Izan exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he walked down the tunnel. The air was thick, charged with anticipation.
Nico Williams jogged beside him, muttering under his breath, hyping himself up while Lamine Yamal cracked his neck.
No one spoke, but the energy between them was electric. Focused. Determined.
Then, as they reached the mouth of the tunnel, they saw them.
The French players were looking at them like they wanted to kill. Izan smiled wryly before he met another player's gaze.
Kante.
The short Frenchman had been put on for Camavinga who had been somewhat lackluster after his pass to start the French goal counter.
The Frenchman gave Izan the warmest smile he had ever seen in a while before turning towards the end of the tunnel.
The referee gave the signal.
The two teams stepped out together, side by side, into the deafening roar of the stadium.
Forty-five minutes.
Forty-five minutes to hold on. To fight. To finish what they started.
And the fans were ready.
