Rüdiger Fight Behind the Scenes
Bong Hyeoksu asked quietly while chugging the last of his cola.
Jinu, you don't have one?
I'm still...
Jinu scratched the back of his head sheepishly as he answered. There was no way I could just sit there watching that.
Jinu's got high standards—he's aiming for idols. Says regular girls don't cut it for him.
The lounge erupted in laughter again at my words. But Lee Junyoung was the only one with his eyes wide open, reacting dead seriously.
What? For real? Hey, which idol? Who's he after?
Last time I caught him with his mouth hanging open watching a girl group performance video. He was super into it.
At my exposé, Jinu flushed red and waved his hands frantically.
Hyung! Even if I wanted to meet one, I'd need some connection, right? I'm always at the training ground or the dorm—where am I supposed to run into them?
I smirked and glanced at Junyoung.
Hey, Junyoung. Don't announcers hook up with idols all the time?
It wasn't wrong, really. Sports announcers and broadcast anchors share the same station space. They hit the same makeup rooms as a baseline, and variety shows or award show greenrooms give them way more chances to bump into celebs than any regular joe. Especially since announcers interview idol members or co-host shows and end up all buddy-buddy like sisters or whatever. It's practically the industry standard—one degree of separation, basically.
Junyoung nodded in agreement.
True that. Hey, Jinu. If you really want, I can casually ask around for you. My girlfriend's got classmates in entertainment with crazy connections.
Nah, forget it, hyung. I've gotta focus on soccer right now.
Jinu balked and turned it down flat, so Junyoung shrugged like it was a shame. Then he flopped back onto the sofa with a sigh, only to suddenly turn and look at me like something just hit him.
Hey, so we're doing this again in November?
He meant the national team camp in November. I finished my cola and shrugged indifferently.
Probably. Long as I keep my form up.
True, like your form's ever gonna dip.
Junyoung chuckled and kept going, then suddenly narrowed his eyes and tossed out a question.
But hey, aren't you facing Antonio Rüdiger again this time?
Rüdiger out of nowhere? But seeing Junyoung's mischievous grin, I got the picture. He was talking about that time our noses were practically touching in a full-on brawl, right on the edge of throwing down.
Yeah. Real Madrid's in our Champions League group stage, so. Why?
Junyoung lit up like he'd been waiting, turning to Tak Go-gang and Jinu next to him and raising his voice.
Hey, don't you guys wanna hear the real behind-the-scenes on that Rüdiger clash?
Go-gang and Jinu's eyes sparkled in an instant. It was a famous clip any soccer fan had probably seen, but hearing it straight from the horse's mouth? That's next level.
Oh, that bit on the broadcast where you guys were about to grab collars? I just skimmed the articles.
Same! It was thrilling watching hyung not back down an inch to Rüdiger's vibe and push right back.
Junyoung poked me excitedly at the juniors' hype.
Look at their eyes, man. They're bored—spill the tea. The kids are dying to know.
I shook my head, grossed out.
Nah, dude. It wasn't some epic tale. Just got heated mid-game.
But even Bong Hyeoksu, who'd been listening quietly, chimed in with gleaming eyes.
Nah, nothing beats a good fight story. I'm facing Real soon too—call it a preemptive vaccine. Let's hear it.
With Hyeoksu piling on like that, no escape. I cleared my throat like I had no choice and dredged up the memory.
...It was really nothing. But yeah, Rüdiger was extra rough from the start that day. Kept going for my ankles, poking my ribs when the ref wasn't looking.
The lounge went dead silent the second I started. Junyoung was straight-up propping his chin, staring at my face.
You know how Rüdiger is. Always scratching at you sneaky during defense.
I played it casual, and the room filled with tense curiosity. That gross feeling from back then crept back, making me furrow my brow a bit as I went on.
Kept poking from the jump. Sneaky shoulder shoves and heel stomps when the ref blinked. You think I'm just gonna take it? I gave it right back, same as he dished.
Junyoung snickered and nodded along.
Hah, with Rüdiger's temper? Fine when he dishes it, but can't stand getting it back.
Spot on. The prick got pissed, eyes changed up, and soon he was slamming harder, out in the open. Not painful, just fucking annoying. So I lined up a real shot.
I slammed my cola can down on the table with a clunk.
But the sly bastard—right as I close in to hit, he slips away first.
Ah...!
Jinu and Go-gang groaned. Most infuriating spot in a fight: you're cocked and loaded, but they dodge.
Clicked right then. Okay, that's two I owe ya.
Hyeoksu nodded at my low murmur. Every athlete gets that bone-deep competitive fire.
Filed it away. This fucker's getting payback. Double or more, before whistle or next matchup.
My eyes sharpened, and Junyoung shrugged with a laugh.
I recalled the rowdy stadium vibe and kept going.
Then it popped off at the corner kick.
Jinu and Go-gang swallowed hard, eyes glued to my lips.
The box was hell. Right before the ref's whistle, players tangled in a mess, grabbing jerseys. I didn't miss the chaos—stuck tight to Rüdiger under the guise of jostling.
Perfect blind spot from the ref, hidden by bodies. I slammed full power into his ribs—those two owed, plus interest.
Ugh!
Rüdiger yelped short and jerked back. But that wasn't the end. As I sauntered out cool, Real Madrid guys who'd seen it flipped out and charged me.
Hey! What the hell was that?!
Full-on ugly shouting match in seconds, ref sprinting to break it as Rüdiger stormed up from afar and shoved me hard.
I reacted on instinct.
As I got shoved, I clamped his wrist tight. No solo tumble. My weight dragged him off-balance, and we crashed to the turf tangled up.
On the ground, he grabbed my collar right away. You think I'd sit pretty? I snatched his collar back.
The stands roared, both teams swarming to pull us apart—total mayhem. We glared, heaving, for ages before it calmed. Ref handed us both fair yellows.
Hyeoksu asked, hooked.
And that was it?
I smirked and shook my head.
Nah, not cooling off on one warning. Got close to still-fuming Rüdiger and whispered one line.
Hey, tunnel after. Wanna throw down? Don't pussy out.
Teammates hooted approval.
But he didn't show. Mixed English and Korean—dunno if he got it. That's how it ended.
Junyoung cracked up and slapped my shoulder at the lame finish.
You cussed him out in Korean, so he went home like What the fuck was that?
Hyeoksu said,
So, fighting Real again this time?
I crushed the empty cola can and nailed it into the trash.
Fight? Soccer players play soccer. I added,
But if that prick starts shit again, can't just take it. Might preempt this time—or scratch back.
I gathered the scattered empties on the table and switched topics.
What about the rest? Feels like it's just us here.
Junyoung, sunk deep in the sofa, stretched and answered.
Obvious. Upstairs glued to PS or crashed out already.
Makes sense.
I checked the time. Dawn had deepened.
We should crash too.
OK. See ya.
We scattered to our rooms.
Back in England, I got a text from Haeyeon.