[Football] Bad Boy Batty

Christie Hospital was not far away. Batty looked at the time and decided to send Lingard there first.

Perhaps it was embarrassing to be seen crying in the car by outsiders, the usually lively and outgoing Lingard was very silent today. He sat in the passenger seat with his head down, checking his phone from time to time.

Batty glanced at the Twitter interface on the screen.

There is also a very eye-catching sentence: I would rather see the team play with one less player than see Jesse Lingard wear the Manchester United jersey again!
Tsk.

It seems he is not the only one who is fed up with online trolls.

"Want to listen to music?" Batty turned on the car stereo.

"All right." Lingard put away his phone, turned his head and supported his chin to look at the street view outside the car window.

The more this happened, the more curious Batty became.

But if you want him to speak despite his obvious resistance, you have to find the right way and take it slow.

"Listen to this, it's full of good songs." Batty chose Lucas's favorites, which contained the most popular music at the moment, both in English and Spanish. Lingard shrugged and did not refuse.

Soon, the carriage was filled with music.

Batty opened the driver's window, put his elbows on the window frame, hummed a song, tapped the beat, and drove comfortably.

It is said that football and music are the most contagious and borderless things in the world.

This is real.

After a few songs, Lingard finally relaxed. He began to hum along with Batistuta consciously or unconsciously, and sway to the rhythm.

When the theme song of the animated movie Spider-Man, "Sunflower", started playing, Batistuta felt the time was right. He quietly turned the button to lower the volume and started chatting: "Mbappe has been with you for a month. How is it going to get along with him?"

Ok?
Lingard obviously didn't expect this question. He laughed a few times and then shrugged, "That's it."

"It's okay, you can say whatever you want. There's no recording device here, and I don't have a girlfriend who talks a lot." Batty smoothed his hair that was messed up by the wind. "To be honest, I don't like that guy."

"Yeah."

"Yes, people always compare me to him and I hate it, it's like - I want to focus on the court, but people force me to share some attention with Mbappe," Batistuta said.

Although he said this to make Lingard feel his sincerity, he really thought so, so, from a higher perspective, it is not a lie.

"I love the fans very much, but most of the time, they don't know the story behind me. I'm not as good as some people say, nor as bad as some people say," Batty added. He observed the moved expression on Lingard's face and knew that he had touched the other person's heart.

"What can we do? They are fans." Lingard smiled somewhat hollowly. "Don't blame them. If I have to blame someone, maybe I can only blame my bad luck."

"By the way, Jesse, what were you doing at the hospital?" Batty suddenly changed the subject.

Perhaps it was the music and sincerity that worked, or perhaps it was because he had been holding it in for too long and had no one to talk to, Lingard finally opened up to Batistuta.

"My grandpa was hospitalized and was diagnosed with prostate cancer last year... I was raised by him and my grandma. He was a very good person. I liked football. Like all British children, he had no interest in this rough sport, but he still met all my requirements."
"He was a strong, happy old man who was about to beat cancer, but my mom...she wasn't as strong as him. I didn't understand depression. I tried to understand, but it was hard. I just knew that when she was sick, she couldn't get out of bed all day, so I had to take care of my brothers and sisters."

"You have brothers and sisters?" Batty asked.

"Well, Jasper and Daisy. Jasper is 14 years old and Daisy is only 11. My mother can't take care of them, so I have to take them to my house. Jasper is fine, he goes to school and will go to extracurricular activities with the school this weekend, which will give me a break, but Daisy can't, my grandmother takes care of her."
"My grandmother is a superwoman. She almost had her limbs amputated last month, but this month she's feeling a little better. She's out of bed to take care of grandpa, accompany mom, and watch over Daisy. I always tell her that I have money and can hire someone to do these things, but money can't buy everything. I have to run back and forth between the training ground, the hospital, and my mom's house."

As he spoke, Lingard laughed again: "By the way, didn't I tell you that I have a daughter, born to my ex-girlfriend? Although I don't have to take care of her on weekdays, I always have to fulfill my father's obligations. I go to see her every Sunday, which is tomorrow."

As Lingard finished speaking, the car arrived at its destination.

Batistuta maintained a stunned expression as he drove the car into the parking lot and parked it. After pulling the handbrake, he turned around and looked at Lingard in disbelief.

"You're just - damn, this is hard to judge." Batty couldn't help but curse.

After saying it all, Lingard felt much more relaxed. He spread his hands and said, "Well, it's not that difficult."

"Fuck it, man! You're like--" Batty thought for a long time before coming up with a suitable statement, "You're like you're having an early midlife crisis, and it's epic, and you're not even 30 yet!"

Lingard was smiling again, as he always seemed to be smiling.

"It's a bit bad, isn't it." He unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. "Thank you for giving me a ride, Batty, and for listening to me. See you in the derby."

Just after turning around and taking two steps, Lingard came back.

"Listen, uh, don't tell anyone else, okay." He leaned on the roof of the car and gave Batty a pleading smile, "I just felt a little uncomfortable today so I told you, I don't want others to feel sorry for me."

Batty and Lingard looked at each other, without saying anything or nodding, but just shrugged. Lingard probably took this as agreement, patted the roof of the car, turned around and waved, and walked towards the hospital elevator.

"Bye, Barty."

Batty sat in the car for three minutes after he left.

Then he took out his cell phone, removed a number from the blacklist, and called the number resolutely.

"Augustus? Your players have such a big problem, but you are still so relaxed and don't know anything. You still want to beat me with this?"

……

This is not his fault, Batty thought, he didn't promise Lingard not to tell anyone.

He called Augustus three minutes ago and basically told him exactly what Lingard had said to him. Even though that guy is crazy, judging by the large amount of positive feedback from employees after he took over Manchester United, he shouldn't be too bad at handling these things.

With the support of the club, things should be much better.

Although there is no guarantee that his grandfather can recover, at least he can hire the best doctor. As for his mother's depression, that is even more difficult. But if someone helps him share the burden, helps him take care of his younger siblings, and tells him that it doesn't matter and that there will always be someone supporting him, perhaps he will feel much better.

Augustus thanked Batti and said he would be there soon.

In order to avoid meeting him, Buddy drove away first. After leaving Christie Hospital, Buddy called Joline again. There were only 5 minutes left before the time they agreed on, and he hoped that she would not wait anxiously.

"It's okay, Batti, it's okay if you don't come!" Qiao Lin's happy voice came from the receiver, "The teacher had something to do today, so we ended the get out of class early. It just so happened that Loach was nearby, so I asked him to come and pick me up." Okay, it seems I don't have to go there anymore.

So where to go now?
Batty turned the car around and took advantage of a red light to make another call: "Hey Kevin, I'm fine. I just encountered some big news on the road. I'm on my way to your place now. When we meet, I'll tell you in person."

……

De Bruyne moved a chair and sat down facing the door. The black cat named Jam followed him all the way, then jumped onto his knees, turned around a few times, and then found a comfortable position to lie down.

Exactly like Batty.

The Belgian midfielder smiled and reached out to slowly comb the cat's hair. He had been thinking a lot during this period, about Manchester City, about Belgium, about football, and about...Bati.

Just like this little ball of hair on his body, Batty is Batty and he won't change.

If you push too hard, you may even have a stress reaction.

De Bruyne touched the bell on the cat's neck. Before, he thought, if only he could become the dog of the same name as Batistuta's family. Now, he thought, if only Batistuta could become his cat. He would hide him and not show him to anyone. All his emotions, happiness, pain, and sadness would only be shown to himself.

This is too dark.

he knows.

So he hid these thoughts very well.

If Batty——

[Ding--]
The doorbell rang, interrupting the Belgian midfielder's increasingly depressed thoughts. He picked up the cat and opened the door.

It's like it happened again yesterday.

Batistuta appeared outside the door wearing light-colored casual clothes, sunglasses on his head, a bright smile, and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. For a moment, De Bruyne saw the scene of the other party knocking on his door for the first time.

He had the flu that day, and Batistuta came to see him after training, holding flowers he had pulled from the weird old man next door, still with the same beautiful smile, and he had just mustered up the courage to kiss him not long ago.

"There's a new flower shop at the corner of the street. I passed by the door and fell in love with this one at first sight." Batty raised his chin at him a little proudly and handed him the flower. "Pure white rose, it suits you very well, doesn't it?"

De Bruyne has mixed emotions.

He held the cat in one hand and took the flower in the other: "White Rose, do you really think it suits me?"

"Why not." Batty walked into the house naturally. He threw himself on the sofa, adjusted his position, and then crossed his legs on the coffee table as usual. "You have light hair and fair skin. From a distance, you look like a white rose - except when you have just finished exercising, then you will turn red. Oh, he also has red roses and pink roses. Next time I come, I will buy you some."

De Bruyne was stunned.

It seems that he didn't know the meaning of these roses, he just bought them casually because he thought they were beautiful.

That's right, De Bruyne thought, Batistuta is not the kind of person who would pay attention to those things.

"Why are you stunned, Kevin?"

Batty's voice called from the living room.

"Nothing." The Belgian midfielder closed the door and walked into the living room. Some things should be kept in mind. There is no need to let the other party know. "Didn't you say you encountered big news? Tell me what it is."

……

Batistuta stayed at De Bruyne's house until the evening.

They talked a lot, mainly about Jesse Lingard and his troubles, and the funny thing was, he was very angry at first, but after talking about Jesse Lingard's experience, he suddenly became better.

I feel much better. Those comments online comparing him to Mbappe are no longer such a headache. I can also accept Otamendi and Stones' reckless fouls in the game.

He didn't know why.

"Maybe you realise that your troubles are nothing compared to Jesse Lingard," De Bruyne concluded.

"Maybe." Batty lay on his lap, browsing the news on his phone with a bit of boredom. "I can't imagine it. If I had encountered something like what he did, I would have collapsed a long time ago."

De Bruyne looked down at him, his gaze moving from his forehead to his eyelashes, past the tip of his nose, to his lips, and finally to his collar. Something in his heart moved, and he reached out to cover it.

"I think you're right now, Kevin." Batty turned over, allowing the other man's palm to better control his throat. This was an improvement. In the past, he would never let himself be at a disadvantage so easily. "Maybe I'm too nervous and put too much pressure on myself. I should let go."

“Hmm,” De Bruyne said, his attention no longer on the conversation. “I’m glad you realised that.”

"I'm just glad that I'm still living a relatively easy life. I can't - ah, you little bastard." As he was speaking, the cat jumped onto Batistuta's stomach. He got up from De Bruyne and held the cat in his arms. The cat kept meowing, probably because it was hungry.

"Come on, I'll open a can for you." Batty put his chin on the cat's head, and both the man and the cat looked at the Belgian midfielder at the same time. "Speaking of which, Kevin, what do you want to eat? I only know how to make salad and fried eggs. How about we order a pizza?"

De Bruyne's eyes became deeper and deeper.

"I think--"

He reached out and took the bell off the cat's neck, adjusted the tightness of the strap, moved over, and put the bell around Batty's neck.

"Kevin!?" Batistuta was surprised. He subconsciously loosened his hand, and the cat jumped off the sofa, giving De Bruyne space to operate.

He pushed Barty onto the sofa cushions and buried his head in his neck, fiddling with the bell from time to time. "I have something better to eat than pizza."

Batty reacted for a moment, then turned to cater.

"——I taught you well, didn't I Kevin?" He kissed De Bruyne's ear and patted him on the back. "Go to the room. I remember you have a moving tail toy. What a coincidence. I can use it again today."

Then they left the living room.

As for pizza and dinner, who cares about that.

(End of this chapter)