be there. Enjoy the flight."
"Okay," Demien said.
"I mean it," Kane said, and he said it simply because he’d seen what happened to players who spent the morning after a big performance reading everything the internet had decided about them. "Put it away."
Demien put the phone in his jacket pocket and ate his eggs.
Malta Luqa Airport — Private Terminal — 7:30 AM
The bus pulled into the secure entrance and players filed off in travel clothes — joggers, hoodies, headphones — and the private terminal had the usual absence of public check-in and queues and recognition incidents, just the FA liaison moving people through the gate in a line.
He was walking with Eze toward the gate when Grealish caught up alongside them.
"Seen the compilations yet?" Grealish said.
"What compilations?" Demien said.
Grealish held his phone out while he walked — YouTube on the screen, a video titled Demien Walter — Welcome to England — Skills, Goals, Assists 2023 with a thumbnail of the Malta goal at the moment the ball was under the crossbar. The view counter at the top right showed 670K.
Eight hours old.
"Every Atalanta highlight they could find, then last night," Grealish said, pocketing his phone. "Comments in about five languages."
Phillips came past from behind and put his hand on Demien’s shoulder briefly without stopping. "Get used to it."
Rashford appeared from the side. "United fans are already making graphics of you in our kit. Liverpool fans doing the same." He held up his own phone showing a fan-made image — Demien’s face edited onto a red United shirt with his name and 26 on the back. "It’s mental out there."
The boarding call came and the conversation ended naturally, and they filed onto the plane in the same seats as the flight out and the Airbus doors closed at eight-fifteen and the runway moved under them and Malta shrank below the window and was gone.
35,000 Feet — 9:20 AM
He waited until the seatbelt sign went off and the plane had levelled out before he opened his phone properly, and the messages had organised themselves by the time he reached the ones that mattered.
Isabella had sent four, the last at 11:47 PM the previous night. Can’t stop watching the goal. The whole neighbourhood saw it. Mrs Antonelli came over crying saying "il nostro ragazzo!" Everyone proud. Call me when you land. Ti amo mamma ❤️
He called her first and she answered before the second ring.
"Demien." Her voice was different from the usual version of itself — still her, but compressed slightly, the way voices sounded when something had moved through them and hadn’t fully settled.
"Hey, Mamma," he said.
"I watched it three times," she said. "No — four. The goal. I had Mrs Antonelli here and we were watching on the tablet and when it went in I screamed so loud she grabbed my arm." A pause and he could hear her laughing slightly at the memory of herself. "The whole of Settignano knows now. The alimentari this morning had your photo printed from the website and put in the window."
"That’s too much," he said.
"It’s not enough," she said. "You scored on your England debut. In how many minutes?"
"Thirty-three."
"Thirty-three minutes," she said, as though the number needed to be said aloud to be real. "And the assist before it."
They talked for eight minutes. Florence was talking about it. The new apartment’s neighbourhood, the alimentari, the piazza where the older men sat with their espressos — all of it had apparently been watching. He kept it brief because the plane was quiet around him and the conversation needed to end before it became too long to hold properly.
"Monday is Old Trafford," he said. "Bigger test."
"I know," she said. "Go show them again. Vai campione."
He ended the call and looked out the window at the English coast appearing through the cloud cover below and the channel coming into view, and the green and grey of England was the same as it had always been from altitude.
Birmingham Airport — Private Terminal — 11:45 AM
Two buses were waiting outside the terminal — one to Manchester, one south toward London — and the squad split at the kerb without ceremony, London players picking up their bags and heading for the second bus while the Manchester contingent loaded onto the first.
Demien was on the Manchester bus. North Macedonia Monday. He was staying with the squad.
Rice sat across the aisle while the bus cleared the airport and joined the motorway, and Demien had his phone out and was reading the transfer news because he’d said he’d wait until they landed and they’d landed.
Romano had posted at 9:27 AM: Demien Walter situation update — Liverpool and Manchester United both preparing REVISED contract offers following England debut performance. Player’s representatives expect improved terms. Meetings June 22-23 remain scheduled. Atalanta will accept bids of £65M+. 🔴⚪️
Ornstein at 10:15: Demien Walter’s stock has risen significantly after goal and assist on England debut. Sources close to both Liverpool and Manchester United indicate clubs are reassessing initial offers. Player’s camp now in stronger negotiating position.
Rice looked across the aisle. He hadn’t spoken but he’d seen the phone.
"Put it away," Rice said.
Demien locked the screen.
"All of that will still be there Wednesday," Rice said. "Nothing that gets written today changes what happens Monday."
Demien put the phone in his pocket and looked out the motorway window at the English midlands passing at seventy miles per hour, and Rice went back to whatever he’d been doing and the bus continued north toward Manchester.
The Lowry Hotel, Salford — 1:30 PM
The hotel was on the River Irwell with its glass-fronted facade catching the grey Manchester afternoon, and the river ran directly below the lower floors while the city skyline sat behind it, and the FA had used it enough times that check-in happened through the same brisk pre-registered process as every other team hotel on every other trip.
Room 412. Phillips this time — Eze had been moved to a different room.
Phillips was already inside with his bag open and his trainers by the door when Demien arrived, and he looked up once. "First time here?"
"Yeah," Demien said.
"Good hotel," Phillips said, going back to his unpacking. "Room service is quality. Recovery pool downstairs is cold but it works. We’ve got pool session at three, team meeting at five, dinner at seven."
Demien put his bag on the bed and pulled out the Malta match ball and set it on the desk beside his charger.
Phillips looked at it. "That from last night?"
"Kane made me take it," Demien said.
Phillips looked at it for another second. "Keep it somewhere it won’t get knocked. First senior goal. That’s not something you want in a bag."
Demien moved it to the windowsill where it sat against the glass with the Manchester skyline and the river behind it, and he unpacked the rest of his things and went to find the recovery pool.