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you’re wearing his kit pt. 2 | pg8

summary: pedri and y/n go public with their relationship and it doesn't take long before the media digs up her past with another barcelona player whose name happens to be on the back of her kit in one photo

pairing: pedri x reader ft. platonic!gavi

warnings: angst, fluff, language

a:n: here’s part two to you’re wearing his kit! it's been sitting in my drafts for FAR too long bc i couldn't figure out the ending, but i’m so excited to see what u think. it’s a lot. in every way. 6k words from my family to yours. enjoy!!

*******

"You're not Aurora," you say, frowning. The person on the other side of the threshold gives a small smile. He inclines his head a little as if he was caught in the act and stares at you almost shyly through his lashes.

"Sorry to disappoint. Some people say we have the same nose if that's any consolation."

You lean against the door frame and arch an eyebrow. "You do not have the same nose."

He tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shrugs. "I don’t see it either but it’s what they say."

"Well, if that’s what they say," you drawl and cross your arms in front of your chest. You both fall silent, glancing around awkwardly as you wait for the other person to speak first. To no one’s surprise, it ends up being you.

"Pablo?"

He meets your gaze with a questioning look.

"What are you doing here?"

He fiddles with his sleeves and shifts his weight from one leg to the other, practically squirming.

"And where's your sister?" You glance behind him. "She said she would pick me up at noon. It’s 12:30 and you’re obviously not her."

"No," he says, "but the nose—"

"Gavi."

He loosens a breath. "I wanted to talk to you, but you didn’t return any of my calls or texts. You even ignored the spam mails I sent you." He narrows his eyes accusingly. "I expected better from my mystery lover."

You make a face. "Mystery lover?"

"One of the nicknames the press calls you." He grins. "I also like Gavi's Kitmate and Number-Swapping Seductress. But my favourite is the Jersey Juggler. It's hilarious."

"It's mortifying," you say, sounding as exasperated as you feel.

Grimacing, you push yourself off the door frame and consider the brown-haired boy before you. He keeps fidgeting and it’s starting to make you feel nervous as well. You sigh. “Fine,” you say, nudging the door open with your foot. "Come in."

Gavi's eyebrows shoot up. He’s quick to enter your flat without question, kicking off his shoes and tailing you into the kitchen where he heads straight for the fridge.

"I'm glad you let me in." He scans the content and picks up a container with leftovers to smell it. "Your neighbours probably thought I was harassing you." He puts the lid back on with a grimace and rummages through the rest of your food.

"You were harassing me," you say, hopping onto the kitchen counter next to the fridge. You watch him pop a grape into his mouth before taking out the entire bowl and two water bottles. He places one of them next to your legs, which are propped on the kitchen island, then sits on it and opens the other bottle to take a sip.

"So," Gavi says, balancing the bowl of grapes on his legs as he settles his feet beside you on the counter. "How have you been?"

Your head falls back against the cupboard and you stare up at the ceiling. "I was looking forward to seeing Aurora again. We wanted to grab some food before our flight later, but you know how that worked out."

Gavi hums. "You know, it still weirds me out that you're friends with my sister when I knew you first."

Your lips twitch. "You're aware we can have other friends besides each other, right?"

"Have some faith." He snorts. "I’m fully aware that you're dating my best friend and teammate."

His eyes widen.

He clamps his mouth into a thin line and shifts awkwardly. "Sorry," he mutters. "I wanted to ease into that a lot smoother but, er, yeah. I don’t think it worked."

"It's fine," you say half-heartedly, choosing to ignore how your chest rapidly fills with anxiety. "I appreciate the effort."

"How have you been dealing with that?" He twists the bottle between his palms, looking at you carefully. You really do appreciate how he powers through this. Gavi has never been much of a talker. If it was up to him, he would rather just give you a hug and offer you gum.

Still, you can't bring yourself to meet his effort with an answer, so you raise your shoulder in a weak shrug. There's not much that comes to mind. These past few days have bled into each other until all you can recall are tear-stained pillows and stuffing almost everything you own into a box in your closet because they remind you of Pedri.

"I haven't really dealt with it, I guess."

"You haven't?" Gavi looks surprised.

"No." You frown, staring at your socks. "I don't even know what’s left to deal with."

You hate how fragile you sound. You especially hate how every word holds some truth that you’ve been avoiding with every fibre in your body. The uncertainty is crushing you. There is no more of the anger and frustration that gripped each nerve of yours after you had left Pedri's flat.

It only flared up again when you saw the video of him accepting the girl's number. For days, all you could see was red. You felt betrayed and hurt. God, so hurt. You haven't let yourself truly think about it because the moment you do, it will turn into grief and that's the last thing you want.

You know grief is just love that no longer has a place to go, but you don’t want to carry that with you. You won't mourn anything yet. Not before someone calls an end to this relationship. That's the least Pedri can do.

"I don't know what happened between you, but I can piece it together seeing how he hasn't talked to me in days. Hasn't talked much to anyone during practice, to be honest. He also keeps losing every rondo." He scratches his jaw in deep thought. "I didn't even know that was possible for a midfielder. He also looks like shit if that makes you feel any better."

It doesn't, you think miserably to yourself. You shake your head. "I’d hate for him to play badly because of me. I still want Spain to win tomorrow, you know.” You knock your legs into his with a small smile. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be in Málaga?”

Gavi bumps his legs into yours as well. “Ansu’s covering for me. They probably think I’m in my hotel room, resting like a saint.”

“You’re insane,” you say because he is. “Aurora knows?”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Knows that I’m insane? Hopefully. I’ve got it from her.” You roll your eyes and stretch out your hand, asking for some grapes. He dumps a few in your palm. “She knows I’m here, yes. I’m actually here to pick you up for your flight. She’s already in Málaga.”

“What?” The grape nearly falls out of your mouth. “Why?”

Gavi shrugs. “Didn’t say, but she probably knew that you needed someone to talk to and that it should probably be me.”

“That’s betrayal,” you say, completely fond of her.

He hums. “She also wanted to make sure that you still come to the match and she knew you could never say no to me.”

“That’s not true,” you sputter, although it is, sadly, very true.

Gavi knows that as well, so he just grins like the idiot he is. His smile lingers and for a moment, you’re just looking at each other.

Beach strolls in the winter and kicking a ball around on a random pitch at midnight come to mind when you look at the familiar brown of his eyes. You’re grateful to have a friend like him. His presence is comforting. But it doesn’t take long for the air to grow thick. His gaze drifts to his lap.

“Remind me again why we were never together,” he says jokingly, but his voice is gentle and earnest and it doesn’t quite feel like he’s teasing.

You let the last grape roll around in your palm as you think about his question. “We went on one date and it was the most awful thing that ever happened to us.”

“Right.” Gavi chuckles, delighted by the memory of you two sitting in a stuffy restaurant, talking about things that you already knew about each other.

You laugh softly. “We were awkward, bored, and sick of each other after 10 minutes. At some point, I considered climbing out the window while you ripped every napkin they gave you to shreds because you couldn’t stop fidgeting. So we just promised to stay friends. Very wise decision.”

“Wise beyond our years,” Gavi agrees. “No offence, but I nearly puked that night from how wrong it felt to be on a date with you. If I learned anything, it’s that some people are just meant to be friends.”

You nod, smiling easily. “At least we got that part down.”

He winks and offers you another handful of grapes. “We make a good pair. Completely platonic pair.”

You hum supportively and pick at your grapes. You sit in comfortable silence as you eat. Then he clears his throat and you find him already looking at you.

“It is, right?” He asks carefully, adjusting the bowl in his lap. “Completely platonic, I mean.”

You blink at him. “Are you joking?”

“I–“ He clears his throat again. “I’m just wondering.”

“Oh my God, Gavi.” You stare at him in disbelief before aiming a grape at his face. He swats it away. Couldn’t even have the decency to let it hit him.

“Of course, it’s completely platonic! I haven’t felt anything for you since that cursed day.” He nods to himself and exhales in relief, prompting you to narrow your eyes. “Except maybe disgust and intense dislike like right now. I can’t believe you asked me that when I have a boyfriend.”

“Sorry, I was just—” He holds up his hands when you chuck another grape at him. It bounces off his chest. “I just needed to make sure we’re on the same page here because someone clearly thinks we aren’t. Again, I have no idea what happened. I’m just here to feed you and get you on a plane.”

"Not doing the best job, are you?" You hold up the grapes and fix him with a look.

“We'll get something to eat on our way there.” He shrugs and sets the bowl aside, running a hand through his hair multiple times, obviously wanting to say more. Gavi’s eyes drift to the ceiling. He closes them with an exhale.

"I just need to know that you weren't fighting because of me. I really did like you for some time, Y/N, and I know it was reciprocated, but that was a long time ago and before we realised we'd never be anything more than friends. When Pedri asked you to be his girlfriend, I saw how happy he made you and I just knew no one would ever come between you. I'd really, really hate for that person to be me.”

You gawk at him. This is the most honest and rambly you have ever heard him, and you can't put into words how much that means to you. But you won't even have to do that because the great thing about Pablo Páez Gavira is that you don't need words to talk.

All you have to do is slide down the counter and sit beside him on the kitchen island. You lay your head on his shoulder and feel him wrap an arm around you, squeezing once before letting go.

"It wasn't your fault," you say quietly into the room, prompting Gavi to glance at you. "You did nothing wrong. Pedri just...there are some things we need to talk about, but we'll be fine, I think." You cringe inwardly at how unsure you sound. Gavi arches his brows in a way that tells you he heard it too.

He knocks his shoulder into yours and cracks a smile. "Very convincing. Now tell me what happened because I can't think of any more ways to make you understand that I don't know—"

"What happened. Got it," you say, rolling your eyes playfully. It wasn't your intention to keep this from Gavi. It's just that you haven't told anyone anything yet. In retrospect, you haven't really spoken much at all these past few days. So when you do, it feels relieving. The words simply tumble out of your mouth without any order or purpose, and you let them carry you through the events that took place almost two weeks ago.

How Pedri posted a beach selfie of you grinning into the camera with him sitting behind, arms wrapped around you and pressing a kiss into your shoulder. How he tagged you in the photo and threw his phone across the room in a panic only to walk back over to delete the app and turn off all notifications before pulling you close by the waist, spinning around the room, laughing. How liberating, nerve-wracking, and terrifying it felt to have the world know of something so precious and lovely and only meant for you two.

You don't realise you've been smiling the entire time until your face gradually drops and you start talking about the moment where everything went wrong.

How you wanted to scream and rip your hair out when Pedri and Fer looked at you like you were a stranger, but you still had no clue what had happened. How you felt betrayed and hurt that your own boyfriend didn't trust you and never gave you the chance to explain, making you feel helpless because you saw how hurt he was, but there was nothing you could do except let him try to inflict the same pain by flinging words at you that still clawed holes into your chest.

By the time you're done, Gavi is visibly simmering and you have to call his name twice before he snaps out of it.

"I’ll talk to him," he promises, his voice unusually hard.

"Okay?" You say, taken aback. "And what are you going to say?”

-✩-

"You're a dickhead, you know that?" Gavi slams the door behind him. He locks it, then strides into the dressing room, stopping a few steps away from Pedri who's sitting on a bench and taking off his cleats, barely reacting to his teammate's entrance.

"Still not talking to me." Gavi huffs, throwing his hands in the air. "Of course, you aren't. And here I thought I got lucky after you knocked me over right in front of Xavi. A real gem you are, by the way."

Pedri keeps his gaze on his shoes as he unties them—or rather yanks on the laces with a lot more force than necessary. Gavi watches him manhandle his footwear a moment longer before his patience runs thin. He snatches the shoe from his hand and casts it aside.

Pedri's head snaps up. He narrows his eyes at him, then turns around to toss the other shoe into his locker. While going through his stuff, he shakes his head and mutters, "Unbelievable."

Gavi glares at the back of his head. He's got to be kidding. One word. That's all he gets after nearly two weeks of silence. One word mumbled under his breath. Oh, he really is a dickhead.

"What is?" Gavi snaps, sounding as irritated as he feels. "Just fucking talk to me. I'm so sick of—"

"You ran into me five times today!" Pedri cuts him off, spinning around. "Five times in a 40 min practice session. You know that’s insane, right?”

Gavi halts.

He didn't really expect to get a response. But now that he got one, he realises that he'll just have to do anything to keep him talking. Easy enough.

He shrugs. "So what?"

Pedri blinks violently. "What do you mean so what? You just kept barreling into me like a mad person. Jordi wouldn’t even leave my side anymore after you tackled me to the ground."

Gavi coughs to conceal his laughter. Perhaps he did overdo it. He waves him off. "It's football."

Pedri stares at him in disbelief. "You shoved me over during recovery."

"Yes, well." He shrugs again. "Serves you right."

Pedri gapes at him. Then, he rolls his eyes and goes back to looking for something. "I don't have time for this."

Gavi swears his eye twitches. If there's anything that pisses him off more than being ignored, it's being dismissed. Especially by a teammate and friend. Apparently, he'll just have to drop right into it.

"We need to talk," he says firmly. Pedri simply takes off his training kit and puts on a fresh shirt, apparently back to ignoring Gavi who is close to strangling him. "Why haven't you apologised to Y/N yet?" He continues, and that seems to get Pedri's attention.

He stops, hand hovering at his locker. Gavi can practically see his brain short-circuit as his shoulders grow rigid with tension.

"What?" Pedri asks, gaze fixed on the locker door.

"You were an asshole to her and I refuse to believe you don't know that," he says, eyeing Pedri as he winces and stares down at his feet. At least he’s reacting to it. Gavi loosens a breath and takes a step forward. "I know you and I know her—"

"Seems like it," Pedri mumbles before shutting his locker.

"Look," Gavi says, treading carefully, "she told me what happened and it's shitty of you not to believe her, but I swear that nothing ever happened between us. We’ve always just been friends and you know that. Those pictures are old and she's only wearing my kit in them because I gave it to her, but—"

"You gave it to her?" Pedri looks up with a frown.

Something about his demeanour shifts. Gavi isn’t sure why but he gets the distinct feeling that whatever is approaching is important to him. It's huge. He's just missing some information on what it is. Pedri continues, "So she didn't buy it. That's your actual kit that you gave her and she wore?"

"Well," Gavi scratches his cheek, still failing to see the point. "Yeah? I don't understand—"

"You told me once that you'd only give your kit to the girl who would be it for you," Pedri says, his voice growing quiet as the room falls silent.

Gavi stiffens. There it is.

"You thought it'd bring bad luck if you didn't give it to the person you know you’d want to see wearing it for the rest of your life.” Pedri’s gaze is hazy as he’s recounting the memory. “You said it to me last year.”

Gavi stares at him, feeling stupid for not having seen it coming. It's ridiculous how he got blindsided. His mind is loud—a stark contrast to the deafening silence. It rings in his ears. All it takes is one look at his face before Pedri drops to the bench with his head in his hands. "So it's true."

"Pedri."

"I know I messed up, okay?" He runs his hands over his face and through his hair. "I know it. The way she looked at me broke my fucking heart, and it's been killing me that I did that to her."

Gavi decides to take a hesitant step forward. Every conversation he's had today didn't go as planned, so he's not certain about anything anymore. Less than he usually is with words, anyway. But something tells him that his best friend is about to spill his guts. He wants to be there for him. So he sits beside him and waits.

"I tried to call her," Pedri goes on quietly, eyes still fixed on the ground. "But it was only once and she didn’t pick up. And even if she did, I still have no clue what to tell her. I mean—I believe her. Of course, I do. I would trust her with my life, but I'm just…" Pedri bites his lip, brows knitted.

He sighs. "It hurts. It fucking hurts to see her wear your name and number, not caring that everyone can see it. But when I asked her if she wanted to wear my kit to a game, she said no. Every time. She gave her reasons, and I understand and respect them; told her it was fine, but what you said just kept repeating in my head and I thought, here I've found the person I want to see wearing my kit for the rest of my life and she doesn't want it." He looks away and swallows.

Gavi's heart breaks for him.

"She wanted yours. And now I find out you wanted her to have it as well." Pedri shakes his head. He finally looks up and meets his gaze. "Well, fuck, I want her to be happy, don’t I?"

The look in his eyes is devastating. Gavi furrows his brows and wracks his brain for the right words. Any words, really.

"Hermano, this is a conversation you should be having with Y/N," he mutters more to himself than to Pedri. He rubs the back of his neck. “I did say all that, yes, but I wasn't thinking of it when I gave her my kit. She went to a few matches with Aurora and wanted to support me as a friend."

Gavi pauses to think about how he can best put into words what he's about to say. The last thing he wants is to kick a guy who's already on the ground.

"I think some part of me liked seeing her in my kit," he says, carefully. "I guess I got used to it. But I never imagined actually seeing her wear it for the rest of our lives because I just never felt anything that intense for her. It was just a crush. A temporary thing. And whatever my feelings were, they disappeared anyway after that date we went on. You know the one we told you about that was so bad, Y/N considered never speaking to me again? That one."

When Pedri doesn't respond, Gavi adds, "Look, I know for a fact that Y/N doesn't have any feelings for me either, and that's exactly how we want it and how it's supposed to be."

Pedri fiddles with the hem of his shorts. "What makes you so sure?"

"The way she looks at you," Gavi answers right away. "She never looked at me that way. Anyone who has spent less than a minute with her knows she's in love with you."

Pedri stops fidgeting and Gavi swears he can see him blush. Finally, he meets his gaze. "I’m in love with her too."

"Of course, you are."

"I'm terrified."

Gavi can't help but snort. "Are you?"

Pedri's brows draw together.

"When you think of her, what do you feel?" He gives him a knowing look. "Because I don't think it's fear. And I think you know that as well. Don't lose her over this, Pedri. Don't lose her ever but especially not over this. You're good for each other."

Gavi is almost relieved to see him ponder his words. Gradually, his face clears and there's a small sparkle in his eyes that Gavi recognises from when Pedri sees an opportunity during a match. A space that holds endless potential and no matter what, he can't help but rush towards it. He can't even count how many times he has caught Pedri looking at you like that.

"I want her to be happy." He says it with so much conviction and finality that Gavi doesn't feel like it needs an answer.

"She is happy," he insists anyway and adds, "With you." Because he really is Cupid himself today.

Pedri nods, absent-minded, and rises to his feet to pace the room as he mumbles numbers to himself. Gavi watches in amusement as he gestures around, counting off things he's going to say and do. Finally, he comes to a halt and turns around, eyes twinkling.

"It takes less than two hours to get to Barcelona, right? If I leave now, I can make it back by 4. That's still 5 hours of sleep. It will only work if there's a flight leaving right now, but I'll make it. I have to. I'll probably be late for morning practice and it'll likely just be 4 hours of sleep, but it's fine because Norway—"

"Okay!" Gavi stands up, helplessly grinning. "None of that will be necessary."

Pedri frowns. "But I need to see her before the match or I’ll explode or score an own goal because my head’s a mess."

"That'd be embarrassing," Gavi says. "Especially in front of Y/N."

"What?" Pedri slowly shakes his head as if Gavi is the one who doesn’t understand. "I'm lucky if she'll ever want to see me again. I don't think she'll come all the way out here to watch a match if I'm playing in it. She wouldn’t."

"You're not wrong." Gavi chuckles. "But she promised Aurora she'll go with her to the game since my parents can't."

Pedri blinks, mouth opening and closing. "Oh."

"Exactly." Gavi’s cheeks hurt from how much he's smiling. "She's in Màlaga. Hotel room probably."

"Is it—"

"Yeah."

Pedri dashes off. Only to trip over his discarded shoe and go flailing to the ground. Gavi wheezes with laughter as he helps him up.

"My bad," he chokes out but Pedri barely even hears it, already out the door.

-✩-

"Oh," you say, staring at the hunched-over figure that just knocked on your door like the hotel was on fire and you were all going to die. "You're not Aurora either."

Pedri looks up and blinks through the sweat dripping from his forehead, gasping for air. "Huh?"

"Nothing," you mumble to yourself, "just mourning the fact that I'll apparently never see my friend again." You shake your head and shift on the spot. Pedri is still breathing heavily, hands resting on his knees and staring at you with a dazed look on his face.

His face is flushed the way it is when he plays football and somehow that just seems especially cruel. Your mind is still trying to grasp that Pedri is standing in front of you. Here. Right at your door. You were actually delusional enough to think that you’d somehow be able to avoid him.

Now, all you can think about is how the pink of his cheeks brings out his cheekbones and how his damp hair curls at the front and clings to his forehead. He looks really, really lovely.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to look away. That seems to shake him out of whatever stupor he was in as well.

"Alright," he stammers, nodding supportively although he has no idea what you're talking about. "I'm sure she'll come around."

Your lips twitch and Pedri's gaze drops almost reflexively. You can't help but look to the side, running a hand up your arm as he clears his throat.

"Sorry, er, I...actually don't know what to say." He straightens and rubs the back of his neck as though it just dawned on him. He smiles sheepishly. "All I could think about on my way here was that you're in Màlaga and how happy I was that you came because I am—happy about it, I mean. I should've thought about what I wanted to say because now I'm just rambling like an idiot but I'm just—I'm so happy. That you’re here. I'm really happy you're here."

You nod hesitantly, not sure how to respond. For some reason, you feel the need to say, "I'm here because of Aurora. She asked me to go to the match with her tomorrow."

Pedri's eyes flickers between yours before they widen. "Oh no, yeah, I know. I knew that. I wouldn't have assumed—I didn't think you came because of me."

You nod again. "Okay."

He looks around the hallway, apparently keen on basking in the awkwardness before his eyes meet yours, seeming almost shy. "Hey, er, can we talk?"

Something inside you rips. The emotional whiplash almost cuts off your airways. You feel blissfully relieved because, yes, of course, we can talk. Always. You've been waiting for this moment. You want this. But the other half is prickling with dread and anxiety about how this talk will end. You have the willpower of a divine being when you force yourself to answer with a steady voice.

"Sure."

God, you're strong. So strong.

Giving you a small smile, Pedri makes to enter your hotel room, but you shake your head and step forward, pulling the door close by a centimetre. "No, not in there."

Pedri steps back robotically, looking puzzled as he glances behind you through the crack of the door. "Er, okay, that's fine. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, it’s just—" You gesture aimlessly as if that would make him understand. "I just have to stay here for two more nights and depending on how this will go, I won't be able to put it all into a box. Since it's not my stuff," you add after a beat although that seems to only confuse him more.

"I'm sorry—what box?"

You wave him off and turn to grab the keycard before closing the door. "Doesn't matter. Do you know another place?"

Pedri blinks a few times. You can see him cast another confused look at the door before nodding. "Yeah, I know a place. Come on, I’ll show you."

He holds out his hand.

You look at it.

Before you can react, Pedri curses under his breath and retracts his hand, running it through his hair instead. "Sorry. Habit," he mutters, then turns around briskly, starting down the hall.

You follow without a word, not saying anything about how the tips of his ears are burning red. Or how he's walking around in training shorts and socks. You don't comment on his shirt that is inside out either.

You just keep your gaze ahead and focus on your heartbeat as it pounds like crazy. You barely even notice that you've arrived if it weren’t for the gust of wind that leaves a trail of goosebumps on your arms.

"The rooftop," you say, looking around. "Planning to push me off?"

"If you wish," he says. The ghost of a grin blooms on his lips. The wind blows again and you reflexively take a step forward to escape the cold. Distractedly, Pedri comes closer as well, his eyes on the sky above. "I don't think it's going to rain, but we can go inside if you want."

"I'm fine," you say, letting your gaze drift around. "The view is stunning."

"So are—" Pedri coughs. "So are the clouds."

"Hm?" You look up. "Oh yeah, they're pretty." A soft smile settles on your lips as you squint at the clouds, trying to make out any shapes. You can feel his eyes on you, and you try very hard not to think about how that makes you feel.

"Do you want to sit?" He eventually asks in a gentle tone. You tear your gaze away and nod, following him to the edge of the roof.

"So," Pedri starts once you're sat beside each other, legs dangling above the streets below. "I'm a dickhead."

"No, you're not," you mumble, eyes set on the view ahead. "It takes a lot to be a dickhead. You're just an idiot."

He gives a quiet laugh. "I'm serious."

"I thought you were a dickhead."

"I can be both," he says, gaze still locked onto the side of your face. "Look, I want to apologise—which I should've done weeks ago."

You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze, but he doesn't seem to mind. "I know it wasn't fair of me to say those awful things to you and then not let you explain, but I did it anyway and I have never regretted anything more. I hate that I wanted to hurt you. And I really hate that I'm capable of it, but I need you to know that I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry."

You let his words linger between you. Taking a deep breath, you shift your gaze. The look in his eyes almost catches you off-guard. It's sincere and bare.

"You don't have to accept my apology right now," he goes on, "but I know a lot of things were left unsaid that day, so you can say them now and I'll listen. Yell at me if you want. Honestly, shove me off this building, I won't judge."

A smile tugs on your lips.

"Can't kill you now," you say, "still got a game to play." The corners of his eyes crinkle as he chuckles. You missed that sound. Pulling your legs up to your chest, you lean your cheek on your knee and lose yourself in his eyes. For a moment, it's quiet. There are cars below and birds above, but there's also quiet. Serene. Softly, you say, "You really hurt me, Pedro."

He nods slightly and adjusts his body so that he's fully facing you.

"I've never seen you get so mad before," you continue. "You barely lose your temper when you get a yellow card, but you did over those pictures and I just don't understand." You shake your head. "I know you get jealous sometimes but not like that. Not over Gavi. I've told you everything you wanted to know about our friendship, and you said you didn't mind any of it. You said you liked how close we are and that you trusted me."

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I want to know why you stopped. I know there's more to it than just me wearing Gavi's kit and I've been trying to figure it out every day because I keep thinking it must be something big and awful in order for you to just leave me." Your voice cracks. Your vision blurs and in the back of your mind, you know you're tipping over and you should probably reel it back but honestly? You don't want to.

"I want to accept your apology, I really do. I missed you so much, Pedri. So fucking much." He opens his mouth to respond before thinking better of it. You're grateful for it because you don’t doubt for a second that you’ll simply break down if he says it back. "But you hurt me so much more than that. You left me."

The words feel like venom on your tongue and by the look on Pedri's face, they burn like it too. "You know I was terrified of making our relationship public. There's nothing more terrifying to me than attention on that scale, but you said it would be fine and people could say whatever they wanted because you'll be by my side. Well, it happened. We did it. People said horrible things to me; to my friends and family. And you weren't there."

Pedri closes his eyes briefly, sucking in a sharp breath. You almost want to take it back and tell him it's not that big of a deal because you know you were close to mending things, but you feel so much lighter now that it's out. That has to count for something.

You feel fingertips brush your cheek. Dazed, you realise that Pedri has come closer to wipe away a tear you didn't even know was there. You don't lean into his palm and he doesn't let it linger either. Instead, he holds it out in front of you. Hesitantly, you reach out. The tips of your fingers graze the inside of his hand. His hand closes, gently holding onto yours.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I really am." He holds your gaze even if his voice cracks. "You're right, I shouldn't have left you alone after convincing you to go public. I was horrified and ashamed of what I did and said just to hurt you in the same way I felt hurt. I couldn't bring myself to face you afterwards. I know it's not an excuse, but you deserve an explanation."

He takes a deep breath and squeezes your hand, seemingly without meaning to.

"A while ago, Gavi said something to me that kept bothering me. It crossed my mind every now and then when we talked about posting that photo, but it only really hit me when I saw those pictures and articles. That's when it became real and I guess I took it as confirmation of something I've always been insecure of." Pedri falters and looks to the side.

When you don’t respond, he quietly explains, "Gavi said he'd only give his kit to the person he knew he wanted to see wearing it for the rest of his life. That having anyone else wear it to matches would bring bad luck, so he’s waiting for the right person."

You stare at him.

Slowly loosening a breath you didn't know you were holding, you try to find your voice. "He said that?"

Pedri nods. You can feel him loosen his grip on your hand.

"Okay," you say, shaking your head to clear your mind. "Alright then."

You pull your hand back and let it fall into your lap, biting back a scoff. "You really are a dickhead."

*********

okokok i know u probably hate me rn, but i promise there's a part three :)) i wouldn't just leave u hanging like that lol i just wanted to get this out sooner than later and tbh there's still so much missing. the grovelling! the anger! the grovelling, people!!! anyway, feel free to leave some feedback, so i know if anyone even wants a third part. stay hydrated guys x

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