mason mount and y/n

again

As the 90 minutes drew to a close, the referee announced that there were only two minutes added on to the timer. The score had remained equal for the last hour, with the only interesting moment being when Declan Rice was sent off for a red card at 68'. He slid in for a tackle but mistimed it enough to give Kevin De Bruyne a stud to the face. Daisy and I watched as Declan barely argued with the referee, already excepting his fate. Anyway, there wasn't really much to argue about, it was a very clear decision. Although Declan didn't fight, the rest of the England squad bombarded the referee, all shouting at her for making the "wrong" decision. Harry Kane approached Kevin De Bruyne and comforted him as his face bled considerably, showing his true captaincy. The one player who didn't really get involved at all was Mason. It seemed like his main goal was to chat with Declan as he walked off the pitch. Earlier on in the match when Mason had received a yellow card, Declan was rolling his eyes at the referee and patting Mason on the back with sympathy. It seemed as though Mason was trying to return the favour.

One minute to go until the score ended in a tie. I wasn't expecting anything significant to happen in this last minute, there had been no signs of real threat on either team's behalf for a while, but I continued to watch the match in depth. Thirty seconds. Kyle Walker was dribbling the ball down the pitch and past the halfway line, seemingly determined to get this ball in the back of the net. England had done well to stop a Belgium goal after being a player down, so I would leave happy with an equal score when Belgium had the upper hand. Walker passed square to Luke Shaw who was running down the left-wing. With a simple pass from Shaw, Jake Grealish received the ball a little distance from the box and crossed the ball in with a strong kick. Mason received it with a smooth touch and struck the ball as hard as he could, which resulted in the ball hitting the back of the net, punching the rope with a strong hand.

I screamed as I watched the ball end up in the goal. My legs were jumping subconsciously and I ran over to Daisy who had not been paying attention. She drew her eyes from her phone screen and looked at me shockingly. She abruptly leapt up and ran over to the window, slapping it with her hand in excitement, the glass becoming foggy with the close proximity of her breath.

"A BRILLIANT LAST-MINUTE STRIKE FROM MASON MOUNT! HE HAS BEEN ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE FOR THE DURATION OF THIS GAME, EARNING HIMSELF AN AMAZING ASSIST AND GOAL FOR HIS COUNTRY. THE THREE POINTS LOOK LIKE THEY WILL GO TO ENGLAND THIS EVENING"

The commentary was thundering in my ears as they seemed just as excited as me. I looked down at Mason who was covered in the bodies of the other players. Slightly concerned for him after being squished like that, I watched as he managed to escape the huddle and smiled at him, even if he didn't smile back this time.

-

15 minutes after the whistle sounded for the end of the match, the stadium had become mostly clear of people. Daisy insisted that we stayed longer in the box to avoid the crowd so I sat and listened to Gary Lineker, Frank Lampard and Ian Wright discuss the events of the match.

"Dais, I think the crowds gone, wanna leave yet," I shouted as she had locked herself in the toilet.

"ONE SEC BAE," she yelled back.

"OH MY GOD DAIS, YOU'VE BEEN IN THERE FOR FIFTEEN MINUTES, WHATS WRONG WITH YOU," I laughed.

"JESUS CHRIST," she said as she exited the toilet. "PATIENCE, CALM DOWN!" I chuckled and rolled my eyes at her.

Just as we made it down the stairs again, stepped outside and were ready to leave the stadium, Daisy tapped me on the side.

"Uh, y/n, I need the loo," she said relatively timidly, almost like she was jokingly afraid that I would be angry at her. The stadium was pretty much clear now, all the fans had left, so it was just a couple of security guards hovering around the area.

"Daisy, oh my god, you just spent fifteen minutes on the toilet. Just go, I'll wait here."

"Sorry y/n, my bladder is uncontrollable," she winked at me and jogged off.

I stood awkwardly for about thirty seconds but then noticed to the left of me there was a gift shop, so I pulled out my phone and messaged Daisy.

Y/n: I'm in the shop next to where we were a minute ago, come here when you're done :)

As I walked into the shop, the sudden smell of fresh flowers hit me instantly like I'd just been smacked in the face. I hadn't noticed before, but the atmosphere outside had a faint smell of cigarettes and fatty burgers, contrasting the lovely smell of when we had first arrived. I looked around and saw a vast collection of the French national team's shirts in a variety of different sizes. Alongside the mammoth amount of blue, there were some (a tiny amount in comparison) foreign country jerseys. I walked over to a couple of England shirts and picked one up in my size.

"80 Euros? Are you kidding me," I muttered to myself in disgust, luckily far away enough from the till for the one other man in the shop to hear me. I still held it in my hands, admiring the design and logo, the three lions shining in the glossy material. I turned it over to see the number on the back and found myself staring at the number 19, it was almost like fate made me pick this particular one up.

I heard the bell ring as a signal of the door opening and turned around assuming it to be Daisy coming back from the toilet, but was shocked to see a sweaty 22-year-old man staring back at me.