Demien's Apartment, Bergamo

The elevator climbed slowly to the fourth floor, and Demien pulled out his phone while it hummed. Three notifications waited on the lock screen.

He swiped to Instagram first, scrolling through his feed. The usual mix of posts—teammates training, brands advertising boots, highlight reels from weekend matches.

Then he saw a post from a small Italian football account, @SerieB_Insider, that he'd started following during his trial:

🚨 EXCLUSIVE: Luca Bianchi to undergo medical Wednesday as clubs reach agreement. The 18-year-old midfielder will travel for assessment before finalizing personal terms. Full details soon. 🔵⚫

Demien's thumb hovered over the post. He read it twice, and warmth spread through his chest. Luca's medical is Wednesday. It's really happening.

He double-tapped to like it, then kept scrolling.

The next post in his feed made him stop completely.

@adriano_fiorentina - Grateful for the opportunity. First goal for the first team. More to come. 💜

The photo showed Adriano celebrating with his shirt pulled over his head, and teammates swarming him in purple. The caption timestamp said Sunday, and the match details were tagged: Fiorentina 2-1 Udinese.

Demien stared at the post for three seconds, and something cold settled in his chest.

First goal for the first team.

The elevator dinged and opened, and he stepped out without liking the post or commenting. He walked down the hallway to his door and unlocked it with one hand while his eyes stayed on the screen.

Adriano's comments section was full of congratulations and fire emojis, and multiple Italian sports accounts had reposted the photo with captions about Fiorentina's rising star.

He locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket.

********

4:15 PM

The apartment was quiet when he dropped his bag by the door and walked to the couch. The TV remote sat on the coffee table, and he grabbed it without thinking, pressing power while he sank into the cushions.

Sky Sport Italia flickered to life mid-broadcast—Sky Calcio Show, the Monday afternoon recap program. Two presenters sat at a curved desk with screens behind them showing Serie A highlights, and a third pundit—a former midfielder whose face Demien recognized but couldn't name—sat between them.

"—so let's talk about Atalanta at San Siro," the main presenter said, a man in his forties with salt-and-pepper hair. "Filippo, what did you make of Gasperini's approach?"

The second presenter—Filippo Gallo—leaned forward slightly. "I thought they were brave. They didn't sit back and defend. They tried to play football, and for long stretches they actually matched Milan."

"But they lost one-nil," the pundit interjected. "And honestly, it could have been more if not for Musso."

"True, but look at this." Filippo gestured toward the screen as footage played showing Demien receiving the ball under pressure from Tonali. "This kid, Walter, the eighteen-year-old from Fiorentina's academy—he was everywhere. Seventy-five minutes against the champions and he didn't hide once."

The main presenter nodded. "Demien Walter, yes. We've been hearing his name a lot lately. Two matches, two strong performances."

"He's got something," the pundit said, watching the replay. "Composure, intelligence, good technique. You don't usually see that maturity at eighteen."

The footage switched to the disallowed goal—Demien's volley crashing into the net, the away section erupting, then the VAR check and the lines drawn through Zapata's position.

"Ah, this one," Filippo said, shaking his head. "Controversial. Very controversial."

"Offside by what, fifteen centimeters?" the main presenter asked. "Harsh call."

"It's the rule," the pundit said with a shrug. "Zapata's shoulder was ahead. Technically correct, but painful for Atalanta."

"That volley was beautiful though," Filippo added. "Walter didn't hesitate. Just hit it clean. If that stands, we're talking about a completely different match."

They moved to the next segment, and the screen changed to show Fiorentina highlights.

"Now to Florence," the main presenter said. "Fiorentina two, Udinese one. And another young star making headlines—Adriano Franchi with his first goal of the season."

The footage showed Adriano receiving on the edge of the box, one touch to control, second to set himself, third to finish past the keeper. Clinical. Confident.

"What a talent," Filippo said. "Italiano has been patient with him, bringing him along slowly, and now it's paying off."

"He's been ready for months," the pundit replied. "You could see it in training clips, in Primavera matches. This was inevitable."

"Opens his account for the season," the main presenter noted. "Big moment for the kid. And he took it well—no nerves, just quality."

Demien grabbed the remote and turned off the TV.

The screen went black, and the apartment fell silent again.

He sat there for a moment with his hands on his knees and his breathing steady. First goal for the first team. The words repeated in his head uninvited.

Good for him, Demien thought, and he meant it mostly. He earned it.

But the cold feeling in his chest didn't fade.

He picked up his phone and opened Instagram again, scrolling past Adriano's post to the next update. Marco's marketing team had posted on his account an hour ago—a photo from Sunday's match showing him controlling the ball against Tonali with the caption:

Thank you to all the fans for the support on Sunday. The result wasn't what we wanted, but the fight continues. Forza Atalanta. 💙🖤

The post had 28,400 likes already and 1,847 comments. He tapped to expand them.

@atalanta_ultras: Played your heart out kid 💪

@bergamo_calcio: That goal should've counted. VAR ruined it

@walter_fanpage: Already better than half the squad keep going 🔥

@milano_rossoneri: Respect from Milan. You played well

@serie_a_scout: Future star in the making

He scrolled through twenty more—mostly positive, a few trolls saying he was overrated, one comment in some languages he didn't understand—and then he locked his phone and set it face-down on the coffee table.

His body felt heavy, and the week's accumulation of training and travel and tension pressed down on his shoulders like weight he couldn't shrug off.

He stood slowly and walked to his bedroom. The bed was unmade from this morning, and his Atalanta training kit hung over the chair by the window. He pulled off his shirt and jeans and collapsed onto the mattress without changing into anything else.

The ceiling stared back at him—white and blank and offering no answers.

Adriano scored. Luca's moving to a new club. Everyone's moving forward.

So am I, he reminded himself. Brand meetings Wednesday. Marco's setting things up. Nike, Adidas, Puma all want to sign me. That's progress.

But progress felt like a word people used when they didn't want to say slow.

His eyes closed, and sleep came faster than expected, dragging him under before his thoughts could spiral further.

********

Tuesday, August 27th, 2022

7:23 AM

Demien's phone buzzed on the nightstand, and the vibration pulled him from dreamless sleep. He reached over without opening his eyes and grabbed it, squinting at the screen's brightness.

Marco Benetti

Good morning. Meetings confirmed for tomorrow (Wednesday). Nike at 2pm, Adidas at 3:30pm, Puma at 5pm. Each has 1hr slot. I'll pick you up from training. Dress smart casual—not a suit, but not training gear either. We'll discuss strategy on the drive. Let me know if any questions.

Demien read it twice, and his brain processed the information slowly while his body wanted to stay horizontal. Three meetings. Three brands. Three opportunities to secure his first major commercial deal.

He typed back: Got it. See you tomorrow.

The message sent, and he dropped the phone on the mattress beside him. The ceiling greeted him again—same white blankness as yesterday—and he stared at it for thirty seconds before forcing himself to sit up.

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