Chapter 578: A Fortnight!

Two weeks had passed since Wigan’s unbeaten run finally came to an end, but that story had long since passed from people’s minds.

December had not even arrived yet, but the morning had already brought an unusually early snowfall to Wigan.

A figure in a dark trench coat hurried through the entrance of the training complex, shoulders slightly hunched against the cold as snow settled across the fabric.

"Ridiculous," he muttered to himself. "Snow already, and it’s not even December."

The figure pushed through the doors and disappeared into the building, leaving a trail of melting flakes behind him.

Upstairs, Dawson stood alone in his office, looking down through the window at the training fields below.

Most of the complex was still quiet.

The grounds were covered in a thin layer of white, though much of it had already been disturbed by the footprints of the groundsmen who had arrived earlier.

Beyond the glass, a lone figure moved across one of the pitches, collecting a ball before placing it down again.

A sharp strike followed and, just like it had been going on for the past half hour, the ball flew into the back of the net.

Dawson watched for another moment before turning and shaking his head.

"It’s early," he muttered before he looked up and glanced around his office.

He had spent the night there again, something that had become increasingly common whenever the schedule grew busy or was about to.

His jacket was draped over the back of his chair, a half-empty bottle of water sat beside his laptop, and several sheets of paper were still scattered across his desk from the previous evening.

He could leave it for the cleaners that were regularly paid to tidy up the offices, but Dawson never liked leaving his mess for others to clean up, and it had somehow always reflected in his coaching.

The manager sighed, tired and groggy, before beginning to tidy the room.

He stacked the papers, closed the laptop, cleared away the bottle and straightened the few things that had been left out.

Once the desk looked somewhat respectable again, he reached for his coat and slipped it on.

A few minutes later, he stepped into the corridor where the early staff were already beginning to arrive.

"Morning, boss."

"Morning."

"Morning, Dawson."

He returned each greeting with a nod or a brief word as he made his way through the building.

There were still only a handful of people around, the usual bustle of the training ground yet to begin.

Eventually, Dawson pushed through the main doors and stepped outside, and once he did, the cold that was beginning to become common hit him immediately.

He pulled his coat tighter around himself before looking across the complex fields where the same figure was still on the pitch.

Dawson made his way toward it, and as he got closer, the identity of the player became obvious.

Leo.

The latter stood several yards outside the penalty area with a few footballs scattered around him, while several more had already found the back of the net.

Another ball was placed carefully on the grass while Dawson approached, and Leo, oblivious to the latter’s presence, took a few steps back.

He breathed in, waited, then struck through it.

The ball rose over the training wall and dipped sharply toward the upper corner before snapping into the net.

Leo lowered his head for a moment, breathing heavily, and when he turned around, he finally noticed Dawson standing on the edge of the pitch.

Dawson gave a short snort while Leo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he tried to catch his breath.

"You’re up early."

Dawson started walking toward him.

"So are you."

"Yeah."

Leo bent down and placed his hands on his knees for a moment before straightening again.

"It wasn’t much fun being alone in the apartment."

Dawson nodded as though he understood, while his eyes then moved over Leo before returning to his face.

Leo did the same.

His gaze travelled briefly over Dawson’s coat, the tired expression on his face and his general state.

"I guess you slept in your office," he judged after coming to a conclusion.

Dawson looked down at himself as his hands in his pockets flared a bit before he looked up at Leo.

"Yeah, I did. Is it that noticeable?"

Leo gave him a small smile.

"No, I’m just keen on such things."

Dawson ignored the comment and looked toward the goal instead, where there were several footballs sitting in the back of the net, most of them gathered around the same area.

"Judging by the shots you’ve been taking," he said, "I’d say the leg’s feeling better."

Leo glanced toward the net before nodding.

"Yeah, it is," Leo said while swinging his leg a bit as if to show Dawson.

"I can play without worrying about it."

Dawson nodded once and then looked around.

"Good," he said and turned away, starting back toward the main building where the parking lot was.

"Don’t stay out here too long, though," he added as Leo looked at his retreating back.

"It’s cold."

Leo glanced around at the snow covering the pitch and nodded.

"I noticed."

Dawson gave him a look over his shoulder.

"Go home when you’re done."

"Yeah."

Dawson continued walking, eventually disappearing toward the parking area.

Leo watched him go for a few seconds, and then he looked back at the goal.

There were still a few balls left.

"A couple more," he muttered to himself and then moved to place another ball down.

A few minutes later, he finally called it a morning.

Leo walked toward the sideline, changed out of his boots into his slides and picked them up before making his way toward the parking lot.

His car was waiting where he’d left it.

He unlocked it, threw his boots into the back and climbed inside.

The engine started quietly, and Leo sat there for a moment, letting the heater begin to warm the interior before pulling away from the training complex.

The roads were still relatively quiet, despite the time suggesting it should not be so, but Leo could understand.

Even he had had trouble with the cold when he had tried to get out of his sheets.

Snow had settled along the edges of the pavement, and the occasional car passed in the opposite direction as Leo made his way through the morning traffic.

He kept one hand on the wheel while the other rested near the centre console, his attention fixed on the road ahead until the training ground gradually disappeared behind him.