The first day of pre-season always brought chaos.
The changing room buzzed with conversation as players returned from their summer break, swapping stories, laughing, and comparing holiday photos.
Jude Bellingham sat on the bench, lacing up his boots.
He'd missed football.
He'd missed Dortmund.
What he hadn't missed...
Was Erling Haaland.
As if summoned by the thought, the dressing room door swung open.
"There he is."
Erling walked in carrying his boots over one shoulder, greeting teammates as he made his way across the room.
The second his eyes landed on Jude, he smirked.
"Bellingham."
"Haaland."
Silence.
The rest of the squad exchanged knowing looks.
One of the younger players quietly muttered, "Here we go."
Neither Jude nor Erling took their eyes off each other.
"You've been practising that haircut?" Erling asked.
Jude raised an eyebrow.
"You've been practising missing easy chances?"
A chorus of "Oooh!" echoed through the room.
Erling laughed.
"One minute back and you're already talking."
"You started it."
"I said hello."
"That wasn't hello."
"It was in Norwegian."
"You don't speak Norwegian when you're insulting me."
"I multitask."
Jude shook his head.
"You're unbelievable."
"And yet you always look happy to see me."
"I look annoyed."
"Exactly."
Before Jude could reply, the manager stepped into the dressing room.
"If you're both finished."
The room immediately fell silent.
"We're on the pitch in two minutes."
⸻
Training started exactly how Jude expected.
With Erling trying to win everything.
Sprint drills.
Erling won.
Passing drills.
A draw.
Shooting practice.
Jude curled a shot into the top corner.
Erling immediately stepped up.
His effort crashed into the exact same spot.
Jude folded his arms.
"Copycat."
Erling picked up another ball.
"I was showing you how it's done."
"You copied me."
"I improved it."
"You literally hit the same corner."
"Exactly."
Jude rolled his eyes.
"You are impossible."
"So I've been told."
The coach blew his whistle.
"Enough."
Neither of them moved.
"You two."
They finally looked over.
"If you've got enough energy to argue..."
He pointed towards the far touchline.
"Ten laps."
The rest of the squad burst into laughter.
Jude sighed.
"This is your fault."
Erling started jogging.
"I seem to hear that a lot."
⸻
By lunchtime, Jude had decided two things.
First.
He was starving.
Second.
He still couldn't stand Erling Haaland.
He carried his tray across the canteen before spotting an empty seat.
Perfect.
He sat down.
"So."
Jude looked up.
Erling had placed his own tray directly opposite him.
Jude frowned.
"There were other tables."
"There were."
"So why are you here?"
Erling shrugged.
"I like this one."
"No, you don't."
"I do now."
Jude stared at him.
"You're doing this on purpose."
"Probably."
Jude sighed dramatically.
"I was having a peaceful lunch."
"You still can."
"You've just sat opposite me."
"I know."
"So it won't be peaceful."
Erling smiled.
"We'll see."
Jude pointed his fork at him.
"I know exactly what game you're playing."
"What game?"
"The one where you try to annoy me."
"I'm succeeding."
"I hate that you're right."
"I know."
Jude took a bite of his lunch.
Erling did the same.
For almost thirty seconds...
Neither of them spoke.
Then...
"You've got ketchup on your face."
Jude instinctively wiped his cheek.
Erling laughed.
"There wasn't anything there."
Jude blinked.
"You..."
"I..."
"You are the worst."
"I've been called worse."
Jude shook his head.
"I'm moving."
He picked up his tray.
Erling grinned.
"I win."
"You didn't win."
"You left."
"Because you're impossible."
"Same thing."
⸻
The afternoon ended with a full practice match.
Blue bibs versus yellow.
Jude pulled on a blue bib.
Erling ended up in yellow.
Naturally.
The whistle blew.
Within thirty seconds, they were shoulder to shoulder, battling for the ball.
Jude nicked it away.
Erling chased him.
"Too slow."
"I'm right behind you."
"You wish."
A moment later, Erling caught up, won the ball cleanly, and sprinted away.
Jude groaned.
"Oh, come on!"
From the touchline, one of the coaches laughed.
"They're going to kill each other before the season starts."
"I've got twenty quid on Jude," another coach muttered.
The match continued at full speed.
Late in the game, Jude slipped a perfect pass through the defence.
Goal.
His teammates cheered.
Jude turned with a grin.
Only to find Erling clapping sarcastically.
"Congratulations."
Jude narrowed his eyes.
"What?"
"That was almost impressive."
"Almost?"
"If you'd used your left foot."
Jude laughed in disbelief.
"You are unbelievable."
"And yet..."
Erling walked backwards with a smug smile.
"...you're still thinking about me."
Jude opened his mouth.
Then closed it again.
Because annoyingly...
Erling had a point.
For reasons Jude couldn't explain, Erling always managed to get under his skin.
Every training session became a competition.
Every conversation turned into an argument.
Every victory felt sweeter if it came against him.
Jude hated it.
He hated Erling.
Or at least...
That's what he kept telling himself.
As the final whistle echoed around the training ground, Jude caught Erling looking over.
For a split second, their eyes met.
Neither of them looked away.
Then Erling smirked.
Jude rolled his eyes.
Some things, apparently, never changed.
And if Jude had anything to say about it...
They never would.
_______________
The whistle had barely stopped echoing before Jude pulled his training bib over his head and headed for the touchline.
"You all right?" Marco asked, falling into step beside him.
"I'm fine."
"You've got that look."
"What look?"
"The one you get every time Haaland annoys you."
Jude scoffed.
"He doesn't annoy me."
Marco raised an eyebrow.
"You nearly tackled him into next week because he called your goal 'almost impressive.'"
"That was a perfectly fair tackle."
"It really wasn't."
Jude grabbed his water bottle and took a long drink.
"He's just..."
"The most irritating person you've ever met?"
"Exactly."
Marco laughed.
"You know what's funny?"
"I've got a feeling I'm not going to like this."
"He says the same thing about you."
Jude looked up.
"...He does?"
"Word for word."
Jude frowned.
"He thinks I'm annoying?"
Marco shrugged.
"I think his exact words were, 'Bellingham has an answer for everything.'"
Jude smirked despite himself.
"He's not wrong."
⸻
The dressing room was louder after training.
Music blasted from someone's speaker while boots were kicked under benches and conversations bounced around the room.
Jude had just sat down when someone dropped onto the bench opposite him.
He didn't even need to look up.
"What do you want?"
Erling grinned.
"You always assume it's me."
"Because it usually is."
"Fair point."
Jude continued unlacing his boots.
"So?"
"So..."
"You came over here for a reason."
"I did."
Jude finally looked up.
Erling was spinning a football on one finger.
"You've still got grass in your hair."
Jude instinctively reached up.
Erling burst out laughing.
"There isn't any."
Jude stopped.
"...Seriously?"
"You fall for that every time."
"I've fallen for it twice."
"Twice too many."
Jude picked up a spare towel and threw it at him.
Erling caught it effortlessly.
"Violence already?"
"I was aiming for your face."
"Poor effort."
"I'll try harder tomorrow."
"I'd expect nothing less."
Several teammates watched the exchange before one of them sighed dramatically.
"Will you two just get married already?"
The room erupted into laughter.
Jude and Erling answered at exactly the same time.
"Absolutely not."
The laughter only got louder.
Marco shook his head.
"You even answer in sync."
Jude groaned.
"I'm surrounded by idiots."
Erling stood up.
"You'll fit right in."
⸻
The next morning brought another training session.
The coaches had set up a finishing competition.
Twenty shots.
Most goals wins.
Simple.
Jude loved simple.
"So," one of the coaches called, clipboard in hand, "loser collects all the footballs."
Jude smiled.
"Done."
Erling looked over.
"Confident?"
"I don't lose."
"You do when I'm involved."
"We'll see."
The competition started.
One by one, players took their attempts.
Some good.
Some terrible.
When it came to Jude, he buried eighteen out of twenty.
A respectable score.
The squad applauded.
"Beat that," Jude muttered as he walked past Erling.
Erling didn't reply.
He simply placed the first ball down.
Twenty minutes later...
Nineteen.
The final shot rattled into the top corner.
The training ground exploded with cheers.
Erling turned to Jude with the smallest grin imaginable.
"Looks like you're collecting footballs."
Jude stared at the net.
"...One goal."
"One goal."
"I hate this game."
"I know."
⸻
By the time training finished, Jude was carrying a huge mesh bag overflowing with footballs.
It was ridiculously heavy.
"This is humiliating," he muttered.
"Need a hand?"
Jude looked up.
Erling was standing beside him.
"No."
"You sure?"
"I'd rather struggle."
Erling laughed.
"I noticed."
Jude adjusted the bag on his shoulder.
"I can manage."
He took three steps.
The bag slipped.
Footballs exploded across the training pitch in every direction.
Silence.
Then...
The entire squad burst into laughter.
Jude closed his eyes.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Without saying a word, Erling bent down and picked up the nearest ball.
Then another.
Then another.
Jude looked at him.
"I thought you were going to laugh."
"I did."
"You did?"
"In my head."
"Generous."
They spent the next few minutes collecting footballs together.
Neither of them spoke.
Eventually, Jude broke the silence.
"...Thanks."
Erling looked over.
"What was that?"
"I said thanks."
"I don't think I heard you."
Jude sighed dramatically.
"I'm never saying it again."
"I thought not."
A smile tugged at the corner of Erling's mouth.
Jude noticed.
And, annoyingly...
He found himself fighting one of his own.
He quickly looked away.
There was no chance Erling Haaland was getting the satisfaction of seeing him smile.
Not today.
Not if Jude could help it.
The season had only just begun.
Their rivalry was far from over.
If anything...
It was only just getting started.