Search the sky, please! (The urge to ask iaw was immense BUT)
@down-to-the-thousandth tagging because two of you asked 🥹
hey buddy wanna buy a wip
amnesia au!!!!! is any fandom experience complete without writing some manner of sad ass amnesia au. (reserving the right to link back to the galex one that i never finished but might one day) the title for this one is from is it really you? by loathe, because for some reason i have a super involved (to me) playlist for this fic
soooo. standard amnesia au. pedro crashes and it goes badly, fermin is involved in the crash and feels obligated to go linger at the hospital while everyone's waiting for pedro to wake up. everyone here means literally just pedro's family, which makes it a bit weirder for Just fermin to be there? anyway when pedro DOES wake up he's got full ass amnesia, like, doesn't remember his name or his family or quite literally anything about his life, but fermin is the first person he sees, and fermin is the one he like. imprints on. we are playing it so fast and loose with the medicalness of the whole thing im not a doctor im a crafter of unlikely miserable scenarios ok
anyway. pedro gets to leave the hospital fairly soon after that, but he insists on going home with fermin. like refuses to go home with his family because he trusts fermin more than them which is a bad feeling for the family acosta but fermin is having a moment about it, obviously. the usual permin bits apply, the ex-friends with way more weight behind it, so fermin is like. as much as he knows it’s dishonest and a little bit (a lot a bit) manipulative he’s seeing it as an opportunity to rebuild what they’ve lost? it is not good. but it is.... for sure an opportunity. again we are doing so much handwaving and suspension of disbelief here so i will pad out the questionable response with some of my fave bits from the doc
the waking up moment after the first night they sleep in the same bed (which happens pretty early. honestly)
Pedro is awake, now, peering at Fermin through sleep-clumped lashes. Fermin’s hand is still on his waist.
“You snore,” Pedro tells him, thick and groggy.
Fermin says, “I do not,” and Pedro smiles, guileless, nothing barbed in the curve of his mouth.
“You do,” Pedro says. He squirms a little closer. If Fermin weren’t watching so closely he would miss the wince, the tic in his jaw when he moves the wrong way, jostles the wrong thing. Fermin moves closer to meet him and save him the trouble.
“I don’t,” Fermin says again. He’s aware of the stale dryness of his own mouth, vaguely self-conscious about it now that they’re nearly on the same pillow.
Pedro looks at him very, very intently. The arch of his eyebrows is so much less severe, less heavy. Pedro says, “Okay.” Like that’s the end of it.
And then Pedro rolls forward and kisses him.
Pedro only lingers there a couple of seconds. It’s—it’s barely there, when you get down to it, just the press of Pedro’s soft mouth against Fermin’s, just the stickiness of morning breath and the heat of sleepy skin. Barely anything.
Fermin feels his own lips move, just enough that it’s reciprocal, just before Pedro settles back on his pillow. His eyes are only half open. His cheeks are so pink and Fermin wants to kiss him there, to see if it tastes as sweet as it looks.
Pedro asks, very quietly, “Did I get it right?”
and then the bit where pedro asks to see pictures of them together because he is inferring from the way that fermin treats him that they are. a Lot to each other. and yeah
“Why was I so red?” Pedro mutters. He’s squirming, trying to get a better look at the photo of them as children, Fermín with all his big baby teeth and Pedro with his splotchy pink cheeks. Fermín opens up his arm, unthinking. Pedro, unselfconscious, wriggles in to rest his head on Fermín’s shoulder.
“Training,” Fermín says. His mouth is abruptly extremely dry. “On the bikes, you know.”
Pedro hums. Probably he doesn’t know, Fermín thinks, so he swipes to a photo of them on the bikes.
“Christ,” Pedro says. “We were so tiny.”
Pedro hums. He’s settling in, melting into Fermin’s chest. “We were together a lot, huh,” he mumbles. Fermin’s stomach aches.
“Yeah,” he says. “All the time.”
Another hum. His breathing has levelled out, less laboured. Less pained. Fermín keeps touching his hair, gentle, pushing it back and away from the bruised bits around his temple. He wants to kiss him, so he presses his lips to Pedro’s forehead, and when Pedro hums this time it’s soft and pleased and content.
This version of Pedro, who tolerates being fed and held, who curls into Fermin’s body like an old, safe cat. Fermín wants to protect this. To keep this.
“Fermín,” Pedro says slowly, into the silence. He sounds so close to sleep he might already be dreaming.
A pause, where Fermín thinks he has actually fallen asleep. And then Pedro says, even more slowly, “I feel like I missed you.”
turnnoffyourmind
dededos
prguitarman
origamiaround
discoholicmusic
janainaart
kaledo-art
