He won't speak.

Morning in Norway

It was still early, the pale morning light barely making its way through the curtains of Erling's mums house. The whole place had a had a peaceful silence that only seemed to exist when nobody was up.

Erling was staying there temporarily with his two year old, Lucas, as usual when he was called to play for Norway. Normally their home was in Manchester, where Lucas had grown up to the sounds of English, football and the constant movement that came with Erling's career. But whenever Erling was called to play for Norway, brining Lucas meant he could stay close to his family while Erling trained and played. It also meant Lucas got to spend time with his mormor (grandmother), something Erling knew he loved despite him not having the words to tell him.

Erling stood quietly in the kitchen, still half-asleep, wearing a loose grey sweatshirt and jogging bottoms as he attempted to make breakfast. He had been awake for barely twenty minutes, his blond hair sticking up in every direction, and he was already questioning why he'd decided to cook instead of simply giving Lucas something from the fridge. Behind him, Lucas sat safely in his high chair, bundled up in a little jumper because the house was still chilly. He looked almost ridiculously similar to his father. The same pale skin, the same blond hair, the same blue eyes and even the same shape to his face. Sometimes Erling caught sight of him and genuinely had to pause because it felt like looking at himself twenty years ago.

Lucas was watching his father very carefully, little eyes following every movement Erling made around the kitchen. Erling glanced over his shoulder. "What?" he asked with a sleepy smile. Lucas simply stared back at him. "You're judging me already?" Erling continued, pretending to be offended. Lucas tilted his head slightly. "Yeah, I know. Breakfast isn't exactly my speciality." A tiny little sound came from Lucas, almost like a laugh, and Erling's entire expression softened. He turned off the cooker and walked over, crouching beside his son. "Morning, lillemann," he whispered, brushing a strand of blond hair away from Lucas's forehead. Lucas reached out immediately, grabbing two of Erling's fingers in his tiny hand.

Erling smiled down at him. "You hungry?" Lucas looked towards the kitchen. "That's a yes, then." He carefully lifted him from the high chair and held him against his chest, Lucas immediately resting his cheek against his father's shoulder. Erling kissed the top of his head and breathed in the familiar scent of his son's shampoo. For all the attention Erling received as a footballer, moments like this were the ones he valued most. No cameras, no interviews, no stadiums. Just him and his little boy.

A little while later, the kitchen had finally begun to smell like something worth eating. Erling had abandoned his earlier attempt at breakfast and, with a little help from his mum, had managed to make a fresh stack of pancakes. Lucas was now sitting at the kitchen table in his little chair, completely focused on the plate in front of him. The pancakes had been cut into small, manageable pieces, with chopped strawberries scattered across the top and a few sitting separately around the edge of the plate.

Lucas picked up a piece with his fingers, inspected it very seriously, and then popped it into his mouth. His cheeks puffed out as he chewed, his blue eyes immediately darting towards Erling as though he needed approval.

"Good?" Erling asked, sitting opposite him with his coffee. Lucas swallowed and reached for another piece without answering. Erling smiled. "I'll take that as a yes." Lucas grabbed a strawberry next, squeezing it slightly between his fingers before putting it into his mouth, leaving a tiny smear of red across his cheek. Erling noticed immediately and leaned across the table, wiping it away with his thumb. "You're making a mess already."

you?" His mum walked into the kitchen and stopped when she saw Lucas eating so happily. "He's hungry today," she said, smiling. Erling nodded. "Apparently pancakes are better than anything I make." Lucas suddenly dropped a piece of strawberry onto the table. Erling looked at it, then at him. "Lucas." Lucas froze. His eyes widened slightly. Erling tried to look serious, but the corners of his mouth were already turning upwards. "Pick it up." Lucas stared at the strawberry. Then at Erling. Then, very slowly, he pushed it further away. Erling burst out laughing. "Oh, brilliant. So that's how we're doing this?" His mum laughed from behind him as Lucas went back to eating, completely satisfied with himself. For someone who couldn't speak, Lucas somehow managed to make his opinions very clear.