No offence ment, i took these 2 players cause i can't stop thinking about them day and night.
After the Third Consecutive Humiliation by Belgium, the tavern was unusually quiet.
/user/6a033c03c0718606db2825de sat in a corner, glaring at a mug as though it personally represented the Belgian national team.
Across the room, /user/69a54938e7dab40c4c59632d was loudly explaining why the loss didn't count.
"It was actually a strategic victory," /user/69a54938e7dab40c4c59632d declared. "Belgium only won because they scored more points."
Several patrons stared.
"That's generally how victory works," one of them said.
/user/69a54938e7dab40c4c59632d scoffed. "Typical propaganda."
/user/6a033c03c0718606db2825de felt a strange connection immediately.
At last, someone even less intelligent than himself.
Their friendship began when /user/6a033c03c0718606db2825de complained that Belgium had "ruined everything forever," and /user/69a54938e7dab40c4c59632d responded by unveiling a hand-drawn chart titled Reasons Belgium Didn't Actually Win.
The chart was upside down.
Neither noticed.
Weeks passed.
The two spent their days inventing increasingly absurd explanations for their defeats.
"Belgium only won because gravity favored them," /user/69a54938e7dab40c4c59632d insisted.
/user/6a033c03c0718606db2825de nodded. "Makes sense."
"They trained."
"Suspicious."
"They understood basic strategy."
"Cheating, probably."
Soon they were inseparable. They tripped over the same curbs. Lost arguments to the same twelve-year-olds. Got thrown out of the same strategy meetings for proposing plans that involved "just trying harder."
One rainy evening, after Belgium had defeated them yet again in a match that wasn't even particularly close, they sat together overlooking the battlefield.
The silence lingered.
For once, /user/69a54938e7dab40c4c59632d wasn't explaining anything incorrectly.
For once, /user/6a033c03c0718606db2825de wasn't angrily arguing with a nearby shrub.
"It's nice," /user/69a54938e7dab40c4c59632d finally said, "having someone who understands."
/user/6a033c03c0718606db2825de looked at him.
"Understand what?"
"Being completely wrong all the time."
"That's not true."
"It absolutely is."
"Fair enough."
A smile appeared.
Then another.
Before either could say something stupid enough to ruin the moment, they leaned in and shared a brief kiss.
It was surprisingly sweet.
Unfortunately, /user/69a54938e7dab40c4c59632d immediately ruined it.
"You know," he said confidently, "scientifically speaking, that means Belgium lost."
/user/6a033c03c0718606db2825de stared at him.
"That is the dumbest thing you've ever said."
"Thank you."
The rain intensified.
The battlefield lights flickered in the distance.
Belgium remained victorious.
But for the first time, neither of them particularly cared.
They wandered back toward the tavern together, shoulder to shoulder, already arguing about facts /user/69a54938e7dab40c4c59632d had invented moments earlier.
Later that night, witnesses reported hearing furniture being moved upstairs, followed by several crashes, at least one shouted apology, and a lengthy debate about whether doors were a Belgian conspiracy.
No one knows exactly what happened.
What is known is that neither of them appeared downstairs until noon the next day, looking exhausted, slightly disheveled, and unusually cheerful.
/user/69a54938e7dab40c4c59632d claimed they had spent the entire night discussing military theory.
/user/6a033c03c0718606db2825de claimed they had been wrestling.
Given their respective relationships with the truth, nobody believed either of them.
Belgium would continue defeating them for years.
But at least now they had each other to blame it on.