Chapter Text
Trent felt those half seconds. Half a second of Jude’s hand lingering on his, half a second of not taking away his eyes, half a second of missed heartbeats. When Jude rested his hand on Trent’s shoulder and smiled so brightly, Trent could feel his heart skipping a beat. He was quite sure that Jude could hear the loud sound of his pounding heart.
Jude made Trent realize that he was never in love before. Yes, he’d met people here and there. He had dates, and sometimes more, however they were all casual. Those were the things that a hot, young, and single football player was supposed to do, and Trent held the hands of models like it’s a duty. Kissed their soft lips without feeling anything.
When it comes to Jude, everything was different. He felt things, things he never knew that he’d be able to feel, and things he feels like he shouldn’t feel. All the things didn’t make sense, which made Trent make the most important decision of his life. ‘A new era for my career,’ Trent told reporters, he told himself, but he never fully believed his own words. There was Jude Bellingham at the center of the decision. At the center of everything.
“Damn. Didn’t think you’d actually come here,” Jude said on the phone. Trent wanted to ask back, ‘what the fuck you mean?’ But instead of it, he just held his breath till it felt hazy. “Trent?” Jude said his name when the silence was too long. Trent loved the sound of his own name coming out of Jude’s mouth for half a second. Jude’s breath crackled through the line, and Trent imagined him leaning against a hotel balcony somewhere, smiling like he owned the night. Trent swallowed, then finally managed to say something. “Yeah,” he said, like it didn’t matter that he’d become a literal Judas of Merseyside just to hear Jude say he was surprised.
The white of the Real Madrid jersey felt like a lie on Trent’s skin. It was too bright and too clean, compared to the heavy, blood-red one that was tattooed to his body for his entire life. As he walked through the corridors of Valdebebas, the air smelled of dry sunshine, unlike the humid breeze of Liverpool. Trent felt like he was fading away under the sun.
Then he saw him.
Jude was across the training pitch, glowing under the very Spanish sun as if he had been born from it. He was laughing. The painfully familiar loud, infectious laughter that Trent used to replay in his head during the nights in Liverpool. When Jude saw him, his face split into a grin so wide.
Jude ran over, and for half a second, Trent thought the world stopped. Earth actually stopped spinning for half a second. Jude didn’t just shake Trent’s hand. Instead, he hugged him so hard that if Trent was a vase he’d helplessly break. The heat of Jude’s body radiated through the thin fabric of their training gear. Jude’s arm draped over Trent’s shoulder, heavy and familiar.
“The boy is finally here,” Jude shouted, turning to the rest of the squad. “Told you he couldn’t resist me!”
Trent managed a faint smile, but he couldn’t stop wondering. Did Jude know? Was he deliberately toying with his heart? He looked for Jude, not knowing what to expect in Jude’s gaze.
But Jude was already moving.
Next moment, Jude’s hand was on Vinicius’s shoulder. He was whispering a joke into Fede’s ear, his eyes sparkling with the same light he just had upon Trent. Jude was the sun, he couldn’t stop shining even if he wanted to. And at that moment, Trent felt in his bones that he was a fool who thought the sun loved him back because he shone upon him.
“You okay, man?” Jude asked, glancing back when he noticed Trent had slowed his pace.
“Fine,” Trent lied. That word tasted bitter. “Just getting used to the heat.”
“You’ll love it here, Trent. Honestly, it’s the best decision you’ve ever made,” Jude’s words were sweet, then he gave Trent a quick, lovely wink before sprinting off.
Trent stood there, frozen, watching Jude’s ‘half-seconds’ being distributed fairly to everyone on the pitch. Why didn’t he know that sunshine didn’t distinguish?
The silence of the hotel room was louder than the Anfield roar. Trent sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. The air-conditioned chill of a five-star suite made him shiver. He didn’t know what he was waiting for.
Then, his phone buzzed, and it became the thing that he was waiting for.
Dress nice. I’m downstairs in ten. It wasn’t a question. With Jude, it never was.
When Trent walked out of the lobby, Jude was leaning against a matte black SUV. Trent knew he couldn’t drive, so he chuckled a bit, but at least Jude looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine. He wore a linen shirt, unbuttoned just a bit too low. He saw Trent and his eyes softened. Not his too bright public grin, but something quieter.
“Took you long enough,” Jude murmured. He opened the door for Trent, and there was another half a second. Jude’s hand briefly brushed against Trent’s waist as he guided him in. It was definitely unnecessary as it wasn’t his first time being in a fancy car, yet here Jude’s hand was. Trent’s skin felt like it was on fire exactly where Jude had touched him.
Dim lights and heavy velvet curtains of the restaurant made Trent wonder again. It was the kind of place you’d take a lover, not a teammate.
“I used to come here when I first arrived,” Jude said, leaning across the wooden table. “Thought it would be nice to bring someone special.”
“You mean I’m special?” Trent couldn’t help asking back. Jude laughed. “Is it even a question? Of course you’re special. I’m just- Glad that you’re here. Now it feels like… Like everything is right.”
Trent didn’t know what to say back. His heartbeat was loud. He couldn’t even hear what Jude was trying to say.
“Trent. …Trent! Are you okay?” Trent blinked like he’d been underwater. The restaurant swam back into focus.
“I’m fine,” he said again, too quickly. The lie came out smooth now, practiced from years of press conferences and dressing rooms. “Just- Long day.”
Jude’s brows pulled together. He reached across the table, and for half a second Trent thought he was going to take his hand. Jude’s fingers stopped an inch away, hovering, then retreated to his own glass instead.
“Yeah?” Jude asked. His thumb rubbed the rim. “Because you look like you’re about to disappear.”
Trent gave a laugh that didn’t match his face. “You’re dramatic.”
Jude’s mouth twitched. “Only when I care.”
The words landed too softly, as if Jude hadn’t meant to throw them at all. Trent’s throat tightened.
“I did mean it,” Jude continued, and his voice lowered, almost serious now. “About you being special. I’ve wanted you here for ages.”
Trent’s heart did that stupid stutter again. He tried to hold Jude’s gaze and failed, eyes dropping to Jude’s hands instead. Long fingers. Clean nails. The faint mark where a ring would be if Jude wore one.
“You always get what you want,” Trent said, and it came out sharper than he intended.
Jude’s head tilted. “What are you talking about?”
Trent swallowed. He could still feel Jude’s hand on his waist from the lobby, like a fingerprint burned in.
“Never mind,” Trent said, reaching for his water. His fingers were shaking, so he gripped the glass too hard. Jude didn't let it go. He reached out and placed his hand over Trent’s. His palm was warm, solid, and steady.
“Trent,” he said. Just his name. It sounded like a prayer and a command all at once. Jude’s thumb traced a slow, rhythmic circle over Trent’s knuckles. He didn't pull away. He didn't look away. The intensity in his eyes was suffocating.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Jude repeated. His voice was a low hum that seemed to vibrate in Trent’s own chest. “I really am. I don't think you realize how much.”
The rest of the dinner was a blur. Trent ate, but he didn't taste anything. He laughed when Jude laughed. He nodded when Jude talked about the squad. But all he could feel was the ghost of Jude’s skin against his. Every time their eyes met, Trent felt like he was losing a little more of himself.
Outside, the Madrid night was alive. The air was sweet and heavy.
As they walked back to the SUV, Jude’s hand didn't let go this time. Jude guided him through the evening crowd like Trent was something precious. Something that could break if he wasn't careful.
They didn't talk much on the drive back. Jude tapped a rhythm on his own knee, occasionally glancing at Trent with a small, private smile. It made Trent feel like they were the only two people in the city.
The car pulled up to the hotel entrance. The engine died, and the silence returned.
“Get some rest,” Jude said. He leaned over, his face inches from Trent’s. Trent froze. He could see the gold flecks in Jude’s eyes. He could smell the sandalwood on his skin.
“See you tomorrow,” Jude whispered.
Then, he leaned in. He didn't kiss his lips, but he pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of Trent’s mouth. It was soft, warm, and lasted an eternity. Trent stumbled out of the car, his legs feeling like lead. He didn't look back. He couldn't.
He made it to his room and slumped against the door. His heart was a riot and his skin was buzzing where Jude had touched him. He had given up his home, his captaincy, and his soul for these moments.
One half-second at a time, Jude Bellingham was destroying him. And Trent was letting him do it.