Chapter 501 - 107 — Copenhagen I

The flight ran the way European away flights always did — some players asleep within ten minutes of takeoff, some with headphones in, a card game going a few rows back that Højlund kept losing loudly enough for half the plane to hear about it.

Demien’s phone had gone onto airplane mode with everyone else’s, tucked into the seat pocket in front of him rather than checked every few minutes.

Højlund talked more than usual, leaning across the aisle to point out something to Maguire about Copenhagen’s old town, clearly happier than his usual matchday quiet. This was still half home for him, whatever shirt he wore onto the pitch tomorrow.

Eriksen got a similar kind of attention from the cabin crew and a couple of Danish-speaking staff traveling with United’s operations team, a warmth in it that had nothing to do with football.

Demien read for a while, dozed for a while, and didn’t think about Barcelona once during the whole flight.

The moment his phone found signal again on the tarmac, it lit up in a rush.

SHAKHTAR DONETSK 1 — 0 FC BARCELONA

He scrolled through the aftermath while the squad filed off the plane, boots on Danish tarmac now, cold enough that a couple of players pulled their United training jackets tighter.

Barcelona had lost through a Sikan header just before halftime, thirteen shots to their name and barely one of them worth remembering. The match report called their attacking play predictable, toothless in the final third despite all that possession.

Mateo hadn’t been the problem, by the look of the clips already circulating.

One showed him escaping a Shakhtar double-press near the center circle, rolling away from the first challenger and finding a clean progressive pass into space — Barcelona’s forward line simply failed to do anything useful with it once it arrived.

No goal.

No assist.

Barcelona lost anyway.

Demien watched the clip once while walking through the terminal corridor with the rest of the squad, phone held low so he didn’t run into anyone.

No satisfaction in it. No jealousy either. Just recognition — he understood exactly what had happened in that sequence, the same way he’d understood Mateo’s Real Sociedad clip a few days earlier.

He locked the phone as United’s group got funneled toward the exit doors, security already waiting to walk them to the bus.

Danish media had cameras up outside the secure barrier, but Demien wasn’t the center of it, not tonight.

"Rasmus! Welcome home!" one reporter called out, and Højlund lifted a hand without breaking stride.

Another shouted something in Danish toward Eriksen that made him smile and answer back briefly before United’s media officer gently steered him along with the rest of the group.

Demien caught a few flashes aimed his way, someone shouting something about Paris, but it barely registered against the noise directed at the two returning Danes.

At the hotel, room assignments went out fast, bags dropped, a short meal laid out before the evening’s obligations.

Demien didn’t check the comparison coverage properly until he’d reached his room, sitting on the edge of the bed with his boots still on.

A major football account had already built the side-by-side graphic.

MATEO SALVATIERRA — vs SHAKHTAR

Pass Completion: 91% — Pressure Escapes: 6 — Progressive Carries: 5 — Chances Created: 2 — Goal Contributions: 0 — Result: LOSS

DEMIEN WALTER — vs FULHAM

Pass Completion: 95% — Pressure Escapes: 6 — Chances Created: 2 — Defensive Recoveries: 4 — Goal Contributions: 0 — Result: WIN

The replies underneath had already split into two camps — one arguing that individual output should be judged independent of the result, the other arguing that a win was a win no matter how quiet the numbers looked underneath it. Someone had reposted the Match State clip from Sunday with a caption reading both matches just proved the exact point they made three days ago.

Demien didn’t reply to any of it.

His phone buzzed once more — Marco.

Marco: The Adidas clip where you mention Mateo is going to get more traction now given tonight’s timing. Heads up.

Demien: If Adidas are fine with it, leave it. Nothing to panic about.

Marco: That’s basically what I told the brand team. Good instinct.

He put the phone down and went to eat.

Later that evening, United traveled to Parken for the official pre-match obligations, not a full session — that work had already been done at Carrington before they’d ever boarded a plane.

A stadium walkaround instead, the pitch empty and quiet, floodlights up but the stands still bare.

Demien stepped out onto the grass with a handful of teammates, boots sinking slightly into turf that felt a touch softer than Old Trafford’s.

"Doesn’t look like much now," Højlund said, glancing around at the tight bowl of empty seats rising close around the field. "Trust me, it’s louder than it looks. Feels twice the size once it’s full."

"I believe you," Bruno said.

Eriksen didn’t need the warning — he was already walking a slow lap of the center circle like a man revisiting somewhere familiar rather than somewhere new.

Demien rolled the ball once under his boot, testing the surface, checked the grass length near the penalty box, and said little else. He’d played the Allianz Arena and Old Trafford both this season already — Parken didn’t need explaining to him the way it apparently needed explaining to nobody in this group at all.

Ten Hag and Eriksen left together for the pre-match press conference, Demien heading back toward the team bus with the rest of the squad instead.

He caught the highlights of it later on a hotel television — Copenhagen’s own manager had clearly spent the week selling the atmosphere as a weapon, and one Danish reporter put it straight to Ten Hag.

"Copenhagen’s coach has talked about the stadium being a hundred times more intense than Old Trafford. Does that concern you?"

"We won at home," Ten Hag said. "That means nothing tomorrow. They need the result, they have their crowd behind them, and we respect both those things. But we’re not here to be intimidated by noise."

Eriksen fielded the Denmark question with an easy, practiced calm. "It’s always special coming back here," he said. "But once the whistle goes, it’s just another match I need to help my team win."

Short, professional, nothing either of them would regret reading back tomorrow.