God Of football

Chapter 720: L.A Fever

A couple of hours after the show, a post began circulating on the net.

@Maya_inLondon

Okay, this is getting ridiculous. I swear I’ve never had anything in common with Izan Miura Hernández apart from supporting Arsenal, but tonight proved otherwise.

I came out to California for a break from London, you know, just have a few days to breathe, recharge, and see Lana Del Rey live, my all-time favourite artist.

It was supposed to be the highlight of my trip. What I wasn’t expecting was to see Izan’s face on one of the massive screens at the venue.

At first, I thought I was imagining it. I mean, isn’t he supposed to be injured and recovering? Yet there he was, casually showing up at the same concert.

The funny part? I had a VIP pass, but wasn’t even thinking about waiting around after the show.

Still, something in me said, Why not hang back in the car for a little while? Maybe you’ll get lucky and see Lana walk out.

So I stayed parked, debating whether to leave, when just as I was about to start the engine, out walks Izan—with three women. One looked like his girlfriend (hard not to recognise her with how beautiful she was), another was definitely his sister, and then there was someone I couldn’t place.

My heart was racing.

I thought, This is ridiculous. You’re not going to get another chance like this.

So I went for it. I asked him for a picture first, and he agreed straight away, smiling like it was no big deal.

I was half-shaking the whole time, but he made it feel easy.

After that, I asked if he’d mind signing something, and he didn’t even hesitate. Honestly, he couldn’t have been nicer about it.

I came expecting maybe a chance glimpse of Lana Del Rey. Instead, I ended up with a photo and autograph from arguably the best footballer in the world right now. Still trying to wrap my head around it.

Sometimes life just writes its own script.

....

The post lingered in the feed for only a few minutes before it caught traction.

Maya’swords, thoughtful and almost diary-like,carried that mix of disbelief and wonder that always made such stories spread faster than she could have imagined.

Beneath the neatly typed paragraphs and the single photo of her standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Izan, with his mask down, Olivia and Hori visible in the background, Collie half turned away, the comments began to multiply.

First came the gentle ones:

@JudasSikazwe97:

”That’s actually so sweet. Bro is injured but still taking time to smile with fans. A real one.”

@delrey-dreaming:

”Wait, wait... Izan was at a Lana Del Rey concert?? I KNEW he had taste.”

The thread started gaining rhythm, replies stacking up, each one carrying its own tone: playful, shocked, a little incredulous.

@champagnefootball:

”Nah, this is killing me. Arsenal have Crystal Palace in two days, and this kid’s out here on a side quest at Lana’s show. Unreal.”

@MyaLdn:

”Better side quest than most of y’all ever had. Imagine leaving London for Cali just to catch Lana... and bump into Izan?? Like a main character moment.”

@redwhitepride:

”Tbh Maya wrote that whole thing like she was manifesting it. She came for Lana and ended up with the best footballer alive, peak cinema.”

A few went the other way, sceptical as always.

@PremPessimist:

”This is getting ridiculous, ngl. Why is Izan in LA? Shouldn’t he be resting or something with his injury and all? Arsenal fans, you worried?”

That line alone sparked a chain of replies beneath it, each defending or questioning in turn.

@CaliCannon:

”Bruh, you do know even footballers have lives, right? He ain’t training 24/7. Let him breathe.”

@NorthBankRival:

”Lives, yes. But two days before a league game?? That’s mad.”

@Gooner247:

Yes, it’s mad, but he’s injured and ain’t gonna play in that game, so it’s all good.

The more lighthearted fans ignored the debate and fixated on something else entirely.

@violetlipss:

”Lowkey iconic that he was at Lana’s show. Can’t stop picturing Izan mouthing every lyric to Ride while sipping water like nothing’s wrong.”

@tikitaka14:

”Side quest Izan is my fav Izan. Guy’s supposed to be prepping for a return after the injury, but he’s ticking off concerts. Main character behaviour.”

The longer one scrolled, the clearer it became that fans weren’t just talking about Maya anymore.

The story had shifted to Izan himself, his music taste, his injury and his presence in California when the fixture list showed Arsenal kicking off back in London in less than forty-eight hours.

@miuraholic:

”So we all agree yeah? Izan isn’t just the best on the pitch; he’s literally everywhere. Lana, Arsenal, Madrid, the internet. Guy’s living five lives at once.”

@threelines:

”And somehow looking unbothered in every photo. If Arsenal win this week, it’s just gonna add to the legend. If they lose... hoo boy, the memes write themselves.”

Scrolling further down, the tone was settled: a blend of disbelief and humour, the kind of fan culture Izan had unintentionally cultivated — where even a simple night out became a saga.

.......

The next morning drifted in quietly, the sunlight spilling through the half-drawn curtains of their apartment complex.

A faint hum of traffic buzzed from the streets below, muffled by the thick glass.

Izan was still in bed, half-asleep, while Hori, already dressed in a loose T-shirt and shorts, leaned against the window with her phone in hand, lazily scrolling.

She let out a soft sigh, her voice carrying across the room.

”LA isn’t really that bad to live in,” she said, almost to herself, but loud enough for the others to hear.

”Honestly, if I had the choice, I’d stay some more. There’s something about the vibe here...”

Olivia, who was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bed, tying her hair back, gave her a sideways glance.

”Your brother is rich. You could stay anywhere if you wanted.” Her tone carried a teasing lilt, like she was stating the obvious and daring Hori to argue.

Hori chuckled, shaking her head, but didn’t answer immediately, gazing back out at the skyline as if it had a pull on her.

The city’s restless energy seemed to suit her more than she cared to admit.

Olivia stood, stretching her arms high above her head with a yawn, then added, ”Besides, we’ve already been here. Don’t forget last year’s preseason. Same city, same heat, same palm trees.”

She let the point settle for a beat, then, suddenly, darted toward the bathroom with a burst of energy.

”Anyway, I need to wash my face before it dries out in this AC,” she called back, already sliding the door shut behind her with a click.

......

A few hours later, Izan and the girls found themselves at the Palm Springs International Airport.

The ride had been quiet; their adventures still fresh in their minds, was done.

Now there was only the hum of the engine, the sound of rolling suitcases in the distance, and planes cutting slow lines across the hazy blue sky.

Izan was the first to step out, adjusting the strap of his bag before turning back to the open window where Collie sat behind the wheel.

”Thanks for everything,” he said, his tone warm but simple as a smile curved his mouth. ”I hope we meet again.”

Collie nodded once, a little amused, as though she’d expected him to say exactly that.

”Me too,” she replied, her voice steady, almost like she believed it would happen.

Hori leaned across Izan’s shoulder, flashing Collie a cheerful wave before tugging on her brother’s sleeve.

Olivia, with her hair tied back lazily in a morning bun, gave a polite nod, and then the three of them turned toward the sliding glass doors of Departures.

The noise of the airport swallowed them up almost instantly, the rhythm of rolling wheels and overlapping announcements overhead.

Inside, there was no waiting in long lines, no shuffle of passports in cramped queues.

They were guided swiftly through a quieter corridor, an airport staffer leading them past the main throng.

Izan could see the staff trying hard not to ask for a picture, so he offered it himself to make it simple for the staff, as he had heard of some of the things they weren’t allowed to do while on duty.

Onboard, the cabin was hushed.

Izan dropped into the wide seat by the window.

Across the aisle, Hori was already fumbling with the seat controls, while Olivia tugged the blanket over her lap with a satisfied sigh.

For a moment, Izan just leaned back, watching the bustle outside the oval window.

The world of LA was slipping behind him now, fading into memory, and in its place, the familiar rhythm was already returning — recuperation, then matches after he got better, training, pressure and the relentless tide of football.

He tilted his head slightly toward his sister and Olivia, a soft smile playing at his lips.

”Let’s do this again,” he said simply, almost like an afterthought, but neither of them answered right away, caught up in their own little worlds, but he didn’t mind.

His gaze drifted back to the window, and he whispered it again, quieter this time, almost only for himself.

”It was nice.”

And then the engines began their low rumble.