Harbinger Of Glory

Leo woke up to the dim grey of early dawn seeping through the curtains.

For a moment, he just sat there on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, his hair slightly tousled from sleep as he rolled his head on his neck.

His eyes blinked slowly as the quiet filled the room, the faint hum of the air conditioner, the soft, steady breathing of his roommate, Carlo, still asleep on the other side.

He muttered a small, half-asleep prayer under his breath, something quick and habitual, before exhaling and pushing himself to his feet, his bare soles pressing against the cold floor as he walked toward the balcony.

The sliding door gave a faint clack when he pulled it open, and a chill breeze rushed in.

Outside, the sky was still heavy with night, though the faintest traces of blue were starting to bleed through.

The training complex below was silent, the pitches empty, but the floodlights were still on.

For a brief second, Leo just stood there, his hands on the railing, breathing in the sharp morning air.

Then he stepped back inside, letting the door slide shut behind him.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and 5:40 a.m. glowed on the screen.

He rubbed both palms over his face, pressing lightly against his eyes as if to wipe away what was left of sleep.

A few moments later, the bathroom light flicked on, harsh and white as Leo squinted at his reflection for a second, then reached for the mouthwash.

The mint burned as he swirled it around, spitting it out before leaning over the sink to wash his face.

Cold water splashed over his cheeks, trickling down his neck, and it woke him up instantly.

When he stepped out again, he flicked the switch off, the room returning to its dim calm.

He walked to his bag, pulled out his tight running top, and slipped it on.

Then came his joggers, which he tugged up before checking the pocket for his key card.

He opened the door quietly and stepped into the corridor, which was empty and still.

He stretched as he walked, rolling his shoulders, twisting his neck, feeling the stiffness leave his limbs.

Outside, the air was fresh and cool as he made his way to the track that circled one of the main pitches, the faint line markings still visible in the half-light.

Then, without much thought, he started running.

His footsteps echoed softly at first, rhythmic and steady.

The more he ran, the more the world around him woke up: the slow rising of the sun, the faint chirping of birds somewhere in the distance, the low hum of sprinklers kicking on across the grass.

By the time the sun had begun to climb properly, Leo slowed to a jog, his breath heavy, his shirt sticking slightly to his back.

He checked his watch, 6:20.

”Almost forty minutes. Not bad,” he muttered as he bent over slightly, hands on his knees, pulling in deep, even breaths until the burn in his lungs faded.

Then, after a short stretch, hamstrings, quads, and shoulders, he began the walk back toward the dorms.

When he re-entered the room, Carlo was still out cold, one leg dangling off the bed, snoring softly.

Leo barely glanced his way as he moved into the bathroom again.

He brushed his teeth properly this time and then grabbed his football boots from the corner.

He gave one last look around the room and then stepped out again, boots dangling by their laces from his hand, ready to start his day.

Close to an hour after Leo had made his way down, a few players were also now up, some in their tracksuits, others still in t-shirts and slippers, making their way toward the cafeteria where breakfast was scheduled to begin at seven-thirty.

It was only two minutes past seven, but the early risers had already claimed their spots by the wide glass windows overlooking the training pitches.

Most of them sat lazily, chatting in low voices or scrolling through their phones as they waited for the cafeteria staff to bring out the first trays of food.

One of the defenders, a tall, fair-haired lad, leaned forward in his chair and squinted toward the window.

”Is that—?” he started, his words hanging as he stood up and walked closer to the glass.

The others followed his gaze.

Out on the far pitch, alone under the faint morning sun, was Leo, juggling a ball, left foot, right foot, thigh, all in a steady rhythm before letting it drop and striking it cleanly into the small net at the edge of the pitch.

The defender chuckled.

”The new guy’s an early riser,” he said, a bit amused.

A few of the others came over, pressing closer to the glass.

Some smiled faintly, muttering things under their breath, little jokes, half-curious remarks.

”New guy is trying to impress the coaches before breakfast,” one of them said, shaking his head.

Another just smirked.

”Let him. Rocco did the same on his first day and stopped the next day,” he continued, causing a few of the boys to laugh, though not everyone found it funny.

A few players just shrugged and returned to their seats, uninterested.

For them, mornings were for quiet, not drills.

Still, their eyes lingered on the pitch a little longer before they turned away.

Leo, meanwhile, finished his short session, picking up the ball and tucking it under his arm as he walked off the pitch.

His hair was damp, his shirt clinging slightly to his back.

He passed by the cafeteria without glancing inside, heading down the paved walkway toward the accommodation block behind the training complex.

When he opened the door to his room, the faint sound of a ringtone filled the air.

Carlo, as some called him, was sitting on his bed, his back to the wall, phone in hand and a small smile tugging at his lips.

He looked up briefly, caught Leo’s eye, and nodded.

”Morning,” Leo said automatically, his voice low but polite.

”Morning,” Carlo replied, his attention already drifting back to his screen.

Leo tossed his training top into the laundry basket by the corner, grabbed a towel, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Soon, the sound of running water followed.

By the time he came out, steam drifting behind him, he looked more at ease, hair damp, wearing a plain black tee and shorts.

After that, he went through his morning routine, but just as he reached for the doorknob to leave afterwards, Carlo’s voice broke the silence.

”Wait for me,” he said, his English carrying the rhythm of someone who frequently used it.

Leo turned, one brow raised at this ”roommate” of his who was suddenly talking to him.

For a moment, Leo wondered if he’d misheard.

But Carlo was already sliding off his bed, pulling on his jacket and slipping his phone into his pocket.

”Alright,” Leo said finally, nodding once.

He stepped outside and waited in the hall, his hands tucked into his pockets, his mind wandering.

A minute later, Carlo emerged, adjusting his collar with a small grin that Leo didn’t quite understand.

”Let’s go then,” he said, gesturing towards the corridor ahead.

After a while, Carlo glanced sideways, a small grin playing on his face.

”So, Leo,” he said, his tone casual, like he was trying to fill the quiet.

”Where do you play?”

Leo looked over, a little surprised by the question.

”Wigan,” he replied after a second, still eyeing Carlo, who just nodded, his expression thoughtful.

”Which setup?”

”The senior team,” Leo said simply.

That earned a brief pause from Carlo.

His grin faded into a more neutral expression, not rude but just a quiet shift of tone, like he was reassessing the kid beside him.

”Ah,” he said finally, nodding again, slower this time.

Leo glanced at him, curious now.

”What about you? Where do you play?”

Carlo’s eyes flicked up from the ground, a small, almost proud smirk forming.

”Manchester City. The Senior Team.”

Leo wrinkled his nose without thinking, the reaction slipping out before he could stop it.

Carlo caught it instantly, raising an eyebrow.

”Sorry,” Leo said quickly, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck.

”Reflex. I came up at United’s academy.”

Carlo’s expression softened with a small, amused

”Oh.” Then, after a beat: ”So you’re on loan from them?”

Leo shook his head.

”Nah. United released me after the U18S. Wigan picked me up this year and promoted me to the main squad 2-3 months ago.”

Carlo’s brows lifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he nodded again, slower this time, more understanding than before.

”That’s good,” he said, his tone easy again. ”Good for you.”

Leo just gave a small shrug, not quite sure what to say back.

The conversation trailed off naturally after that as they walked the rest of the way in silence, not uncomfortable, just quiet.

When they finally reached the entrance, Carlo pulled the door open, stepping aside slightly.

Leo nodded in thanks and walked in first, his eyes scanning the still unfamiliar faces scattered around the tables.