Archive of Our Own

You've never done me wrong, except for that one time

That we don't talk about

Because it doesn't matter anymore

Who won the fight? I don't know

We're not keeping score

If Pedri and Gavi had to brag about one aspect of their relationship, it was that, even after being together for one year – and having their ups and downs as a couple, and as a playmaking duo on the field –  they had never gotten into a serious fight.

Despite Gavi’s short temper and Pedri’s habit of keeping his feelings bottled up until they burst his heart open, they had never let that ruin the best aspect of their relationship – how well they communicated with each other.

When Gavi got injured and was sidelined for the rest of what should have been a semi-successful season — but turned out not to be — his mood took a turn for the worse. Frustrated and always on the verge of angry tears, he shut himself off from everyone, pushing people away in an attempt to cope with his disappointment. Yet, through it all, Pedri remained steadfast by his side. Lovely and understanding, Pedri refused to let anger or frustration take hold. Instead, he was a constant source of support, offering Gavi the encouragement he needed without letting his own emotions get in the way.

On the other hand, when Pedri was upset and completely shut down, Gavi always knew he needed space. Unlike his eighteen year old self, who might have tried to coax Pedri out of his shell or push him to talk, now Gavi understood the importance of giving him the room to process his emotions in his own time. He had built an innate sense of when to step back and when to step in, knowing that sometimes the best way to deal with upset Pedri was to let the anger or sadness melt away, until the elder’s mind was clear enough to have a proper conversation.

While Pablo needed to talk, talk and talk until his chest started to feel less heavy, Pedri needed to cool off until he could verbally deal with whatever he could have felt. They were pretty different, but they made it work.

But how foolish they were to think they could live in their own little peaceful bubble forever. They were delusional, really, to believe that a serious relationship could exist without conflict.

As it happened since the first day they spent their night together, by the time Gavi finally opened his eyes, Pedri had already been awake for a while. Throughout their neverendless honeymoon stage, the canarian had pretty much stayed in bed until Gavi woke up. Just scrolling on his phone or staring at the younger boy as if he was trying to appreciate every little minute they could spend together in bed until he had to wake Pablo to go to training. But since that lousy day in November, some things have changed.

Now, while Gavi lay in bed until late morning — a habit he had picked up in the early stages of his recovery as he tried to wear off the effects of his medication — Pedri took it upon himself to make breakfast for them both before heading out to early practice. Sometimes, like today, they had no training or recovery sessions and they were able to enjoy the rare luxury of an unhurried morning together before the younger boy had a session with his physio.

To be honest, it pissed Gavi off way worse than he would like to admit. If it were up to him, he would wake up every single day with Pedri sleeping in his arms, savoring those quiet moments of peace and comfort before the day’s demands pulled them apart. Instead, he often woke up to find Pedri already up and about, busying himself in the kitchen or scrolling through his phone, their brief mornings together feeling like just another thing slipping through his fingers.

Gavi hated how Pedri always seemed so put together, always one step ahead, making breakfast, planning his day, and heading off to practice with that determined look in his eyes. It was like he was trying to hold everything together, even if it meant leaving Gavi behind. And the sevillian couldn’t stand it. He hated how Pedri’s routines felt like a reminder that life was moving on without him, that even in his recovery, he was somehow lagging behind, watching Pedri live at a pace he couldn’t quite keep up with yet.

Thank the gods it was finally coming to an end. Just a couple more weeks and you’ll be back, stronger than ever, his boyfriend had told him. And who was Pablo to not believe it?

Gavi trudged into the kitchen, still half-asleep, his hair tousled and eyes heavy with sleep. The soft clinking of dishes and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, instantly lifting his mood. Pedri stood at the counter, focused on preparing breakfast, his back turned to Gavi. Without a word, the younger boy walked up behind Pedri and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing his face into Pedri’s back. The elder paused for a moment, surprised by the sudden contact, but then he relaxed, leaning back slightly into Gavi’s embrace.

“Good morning,” Pedri said softly, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of Gavi’s sleepy face.

“Mornin’,” Gavi mumbled into Pedri’s shoulder, his voice muffled but full of affection. He tightened his grip, holding Pedri close as if trying to make up for the hours they’d spent apart in sleep. It was a quiet, wordless plea for more time, more moments like this.

Pedri smiled, his hands stilling on the counter as he leaned into Gavi’s hug, soaking in the warmth of the embrace. “You’re up earlier than usual,” he teased lightly, enjoying the feeling of the sevillian’s arms around him.

“Missed you,” Gavi replied simply, pressing a soft kiss between Pedri’s shoulder blade. Pedri’s heart swelled at the small gesture, and he turned around in Gavi’s arms, facing him now.

“I’ve been right here,” Pedri chuckled, his voice gentle as he brought one hand up to cup Gavi’s cheek, brushing a thumb along his jawline. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Gavi’s lips — a sweet, unhurried kiss that made Gavi’s head spin, grounding him in the warmth of the moment.

Gavi hummed contentedly against Pedri’s lips, his hands sliding up to rest on Pedri’s back, pulling him closer. Pedri’s other hand moved to the nape of Gavi’s neck, fingers threading through his hair as he deepened the kiss just a little, savoring the quiet intimacy of the early morning.

When they finally pulled back, Pedri handed Gavi a mug of coffee, their fingers brushing as Gavi took it. “Here, thought you might need this,” Pedri said, his smile soft and a little shy, as if he still couldn’t quite believe how easy it was to fall into these quiet moments with Gavi.

“Thanks,” Gavi said, taking a sip and letting the warmth of the coffee and Pedri’s touch seep into him. He set the mug down, only to pull Pedri back into his arms, hugging him tightly from behind. Resting his chin on Pedri’s shoulder, Gavi murmured against his neck, “Did you already tell Flick that you’re not playing tomorrow?”

Pedri stiffened slightly in Gavi’s arms, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as he turned his head to look at him. “What?”

The younger boy’s tone sharpened a little bit, losing its earlier softness. “It would be the smartest thing to do, don’t you think? You’ve played almost ninety minutes in the last three matches.”

“So what? If míster wants me in the starting eleven, I’ll play,” Pedri snapped back, pulling away from Gavi’s embrace as his defensiveness flared.

“Babe…” Gavi’s jaw tightened, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. He could feel the tension rising, the warmth of their morning slipping away as frustration took its place.

“Don’t ‘Babe’ me, Pablo. Did Fermín put you up to this? Is that it? Did he ask you to tell me not to play?”

“What the fuck, Pedri? Of course not! Fer literally kisses the ground you walk on; he would never do that,” Gavi shot back, his voice rising with anger. He couldn’t believe Pedri was twisting this into something it wasn’t.

“Then what? You want me to give up my spot for the sake of your best friend?”

“When the fuck did I say that? This doesn’t have anything to do with Fer. This is about you!”

“Me? What about me?” Pedri’s stance stiffened, his tone challenging as he braced himself for whatever was coming next.

“You’ve already played a shit ton of minutes. I think you need a break,” Gavi insisted.

“As if you’ve never played more than three games in a row. Normal players do that, you know? Lewan does, Koundé too, and even fucking Lamine,” Pedri argued, his voice rising in defiance. He couldn’t understand why Gavi was making such a big deal out of this.

“Oh, great, Pedri! Yeah, put 17-year-old Lamine up as an example, like we haven’t been saying he needs a break too. What a brilliant argument,” Gavi scoffed, sarcasm dripping from his words. He could feel his patience wearing thin.

“That’s not the point. I’m fine. I can keep playing,” Pedri insisted, glaring at Gavi, his stubbornness shining through.

“You just came off an injury at the Euros,” Gavi reminded him. He wasn’t going to back down on this.

“That was an impact injury, and my knee is fine now. The thigh hasn’t bothered me in ages. You need to let that go.”

“Let it go? That shit’s been bothering you since the day I met you, and it was because of overplaying back then, too,” Gavi fired back, his voice laced with anger.

“You don’t understand shit about my injuries,” Pedri shot back coldly, his words hitting like a slap.

“I don’t understand? I’ve been sidelined for almost a year with my knee! Don’t tell me I don’t understand,” Gavi practically yelled, his eyes blazing with anger.

“No, you don’t . People expect you to come back stronger, everyone does. But me? Even my fucking boyfriend thinks I’m weak,” Pedri spat, his frustration reaching a breaking point.

“When did I ever say that?”

“That’s basically what you’re implying with this bullshit!” Pedri yelled back

“You do realize that while I’ve been out with this injury, you’ve been out with three, right? Even when my knee was fucked and I was out for ages, you somehow ended up right there, sulking next to me. But I’m not doing it again, Pedri. I’m not standing on the sidelines watching you break yourself down to the point of no return when you can fucking prevent it!” Gavi’s voice was firm, with no room for compromise. He was done watching Pedri push himself to the brink.

“Then leave,” Pedri said, his tone hard and unyielding, turning his back on Gavi.

Pablo’s whole body tensed as if he’d been slapped. His heart raced, the words slamming into him with a force he wasn’t prepared for. His eyes widened in disbelief, and for a moment, he felt like the ground had been pulled out from under him. He stared at Pedri, trying to process what he’d just heard, but the words echoed in his mind, sharp and unforgiving.

“What?” Gavi’s voice broke, the anger momentarily giving way to raw hurt. He couldn’t believe what Pedri had just said, couldn’t believe that he would even suggest something like that. It wasn’t just a fight anymore; it was like the foundation of everything they had built together was cracking right in front of him.

“My pain will not be your burden, not anymore, Pablo. Fucking leave if you can’t handle it,” Pedri snapped, turning away, his jaw clenched, his voice cold and final.

Gavi’s breath hitched, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and desperation. “Baby, no…” he whispered, reaching out as if he could somehow touch Pedri’s resolve, soften it, make him take back the words that were ripping them apart.

“Don’t you even dare, Pablo,” the canarian cut him off, his voice sharp. He didn’t turn around, didn’t meet Gavi’s eyes, refused to even acknowledge that he was breaking both of their hearts. “I’m not going to repeat myself again. Leave .”

Gavi stood frozen, it felt like he was caught in a nightmare, one where everything he said or did only made things worse. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms as he struggled to keep himself together. Every instinct screamed at him to stay, but he wouldn’t. After all, he loved Pedri more than anything in the world, and if his presence was not wanted, he would not force it upon him.

“Fine,” Pablo whispered, the word choked with anguish. He grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair, his movements jerky and unsteady. He hesitated for a moment at the door, one last desperate hope that Pedri would call him back, that they could somehow fix this before it went too far.

But Pedri didn’t move, didn’t say a word. The only sound was the dull thud of Pablo’s heart pounding in his chest, and the quiet click of the door as he walked out.

How had everything fallen apart so quickly? Were they really so fragile that one argument could shatter everything? Wasn’t their relationship supposed to be stronger than this? At that moment, he wasn’t so sure.

For a while, Gavi stayed outside if Pedri’s house, – their home – sitting in front of the gate of the house, internally refusing to actually leave. Walking away would mean that it was real, that he was actually giving up on the fight, giving up on Pedri, and he wasn’t willing to do that.

However, he was well aware he had to walk away, even if there was anger and pure sadness clouding his mind, he knew that Pedri was not going to open the door and let him in. The canarian’s words had been sharp and pretty much definite, and no matter if Pablo was sulking outside like a lost puppy, Pedri was not going to take back his cold words.

Then leave. Maybe he should, maybe it was the best idea for him to clear his mind too and wait for Pedri to understand that everything, what he had asked, had come from a place of pure fear. Even if he hated to admit it, every time the canarian hit the ground in the middle of a match, Pablo felt like he was going to throw up. He knew Pedri inside out, and knew how the elder’s heart broke a little bit every time he was off with an injury.

Maybe he was in the wrong, maybe he should have chosen his words differently, or maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all. But even as he screamed at Pedri — mostly because Pedri was screaming at him too — the only image in his mind was of his recently injured boyfriend in tears on the sidelines of Estadio de San Mamés , asking God why it had to be him getting hurt again.

Pablo had been harsh, harsher than he ever intended to be. He had never raised his voice at Pedri before, always careful with his tone, his words. But he couldn’t stand the thought of Pedri pushing himself to the brink once again. If it took a fight to get Pedri to see reason, then maybe it was worth it.

If it meant Pedri would finally consider sitting out for just one match, maybe it would all be worth it.

But Pedri was stubborn. He was always so damn stubborn. Gavi would’ve been okay if Pedri had agreed to be subbed in during the second half or even told Flick he’d only play the first sixty minutes. Anything would’ve been better than this reckless determination to play full matches without rest. But Pedri was relentless. His pride, his love for the game, and his stubborn refusal to acknowledge his own limits blinded him to the concerns of those who cared about him most. And as much as Gavi admired that determination for being the best athlete possible, sometimes, it felt more like a curse than a blessing.

Pablo shifted on the cold pavement, his eyes still fixed on the front door, half-hoping, half-dreading that Pedri would appear. He wanted so badly for Pedri to understand that his plea wasn’t about control or trying to keep him off the pitch; it was about protecting him, about not having to see him hurt again.

Fuck him , he thought for a second, the anger flaring up again, hot and raw, fuck him if he wants to fuck up all of his progress.

Pedri was being reckless, blind to the risk he was putting himself through, and it infuriated Pablo. It wasn’t just about the stupid minutes on the pitch; it was about watching someone he loved so deeply refuse to take care of himself, to protect what he had worked so hard for. It was maddening.

He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought the urge to storm back inside and shake some sense into Pedri. It took everything in him not to march back in and keep arguing until Pedri saw reason, until he understood that Pablo wasn’t his enemy here. He was trying to save him — from the pain, from the setbacks, from himself. But it felt pointless, like shouting into a void.

Maybe I’m the one who doesn’t get it, Pablo thought, his anger starting to wane, replaced by a gnawing sense of doubt. Maybe I’m asking too much. But he couldn’t ignore the gnawing fear every time Pedri winced or slowed down on the field, the nights spent patching him up, the quiet moments where Pedri would sigh, the weight of expectation pressing down on him. Pablo saw it all, felt it all. And maybe that was the problem — caring too much, wanting too much.

The minutes stretched on, and Pablo realized he was still sitting there, stubbornly waiting for a sign that wouldn’t come. He’s not going to open that door, Pablo reminded himself, the thought hitting like a punch to the gut. He’s not going to come out and make this better. Not this time.

He finally pushed himself up, his legs stiff from sitting in the cold. Glancing back one last time, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to turn away. Each step away from the house felt like tearing at a wound, but maybe this was what they both needed — a break from the fight, a break from themselves.

As Pablo walked through the familiar streets of Barcelona, his footsteps heavy and uncertain, he realized he had no clear destination in mind. The city that had always felt like his playground now felt oddly unfamiliar, almost suffocating. He briefly considered heading to his own apartment — the one he had impulsively bought as soon as he was promoted to the first team — but the thought of that place only deepened the emptiness he felt. It wasn’t a home; it was just a space he hadn’t truly lived in, and he wasn’t even sure he still had the keys.

Since he and Pedri had started officially dating — after what felt like an eternity of mutual pining and clumsy, stolen moments — Pablo had practically moved in without either of them really discussing it. His clothes had slowly made their way into Pedri’s closet, his physio gear was scattered throughout the house, and Pedri had insisted on framing family photos from their trip to Seville, placing them around as if Pablo had always belonged there. Pedri’s house had evolved into something more; it had become a shared sanctuary, a safe space that echoed with their laughter, whispered secrets, and quiet mornings.

The thought of going back to his cold, empty apartment made his chest tighten. That space had never felt like his; it was just a reminder of a time before Pedri, before they had found this rhythm together. The idea of walking into a place that didn’t have Pedri’s warmth, his scent lingering on the pillows, or his laugh bouncing off the walls was too much to bear. It felt like stepping back into a world where everything was muted and gray.

And that’s when it truly hit him. He didn’t have a home without Pedri.

Even if he had lived most of his life in Barcelona, he had been pretty much stuck behind the walls of La Masia for years. During his childhood, it had been his entire world — a strict routine of training, studying, and dreaming of the big leagues. But as comforting as the academy’s structure had been while growing up surrounded with his closest friends, it was never home in the true sense of the word. It was a place of discipline, of hard work, and of constant pressure to succeed, but it wasn’t a place where he could truly unwind or just be . One wrong step and he would’ve been kicked out, that was not what a home was supposed to be like.

His family, the people who could give him that sense of home, were miles away — his parents and sister were a plane ride away in Seville. The distance felt even greater in that moment, like a chasm that made him feel more alone than ever. He couldn’t just show up at his family’s doorstep needing comfort; it wasn’t an option. He had no other place to go.

Therefore, he started walking towards the only place he felt safe. The place that had been waiting for him his entire childhood and early teenage years. The same fucking place where he met Pedri for the first time.

When he arrived at Ciutat Esportiva , some of the staff eyed him curiously. He didn’t have a recovery session scheduled that day, and the entire team had been given the day off to rest after a grueling run of matches. It wasn’t unusual for players to use the building’s facilities during their free time, but it was unusual for Gavi. Everyone knew that when the team had time off, he and Pedri were inseparable, usually off somewhere together. Whether on a date on one of the hidden beaches in Barcelona’s coast, or just lazing around in their house, trying to soak up as many hours together before training had to separate them again.

The staff exchanged glances as he walked through the corridors, his expression stony and his shoulders tense. They didn’t ask him any questions; they just watched as he made his way to one of the fields, an unmistakable heaviness in his steps.

When he picked up a couple of footballs from the racks, he was well aware that what he was doing was not the right thing to do.

Diego, his physio trainer, had specifically told him that he shouldn’t train on his own just yet. Even though he was in the last stage of his recovery, he still had to stick to a routine of training that would let his knee rest between sessions. But right now, Gavi couldn’t quite care.

If there was one thing that could distract him from anything that could be going wrong in his life, was kicking a ball. Football had always been his absolute everything, the truest constant in his life, and that’s exactly what he needed after having his first real fight with his first real boyfriend. Were they still boyfriends at this point? He didn’t want to dwell too much on that, so he thought it best to train until it didn’t hurt anymore.

Wasn’t that funny? Pablo had met the most important person in his life through football, and now that was exactly what broke them apart.

Every kick of the ball was a way to release the frustration that had been building inside him, every sprint was an attempt to outrun the doubts creeping into his mind. He dribbled furiously, the ball obeying his every command as he weaved through invisible defenders, his breaths coming out in ragged bursts.

The field, usually a place of comfort, now felt like a battlefield. Each strike of the ball was loaded with the weight of his anger, his confusion, and his helplessness. He was punishing himself in the only way he knew how, pushing his body to its limits to make the pain of his argument with Pedri feel like something tangible he could control.

Pablo didn’t know how long he stayed out there, just that the sun was dipping low in the sky by the time he finally stopped, his breaths harsh and uneven. He bent over, hands on his knees, sweat dripping from his brow as he stared at the grass beneath his feet. Despite the ache in his muscles and the sharp protests from his knee, he felt no closer to clarity, no closer to fixing whatever had gone wrong between him and Pedri.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Gavira?” the unmistakable voice of his best friend, Fermín, cut through the quiet of the empty field, sharp and disapproving. Pablo flinched, straightening up to find Fermín standing at the edge of the pitch, arms crossed and a look of disbelief etched across his face.

“What does it look like?” Gavi shot back, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, trying to mask the frustration that still bubbled beneath the surface.

“It looks like you’re trying to break yourself before you even get the chance to come back properly,” Fermín retorted, his tone edged with concern and anger. He stepped onto the field, closing the distance between them. “You’re supposed to be resting, Pablo. What the hell are you doing out here?”

Gavi shrugged, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “What does it matter? I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not fine,” Fermin said, his voice rising. “You’re out here, doing exactly what you know you shouldn’t be doing. And for what? To prove something to the fans? To yourself? This isn’t going to fix anything.”

Pablo clenched his jaw, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t need a lecture right now, Fer.”

“You don’t need a lecture? You’re out here pushing yourself like a damn idiot, and I’m supposed to just let you? You’ve been out for months, Pablo. This isn’t the way to get back.” Fermín’s voice softened slightly, the anger giving way to concern. “What happened, man? Does Pedri know—”

“Don’t,” Pablo interrupted, his voice strained. “Don’t talk about him right now.”

That’s exactly when Fermín realized that something was off, given that in normal circumstances, he would rant about his boyfriend until his best friend had to — kindly — ask him to shut up for once. “What did he do?”

Gavi’s eyes darkened, his expression hardening. “He kicked me out.”

Fermín’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “What the hell did you do to deserve that?”

“What makes you think I deserved it?”

“Because Pedri’s temper is way better than yours. He wouldn’t just throw you out without a damn good reason.”

“Oh, so now you know my boyfriend better than me?” The sevillian snapped, his frustration spilling over.

“Fuck you, I’m trying to help,” his friend shot back, crossing his arms defensively.

“What a shit attempt at helping,” Gavi muttered, kicking at the grass.

“At least I’m not out here trying to break my knee because my boyfriend is pissed at me,” Fermin retorted, his voice edged with annoyance.

“Fuck you,” Gavi growled, turning away.

“Yeah, well, you’re definitely not fucking Pedri tonight, that’s for sure. So where are you gonna stay?”

Pablo glanced over, his expression defiant. “With you, obviously.”

Fermín rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Says who?”

“Says me,” Gavi shot back, not missing a beat “You’re my best friend for a reason”

Fermin shook his head, a reluctant smirk breaking through. “Alright, if you say so. But don’t think you’re getting any special treatment. You’re on the couch.”

He huffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “Fine, whatever. Just don’t snore.”

“Can’t promise that,” Fermin quipped, nudging Pablo’s shoulder. “Now, get your ass off this field before you actually mess up your knee,” he added, giving Pablo a light shove as they started to walk off together

As they made their way out of the training center, for the first time since the fight, Pablo felt a little bit less alone.

Gavi ended up staying at Fermín's place for a couple of days, trying to distract himself with mindless games and half-hearted conversations. But no matter what he did, the silence from Pedri gnawed at him. Pedri had gone completely no contact, not a single call, text, or even a passive-aggressive like on social media. Each hour that passed without hearing from him only made the knot in Pablo’s stomach tighten, the anxiety bubbling up in his chest. It was like a dull ache that wouldn’t go away, a constant reminder of just how badly he’d screwed up.

Fermín watched his friend sulk around his apartment, clearly torn between giving Pablo space and trying to get him to open up. On the second day, as they sat in the living room with a match on TV that neither of them was really watching, Fermín finally broke the silence. “You gonna tell me what really happened, or are we just gonna keep pretending you’re here for a sleepover?”

Pablo shifted uncomfortably, his eyes fixed on the screen even though he wasn’t paying attention to the game. Fermín’s question hung in the air, the truth of it unavoidable. “It’s… complicated”

His friend studied him for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “Does it have to be?”

“Yeah. This time, it has to be,” Gavi replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Fermín didn’t pry any further after that, sensing that Pablo wasn’t ready to talk. They fell into an uneasy routine, avoiding the topic entirely.

Now, on the third day after going no-contact with his so-called boyfriend, he was sitting next to Araujo at the strands of Olímpico de Montjuic. Barca was playing against Getafe, and of course, Pedri was on the starting eleven.

Pablo watched Pedri closely, his heart heavy as he tried to focus on the game unfolding in front of him. But his eyes kept drifting back to the canarian — how he carried the ball, how he commanded the midfield, every pass sharp and precise, as if nothing in his world was out of place.

For a moment, it almost felt surreal, watching Pedri out there as if everything between them hadn’t fallen apart just days before, as if he had practically forgotten Pablo even existed.

“You okay, enano ?” Araujo’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Gavi nodded stiffly, though he didn’t meet the older defender’s eyes.

It was completely absurd, how Pedri played as if nothing was wrong, his focus on the game unbreakable. Each time he touched the ball, the crowd roared, and Pablo couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride mixed with the sting of their argument. He wanted to be happy for Pedri, to cheer for him like he always did, but every time Pedri sprinted or took a hit, the knot in Pablo’s stomach tightened.

“He’s looking good today,” Ronald commented, his eyes on Pedri. “Back to his best, almost. You’d never guess he was coming off an injury.”

Gavi forced a smile, but it came out like a grimace. “Yeah, he’s... he’s always good,” he mumbled, but his voice lacked its usual enthusiasm.

As the game wore on, Pablo found it harder to keep his emotions in check. The team was doing well, Pedri was doing brilliantly, but there was a pang on his chest that he couldn’t quite ignore.

“Relax, man,” Araujo said, noticing the tension in Pablo’s posture. “You’re practically vibrating over here.”

Pablo let out a shaky breath, dragging his gaze away from the field. “I’m fine,” he said, though they both knew it wasn’t true. But before the uruguayan could even utter a word, the unmistakable scream of a player falling to the ground cut through the stadium’s ambient noise. Instinctively, Pablo’s head whipped back toward the field, his heart skipping a beat as he saw Pedri sprawled on the turf, clutching his shin.

Araujo’s expression tightened, a look of concern crossing his face. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, turning to Pablo. “Is that—”

“Yeah,” Pablo interrupted, his voice tight with worry. He tried to focus on the scene unfolding before him, but it was like watching a slow-motion nightmare. The medical staff rushed onto the field, and Pedri’s face contorted with pain as he was attended to. The sight was a gut punch, reopening wounds he’d tried to ignore.

“Come on, come on,” Pablo whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. He wanted to be down there with Pedri, to comfort him, to make everything okay again. But he was stuck here, unable to do anything but watch as the situation unfolded. He wasn’t even sure that the canarian would even let him get close if by any chance he could slip onto the team benches, and that was probably what bothered him the most “Stand up, you’re alright”

Pablo’s heart raced as he watched the medical staff help Pedri off the field. The sight of Pedri limping, even with a pained expression, was almost too much to bear. The canarian was quickly assessed and helped to the sidelines, where he sat with ice on his leg, looking more frustrated than anything else.

“I bet it’s just a bruise,” Araujo said, trying to reassure Gavi as he saw the tension in his friend’s face. “Probably nothing serious, Pablito, breathe .”

Gavi nodded, though the anxiety in his chest remained. He watched as Pedri’s substitution was announced — Fermín would get a bit of playing time after all. For now, Pedri seemed alright, but Pablo couldn’t shake the worry that his boyfriend might still be in pain.

He needed to see him, to hold him in his arms and make sure that all of his pieces were fitting perfectly together. He needed to check that there wasn’t a bruise or a scratch, or anything that might suggest Pedri wouldn’t be at his best.

Gavi wasn’t sure his heart could handle it if Pedri was hurt and he wasn’t right there to put his pieces back together.

As soon as the referee blew the whistle signaling the end of the match, Gavi didn’t hesitate for a second before sprinting toward the medical area. Pedri had been sent there fifteen minutes before the match ended— thankfully, when they were leading 3-0 — and by now, Gavi knew that if it was just a harsh hit, the canarian would be already cleared to go home. But if there was even a slight chance that Pedri could be injured or sidelined for the next match, Gavi had to be there.

He had been there for most of Pedri’s past injuries, — and the elder had been right by his side for months in his own recovery process — just because they were fighting it didn’t mean he was going to leave his boyfriend to rot in his puddle of misery.

He would be the bigger person there, he would even apologize and take it all back if it meant having Pedri by his side again.

When Gavi finally reached the infirmary — the place he had sadly grown so familiar with — he needed to take a deep breath before storming in. He needed to gather his thoughts and let behind the resentment he had been holding so close to his heart for the last couple of days. That shouldn’t matter now, not when Pedri could be hurt.

Pablo was ready to walk inside, give Pedri a kiss, and bite his tongue before blurting out an “I told you so.” Deep down, he wished he was wrong about everything — if by any chance his worries had jinxed everything, he would take it all back in a heartbeat.

“Sorry Gavi, you can’t see him now” Sol, one of the youngest nurses in the facility, said gently as she saw Pablo reach for the door handle.

“Why not?” Gavi demanded, anxiety clawing at his chest. “He’s fine, isn’t he?”

“He is. It was just a harsh tackle. He’ll be available for the next match” she reassured him softly, clearly noticing how tense Gavi was, as if he might break down if he didn’t see Pedri soon.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“You know the rules: patients can only have one companion while the doctor is with them.”

Gavi huffed in frustration, of course he knew that, he had been in that same position more than once before. “Yeah, I’m here. Just me, as always, I’m the one here for him.”

“There’s already someone with him,” she added, her smile tinged with sadness. Gavi hated the pity in her eyes.

“Who?”

Before Sol could respond, the door swung open, and the doctor stepped out, giving him a clear view inside. Breaking his heart in the process as he saw Ferran’s figure standing inside the room.

Pedri was sitting on the examination table, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed at something the valencian had said. The sight was like a punch to the gut — Pedri looked completely at ease, his face lit up with a joy that Gavi hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. It was a stark contrast to the cold expression he had given Pablo during the fight.

Gavi’s heart sank. Pedri’s smile, the way his shoulders relaxed, the carefree laughter that spilled from his lips — it was a scene that should have been his . Ferran stood close, a hand resting casually on Pedri’s shoulder, as if he belonged there, as if he was privileged enough to even lay a finger on the canarian’s skin.

The jealousy burned hotter in Pablo’s chest, his fists clenching involuntarily at his sides. He felt stupid for being there, for believing that he could just walk in and make everything right. The reality was painfully clear: Pedri didn’t look like he missed him, didn’t look like he needed him at all.

Maybe the stupid fight had been just an excuse, an easy way out from a long-term relationship. Maybe Pedri had been wanting to break up with him for a while, and what a more perfect way than making Pablo look like the bad guy.

As Gavi turned away, Ferran noticed him lingering by the door. His expression shifted, and he stepped forward, clearly intending to say something. “Gavito, hey—”

But Pablo didn’t wait to hear what Ferran had to say. The tightness in his chest was overwhelming, and the last thing he needed was a confrontation or an explanation from fucking Ferran. He couldn’t bear to stand there any longer, watching Pedri smile at someone else like that — even if it was their so-called best friend. Absolute bullshit.

Without a word, Gavi ignored Ferran’s outstretched hand and quickened his pace, his footsteps echoing through the hallway as he stormed away. His vision blurred slightly, a mix of anger, frustration, and heartache clouding his mind. He felt Ferran’s gaze on his back, but he refused to look back. The sound of Pedri’s laughter still rang in his ears, mocking him, and all he wanted was to get as far away from that room as possible.

He clenched his fists tighter, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to steady his breath. It felt like the walls were closing in, suffocating him with the reality of what he had just seen. Pedri’s laughter — that sound that used to be a balm to all of Pablo’s worries — now only fueled his anger. He couldn’t understand how Pedri could seem so unaffected, so utterly content without him. It wasn’t fair.

Gavi had been sulking, worrying about Pedri to no end and that’s the kind of thanks he gets?

If Pedri wanted to act like nothing mattered, then Pablo would do the same. The cold shoulder would be rightly reciprocated. He wasn’t going to beg, wasn’t going to let Pedri see just how badly this was tearing him apart. But as Pablo walked away, the bitter taste of jealousy lingered on his tongue, mingling with the heartache he couldn’t quite shake.

No matter how far he walked, the truth was painfully clear: Pedri was slipping further away, and Gavi didn’t know how to stop it.

After that, Gavi’s life turned into absolute hell. His attempt at pretending as if he wasn’t crumbling inside lasted for about forty-eight hours. Given that, as soon as he realized that this whole ‘situation’ with Pedri implied that he had to move back to his own apartment, where he would be back on his own, something broke something inside him.

Here, there were no shared memories, no trace of Pedri’s touch in the form of half-read books or discarded football kits. It was just him, alone, in a space that no longer felt like home.

Gavi tried to keep himself busy for the first couple of days, throwing his energy into training and club commitments, but it wasn’t enough. Every mundane task reminded him of Pedri. Making coffee in the morning was no longer a shared ritual but a hollow routine. Coming home after his recovery sessions to silence, instead of Pedri’s easy laughter or soft kisses, was like a punch to the gut.

Not even a week later, after he had been living his life in automatic, going to Ciutat Esportiva looking like a zombie and barely replying to his friend’s text messages, Fermín showed up at Gavi’s apartment with a bag on his shoulder.

“Look, I’m not letting you live like you are half dead,” Fermín announced as he walked through the door, dropping his bag on the floor with a resolute thud. “You cannot handle being by yourself, at least not for now.”

Gavi opened his mouth to protest, but the words caught in his throat. Part of him wanted to argue, to tell Fermín that he didn’t need a babysitter, that he was perfectly fine handling his own mess. But the truth was, he didn’t want to be alone. Not here, not now, not when every corner of the apartment was suffocating him.

Fermín didn’t wait for permission; he just started unpacking his things, claiming the spare room like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m not going to sit back and watch you wallow in this misery,” he said firmly, glancing at Pablo with a mix of sympathy and resolve. “So either you suck it up and accept my company, or I’ll just camp out on your couch.”

After that, things got a bit better, he was still pretty much rotting in his own misery, but at least Fermín didn’t let him alone with his own thoughts for long periods of time. His days were now marked by a numbing monotony. He would wake up in the small apartment he now kind of shared with his best friend, his eyes barely open as he dragged himself out of bed. Breakfast was a hasty, mechanical affair, and then he’d head to training. At the pitch, he moved like a zombie —his movements were precise but lacked their usual love for the game. The sessions passed in a blur, his focus almost entirely absent as he went through the motions.

Evenings were spent in the living room, where Gavi would sit with Fermín but remained largely unengaged. He would sit through whatever TV shows or movies Fermín chose, his mind distant, lost in thought. Though he was physically present, his emotional absence was palpable, creating a silent but heavy atmosphere in the apartment. Despite Fermín’s attempts to keep things normal, Gavi’s existence felt like a continuous loop of sleep, eating, recovery, and missing Pedri.

Fermín’s worry was evident in the little things: the way he would glance at Gavi when he thought he wasn’t looking, the way he’d linger a moment longer at the door before heading out for his own training sessions. Even the food Fermín cooked was prepared with extra care, as if he hoped that the right meal might somehow revive Gavi’s spirit.

Gavi was often overwhelmed by Fermín’s unrelenting kindness, feeling a pang of guilt each time he noticed his friend’s concerned glances or his efforts to make him smile. He desperately wanted to be okay, to find a way out of the darkness that had settled over him. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure he could ever be truly happy without a sweet boy, with rosy cheeks and shining eyes, standing right by his side

Meanwhile, Fermín had somehow managed to keep things quite professional with Pedri so far, despite having to go training with him almost every day for the past two weeks.

At the end of the day, what was he supposed to do when his best friend’s (ex?) boyfriend, who he had just had a major fight with, was also his ( their ) teammate? How was he expected to act civil when all he really wanted to do was chop Pedri’s dick off? — Okay, maybe he was exaggerating a bit too much, Gavi hadn’t even told him the reason why they had apparently broken up. All Fermín knew was that his best friend, the best person he knew, was pathetically mourning a relationship that meant everything to him. And even if it wasn’t fair, Fermín couldn’t help but place at least a little blame on Pedri for Gavi’s heartache.

During training sessions, Fermín found himself constantly glancing at Pedri, searching for any hint of the same pain that haunted Gavi. But Pedri seemed perfectly composed, unbothered, like nothing had ever gone wrong. It irritated Fermín to no end, even though he knew that Pedri was probably hurting too. Still, the fact that the canarian could at least pretend to be okay while Gavi was falling apart didn’t sit right with him.

Fermín had been doing a decent job of keeping his cool when he was actually in the presence of Pedri, shoving down the urge to confront him about Gavi, even when the tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife. He’d managed to avoid any direct interaction, sticking to Lamine and Casadó’s side and focusing on his own training, but that all went out the window when Flick decided to pair them up for drills.

The moment Pedri jogged over to him, offering a half-hearted smile, Fermín felt his resolve start to crack. He could barely look at Pedri without thinking of Gavi’s hollow expression, the way his best friend seemed to shrink into himself a little more each day. As they passed the ball back and forth, the canarian kept up an easy conversation, but Fermín’s responses were clipped, his tone sharper than he intended. He was being a resentful bitch, blame him.

After a few minutes, Pedri finally broke the silence, his voice tentative. “How’s Pablo doing?”

Fermín's grip on the ball tightened, his annoyance flaring up instantly. He tossed the ball to Pedri a bit harder than necessary. “Why do you care?”

Pedri caught the ball, frowning slightly at the sudden edge in Fermín’s voice. “I care because he’s my—”

“Your what, Pedri?” Fermín cut him off, his tone sharp. “Your boyfriend? Because from where I’m standing, ignoring him for like two weeks basically counts as breaking up.”

The elder blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of Fermín’s words. “What do you mean we’ve broken up? We aren’t—”

Fermín let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? You’ve been completely ignoring him, man. No calls, no messages, nothing. You think that’s how relationships work? You’ve kicked him out of your life and you dare to think he’s doing alright.”

“What? No, that’s not—” Pedri’s expression shifted from confusion to something closer to panic. “I didn’t— I thought we just needed space. We both said shitty stuff, but I didn’t think—”

“Space?!” the younger one snapped, his frustration spilling over. “He’s been absolute shit, Pedri. And you? You’ve been acting like nothing’s happened. That’s not space; that’s abandonment. Hijo de puta ”

Pedri’s face drained of color as the weight of Fermín’s words sank in. His mind reeled with everything he hadn’t done, every message he hadn’t sent, every moment he’d spent convincing himself that waiting was the right thing. “That’s none of your business” he muttered, though the words lacked any real conviction.

“Not my business? You’re right, it shouldn’t be. But it’s become my business because you’ve left him so wrecked that someone had to be there for him. And guess what, that someone is me .”

“Fer, I didn’t—” Pedri started, but the younger player cut him off again, this time with a sigh, the anger in his voice replaced with a hint of resignation.

“Don’t. It’s not me you should be giving explanations to” the andalusian turned his attention back to the drill, clearly done with the conversation.

Pedri stood in silence, his thoughts spinning as he tried to make sense of Fermín's words. He felt a twinge of defensiveness rise up; it wasn’t like he was the only one who’d gone silent. Gavi hadn’t reached out either. For all he knew, Pablo didn’t want to talk to him, and maybe that was why he had held back, convincing himself that both of them needed time to think.

Despite the overwhelming sense of regret that had started to settle in, there was still a stubborn part of Pedri that clung to his own hurt. A part of him that replayed the argument in his mind, every word Gavi had thrown at him in anger, every implication that stung sharper than it should have. In Pedri's eyes, he wasn’t entirely the one at fault, and there was a lingering belief that Pablo should be the one reaching out, offering an apology.

He was the one asking for something he could never give up, Pedri reminded himself, as if trying to convince his heart of what his mind already believed. He’s the one who didn’t trust me to handle my own damn body. It was Gavi who had questioned him, it was him who had refused to see that Pedri could take care of himself.

Yes, he had kicked Pablo out, he had to admit he was foul on that, but he didn’t expect for the sevillian to believe it meant forever.

The truth was, he wanted things to go back to the way they were — he missed Pablo with every inch of his body — but a part of him still clung to the idea that Gavi needed to be the one to break the silence, to acknowledge his part in the mess they had made. If Gavi really wanted to make things right, Pedri thought, then he should be the one to step forward first.

Right?

Was waiting for an apology really worth the possibility of losing Pablo?

No , the answer was and would always be an absolute no.

The next day, after what felt like an eternity of avoiding each other, Pedri finally caught a glimpse of Gavi.

It was during their morning training session and Gavi had finally been cleared out to do his solo training in the same pitch as everyone else did. Though Pedri had barely seen him over the past days — given that their schedules at Ciutat were quite different unless they consciously tried to see each other — the sight of Gavi now hit him harder than expected. He looked distant, almost robotic in his movements, going through the drills with an intensity that lacked its usual vibrating self. His body was there, but Pedri could tell his mind was miles away.

For a moment, Pedri froze, just watching. This was the person he had built so much with, the one he was willing to give everything for, and here they were, barely able to look each other in the eye. It was heartbreaking.

During the entirety of his training with the group, the canarian had lost the count of how many times he took a glance at Pablo. To be completely honest, he did feel a flicker of happiness watching Gavi back on the pitch, because even if there were bags under his eyes and his mind seemed somewhere else, his movements were more fluid than they had been in weeks.

Seeing him return from his injury should have been a moment of absolute celebration, a reason to be proud — and Pedri was proud. But that joy was bittersweet, tainted by the reality that he couldn’t just run over, wrap his arms around him, and tell him how proud he was, how much he had missed him on the pitch.

Instead, Pedri stood there, hands clenched at his sides, swallowing the urge to cross the field and hold Pablo close like he used to, kissing him until their mouths were numb and there was joy irradiating from both of their skins.

He wished he could turn back time, undo the stupid fight, and just talk to Gavi, hear his voice again without all the tension between them. His pride screamed at him to wait, to let Gavi make the first move, but his heart was begging him to reach out, to not waste another second. Yet, Pedri remained frozen, caught between wanting to fix things and fearing that maybe it was already too late.

Maybe they were both too immature or too inexperienced with relationships to be able to truly fix theirs.

Maybe love wasn’t quite enough.

Just when he was about to call it quits at trying to make Gavi look back at him, — even if it wasn’t consciously — Félix, the head of the physio team, walked up to him.

“Hey! Canario , how are you feeling?” He asked with a smile. They were friends, kind off, he had been helping Pedri with his knee injury and months prior to that, he was the one responsible for Pablo’s first stage of recovery. Through all, the man had been very patient with both of them, not only helping Gavi with his therapy and sessions, but also keeping up with Pedri to tell him how he could help during his boyfriend’s recovery.

Thanks to Félix, Pedri had managed to be quite useful when it came to Gavi getting better, not only physically but also mentally; and the canarian would always be grateful for that.

Pedri forced a smile as he replied, “I’m good, the knee hasn’t bothered me since we came back from Tenerife.”

Félix nodded approvingly, but there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “Glad to hear it. I was wondering about you two, though… How are things ?” Pedri stiffened slightly, knowing exactly what Félix was hinting at. “A month ago you two were practically having a honeymoon in the Islands and now you look distant. I don’t want to intrude, man, but I care about you. Both of you”

“We, eh … we’re not really—” Pedri fumbled for words, avoiding eye contact, “It’s complicated right now.”

Félix watched him with a knowing look but didn’t press further. Instead, he sighed, then said, “Actually, I need a favor from you.”

“What’s up?”

“The medical team has set a date for Gavi’s return. Mid-October, if all goes well. He’ll be cleared to play competitively again,” Félix explained. “And I, well…everyone, wants you to be the one to tell him”

Pedri blinked, his chest tightening. He knew this moment was coming, but the weight of it still caught him off guard. It was nearly over, after months of suffering right next to Pablo, uncountable days trying to make the younger boy smile again, the time had finally come. Gavi was coming back.

“That’s… amazing news,” he muttered. “But maybe Flick should tell him? You know, he’s the míster after all.”

Félix shook his head. “No, Pedri. This isn’t just about the coach or the team. Gavi deserves to hear it from you . You’ve been there through his recovery. Even if things between you two are shaky, this is something he needs to hear from someone who truly cares.”

Pedri felt his throat tighten, looking over at Gavi again. The idea of approaching him now, after all the silence and tension, felt overwhelming. But Félix was right; Pablo deserved to hear it from someone who loved him, someone who would be as happy as him.

He could still remember those late nights, sitting with Gavi as he cried about the pain on his knee, reassuring him that things would get better, that he’d be back on the field in no time — that he was the strongest person he ever knew, and not even an ACL could stop him from becoming one of the top players in the world. And now that day was so close, Pedri felt the familiar warmth of pride bubbling in his chest as tears began to stung behind his eyes.

Gavi had fought so hard, and he deserved to know just how proud Pedri was, no matter what was happening between them.

“Alright,” Pedri said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll tell him.”

It took longer than he intended to actually find the courage to approach Gavi. Every time he built himself up to walk over, to grab Pablo by the arm and lead him somewhere they could talk, his nerves got the better of him.

It wasn’t until they were both heading off the field, drenched in sweat and ready to hit the showers, that the canarian finally found his moment. The team was winding down, and the sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the pitch. Gavi walked ahead of him, looking exhausted but ready to run away. It was now or never.

Pedri quickened his pace, his heart pounding as he approached Gavi from behind. “Hey, Pablo,” he called out, his voice sounding more casual than he felt. Gavi slowed but didn’t turn around immediately, as if unsure whether to stop.

“Wait up for a second,” Pedri added, catching up until they were walking side by side. He could feel the awkwardness in the air, the unspoken tension between them.

Gavi glanced over at him, his expression hard to read. “What’s up?” he asked, his voice flat, as if he were preparing himself for whatever was coming.

Pedri took a deep breath, forcing the words out before he could change his mind. “I, uh… I talked to Félix. He said you’re officially cleared for the match in mid-October.” He paused, watching for Gavi’s reaction. “You’re coming back, Gav.”

Gavi’s eyes widened for a split second, the news clearly catching him off guard. But instead of the smile Pedri had hoped for, Gavi just blinked, his face unreadable as he processed the information.

“I’m really proud of you,” Pedri continued, his heart hammering in his chest. “You worked so hard to get back to the pitch, and now you will be back soon”

Pedri’s heart clenched as he noticed the unshed tears in Gavi’s eyes, something he hadn’t expected to see. He had anticipated maybe a nod or a quiet "thanks," but not this. Gavi looked like he was barely holding it together, his tough exterior cracking ever so slightly in front of him.

“Hey, baby, sh …” Pedri said softly, his voice gentler now, all of the anger he had been feeling towards the younger boy suddenly seeming meaningless. Without thinking, he reached out, placing a hand on Gavi’s cheek. “It’s okay. You’ve been through so much, but you made it. You’re coming back, and that’s what matters.”

Gavi’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, Pedri thought he might pull away. But instead, Gavi lugged forward and pressed himself onto Pedri, hiding his face on the elder boy’s neck as he tried to even out his breath, the weight of the last few days practically melting out of his body.

For a moment, the sevillian just clung to Pedri, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to gather his thoughts. The comfort, the safety of being in back arms, made everything else fade away. He could hear Pedri’s heartbeat, steady and familiar, and it grounded him more than any words could.

But that only made the ache inside him worse.

“I’m trying to be happy… but I don’t know if I can do it,” Gavi finally whispered, his voice shaky.

“You are the strongest person I know,” the canarian murmured as he ran his hands over Gavi’s back, just like he always did when he was trying to calm the other boy from the feelings overwhelming his body. “I do know that you can do it. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life before”

Gavi swallowed thickly, feeling the tears prick at his eyes again. His hands clenched at Pedri’s shirt as if letting go would mean losing him all over again. He wanted to say something, wanted to tell Pedri just how much he was hurting, — that even if this should be one of the happiest days of his life, he couldn’t ignore how lost he had felt without him by his side — but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Pedri, their faces inches apart. The emotions swirling between them were overwhelming, too much to put into words. Gavi’s breath hitched, his eyes flickering between Pedri’s lips and his eyes, and then, without thinking — without hesitating — he leaned in, crashing his lips against Pedri’s.

It wasn’t gentle or slow, it was filled with desperation, days of longing and frustration pouring into the kiss. Pedri froze for a split second, surprised, but then he melted into it, his hands cupping Gavi’s face as he kissed him back with just as much intensity. The world seemed to stop, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything was right again.

It didn’t take long for Pablo to drag him inside of the closet's dressing room area, such a familiar gesture given that they had done that thousands of times before, their constant need for each other always more important than their attempt of keeping their relationship discreet within the club facilities.

As soon as Gavi pulled him into the small, cramped closet, everything around them disappeared. It was a familiar dance, one they had done countless times before. The adrenaline, the need, all of it surged through them as if the days of silence and distance had never happened. The tight space pressed their bodies close together, leaving no room for hesitation, no room for second-guessing.

Gavi’s hands fisted into Pedri’s shirt, pulling him even closer as their lips collided again with a ferocity that left them both breathless. The weeks of tension, the argument, the uncertainty — it all dissolved in that moment, replaced by a raw need to feel each other close again. Pedri’s hands slid down to Gavi’s waist, grounding himself in the familiar warmth of the boy he had missed so much.

“Wait, Pedri” Gavi broke the kiss for a brief second, their foreheads pressed together, panting softly. “I wanted to say…” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but Pedri heard it.

Pedri’s grip tightened on him, his thumbs brushing lightly against Gavi’s skin. “Don’t,” he replied, his voice hoarse but firm. “Today is about you. We will figure it out later ”

Gavi didn’t need any more words. He crashed their lips together again, this time slower, savoring the moment as if it might slip away at any second. The sevillians hands were all over Pedri’s body, imprinting his fingertips on the skin under the older boy’s shirt. His head was spinning, he had missed this so much it was actually painful for the strain under his training shorts.

“Wanna suck you off” Pedri murmured as Pablo started to spread love bites on his neck. Love was overflowing his trembling body, and he needed to show Gavi how much he had missed him. How much he needed him.

“God, I missed this so fucking much” Gavi chuckled before taking Pedri’s sweaty shirt off and tossing it to one of the dark corners of the room. “I’m all yours, sweetheart”

After that, Pedri’s feelings went into overdrive. In just seconds he managed to take off Pablo’s shirt before leaving a trail of wet kisses from the boy’s neck to his lower abdomen, enjoying the salty linger of sweat on Gavi’s skin. He was teasing the younger boy, very aware of the fact that he could get straight to taking Pablo on his mouth until his eyes were tearing up and the lust pooling on his lower belly started to dissipate, but he wanted to tease. Pull Pablo’s strings a little bit, until he could please all of his desires.

“You look so fucking hot like this” Gavi admitted as Pedri lowered off his shorts and boxers in one swipe. Gavi was hard, painfully so, his cock red and pulsing and the elder licked his lips for how much he wanted it in his mouth. He was probably too eager, too keen on satisfying Gavi until his own limbs wore off, but to be honest, he couldn't quite care.

Pedri tried to go slow at first, attempting to savor every single gasp that escaped Gavi’s lips and every twitch of his body. He felt light headed, giving Pablo blowjobs was one of his favorite things in the world, because the younger boy was always coming undone in barely minutes. If there was one thing where Gavi’s stamina was non-existing, it was when Pedri was on his knees, looking at him behind his wet eyelashes with his mouth full of his cock.

It was the peak of heaven, but right now, not even that felt like enough. Pablo’s body felt like it was buzzing, the adrenaline of finally knowing that he was going to be able on the pitch mixed with the overwhelming emotions of being close to Pedri again. He needed more — as possessive as it might sound — he needed to imprint his grab on the elder until he couldn’t let go.

“Baby, mierda , Pedri…can I?” It should be quite embarrassing, how he wasn’t able to voice a complete sentence when he had always been the one guiding Pedri through everything they did in bed. But of course, as it always happened with the canarian, he didn’t have to say a word for him to understand.

“Please” the elder practically whimpered, it would’ve been embarrassing if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Pablo. The only person that knew Pedri inside out, the only one that actually knew how Pedri, in the darkest secrets of his mind, craved to let Gavi take control of his body, how much he needed to let go.

In mere seconds, Gavi was fucking Pedri’s mouth until the tears that were accumulating on his eyes finally started to roam free down his cheeks. The sevillian’s gentle grip on his hair gentle and the soft trail of his thumb wiping away the tears was a stark contrast to the pace he was pleasuring himself with Pedri’s pink lips and warm mouth.

Just when he was about to let himself go over the edge, an annoying thought popped in his brain. Something, someone , that clouded his mind with jealousy and lust. “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this” Pablo stated as he pushed a bit deeper, feeling the back of Pedri’s throat, who just moaned as a response. “ Stupid Ferran doesn’t have you like this.”

Pedri blinked, caught off guard, his brows knitting together as he slightly pulled away. “What?”

“He doesn’t get to touch you like this,” Gavi growled, his voice tinged with jealousy as he pushed Pedri back to his cock “You’re mine”

“No one has me like this. Solo tú .” he whispered, breaking away just for a second to catch his breath.

That was basically all it took for Gavi to spill right on Pedri’s tongue as soon as the elder’s mouth was back on him. It took him a bit longer than he would like to admit to get down from his high, probably out of the fact that the sight of Pedri on his knees — with rosy cheeks and licking his cum from his lips — was still right there in front of him.

“Jesus fuck, come here” in seconds, Gavi managed to help Pedri up until he could connect their lips once again. They were sweating, their naked chest pressing against each other and their lips collinding in an enclosed dark space. It was one of the hottest things the canarian had ever lived, and he felt as if there was lust pouring out of every single pore in his skin.

“Gavi, please ” He wasn’t sure what he was asking for, maybe for Gavi to kiss him, to touch him, to forgive him. But he had missed the sevillian with every bone of his body, and now that he had him close once again, he couldn’t get enough of him.

“I’ve got you” Pablo murmured before he kissed the other boy’s collarbone as he lowered his hand until he was enveloping Pedri’s cock in his hand, jerking him off with slow strokes. “Fucking christ, you’re the hottest thing in the world” Gavi murmured as the elder’s body started trembling from pure pleasure, soft moans slipping past his lips and he bit on the other’s boy shoulder to hide the embarrassing sounds. It was too much and not enough.

“Pablo, fuck, ‘m close” it was quite mortifying, how riled up he had already gotten just from sucking Gavi off. With barely a couple strokes from the other boy’s hand, he was about to tip over the edge. His stamina was completely ruined due to all the ways Gavi knew his body, how aware he was of the ways he could make Pedri shiver until his legs gave out.

“Let go, fuck , I love you” and that was all it took for Pedri to spill on Gavi’s hand. Unaware that his heart had tugged at the words. His release was sudden, overwhelming, and left him breathless as he slumped slightly against Gavi, his knees weak and his heart racing.

But as the heat of the moment faded slightly, the flicker of jealousy kept popping in Gavi’s mind — something irrational, perhaps, given what they had just done. He gripped Pedri’s hips a little tighter, his lips ghosting over the curve of the other boy’s neck as he whispered, voice low and rough, “No one else gets to see you like this. Not Fer— not anyone.”

Pedri’s eyes fluttered open, confusion momentarily flickering across his face before the meaning of Gavi’s words hit him, the name that had almost slipped even when they were already getting down from their highs. Gavi had been jealous. Maybe he still was. Pedri swallowed hard, his heart beating faster again, this time for different reasons.

“ No one ,” Gavi repeated, his voice possessive now as he pressed his body against Pedri’s, kissing the sensitive skin below his jaw. “You’re mine. ”

Pedri’s breath caught in his throat, the weight of Gavi’s words and his possessiveness both thrilling in the best possible way. He didn’t even care to argue. “I told you, I’m yours, only yours,” he breathed, his voice shaky but sincere. The pretty smile on Pablo’s lips was all worth it.

The canarian’s heart was still pounding, both from the intensity of what had just happened and from the surge of emotions that followed. He pressed his forehead against Gavi’s, their breath mingling in the quiet space of the closet, trying to gather himself.

"Are we going to talk about it? About us ?" Pedri’s voice came out softer than he intended, vulnerability creeping into his tone as his hand rested on Gavi’s chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath. “We can’t pretend nothing happened, this doesn’t fix anything”

Gavi pulled back slightly, his eyes searching Pedri’s face, a flicker of hesitation and hurt crossing his features. He wanted to talk, he really did want to figure everything out, but especially, he wanted to have Pedri back in his arms again. “I have a check-up with Félix in ten minutes,” he murmured, his voice apologetic. “But… tomorrow, after practice. I promise, we’ll talk.”

Pedri nodded, trying to push down the disappointment that rose in his chest. He understood — this was important, Gavi’s health was important, especially when he was so close to being back. Still, it didn’t stop the anxiety from burning in his chest "Okay," he whispered, "Tomorrow, then.”

As Gavi leaned in to kiss him goodbye, Pedri instinctively shifted, just enough for Gavi’s lips to land on his cheek instead of his mouth. It was a subtle movement, but the look of hurt that flashed across Gavi’s face was unmistakable.

“Pedri…” Gavi’s voice wavered, the disappointment clear in his eyes.

Pedri swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at him as he took a small step back, creating a bit of distance between them. "I just... I think we should talk first," he said softly, not wanting to hurt him further but knowing he couldn’t let the moment cloud their unresolved fight. "Maybe... maybe this isn’t a good idea right now."

Gavi’s face fell, his eyes flickering with pain, but he nodded slowly. “Yeah, I get it. I just thought…” He trailed off, shaking his head as if trying to brush off the sting. “Tomorrow , we’ll talk.”

Pedri’s heart clenched, wanting to reach out and comfort him, but he held back. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

The next morning, Gavi’s whole body was buzzing. During his appointment with Félix, the physio had told him that he could train with the whole group since that day, giving that he should start adapting into the new playing scheme they were trying in this season. He couldn’t be any more excited. Not only because his return date was closer than ever, but because he could finally come back to the pitch along with his friends — especially, along with Pedri.

As Gavi stepped onto the training field, a sense of euphoria washed over him. The moment his boots hit the grass, it felt like home again. His friends swarmed him, wrapping him in hugs, clapping him on the back, and showering him with words of encouragement. Jules had thrown an arm around his shoulders, and even Pau had run to hug him with a grin on his face, welcoming him back. It felt like he was being embraced by a family he hadn’t seen in ages.

But as Gavi looked around the field, a nagging absence made his heart sink. Pedri wasn’t there.

He tried to shake off the uneasy feeling, focusing on the drills — trying to impress their new coach — but every glance toward the sidelines or the locker room entrance reminded him of the empty space where Pedri should be. He had expected to see him the moment he arrived, to share this long-awaited moment with the one person who had been through the hardest parts of his recovery alongside him.

As the session continued, Gavi’s excitement dimmed, replaced by a creeping sense of disappointment. Pedri had promised they’d talk, that they’d figure things out. But now, it felt like Pedri wasn’t just avoiding the conversation — he was avoiding him .

What if Pedri regretted what happened yesterday?

The question hit him like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, everything felt heavier. The way Pedri had pulled back when he tried to kiss him last night… the way he’d said they should talk first. Gavi had tried to brush it off at the time, but now, under the weight of Pedri’s absence, it was impossible to ignore.

Maybe Pedri had realized it was a mistake. Maybe he didn’t want to go back to how things were, not after everything that had happened between them.

Gavi's chest tightened, his movements becoming sluggish. What if the silence wasn’t just because Pedri needed space — what if it was because he didn’t want Gavi at all anymore?

The thought was like a stone in his stomach, and for the first time since stepping on the field, Gavi felt like he was drowning. All the warmth and love from his teammates suddenly felt hollow without Pedri beside him, and the celebration of his return felt incomplete.

What if yesterday was just… the last time?

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

Gavi’s chest tightened as the thoughts spiraled in his head, making it hard to breathe. He was supposed to feel joy today, a celebration of his return to the pitch. But all he could think about was Pedri — and the gnawing fear that maybe he didn’t want him anymore.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

He repeated it like a mantra, trying to hold himself together, when suddenly Ferran’s playful hug from behind startled him.

“Gavito, all alright?” Ferran asked, his voice full of lightheartedness as he draped an arm over Gavi’s shoulder.

“Where’s Pedri?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual, but there was an edge of desperation that he couldn’t quite hide.

Ferran furrowed his brows slightly, surprised by the sudden question. “Not sure,” he shrugged. “He’s usually the first one here. Maybe he’s running late or he didn’t feel like coming.”

Gavi nodded, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. But it didn’t help. Pedri wasn’t like that. He never skipped training unless there was something serious.

“Give him a call, I’m sure there is a valid reason behind it.” the valencian added with a small smile, trying to offer some kind of confort, even if he knew that there was nothing normal about Pedri skipping practice “When he finds out he missed your first day back at group training, he will mop around for days because he wasn’t here. You know this Gavi, he adores you.”

Pablo forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I know, I guess” he murmured, trying to convince himself as much as Ferran. But the worry gnawed at him.

He pulled out his phone, fingers trembling slightly as he navigated to Pedri’s contact. What if he’s avoiding me? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t bear the idea of their moment together being the last.

After a few rings, he heard Pedri’s voicemail. Gavi clenched his jaw, feeling a rush of frustration and concern. “Come on, answer,” he whispered to himself. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“Gavi,” Ferran said softly, breaking him from his thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. He isn’t picking up, and he… we… Things are complicated between us right now” Gavi admitted, glancing down at his phone, still no response. “What if this means something?”

“Text him then,” Ferran’s expression shifted to one of understanding, he had been the one that Pedri had leaned on during that fight after all. “You two have been through a lot. Just talk to him when he shows up. I’m sure he’s just having a rough morning.”

Gavi nodded but couldn’t shake the unease tightening in his chest. He opened their text thread, his fingers hovering over the keyboard but anxious thoughts were going overdrive in his mind. One more suffocating than the other.

Gavi:

hey, where are u? we need to talk

He stared at the screen, waiting for the dots that would signal Pedri was typing back, but they never came.

Gavi:

is everything ok?

are we ok?

pedri?

His thumb hovered over the send button again, but he hesitated. How many times could he text before it became desperate?

Gavi:

im back at group training

i wanted to surprise u

“Hey,” Ferran’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts. “Give him some time, okay? He’ll respond when he checks his phone. He loves you, Pablo. Even if I tease you both about it, he is not capable of ignoring you.”

“But he has before,” Gavi muttered. “He ignored me for days.”

“That was different,” Ferran said softly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You were fighting.”

“And now? Are we not fighting anymore?” Gavi’s voice broke slightly, his frustration and hurt spilling over. Hooking up in a fucking storage closet doesn’t mean anything, at the end of the day, when he whispered I love you , he didn’t even get an answer back.

Ferran frowned, unsure of how to respond, but before he could say anything, the sound of the group being called together for training broke the tension.

“Focus on the good side of today, alright? We are all so happy that you are back, and you should be the happiest of us here” Ferran said gently, pulling him into a brief hug. “He’ll come around. You know him better than I do, and you know that he will.”

Gavi nodded numbly, but the ache in his chest didn't go away. Every second without a reply felt like a knife twisting deeper into his heart.

Training went better than Pablo had expected. Being back on the pitch with his teammates filled him with a sense of normalcy that he hadn’t felt in almost a year. The warm hugs and excited greetings from everyone boosted his spirits, and for a while, he managed to focus on the drills and exercises. He was home again, back where he belonged. But as the session wore on, his thoughts kept drifting to Pedri. Each passing minute without a response gnawed at him, turning his earlier excitement into quiet worry. By the end of training, the weight of Pedri’s absence hung over him like a dark cloud — resentment sinking on his body for the fact that the canarian had somehow managed to bring sadness into a day that should’ve been pure and absolute happiness.

As the players began heading off the field, Ferran lagged behind, casting a glance at Gavi, who was clearly trying not to let his disappointment show. Just as he was about to head to the showers himself, he spotted Pedri jogging towards the training facility, a frantic look on his face.

“Pedri!” Ferran called, his voice sharper than he intended. Pedri, who hadn’t noticed him at first, looked up, a confused expression crossing his features.

“Ferran, hey—” Pedri started, breathless.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” Ferran interrupted, crossing his arms. “Where the hell were you, man? Gavi’s been freaking out all morning. He’s been texting you nonstop.”

Pedri’s eyes widened in realization. “Shit,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I forgot I had a physio check-up this morning, and I woke up late. I didn’t even bring my phone with me — I left it at home.”

Ferran’s brows knitted together, his frustration giving way to understanding but still laced with annoyance. “He thinks you’re avoiding him. I don’t know what the hell happened yesterday but he seems pretty upset because of it. And now that he’s back at training with the group and you weren’t there…” He paused, exhaling. “He’s spiraling, Pedri.”

As Ferran’s words sunk in, Pedri’s heart clenched. He’s back at training? The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. This was supposed to be one of the biggest moments for Gavi, his first day back with the team after months of recovery, and Pedri had missed it.

The knot in his stomach tightened as the weight of what he had missed settled in. I wasn’t there for him.

“And even if he was happy most of the time… well man, you probably have noticed. He doesn’t look good.” the valencian continued. “He has been trying to hide it for a while now; he is better physically, of course, but everyone can tell something’s off. He misses you”

The image of Gavi, looking around for him, expecting Pedri to be there and finding only empty space, gnawed at his heart. He had promised himself he’d be there for Gavi when he returned, and yet, when it mattered most, he hadn’t shown up.

“I missed it,” Pedri whispered, more to himself than to Ferran, his voice thick with guilt. “I missed him being back with the group.”

Ferran’s expression softened, seeing the way Pedri’s shoulders slumped. “He’ll understand, hermano . Just talk to him, alright? He needs to know you didn’t do this on purpose.”

But Pedri couldn’t shake the ache in his chest. He had wanted to be the first to welcome Gavi back, to be there for the moment Gavi had worked so hard for. More than anything, he had hoped that today would be the day they could finally fix things between them — put the fight and distance behind them. He had imagined being by Gavi’s side, showing him how proud he was, and maybe even having Pablo in his arms again, with everything finally feeling right.

Instead, he had let him down.

“I need to find him,” Pedri murmured, his voice laced with desperation as he bolted toward the exit.

The canarian didn't waste another moment. As soon as he reached the parking lot, he fumbled with his keys, heart racing as he slid into his car. The streets blurred past him, his mind consumed with the thought of Gavi being alone, hurt, and thinking the worst. He didn’t deserve any of it — even when he was at the peak of his anger towards Pablo, he hated to even consider the fact that the younger boy could be sad and alone. It was Pedri’s worst fear, and the fact that he was the reason for it only made it a hundred times worse.

When he finally pulled up to Gavi’s place, — a place that brought him a lot of memories from their first months of friendship, where neither of them were brave or mature enough to pursue a relationship — he barely put the car in park before rushing to the door. His hands were shaking as he knocked, each second that passed feeling like an eternity. When there was no answer, his anxiety spiked, so he knocked again.

“Pablo, it’s me. Open the door.” His voice was soft, but there was an unmistakable edge of desperation to it. Still nothing.

Pedri cursed under his breath, pressing his forehead against the cool wood of the door. “ Por favor, Gavi… let me in. We need to talk.”

Why wasn’t he answering the door?

His mind raced back to the countless times he’d stood outside this very door, back when they were just friends and maybe something more — picking up Gavi before practice, teaching him how to cook simple meals so he didn’t starve, the first night they spent together as a couple. Then, it hit him. He still had a spare key. He fumbled in his pocket for his keychain, finding the familiar metal key with the initials “PG” written in Pablo’s messy handwriting, and without hesitating, he slid it into the lock, heart pounding.

The door creaked open, and the apartment was eerily quiet. Pedri stepped inside cautiously, calling out, “Pablo?” His voice echoed off the walls, but there was no response.

His stomach churned as he made his way down the hall, towards Gavi’s room. Something was off — he could feel it. When he pushed open the door to Gavi’s bedroom, his heart sank.

Gavi was sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over, trembling uncontrollably. His face was pale, his eyes wide and unfocused, staring at the floor as if it was the only thing holding him together. His hands were gripping his hair, tugging at the strands as his chest rose and fell in uneven, panicked breaths.

Without thinking, Pedri rushed over, his voice soft but urgent. “Pablo, hey Gavi, I’m here. I’m here.”

Gavi didn’t respond, didn’t even seem to register that Pedri was there, his body still shaking as he gasped for air.

Pedri’s chest ached, seeing him like this, a phase he had overcome weeks if not months ago. In the first step of his recovery journey he was barely able to deal with his own brain, Gavi had gone through a handful of panic attacks until he was capable of handling them, always with Pedri’s help. But now he hadn’t been there.

Again, he hadn’t been there when Pablo needed him the most.

Gently, he climbed onto the bed, moving to sit on Gavi’s lap, his legs straddling the younger boy’s thighs as he wrapped his arms around him, pulling Gavi’s face against his chest. His touch was firm, reassuring, as he cradled Gavi’s head in his hands, whispering softly, “I’m here. Breathe with me, Pablo. Just focus on me.”

He could feel the younger boy’s body trembling beneath him, the way his breaths came out in sharp, jagged gasps. Pedri pressed his forehead to Gavi’s, grounding him, his fingers brushing soothingly through his hair as he murmured, “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe. Just breathe.”

Gavi’s arms wrapped around Pedri’s waist instinctively, clinging to him like a lifeline as if he was afraid to let go. His breathing was still shaky, but Pedri kept murmuring soft reassurances, his voice low and steady.

“Shh, love, breathe. It’s okay… just talk to me,” Pedri whispered, brushing his lips against Gavi’s temple.

“I thought I lost you,” Gavi whispered, his voice breaking. Pedri pulled back slightly, his eyes searching Gavi’s tear-streaked face, confused.

Pedri’s chest tightened at the heartbreaking sight in front of him. “What? Pablo…”

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re right, you know your limits and I shouldn’t be the one to tell you what to do,” Gavi’s words tumbled out, a flood of guilt and regret. “I just… I’m so sorry.”

“Sweetheart…” the canarian began, his voice soft, but Gavi cut him off.

“Please, Pedri, just… Please don’t tell me this is over. I can’t lose you,” Gavi’s voice cracked, his grip tightening on Pedri as if he was afraid he might disappear.

Pedri felt his chest tighten as Gavi’s words hung in the air, filled with raw emotion. The desperation in his voice, the way he clung to him, it all made Pedri realize just how much damage their fight had caused. But what truly broke Pedri was the understanding that none of it had to happen. The jealousy, the arguments, the silence—they had let their pride and insecurities cloud what truly mattered: each other. He had let his frustration push Gavi away, and Gavi had done the same, both too stubborn to admit how much they still needed one another.

In the grand scheme of things, their love should have outweighed every petty disagreement. What should have mattered was that they were together, that they still loved each other, and that they could have found a way through it all without tearing themselves apart.

Pedri closed his eyes, taking a steadying breath before pulling Gavi even closer. “Of course it’s not over, Pablo,” he whispered, his voice soft but firm. “I’m not going anywhere, I love you.” He pressed a kiss to Gavi’s cheek, his fingers still running soothingly through his hair. “I’m sorry too. We both messed up. I should’ve been there for you today, I should’ve listened, and we should’ve talked instead of letting things get this bad.” He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into Gavi’s eyes, their foreheads still touching.

“It’s not your fault” the sevillian murmured, hiding his face on Pedri’s neck before he pressed a soft kiss. Savoring the fact that somehow he had managed to have the older boy back in his arms as air finally started to fill his lungs once again. The older boy was touching him with so much love and care that nothing else seemd to matter anymore.

“It is,” Pedri sighed softly, his heart heavy as he gently cradled Gavi in his arms. “But it is your fault too. We were both in the wrong.”

Pablo stiffened slightly in his hold, but Pedri’s touch was gentle, reassuring. “We really need to talk,” Pedri said softly, his thumb brushing along Gavi’s jaw as he tilted the younger boy’s head to meet his eyes.

Gavi nodded, his expression still vulnerable. “Yeah, we do,” he whispered. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“And I don’t want to hurt you either,” Pedri replied, pressing his forehead against Gavi’s once more. “But we have to figure out how to stop doing this to each other. We can’t just push things aside or let them explode like they did.”

“I was just worried. I’m not trying to justify it, not anymore. But the only reason I even asked for you to rest — even if it doesn’t matter anymore — is because I don’t want you to get hurt.” Gavi’s voice was soft, almost pleading as he clung to Pedri a little tighter. “I just… I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you after everything you have already had to bear.”

“I know,” he whispered, brushing a hand through Gavi’s hair. “I know you’re just looking out for me, but it’s hard for me too. I want to be strong, to show that I can handle things. But maybe I should have listened instead of shutting you out. What I did to you…it wasn't fair.”

“I didn’t mean to push you,” Gavi muttered, guilt lacing his words. “I was just scared. I shouldn’t have left, even if you asked me to.”

“I shouldn’t have asked you to leave in the first place. I was angry, frustrated... but I never should’ve pushed you away like that. I hate that I hurt you.”

Gavi’s fingers tightened on Pedri’s shirt, his voice trembling. “I didn’t want to leave. I just thought… you needed space, and I didn’t want to make it worse. And I said some things that I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry for that too. The last thing I want to do is make you think that I don’t trust you”

Pedri shook his head softly, his eyes filled with remorse. “I did need space, after the fight I did hate you for what you said, at least I hated what you implied. But none of that mattered if that meant I had to lose you.”

“You would never lose me, I thought we had made that quite clear”

Pedri’s breath hitched at Gavi’s words, and without another thought, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Gavi’s lips tilted a little bit, his breath steading a bit as the thoughts running through his head seemed to quiet down a little bit, “I’m sorry too.”

There was nothing else that needed to be said. At that moment, they both understood. The arguments, the anger, the hurt — it all melted away as they held each other. Slowly, Pedri pulled Gavi back onto the bed, wrapping him securely in his arms, Gavi’s head resting against his chest.

“Feeling better?” the canarian asked, the worry of seeing Pablo in such a vulnerable state still nugging his brain.

“Yeah” Gavi answered as he rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands, trying to ground himself “I don’t know what happened. It was like my brain was short circuiting, and not in a good way. It reminded me…well, you know”

“I’m sorry I put you though that, I should’ve been there today”

“It’s not just about today. It’s everything, you know? The fight, the way I’ve been feeling… it all just caught up to me.” Gavi shook his head before shifting on the bed until he was able to see Pedri in the eyes. “I wish you would’ve been there today though, I missed you”

“I wish I had been there for you. God, I can’t believe I missed it. I forgot I had a physio thing and I left my phone at home. I know I did ignore you for a while, and that’s on me, but I couldn’t do that to you again, especially not after what happened yesterday. I missed you too, Gav.”

“I thought you had regretted what happened and…dunno, just didn’t feel like talking to me anymore,” the younger replied with a bitter laugh, as if he was trying to mask the pain he had felt earlier that day when the weight of Pedri’s absence made his eyes sting.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, and you know that, Pablo,” Pedri added softly, feeling a twinge of hurt from Gavi’s words. But he couldn’t blame him. He had pushed the boy away, ignoring him until everything reached a breaking point. It was understandable that Gavi had felt like this — after all, Pedri had practically shown him otherwise for weeks.

Gavi could have responded sharply, he could have made Pedri feel the pain he had been bottling up for so long. It would’ve been easy to point out how Pedri’s actions had said differently for weeks, how he had broken his heart over and over again. Part of him even wanted to, just to make Pedri feel even a fraction of the hurt he had felt.

But as he looked at Pedri, seeing the remorse and worry in his eyes, he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to shatter the fragile peace they were trying to rebuild. The love between them was too strong, too precious to risk breaking it again.

“I know,” Gavi whispered after a moment, his voice softer now, as he reached up to touch Pedri’s cheek. “It’s just… it hurt, you know? Not having you there today. But we’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

“I love you,” Pedri leaned into Gavi’s touch, nodding. “Sorry I didn’t say it back yesterday, and you best believe I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you too,” Gavi exhaled slowly, resting his head against Pedri’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath him. They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the weight of their worries fade as they simply held on to one another.

They both knew they needed to have a deeper conversation about everything — the fight, their insecurities, and the strain that had somehow built up between them. But right now, words weren’t necessary. What mattered most was that they were here, together, finding comfort in each other’s presence after weeks of being mutually miserable.

Without another word, Gavi shifted them both onto the bed, pulling Pedri onto his lap as they lay back against the pillows. The elder let out a sigh, burying his face into the crook of Pablo’s neck, feeling safe in his arms. They didn’t need to talk about their mistakes or the pain they had caused each other. Not right now.

They simply lay there, holding each other, breathing in sync as the tension slowly melted away. For now, all that mattered was that they were together.

Everything else could wait.

I remember who I am

when I'm with you

your love is tough

your love is tried and true blue