The morning after Barcelona's 2–1 victory over Getafe, Luca awoke to the soft hum of his phone buzzing on his nightstand. He squinted at the light and picked it up.
43 unread messages.
The top one read:"LUCA! Look at this! You're trending!" – Lamine
Half-asleep, Luca opened Twitter—now X—and his jaw slackened.
#LucaMagic#Barça'sNewHero#YamalToLuca#CanteraKings
His goal clip had already hit over five million views. Fans were replaying his chest-down-touch-and-finish like it was straight out of FIFA. The way he and Lamine celebrated at the corner flag had become a meme. Some accounts were posting side-by-side images of old Messi moments, cheekily calling Luca "El Nuevo 80".
He tossed the covers aside and sat up, phone in hand. Notifications kept flooding in—interview requests, reposts, fan art. Even Fabrizio Romano had posted something.
🧠 "Luca, 16 years old, goal + winner for Barcelona. One to watch."✍️ "New contract expected to be negotiated soon."
He didn't even realize he was smiling until he caught his reflection in the mirror. Yesterday, he'd been just another academy kid proving himself. Today, he was the buzz of football Twitter.
Then came another buzz. A voice message from Lamine.
"Bro, you up? Let's do something today. No training. You earned a break."
Luca grinned.
"Pick me up in an hour."
Midday – Barcelona Streets
The sun was soft, not scorching, as Lamine pulled up in a matte black Audi. Luca jumped in, baseball cap pulled low and sunglasses barely hiding his face. Still, they drew attention the second they stepped into the narrow streets of El Born.
Tourists did double-takes. Locals smiled. One little boy tugged at his mom's hand and pointed excitedly.
They grabbed croissants and iced coffees from a tiny corner café, sitting at a table by the window.
"So," Lamine said, scrolling through his feed, "you're officially famous."
Luca laughed. "Yeah? That assist from you helped."
Lamine smirked. "Of course it did."
They toasted their coffees, clinking plastic cups.
"Seriously though," Luca said after a beat, "you feel the pressure? Like… everything changing this fast?"
Lamine leaned back, thoughtful. "Every day. But I'm learning to enjoy it. That's what my dad says—pressure just means people care. The real danger is when nobody's watching."
Luca nodded. He'd been dreaming of this life since he was a kid in the backyard, juggling a ball under moonlight. But dreams never warned you about the weight of millions of eyes.
Still—he wouldn't trade it for anything.
Afternoon – Arcade Madness
They wandered into a local arcade after lunch. Just two teenagers, no cameras, no training, just energy to burn.
Luca crushed Lamine at FIFA.
Lamine returned the favor in a basketball shooting game.
"You know I'm better at this in real life, right?" Luca joked, as Lamine sunk yet another buzzer-beater.
"Sure, goal scorer," Lamine shot back, flashing that lopsided grin.
The two ended up in a photo booth, stuffing their faces into the frame, pulling ridiculous poses—Lamine with his tongue out, Luca fake-crying, then both pretending to hold up the Ballon d'Or.
They printed the strip and each kept a copy.
"Frame that," Lamine said, slipping his into his wallet.
"You too. First piece of fan merch," Luca replied.
Evening – Beach Talk
As the sun started to dip, the boys drove down to Barceloneta Beach. They left their shoes in the car and walked barefoot along the sand, the wind catching their hoodies.
Luca skipped a stone across the surf.
Lamine watched the horizon. "You think we're ready for all this?"
Luca turned to him. "For what?"
"Carrying the club. Messi's gone. Iniesta's gone. Busquets. Xavi. People keep waiting for the next generation."
There was a pause.
"We are the next generation," Luca said simply. "We just have to stay hungry. Stay humble."
Lamine looked at him and nodded slowly.
"You sound like Flick."
"I've been listening."
A silence settled between them, the good kind. The kind where nothing needed to be said because everything had already been understood.
Before heading back, Lamine turned with a smirk.
"Next game, I want another assist. But this time—you set me up."
Luca laughed. "Deal."
Night – Home, but Different
Back in his apartment, Luca took a breath. He tossed his keys on the counter and opened Instagram. His DMs were flooded. Old friends, journalists, youth players from La Masia all showing love.
But his favorite comment?
A reply on his post from the club account:
FC Barcelona:This is just the beginning, Luca.
He looked around his quiet apartment. Tomorrow, training resumed. Then the Copa del Rey continued. The pressure would return. The eyes would stay locked.
But tonight?
Tonight he was just a teenager with sun in his hair, sand on his feet, and the taste of something beautiful in his soul.
Not fame.Not hype.But belonging.
He was Barcelona. And now, the world knew it too.