Echoes of Glory: FC Barcelona Imagine

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Dona Maria (João Felix.)

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You stumble out of the dimly lit bar, your vision swirling with the neon lights that line the street. João Félix, the famous footballer with a well-known penchant for parties, is beside you.

Neither of you should be out at this hour, but here you are, both equally inebriated and clinging to each other for support.

"Okay, I’m not saying you can’t dance, but… I’m also not saying you can,” João slurs, struggling to balance as he takes a swig from a bottle of something indistinguishable in his hand.

You laugh, your laughter a bit too loud for the quiet night.

“João, we’re literally swaying in the middle of the sidewalk. We’re not even at a party anymore!”

He turns to you with a dramatic gasp.

“You wound me! I’m a world-class dancer, you know. Just ask my moves!”

You almost fall over trying to mimic an over-the-top dance move.

"World-class, huh? I’d call it a world-class disaster."

João grabs your hand, dragging you towards a nearby street lamp.

“Let’s have a dance-off. Right here. Right now.”

You both attempt to dance under the streetlight, each move more exaggerated than the last. You try to bust out your best moves, but instead, you find yourself tangled up in a mess of limbs. João, with his signature flair, tries to spin but ends up almost knocking over a nearby trash can.

“Okay, fine,” you admit between fits of giggles.

“Maybe your moves are… unique.”

João, taking a theatrical bow, wipes his brow.

“It’s a skill, really. But enough about me. Tell me, how do you feel about public serenades?”

Before you can respond, João starts belting out a rendition of "Dona Maria," the popular Brazilian hit.

“...um não pra casa.. dona maria, deixa eu namorar a sua filha” he’s singing with so much gusto that he’s practically shouting the lyrics, his off-key notes echoing down the street.

You can’t help but laugh hysterically.

“Oh my Gosh, João, you sound like a cat trying to start a fight with a foghorn! Dona Maria would probably be running the other way right now.”

João, completely unfazed by your mocking, continues to sing with all his might. He even tries to throw in some dramatic hand gestures, which only make him sway even more precariously.

At one point, he decides the nearby bushes are the perfect backup singers. He shushes them and then gets really into it, waving his arms and directing the “choir.”

You, meanwhile, can’t stop laughing as you try to keep your balance.

Eventually, João collapses on a nearby bench, breathless and triumphant. You sit down next to him, still laughing.

“You know, João, if you ever get tired of football, you might have a future as a comedic performer.”

He grins, catching his breath.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. But next time, we’re going to a karaoke bar where people are prepared for my... unique talent.”

You both sit there for a while, trying to regain your composure.

As you stand up to head home, João throws an arm around you and, in a surprisingly sober moment, says, “Next time, let’s stick to just one drink. Or maybe none at all.”

You laugh and nod, knowing full well that the next time you find yourselves in this situation, it’ll be just as chaotic, just as fun.

And probably, just as drunken.