Us

The neon lights of Tokyo felt far too bright for Jamal’s current mood. Even though they were thousands of miles away from Munich, the internal politics of the Bayern Munich locker room seemed to have followed them across the globe. Usually, Jamal loved these pre-season tours—the fans, the culture, the bonding. But lately, every time he looked around, he felt a sharp, annoying prickle of irritation right beneath his ribs.

It was all because of Nini.

She was the social media intern, a tiny girl with a cloud of brown curls that always seemed to have a stray pen tucked into them. She was shy, the kind of girl who looked at her shoes when the veterans spoke to her, but she was brilliant at her job. Jamal had noticed her the first day she walked into the Säbener Strasse facilities. He’d noticed the way her nose crinkled when she laughed and the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating on editing a video.

He’d also noticed that she seemed to be terrified of him. Whenever he walked into a room, she went stiff, her eyes widening like a deer in headlights before she scurried away to find someone—anyone—else to talk to.

Usually, that someone was Bischof.

"Jamal, stop brooding. You look like you’re trying to solve a physics equation in your head," Aleks Pavlovic said, nudging Jamal’s shoulder as they walked down the plush hotel corridor.

"I’m not brooding," Jamal muttered, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his tracksuit.

"You are. You’ve been staring at the back of Tom’s head for three hours," Aleks teased. "Come on, let’s go see what they’re up to. I heard a lot of noise coming from Tom’s room earlier. I think they’re filming the 'Guess the Player' challenge for the TikTok account."

Jamal wanted to say no. He wanted to go back to his room, put on his headset, and drown out the world with music. But the thought of Nini and Tom Bischof alone in a room, laughing and sharing jokes, made his feet move before his brain could protest.

As they approached Tom’s door, the sound of muffled shrieks and high-pitched giggling drifted through the wood. It wasn't just a polite office laugh; it was the kind of breathless, genuine laughter that came from being completely comfortable with someone.

Aleks didn’t bother knocking; he pushed the door open with a grin. "What’s the party about?"

The scene inside made Jamal’s heart sink. Nini was sitting on the edge of the bed, her laptop balanced on her knees, her face flushed a bright, rosy pink. Tom was standing in front of her, wearing a ridiculous oversized pair of sunglasses and holding a baguette he must have swiped from the dinner buffet like it was a microphone.

"And then," Tom gasped, clutching his stomach, "he tried to header the ball, but he tripped over his own laces and ended up doing a full somersault into the water cooler!"

Nini collapsed into a fit of giggles, her small hand reaching out to swat at Tom’s arm. "Stop it! I can’t... I can’t type when you’re being this stupid!"

Tom grinned down at her, his expression soft and teasing. He leaned in closer, whispering something that made Nini hide her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with mirth.

Jamal felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. The way she touched Tom’s arm—so effortless, so natural. She never touched Jamal. She barely even looked at him.

"Oh, hey guys," Tom said, finally noticing the intruders. He didn't look guilty; he looked triumphant. "Nini and I are just finishing the teaser for the Japan vlog. She thinks my comedy career is taking off."

"It’s really not," Jamal said, his voice coming out flatter than he intended. "The somersault story isn't even that funny. Everyone knows Müller does that on purpose to make the youngsters laugh."

Nini’s laughter died instantly. The moment she registered Jamal’s presence, her posture shifted. She sat up straight, her hands dropping from her face to clasp tightly in her lap. The vibrant, glowing girl from ten seconds ago vanished, replaced by the quiet, stiff intern who looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

"Hi, Jamal. Hi, Aleks," she said softly, her voice barely a whisper. She wouldn't meet Jamal’s eyes.

"We were just... finishing up," she added, hurriedly closing her laptop and sliding it into her bag.

"Don't let us stop the fun," Aleks said, oblivious to the tension. "Tom, you still owe me a game of FIFA."

"In a minute," Tom replied, his eyes darting between Jamal’s stony face and Nini’s frantic movements. He reached out and ruffled Nini’s curls. "You did great, Nini. Best intern we’ve ever had. See you at breakfast?"

Nini nodded quickly, her face turning even redder. "Yeah. See you."

She scrambled past Jamal, keeping as much distance as the narrow doorway allowed. Jamal caught a faint scent of vanilla and shampoo as she brushed past him, but she didn't even look up.

Once she was gone, the room felt strangely empty.

"Man, you really know how to kill a vibe," Tom said, tossing the baguette onto the desk and kicking off his shoes.

"I didn't do anything," Jamal snapped. "I just told the truth. It wasn't funny."

"It was to her," Tom countered, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Maybe you should try being a bit more approachable, Bambi. You’re always so serious around her."

"I’m not serious! She’s the one who acts like I’m a monster!" Jamal paced the small space of the hotel room. "Did you see her? She was practically hanging off you. And then I walk in and she acts like she’s being interrogated by the police."

Aleks whistled low. "Someone’s jealous."

"I’m not jealous," Jamal lied, though the heat in his cheeks betrayed him. "I just think it’s unprofessional. There are rumors, you know. The guys are talking about you two."

Tom burst out laughing, falling back onto his bed. "Rumors? About me and Nini? That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day."

"What’s so funny?" Jamal demanded.

"Nothing, mate. Nothing at all," Tom said, wiping a tear from his eye. "But if you’re so worried about 'professionalism,' maybe you should be the one to help her with the next video. She needs someone to do the 'Day in the Life' segment tomorrow in Tokyo."

Jamal frowned. "She won't ask me. She’ll ask you."

"Actually," Tom said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, "I think you should be the one to ask her. Give her a chance to see that you don't bite."

---

The next morning, the humidity in Tokyo was thick enough to feel like a physical weight. The team was scheduled for a light training session at a local stadium before a promotional event at a flagship store.

Jamal found Nini near the sidelines, checking the battery levels on her camera. She looked tired, dark circles under her eyes, but she still had that cute, focused expression that made Jamal’s heart do a clumsy somersault.

He took a deep breath, trying to channel some of Tom’s easy confidence.

"Hey," he said, stepping up beside her.

Nini jumped, nearly dropping the camera. "Oh! Jamal. Hi. Sorry, I didn't see you there."

She immediately took a step back, her fingers fumbling with the lens cap. She looked everywhere except at his face—the grass, the stadium seats, the clouds.

"Tom mentioned you needed someone for the 'Day in the Life' video," Jamal said, trying to keep his voice gentle. "I can do it. If you want."

Nini’s eyes finally snapped to his, wide with shock. "You? But... you usually hate doing the long-form social stuff. You always say it takes too much time away from recovery."

"I changed my mind," Jamal said, offering a small, tentative smile. "I thought it might be fun. To show the fans a different side of the tour."

Nini bit her lip, a habit he was becoming dangerously fond of. "Oh. Okay. That would be great. Thank you."

The silence that followed was heavy. Jamal wanted to ask her why she was so comfortable with Tom. He wanted to ask if the rumors were true, if she really liked the way Tom made her laugh. But he was Jamal Musiala, the "Bambi" of German football, and he wasn't supposed to be insecure about a teammate.

"You and Tom seem to get along well," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Nini’s posture stiffened again. "Tom is... he’s very nice. He’s been helping me feel more comfortable with the team. Since I’m new and all."

"He makes you laugh a lot," Jamal noted, his tone tinged with a bitterness he couldn't hide.

Nini looked down at her camera, her voice very small. "He tries to. He knows I get nervous."

"Nervous about what?"

"Just... everything," she whispered.

Before Jamal could press further, Thomas Müller shouted his name from across the pitch, signaling the start of the drills. Nini looked relieved for the interruption.

"We can start filming after the session," she said quickly, already turning away. "I’ll see you then."

---

The filming was a disaster.

Not because Nini wasn't professional—she was perfect—but because Jamal was a nervous wreck, and his nervousness only made Nini more anxious. Every time she directed him to look at the camera, he caught her looking at him with a mixture of awe and terror.

When they stopped at a vending machine to film a "tasting" segment, Jamal tried to make a joke.

"This drink looks like it’s the same color as your hair," he said, pointing to a bronze-colored tea.

Nini didn't laugh. She just stared at him, her face turning a vivid shade of scarlet. "Is... is that a bad thing? My hair is messy today, isn't it? I’m sorry, I should have tied it back."

"No!" Jamal said, perhaps too loudly. "No, I like your hair. It’s... it’s cute."

Nini looked like she was about to faint. She looked down at her shoes, her hands trembling as she adjusted the tripod. "Thank you. We should... we should move to the next location."

As they walked through the bustling streets of Shibuya, Jamal saw Tom Bischof standing near the team bus, chatting with some fans. When Tom saw them, he gave Jamal a thumbs-up and a wink.

Jamal felt a surge of pure, unadulterated jealousy. He saw the way Nini’s eyes lingered on Tom for a split second, a look of longing or perhaps relief.

He couldn't take it anymore.

"Are you dating him?" Jamal asked.

They were standing in a relatively quiet alleyway, waiting for the rest of the crew to catch up. Nini stopped dead in her tracks, her camera bag slipping off her shoulder.

"What?" she gasped.

"Tom," Jamal said, his voice thick with frustration. "Everyone says there’s a 'romantic atmosphere' between you two. You’re always in his room, you’re always laughing, you touch him... you never even look at me, Nini. Is it because you’re with him?"

Nini’s mouth hung open. She looked like she wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. "Jamal... no. No, I’m not dating Tom."

"Then why are you so different with him?" Jamal stepped closer, his height looming over her, though his expression was more hurt than intimidating. "Why can’t you even talk to me without looking like you want to run away?"

Nini took a shaky breath, her eyes finally meeting his. They were filled with a raw honesty that stopped Jamal in his tracks.

"Because Tom isn't you," she said, her voice trembling.

Jamal blinked. "I don't understand."

"Tom is my friend," Nini explained, her words coming out in a rush. "He knows how I feel. He knows that every time I look at you, I forget how to breathe. He knows that I’ve had a crush on you since the moment I started working at the club. He was being silly and loud because he was trying to make me feel 'at ease' so I wouldn't be so stiff when you were around! He was trying to help me!"

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Jamal stared at her, his brain struggling to process the information. "You... you have a crush on me?"

Nini covered her face with her hands, a muffled groan escaping her. "This is so embarrassing. I’m just the intern with the messy hair, and you’re... you’re Jamal Musiala. Of course I’m stiff around you. I’m terrified I’ll say something stupid and you’ll think I’m an idiot."

Jamal felt a slow, warm glow spread through his chest, melting the icy knot of jealousy that had been living there for weeks. He reached out, gently pulling her hands away from her face.

"You think I’m intimidating?" he asked, his voice soft.

Nini nodded miserably.

"Nini," Jamal said, a genuine, lopsided grin breaking across his face. "I’ve spent the last three weeks being miserable because I thought you hated me. I thought you were falling for Tom because he’s funnier than I am."

"Nobody is better than you," Nini whispered, her face still bright red but her eyes no longer darting away.

Jamal leaned down, his face just inches from hers. The bustling sounds of Tokyo faded into the background, leaving only the sound of their breathing.

"I don't want you to be at ease," Jamal murmured. "I like that I make your heart beat a little faster. As long as you know that you do the exact same thing to me."

Nini’s eyes widened. "I do?"

"Every single day," Jamal promised.

He didn't kiss her—not yet, not in a public alleyway with a camera crew around the corner—but he did reach out and gently tuck a stray brown curl behind her ear.

"So," he said, his eyes dancing with mischief. "No more 'Guess the Player' challenges in Tom’s room?"

Nini laughed, a real, beautiful laugh that finally reached her eyes. "Only if you promise to be the guest on my next video. And you have to be funny, Jamal. No physics equations."

"I’ll try," Jamal said, taking her hand and squeezing it. "But I might need some private coaching."

As they walked back toward the team bus, Jamal saw Tom watching them from a distance. Tom grinned and gave a mock salute, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

For the first time in weeks, Jamal didn't mind at all. He had the girl, he had the curls, and most importantly, he finally had the laugh he’d been chasing across two continents.