Kai leaned back on the leather couch, a plate of snacks balanced on his lap.
Inácio's house was a sprawling villa on the outskirts of Lisbon, with a pool out back and a full media room inside.
The captain had invited a handful of Sporting players — old and new — for a bonding night.
Good food.
Good vibes.
And most importantly: to watch Benfica vs Porto — the two title rivals who were supposed to tear each other apart tonight.
Kai was still the youngest in the room by a couple of years, but nobody treated him like a kid.
They treated him like one of them.
Inácio, ever the leader, stood at the front before the match started.
"Tonight," he said in Portuguese, switching quickly to English for Kai's benefit, "we are family. Rivals play. We watch. We celebrate."
Everyone cheered.
"Hopefully the draw!" Said Delap as he threw a dorito chip in his mouth.
The players laughed out loud as Kai shook his head.
Cans cracked open, pizzas opened, the game flickered onto the giant projector screen.
The match itself started cagey.
Neither side willing to risk too much early.
Benfica, fluid as always, pushed forward in bursts.
João Mário spraying passes, Di María ghosting between lines.
But Porto's backline, marshaled by the towering Otavio, refused to budge.
20 minutes in, still 0-0 but there were glimpses. It showed that this was a match of the top teams.
"Benfica scared," chuckled Delap, Sporting's new striker.
Kai laughed along, feeling at home.
Benfica nearly scored at the 32nd minute.
A wicked cross from Orkun Kökcü found Andrea Belotti wide open — but his header bounced just wide of the post.
Groans around the room.
But Porto wasn't backing down either.
They countered ruthlessly — Alan Varela streaking down the left, forcing a huge save from Trubin, Benfica's Ukrainian keeper.
By halftime, still 0-0.
Still tense.
Still on a knife's edge.
Second half, tempers flared.
Fouls flying in.
Yellow cards stacking up.
Sanusi, ever the villain, wound up Benfica's front three until tempers boiled.
The referee handed out cautions like candy.
Both sides threatened — Angel Di Maria missed a sitter for Benfica, Aghehowa headed just over for Porto — but it stayed scoreless.
Tense.
Frustrated.
Beautiful chaos.
As the final whistle blew — 0-0 confirmed — Inácio jumped up, punching the air.
"YES!"
The others joined in, with pop corn and pizza flying in the air.
The room erupted.
High fives.
Shouting.
Laughter.
The draw meant Sporting stayed top.
Control of their destiny.
Kai soaked it in — the brotherhood, the unity.
This was what he had dreamed of.
A team that felt like family.
After the celebration mellowed, Kai wandered outside onto Inácio's terrace.
Lisbon's lights blinked in the distance.
He pulled out his phone, intending to send a quick text to Madison, maybe call his mom.
But instead, it buzzed in his hand.
Kamie. A name of someone in Atlanta who he missed and treated like a sister.
Tez's sister.
Kai smiled, answering immediately.
"Yo, Kamie, what's good? I missed you sis. Tell Tez he's been ghosting me—"
"Kai…" Kamie called out softly.
He froze.
Kamie's voice wasn't cheerful.
It was broken.
Sobbing.
Choking.
"Kai… it's Tez… he's gone…"
The words didn't make sense at first.
Kai just stood there, frozen, heart hammering painfully against his ribs.
"What you mean gone?" he croaked.
Kamie's crying grew harder, barely able to form the words.
"There was a drive-by… they… they shot him… he didn't make it…"
The world spun.
The laughter inside the villa faded into white noise.
"No," Kai whispered. "No, no, no, no…"
Tears blurred his vision.
He didn't even realize he had dropped the phone until it clattered against the tiled floor.
Inácio found him minutes later, curled on the ground, face buried in his hands.
He didn't need to ask what happened.
He just knelt beside Kai, one hand on his back, letting the younger boy break apart.
Kai didn't even remember how he got home that night.
The car Sarah had rented for him drove itself.
His legs moved on autopilot.
His mind kept replaying every memory:
Tez at the park, Tez at the corner store, Tez clowning on him for his accent, Tez promising to watch every single one of his games in Europe.
Gone.
Just like that.
Meanwhile, 5,000 miles away in Atlanta, grief choked the Parker household too.
Tez's mother sat on her sagging couch, still in the same Diner uniform she had thrown on after racing to the hospital to identify her boy.
Her eyes were hollow, face crumpled, clutching a framed photo of her son when he was twelve.
Friends and family packed the house — silent, broken.
In the kitchen, she spoke on the phone, voice trembling.
"Hello, it's Mikayla Alexander. How may I help you?" Mikayla said after picking up the call, pressing the phone tighter against her ear.
"Hey Kayla, it's me Drea I just… I needed you to know… Tez is gone… they killed my baby…"
On the other end, Kai's mother froze after hearing that. An imagine of a young Tez who would come to her house and cause mischief with Kai surfaced. She wept quietly, her heart breaking too.
The pain stitched a straight line across oceans and cities.
From Atlanta's broken streets to Lisbon's glowing avenues.
A life lost, a young one at that.
A bond shattered.
That night, as Lisbon slept, Kai lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
He hadn't cried again.
He felt… nothing.
Just a hollow ache.
He thought of Tez.
Of how proud he would've been to see Kai score that wondergoal against Braga.
Of the plans they had made.
Of the future they thought they still had time for.
Tears finally leaked from the corners of his eyes, silent and slow.
"I'm gonna make you proud, bro," he whispered into the dark.
"I swear it."