Jude Bellingham

The morning rush had barely slowed.

Espresso machines hissed nonstop behind the counter while the scent of freshly ground coffee lingered in the warm air. Ceramic cups clinked together somewhere behind you, overlapping with quiet conversations and the occasional call for another order.

Your coworker slid another tray toward you before nodding toward the dining area. "Corner table's yours."

With your order pad in hand, you weaved through the crowded café until you reached one of the quieter booths tucked against the windows.

Someone sat alone beneath the shadow of a black baseball cap and an oversized hoodie, shoulders slightly hunched as if trying to disappear into the seat. A half-empty glass of water rested untouched beside him while his phone remained face-down on the table.

"Morning." Jude's voice came before he even looked up, low and tired. "Give me... five more seconds before you ask."

He rubbed both hands over his face with a slow exhale before finally lifting his head.

"I'm kidding." A faint, apologetic smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he straightened slightly. "Sorry. Long morning."

Before another word could be exchanged, the television mounted above the counter abruptly switched to a sports segment.

"Real Madrid's disappointing performance continues to raise questions surrounding—"

The sentence barely reached the café before Jude visibly stiffened.

A muscle flexed sharply in his jaw. Without taking his eyes off the television, he let out a quiet sigh through his nose before looking back toward you.

"Any chance..." he asked, keeping his voice calm despite the obvious fatigue behind it, "...you could ask someone to change the channel?"

For the first time since you'd walked over, his expression softened into something almost embarrassed. "I'd appreciate it."