The name echoed in Ethan’s mind, a sour, discordant note in the quiet of the morning:
He had slept terribly, the image of GridironGuru’s smug face announcing his best friend as his new Head of Recruitment replaying on a loop.
It was a betrayal so profound, so completely out of left field, that his brain didn’t even know how to process it.
Was it a joke? A mistake?
Or was Liam, their Liam, the one on the inside, actually working for the enemy?
He trudged downstairs, the weight of the mystery heavy on his shoulders.
The cheerful scene in the kitchen was a jarring contrast to his dark mood.
His mom was humming, watering her plants by the window, looking stronger and more vibrant than she had in months. His dad was trying to read the newspaper while Gaffer, the fluffy golden retriever, waged a tactical war against his slipper.
"Morning, honey," his mom said, turning with a bright smile.
"Pancakes are on the table. Your father managed not to burn them this time."
"It was a near thing," his dad grumbled from behind the paper. "This little furball kept trying to steal the spatula. Probably a secret agent for the squirrels."
Ethan sat down, pushing a pancake around his plate.
He tried to muster a smile, but it felt like a foreign expression.
His mom’s cheerful demeanor softened into one of concern.
She sat down opposite him. "What is it, Ethan? You look like you’ve lost a cup final."
"It’s... complicated," he mumbled.
"Ah," she said, nodding with the simple, profound wisdom of a mother. "Well, complicated friend stuff is usually simple at its core. Either he’s a good friend who made a terrible mistake, or he’s not as good a friend as you thought. The hard part is figuring out which it is."
He looked at his mom, at her clear, loving eyes, and felt a little of the weight lift.
She was right. It was that simple. He just didn’t have the answer yet.
The shift at CostMart was a welcome distraction. There was no room for existential dread when faced with a leaning tower of baked bean cans. The simple, physical work was meditative. He stacked, he priced, he faced-up.
He even managed a friendly chat with a customer about the merits of chunky versus smooth peanut butter.
"Couch!" Mr. Henderson’s familiar roar echoed from the end of the aisle.
"You look like you’re actually working today. It’s a miracle. Don’t get used to it."
Ethan just grinned. "Can’t help it, sir. The passion for perfectly aligned pickles is just too strong."
Mr. Henderson just grunted and walked away, but Ethan was sure he saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
As he was clocking out, his phone buzzed. It was Leo.
Leo: Outside. I brought tactical supplies.
Ethan walked out into the cool evening air to see Leo leaning against the bike racks, holding two steaming paper cups.
He was, of course, still wearing the bright blue Apex United tracksuit, a walking, talking monument to his derby day humiliation.
"What’s the emergency?" Ethan asked, taking a cup. It was a hot chocolate, rich and sweet.
"There is no emergency," Leo said, his face unusually serious.
"I just figured you wouldn’t want to be alone with... the news."
Ethan sighed, the weight settling back on his shoulders.
"I saw the replay of the Quantum-Nova match this morning," Leo said, his voice a low growl. "I saw his name. I saw Guru’s smug face. I think I threw a cushion at the television."
They stood in silence for a moment, sipping their hot chocolates.
"I just don’t get it, Leo," Ethan said finally, the confusion and hurt evident in his voice.
"Why? Why would he do it? He’s our best friend. We told him everything."
"I know," Leo said, shaking his head. "I’ve been thinking about it all day. It doesn’t make any sense. Is it the money? GridironGuru is loaded. Maybe he offered Liam a fortune." Read full story at novel⸺fire.net
"Would Liam sell us out for money?" Ethan asked.
"I don’t think so," Leo admitted. "He’s not like that. So what else could it be? Are they forcing him? Threatening him?"
"With what? A bad review on his virtual scouting reports?"
Ethan scoffed. The idea was ridiculous.
They started to walk, their footsteps the only sound in the quiet parking lot.
"Maybe... maybe it’s a long con," Leo mused, his eyes gleaming with a familiar, conspiratorial light. "Maybe he’s a double agent! He’s going to feed us all of Quantum FC’s secrets from the inside! We’ll know their tactics, their transfer targets... we’ll be unstoppable!"
Ethan couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s boundless, optimistic imagination.
"A double agent? Leo, this isn’t a spy movie. This is a football game."
"A football game where the number one player is managing Manchester United and we get secret messages on our phones!"
Leo retorted. "I think we’re way past ’just a game’ territory."
The thought was a comforting one, a possible explanation that didn’t involve their best friend being a backstabbing traitor.
But it felt too much like wishful thinking.
"I don’t know what to think," Ethan said honestly as they reached his street. "My mom’s right. Either he’s a good friend who made a mistake, or he’s not. And I don’t know which is worse."
He invited Leo in, and the mood in the house instantly lifted.
His mom, who adored Leo, insisted he stay for dinner. His dad, seeing Leo’s bright blue tracksuit, couldn’t resist a few jabs.
"Look at this, a traitor in our midst!" his dad said with a mock-serious expression.
"Enjoying the colors of a real team for a change, are we, son?"
"I’m just supporting my friend’s grassroots project," Leo shot back without missing a beat. "It’s like a charity. Someone has to wear the merchandise."
The easy, familiar banter was a soothing balm.
They ate dinner around the coffee table in the living room, watching a stupid, brain-dead comedy show on TV.
Sarah even came out of her room to join them, laughing at the show and playfully mocking Leo’s tracksuit.
For a few hours, the virtual world, with its betrayals and conspiracies, didn’t exist. There was no Apex United, no Orion FC, no Quantum FC. There was just the Couch family, and their honorary member, Leo. There was laughter, bad jokes, and the happy, sleepy snores of Gaffer, who had curled up on Leo’s feet.
As Leo was getting ready to leave, Ethan walked him to the door.
"Thanks for coming tonight, man," Ethan said, his voice sincere.
"Anytime," Leo said. "We’ll figure this Liam thing out. Together."
"Yeah," Ethan agreed. "We will."
He closed the door and leaned against it, a feeling of deep, profound gratitude washing over him.
The mystery of Liam was a storm cloud on the horizon, dark and threatening.
But in this house, with his family, with his friends, he was safe. He had his team. His real team.
And whatever was coming, he knew he wouldn’t have to face it alone.