'What's wrong with you, ZJ?' I said to myself. 'It was just a weekend game night, like any other night.'

I rushed to Abs' place, knowing that I was already an hour late from deciding what to wear between a gingham shirt and a plaid top which suddenly became a daunting task to me. James and Sidharth (we call him Sid) were already there by the couch waving Redbull and a bottle of cold beer in the air towards me. I waved them back.

"You almost missed the first half," Abs pointed out my delay like a school prefect.

"Yeah but I know the score already," I scoffed, giving Sid and James each a first bump and settled into the couch with them.

"You don't miss that much," James said frankly. "The only action we saw was the ball went pinball between the players, back and forth."

And it was true, Silva and Aguero led the City with a goal each during the first half. But Abs, James and Sid were bawling, binging on booze and ganja like Red Devils just scored a hat trick. Well, they ought to, spending every quid they had on liquor and energy drinks creating a dupe Jägerbomb to celebrate the night (assuming there was a need to celebrate) ended up drinking their stresses away.

I didn't drink nor smoke though – not because I'm strictly following my religious practice, I just need to be the sober one to ensure shitty things don't happen. I mean, shitty things bound to happen either way, a chaos controller was needed for this. So there I was, with a can of Monster in my hand, munching some Walker's prawn cocktail crisps, half paying attention to the game, while these guys already went high in the sky during the commencement of the second half.

It didn't take them too long to get utterly intoxicated. James already barfed his way towards the toilet during Gündoğan's goal at 80-ish minute which he didn't come out ever since. Sid went to the other room for whatever reason, while Abs sat quietly by the corner with his left elbow on the armrest, propping up his chin, facing forward towards the telly. I adjourned myself next to him and gave him a nudge by the arm, careful not to hurt the bandaged wound that Nick created.

"What a game," I began a conversation. "Clearly it's a crummy one, I don't think Murinho can lead the team."

But there was an awkward silence lingered across the room, the ramblings of the commentator on the TV grew louder which I then voluntarily turned the volume down. Knowing what result would come out from this match, I doubted the Devils could beat the City.

I pulled out my phone from my jumper pocket diverting my attention to my Instagram app when I saw unread notifications before tapping the notification and the app popped open displaying feeds from my followers; @sufie1608, @al3xm0r3, @benjazli, one after another showcased their stories, sharing others' quotes, some happy, some funny, some bitter.

As I scrolled further, I caught a selfie photo of a familiar girl in a rainbow tank top wearing Dior Shades, pale skin like Lana Del Rey with her auburn locks tied up to a high ponytail, Ariana Grande style. She pouted her lips exaggeratedly to make it look fuller, her fingers touched lightly against her chin making that sexy model pose with that narrowed gaze. Theo James doppelganger was with her in the photo, resting his chin on her left shoulder and wrapping his arms around her from behind. The caption on the photo written 'Colombo with luv xoXo @matthiaspol90 #relationshipgoals'