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#More than 10 Chapters ahead on my : /TrikoRex
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Hrádecký was forced into a diving save, punching the ball wide with his fingertips. The fans who had been counting their ducks gasped in disbelief, with some already on their feet. Now they could only politely sit back down and await another opportunity to shout to their heart’s content.
"Liverpool are knocking now," Taylor muttered. "And they’ve set up camp in Leverkusen’s third."
With the pressure mounting, Peter Bosz finally gave the signal for a change in the 65th minute. "Tell Sven and Paulinho to get ready," he barked to his assistant.
Tapsoba, whose legs had begun to tire after a ferocious work rate, made way for the more seasoned Sven Bender. Meanwhile, Paulinho was introduced for Amiri, shifting Wirtz from the left wing centrally and the Brazilian out wide. Leverkusen’s formation shifted to 4-3-3 with Baumgartlinger acting as a holding midfielder.
Instead of having a positive impact, his changes had a disastrous start as Firmino fell to the ground clutching his head just inside the box. It was after the failed corner kick that Tah had sent a mighty header out of his box, giving the home team some breathing room. Gomez, who had stayed back to defend a counter with Robertson, easily outmuscled Alario, nodding the ball towards Keïta.
The midfielder calmly played out the situation with a couple of passes around the middle of the field with a couple of his retreating teammates. Using this chance to settle the situation, he suddenly turned forward after a return pass from Henderson, deftly skipping past Wirtz. Without hesitation, he sent a defence-splitting pass forward into the feet of Firmino.
Spinning off Sven’s marking, he turned forward into the box only to come crashing down the next second. Sven Bender, seeing this, raised his arms in disbelief, not understanding how the striker had fallen after a light touch. The referee’s whistle pierced the stadium air a second later as he came jogging over with his hand pointed at the spot.
"Penalty!" Derek Rae exclaimed, almost hesitantly, unsure if what they had just seen was enough for such a drastic call. "And now the cauldron is boiling over! The Leverkusen players are absolutely livid!"
Sven Bender was the first to charge at the referee, eyes wide with shock. "I barely touched him!" he protested in German, hands raised as if to ward off divine punishment. Firmino, still on the ground, peeked out from under his arm just enough to see the chaos he’d caused.
The crowd erupted in outrage as the referee reached into his pocket, pulling out a yellow card and showing it to Sven Bender. "You can’t be serious, man, he’s obviously faking." He told the man, who only pursed his lips and dismissively shook his head.
Lucky for him, before things could escalate, his brother Lars came pulling him away as he tried to reason with the official. He failed to do so, though, and the referee stuck to his decision on the penalty kick. Boos rained down like a thunderstorm, shaking the very scaffolding of the BayArena.
Plastic beer cups flew onto the pitch. Peter Bosz stormed down the touchline, waving his arms furiously, shouting at the fourth official. But he kept himself in check, not letting his rage get the better of him. "VAR’s gotta look at this," Taylor Twellman said, nearly breathless. "That contact was minimal. If anything, Firmino sold it like a Broadway actor."
Moments later, Salah stood over the ball inside the restricted zone as he awaited the referee’s go-ahead to take the set piece. (Pweeew) He got it a second later and wasted no time making a curved run-up to the stationary ball. The ball struck the netting with a ruthless snap, low and firm into the bottom right corner, not giving Lukas the slightest chance to react.
Salah stood cool and unbothered, raising a single finger to the sky before jogging calmly to the corner flag to celebrate with the rest of his teammates. The Liverpool fans in the away end exploded into euphoria, celebrating their team’s equaliser, which could very well turn into a full-blown comeback.
[71’ Mohamed Salah Leverkusen 2:2 Liverpool]
In one of the VIP boxes, Rakim, now dressed in the team’s tracksuits, could be seen seated in a plush leather chair, dozing off with a pair of crutches grasped in his arms. "Can I sit here?" A gentle voice spoke up from behind him, her laboured breathing clearly audible, startling him awake.
Turning to face the direction of the voice, there she stood in her full glory. Black hair, dark green eyes with beads of sweat on her temple, and a hesitant smile met him. "May? What are you doing here?" He asked before he even realised what he was saying. However, if he was being honest, he didn’t care about the answer and was just glad she was.
"Emm, can I?" she asked once again, pointing to the chair next to him, to which she received a subconscious nod. "You’ve seen better days," she softly said, her hand reaching out to grasp his cheek.
She looked different in his eyes, almost foreign, giving him a feeling of Déjà vu. She looked much more mature if he had to guess what had changed, though her frame also appeared thinner. Her hair had been dyed a Jet-black shade with cool blue undertones, almost making her seem like a different person.
If not for her deep green eyes, which he had spent countless hours getting lost in, he might have been fooled. Still, despite the outward changes in her appearance, the warmth and the excitement he felt in her presence remained the same. "Y’know I meant to call but..." He started, but his words trailed off in the end as he realised that no excuse would sound believable.
"I know, me too, but... well, you know," She responded, letting her head rest on his forehead as, instead of sitting down, she lightly crouched in front of him, bringing their faces level. "Let’s leave this for later. How are you feeling? Is the injury bad? I almost had a panic attack when I saw the tackle,"
Rakim shook his head gently rubbing against her temple, not even realising that at some point his arms had reached out to hold her waist. It seemed like part of him wanted to make sure he wasn’t having a fever-induced hallucination despite all the evidence in front of him. "It’s not broken," he whispered, lightly closing his eyes, "But I won’t be on the pitch for a month or maybe two."
May exhaled deeply, relief washing across her features even as her brows knit in concern. "They said you were screaming in the tunnel. So, I couldn’t help but think the worst, well that teaches me to trust the words of drunk college students."
"It felt worse in the moment," Rakim admitted. "However, part of me was just angry at the fact I didn’t clock his approach before it was too late."
(slap) A soft but firm slap hit his left cheek as May pulled back, now looking angrier. "I know you think you’re Superman or whatnot, but it’s ok to just be angry at the situation and the person responsible without trying to find faults in yourself."
"Ok, calm down," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "You show up after weeks, hit me with wisdom and physical violence,"
May rolled her eyes but didn’t hide the faint smile that bloomed before she could respond, the entire arena exploded in cheers. "OH, MY WORD! KAI HAVERTZ FROM WAY DOWNTOWN! THAT’S OUTRAGEOUS!" Derek Rae’s booming voice resounded through the box’s speakers, barely audible over the throng.
Looking at the monitor showcasing the replay, the figure of Havertz appeared just past the centre circle. He spotted Witz battling to keep control of the ball from Keïta on the left side of the field. He ran into space just at the edge of the final third, and Wirtz didn’t disappoint, finding him just in time.
Instead of stopping the ball, he flicked it past himself, Minamino behind him, quickly slipping his marking. Henderson tried to steal the loose ball, but the German playmaker merely nudged it past him, and he was gone. With space ahead of him, everyone expected him to continue charging ahead, but instead, he took aim.
Alisson was standing around the penalty spot, and for Kai, this was enough space for him to pull the trigger from 30+ yards out. The ball left his foot like a heat-seeking missile, slicing through the air on a wicked, dipping arc. Alisson backpedalled frantically, eyes wide as he realised—too late—that he was too far off his line. The ball curved viciously, its trajectory heading for the left side of the goal, and it struck true.
(THUMP.) The top left corner rippled violently as the ball struck just beneath the bar and sank into the net like a stone into still water. Taylor Twellman’s voice came in hot on his heels. "THAT. IS. A. SCREAMER! We might be watching goal of the tournament in the final moments of the game."
[89’ Kai Havertz – Leverkusen 3:2 Liverpool]