Between two kops

Chapter fifteen

Christina

On one side, right beside me, I had Nick Petrović, a person who felt the need to control absolutely everything around him, including myself. While on the other, opposite side of the stadium... I had Steven Stajić. A classic, troubled, and dangerously attractive guy from a rough neighborhood. Both possessed a wild, untamed ego, and both were desperate to prove themselves.

How did I even manage to drag myself into this tragic love triangle? While one offered me immense wealth, complete security, and a stable life on a silver platter, the other offered nothing but a fast, reckless, and utterly uncertain life on the edge. And the worst part of all was that, instead of choosing that stable and secure future like a mature, smart girl, I was torn inside, wavering, and craving Steven and his dangerous world more and more with each passing day.

Sometimes I really don't understand myself either. I guess I was just sick to death of my perfect, fake life and the constant, suffocating control of my dear parents, so I subconsciously began to crave dangerous games. Games that could very easily ruin my entire life and everything I had painstakingly built over the years at school and among my friends.

Looking across the pitch toward the North stand, I knew one hundred percent that Steven was somewhere over there. There in that massive mob, standing with his buddies, impatiently waiting for the derby to kick off. His mere appearance in our class, our first argument, and that strange encounter at the cafe had forced me for the very first time in my life to seriously think twice. They forced me to deeply reflect on my life and what I actually, truly, and with all my heart wanted out of my destiny.

"Christina?!" a male voice kept calling out to me through the dense crowd of hyped-up guys standing all around me in the stands.

I deliberately ignored every word, every bit of noise and chanting heard in the stadium at that moment. I just wanted to somehow break free, consciously make a decision, and put an end once and for all to this disgusting, uncomfortable triangle I had recklessly thrown myself into. I'm a fool, I know... I was always the type of girl who hated those chicks who sat on two chairs and played with men's feelings more than anything in the world... and now... now I turned out to be the one consciously involved with two completely different guys.

"Christina, damn it! Can you hear me?!" Nick's strong, rough hand suddenly grabbed my shoulder and turned me around to face him, cutting off my thoughts.

I snapped out of my deep numbness and cast a pretty listless look at him. As if he were to blame for everything... Pretty low, Christina, pretty low...

"What, Nick?"

"I brought you a beer," he said irritably, carefully holding two small glass bottles of Heineken in his hand.

I took the somewhat warm bottle from him, but of course, I couldn't pull and pop the f*****g cap off myself because of my overly long nails. All I needed was to break and rip them off in this crowd, especially when I had just gotten them done at the manicurist two days ago.

"Give it here, let me," Nick routinely took the bottle back from my hands and opened the beer with one quick pop using the bottle opener.

"Here you go, sweetie."

"Thanks, Nick," I muttered automatically and took a couple of long gulps of that nearly hot beer.

"Look at you chugging it, Christina. Like a man, no doubt."

"Yeah," I choked for a moment.

"What's up with you today?" he asked out of nowhere, locking his probing, possessive eyes on me.

"What do you mean?"

"You've been literally absent lately, Christina. Just a few minutes ago you personally sent me to get us beer, and now you act surprised that I'm calling your name?"

"Ugh... sorry, Nick. I just drifted off for a second. Things have been an absolute mess at home with my mom lately... You already know that whole story yourself."

"And it couldn't be that all of this is actually because of that i***t Steven, huh?"

"Nick... what the hell does he have to do with any of this?! Please don't start with your jealous theories and scenes here in the stands again."

"Ever since we stepped foot into this broken down dump of a stadium, you've been constantly glancing over at the North stand. And you and I damn well know who's over there today."

"Do you seriously think I'm into some gypsy thug over there?" I delivered the lie with unbelievable confidence, looking him dead in the eyes.

God, who am I even trying to lie to here... I literally drool over that exact same thug every time he's anywhere near me... and I'm crushing like some ordinary, hyped up teenager in the worst stage of puberty.

"I sincerely hope so. They're all just p*****s and snitches over on the North," Nick tossed out with disgusting, arrogant contempt in his voice, convinced he had won the argument once again.

The explosion followed the moment the players ran out of the tunnel. The entire stadium rose to its feet, and the applause from the stands was so powerful I felt it deep in my gut.

My gaze drifted once more toward the opposite, North stand. This time, the reason wasn't Steven, but what the Crvena Zvezda supporters had pulled off at that moment. The entire North stand held thousands of plastic sheets high in the air, creating a massive, impressive visual display. Right in the middle of the North, a giant painted banner was raised showing a broken steamroller, a pure provocation aimed at us Partizan fans.

Around that banner, plastic sheets in red and white fluttered, giving the entire choreography contrast and depth. And down below, draped over the fence, hung a large banner with clear writing: "We collect scrap metal."

I had to admit to myself that it was a smooth and original move by the Delije. They turned the joke on themselves while openly provoking us at the same time. The broken steamroller reminded me of all Partizan's painful failures over the past few years, all the poor performances and losses in European competitions.

And then, their signature chant began...

"Full stands of crazy fans and flares burning, the whole North is blazing, drums are pounding and the song is roaring, eat s**t we are the champions, ale ale!"

The head referee blew a loud whistle to signal the start of the match, and at that moment, the first, most tense seconds of the eternal derby ticked away inside the packed Rajko Mitić stadium.

That sound instantly dragged me back to harsh reality, right into the cage of the South stand where I stood with my friends.

"Grobari, come on everyone, from the first minute to the last!" our leader shouted loudly through the megaphone, his hoarse voice echoing across the entire South as he tried to wake up the crowd.

"Ooo, Partizane..." he led the chant.

"Oo Partizane, oo Champion, we are always with you and that's why win, songs are roaring and flares are burning, because we are your Grobari!"

The song slowly spread across the entire South stand, and I sang at the top of my lungs alongside everyone around me. I didn't even have to think about the words for a single second. I'd known them all by heart since I was a little kid, just like everyone else here. Thousands of throaty voices from across the South merged into a single, deep, and frightening roar that literally washed through my entire body and rattled my bones.

Nick stood right beside me, shouting and singing. With one hand he still gripped a bottle of beer tightly, while the other occasionally held my shoulder protectively. In that moment, he looked so sincerely happy and powerful at the same time. It was as if he had become a completely different person in the stands, light years away from the jealous and aggressive guy he often pretended to be at school and on the street.

His eyes shone with pure excitement, and the tension and smile he carried were simply contagious.

Sometimes I'd catch him secretly looking at me out of the corner of his eye, and when our gazes finally met, he'd quickly and somewhat shyly turn his head away. It was an unusual, incredibly rare moment when his closeness didn't bother me at all.

But right in the fifteenth minute of the match came an icy, brutally cold shower. We conceded a goal in the stupidest and cheapest way possible on the pitch.

Our players looked completely lost in space and time, incapable of stringing together even two decent passes through the play.

"f**k your mothers, all of you! Get moving already, you bitches!" Michael yelled nervously beside us.

"We're gonna turn this around, bro, just relax a bit!" Nick tried to calm Michael down.

And since the latter had naturally placed a risky bet on Partizan to win, that material fact obviously amplified his uncontrollable nervousness even more.

As the match progressed, that heavy tension in the air grew stronger, thicker, and more dangerous. We were down 1:0, and the first half was flying by. The players on the pitch were visibly giving it everything they had, but simply lacked the answers to break through Crvena Zvezda's solid defense. The entire crowd on the South grew impatient, and I could physically feel the frustration and anger mounting minute by minute in the air.

"Just pass him the ball, for Christ's sake!"

"Are you guys really that selfish, dammit..."

"Puuuu...."

Grumbled the older Grobari above us. A goal could've easily happened, if only the Colombian hadn't been so selfish and foolishly tried to finish the counterattack alone.

I nervously shook my head after the play and looked toward our coach, who was shouting furiously and throwing his hands up in the air over the missed chance.

And then, completely out of nowhere, right in the closing moments of the first half, one of our players managed to break through the defense on his own. It was the exact forty fifth minute when the ball reached Vukotić in the danger zone. He beautifully and accurately squared the ball to Kalulu's feet, who skillfully brought it down on his chest and sprinted directly into Crvena Zvezda's penalty box. Two opposing defenders shadowed him closely, trying to bring him down.

He swung with all his might and struck the ball. It flew toward the goal at tremendous speed. Their goalkeeper guessed the right side, but simply wasn't fast enough to stop the missile Kalulu launched.

"Goooool!" I screamed as soon as the ball violently shook the net behind Crvena Zvezda's goalkeeper.

"Let's go, brooo!" Nick grabbed and hugged me tightly in a state of absolute delirium and euphoria that set the whole stand ablaze in a split second.

"That's it! Great jobooo!" Nadia screamed right beside us, jumping on the plastic seats as the whole South thundered like it was tearing the stadium down.

"Didn't I tell you, bro?! We pierced them! We'll score another one in the second half, you'll all see!" Nick shouted in total euphoria, with a wide, victorious smile on his face.

The head referee soon signaled the end of the first half, leaving the score tied at 1:1 after three minutes of stoppage time. As soon as the whistle blew, a massive mob from all sides of the stadium surged in a stampede toward the restrooms and concession stands way up at the top of the stand.

And then, completely out of nowhere, just a couple of meters above us, a few guys suddenly went at each other for reasons known only to them. Fists started flying wildly in every direction with zero control. With horror, I watched as one guy, after a series of brutal blows directly to the head, dropped motionless onto the concrete. The screams of terrified people instantly forced everyone around us to cut short their conversations. A few crying kids, brought to the match by their fathers, fled in a panic toward the exit aisle, trying to get as far away as possible from that bloody brawl swallowing the stand right next to us.

It wasn't an everyday occurrence, but unfortunately, it happened. Every crew on the South had its designated spot, its banners, ideals, and rules. In that brutal supporter world, it happened far too often that different factions and groups didn't see eye to eye... and then, leading to bloody scenes like this where brother struck brother, not entirely out of nowhere.

For a moment, it looked like everything had finally calmed down. I took a deep breath of immense relief and started slowly heading back to my spot on the plastic seats, right next to a terrified Nadia and Nick. Unfortunately, in that general stampede and chaos, strong shoving broke out all over again, and a huge, built guy bumped into me hard on the run, knocking me mercilessly down to the dirty floor.

"Hey, you morons! Cut that s**t out right now!" the capos shouted furiously into the megaphone from the very top of the fence, looking down at what was happening among us.

"Break it up, damn it! Right now! f**k your stupid mothers! Do you want tomorrow's papers writing about how we're beating each other up?!" His hoarse, aggressive voice echoed over the speakers, ripping the air apart over the entire South stand.

At that moment, a group of large, tattooed guys from the core crew intervened without hesitation and forcefully began pulling apart the guys who had been fighting. They were still getting in each other's faces and arguing aggressively, but the punching and striking had stopped. As I dusted the dirt off my palms from the concrete, I noticed two guys with completely bloody heads from the blows, while the rest, as far as I could quickly judge, were more or less in one piece.

"Christina! Are you alright?!" Nick rushed over to me in absolute panic, pushing people out of his way just to make sure I wasn't hurt.

"I'm fine, Nick, chill out... I just scraped my palms a bit hard."

Without a word, he took my sensitive hands into his and anxiously checked my slightly reddened palms. Thankfully, I had only grazed them slightly on the rough, dirty concrete between the smashed seats. Nick and Nadia immediately helped me up, and then both of them checked me over protectively from head to toe once more, just to be a hundred percent sure I was intact.

"Are you sure?" Nick asked again, his voice trembling slightly for the very first time.

Right then, for the first time since I'd known him, I saw genuine fear in his eyes... As if he'd momentarily been scared to death that something serious was going to happen to me in this massive melee on the stand.

"I'm fine, Nick, really... Don't worry at all," I told him softly, trying to calm him down just as the second half was about to kick off.

For the rest of the match, Nick literally didn't budge an inch away from me. Staying on high alert the entire time, he stood glued to my side, watching my every step right up until the very end. Every time someone walked a bit too close, his shoulder automatically positioned itself between me and them. Even though, thankfully, things on the stand quickly returned to some semblance of normalcy.

The very start of the second half was even wilder and crazier than the first. The Grobari lit hundreds of flares in unison the exact second the referee blew his whistle to resume the match.

A huge, thick cloud of smoke instantly grabbed and swallowed the entire South stand, so much so that we could no longer see anything happening down on the pitch. I quickly covered my mouth and nose with the hem of my cotton t-shirt, desperately trying to avoid breathing that thick flare smoke straight into my lungs.

Meanwhile, the guys around me jumped through that dense smoke, thundering and singing the opening verses of a familiar song, as if the tension and smoke didn't even exist around them. How the hell does none of this bother them in the least?! My eyes were burning unbearably, and my body kept forcing me into coughing fits.

Yet the song from the kop didn't stop, piercing through that smoke like thunder.

"Only Partizan, for you we live, only you we love, and you we admire. And when troubles come, and when sorrow comes, the Grobari from the South will always love you!"