The sun in Lugano was cruel, even for preseason. The Swiss stadium sat low between hills, and the air was thick with heat. Still, the seats were packed — not because the crowd expected spectacle, but because Milan was playing. Even a friendly carried weight when you wore red and black.
Luca Bellini stood by the touchline, already in his kit, boots laced tight. His chest rose and fell in slow, calm rhythm. This was his first appearance in a Milan shirt since returning from loan. It was preseason, yes — but to him, it meant everything.
Beside him, Kaká bounced lightly on his toes, humming to himself. He leaned toward Luca.
"You look like you're about to enter a chess tournament, not a football match."
Luca didn't smile. But his voice was light:
"Same thing. You make one wrong move, you lose the board."
Kaká laughed, already sweating under the sun. "Just make sure you don't lose the king too early."
Luca glanced at the stands. It felt real now. His chance wasn't in the future anymore — it was here, in a summer game most fans would forget. But he wouldn't.
---
First Half — Minute 12
The ball came over the top — too high, spinning wickedly in the air. Luca tracked it, called out, adjusted his hips, and stepped in front of the striker just in time. Clean chest control. A quick touch. Then a sharp pass diagonally across the pitch, slicing through the midfield line.
It was the kind of play that didn't make highlight reels. But it earned nods.
From the sideline, Ancelotti murmured something to his assistant. From the bench, one of the older defenders — Marco Rossi, 29, sharp-tongued and insecure — didn't look as impressed.
"Kid thinks he's Baresi already," he muttered.
Luca heard it. He didn't react.
He'd heard worse.
---
Half-time — Locker Room
The room was buzzing. Gattuso was fired up, already halfway through a bottle of water. The forwards were laughing about a missed volley. And in the back, Luca was taking off his shin pads when Rossi spoke again.
"You keep playing hero ball, Bellini, someone's going to break your legs."
It was quiet for a moment.
Luca looked up. Calm, steady.
"I passed out of pressure. That's what the system asked for."
Rossi smirked. "System? You're eighteen. Play simple. Stay quiet. Learn."
Luca didn't answer. He didn't need to.
But then Kaká stood up.
"Or maybe," he said, voice easy but firm, "you could stop pretending you're a captain just because your contract is older."
Rossi's jaw tensed. "Watch it, rookie."
"I am watching," Kaká replied. "And Bellini's been cleaner than you all week."
The room shifted. A few players chuckled quietly. Rossi said nothing else.
---
The second half was faster. More dangerous. Lugano pressed higher, tested the backline with overlapping runs.
Luca held firm. One clearance with the outside of his boot drew a whistle from the crowd. A last-second interception in the 81st minute kept a clean sheet intact.
Milan won 2–0. The stats would be forgotten. But Ancelotti's subtle nod as Luca came off the pitch was not.
---
After the match, Luca stayed late on the field, running light drills under the fading light. His muscles burned, but his mind felt sharp.
Kaká jogged over, wiping sweat from his brow.
"You owe me gelato," he said.
"I didn't ask for help," Luca replied.
"I know. That's why I gave it."
Luca turned to him. There was no defensiveness in his voice — only honesty.
"I've spent most of my life trying to earn silence. You… you make it easier to breathe."
Kaká smiled. "That's what friends do."
Luca didn't say the word back. Not yet. But it stayed with him.
---
That evening, back at the hotel, Luca took out his notebook.
> Preseason — Day 14
Good anticipation on aerial balls.
Clean passes under pressure.
Don't respond to noise. Let actions speak.
Rossi tried to get in my head. Didn't work. Kaká — speaks up when it matters. That means something.
Remember: calm is louder than shouting.
He closed the notebook and let himself fall back on the bed. His legs ached. His heart didn't. For the first time in a long while, he didn't feel like he was alone in the locker room.
---
The next morning, while most players were still in bed, Luca was already in the hotel gym. Alone, as usual. But this time, ten minutes later, Kaká walked in — headphones around his neck, water bottle in hand.
He didn't say anything. Just nodded, started his warm-up beside Luca.
They trained in silence. Together.
---
The flight back to Milan was quiet. A soft murmur of card games, music, and light sleep filled the cabin. Luca sat by the window, flipping through the notes he'd taken during the match.
He jotted one more line before closing the book:
"Every day closer to the jersey meaning mine."
Outside the glass, the clouds were breaking. Below, Milan waited — full of fire, expectation, and ghosts in red and black.
And Luca Bellini was no longer just passing through.