The game restarted, but with two goals and a couple of minutes to get into contention, Real Madrid couldn't do much and soon, or at last for the Real Madrid fans who couldn't watch anymore, the shrill blast of the referee's whistle finally broke through the thunder of noise.
FWEE, FWEE, FWEEEEEE.
It was over.
In the far corner of the Bernabéu, the away end detonated.
Red and white shirts, mixed with black ones, leapt in unison as their scarves spun in the air and voices cracked with disbelief and joy.
Flares that had been held onto till the last moments lit up a haze above them, chants collapsing into raw screams of release.
They didn't just celebrate — they erupted, the sound carrying like a storm across the ground.
Everywhere else, silence.
The home end remained frozen, thousands of Madridistas staring blankly at the pitch as if waiting for something to change, for something to happen or for a whole they could crawl into to appear.
But nothing came.
