Under the dazzling luminescence of the floodlights, the stadium dazzled. The sea of supporters clad in white, red, and blue buzzed, banners floating in the air.
Lamine glanced at the stands, looking defeated.
He scanned the venue before pausing at the scoreboard.
"3-2," he muttered, glancing at the scoreboard. Then his gaze shifted to the tall man clad in white. His tousled blonde hair dangled as he walked.
Unlike his face, which lacked a smile, he had a bright smile plastered on his face.
Floods of memories gushed in as he recalled the events of the match. He had been brilliant in the right wing.
The early lead, the celebration that silenced the stadium. Then the disappointment.
His knuckles tightened as he thought about the final goal that decided the outcome of the match. Then his expression twisted, his lips pursing, veins bulging.
Frustration.
Disappointment.
"Not enough…" He muttered under his breath, his fingers digging deep into his palm.
