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I have a request for Pedri, maybe a childhood friends to lovers ? 😩 like they are both in love with each other but are oblivious so Gavi makes a plan to get them together by pretending to be interested in the reader (idk if that made sense)

The Promises We Keep (Pedri)

Summary: You and Pedri grew up together until he got selected to play for Barcelona. He left when you were sixteen and you hadn’t seen him since, till a fateful day in summer brought you a bright-eyed midfielder.

Warning(s): Angst. Sensitive topics such as death, addiction, and feelings of hopelessness.

A/N: Guys this is a long one. Thank you so much for the request, I made it slightly different but hopefully you still like it! This one took on a life of its own and was so fun to write. Feel free to send requests!

Word Count: 9.4k+

August 11th.

That was the first time you had met Pedri. On the brink of ten, eyes alight with wonder and eagerness, as you stood on your tippy toes, leaning over the counter to point out the cake specials.

It was your first day working at the bakery that your family owned. After much badgering and pleading, your grandmother had promised you that you could help out at the bakery. You had been ecstatic, rolling up your sleeves, getting ready to frost the cakes like you had seen your abuela and mother do countless times before. Your excitement, however, was short-lived when your mother placed her hands on your shoulders, redirecting you away from the shiny kitchen filled with sugary delights and to the long counter facing the dining area.

“Mamà, No! I want to bake cakes with you!” You pleaded, attempting to free yourself from her grasp.

She smiled, “Not yet princessa. First, you have to learn to take the orders.”

“Ok after?”

She nodded her head, helping you on the stool that made you tall enough to finally look over the counter, “Yes, but first let’s learn how to do this.”

She explained all the functions of the cash register to you, and you nodded, taking it all in.

You knew the menu by heart, having grown up in the bakery and heard your grandmother and mother repeat the spiel countless times to customers.

Your excitement came back in full swing when she stepped away and walked back into the kitchen.

You were in charge out here.

You felt giddy as you waited for your first customer.

Would they want a cake? Or maybe a pastry? Ooh or maybe some tea? You had never started the tea kettle by yourself before.

You smiled when you heard the door jiggle, a customer entering, “Hi Sir! How can I help you?”

“Would you like to order a cake? Or if you don’t like cakes we also have-”

The man cut you off, pulling a map from his pocket, “I’m lost can you help me? I want to go here.” He said, pointing to the other side of the map from where you were.

You sighed, “Yes, you have to take the train, line 2. That will take you here,” You said pointing to a station on the map, “And then it’s just a 5-minute walk.”

“Oh sir would you like-“ You began to ask him as he thanked you, but cut yourself off when the door shut behind him.

You huffed.

So much for your first customer.

You leaned on the counter waiting for someone else to come in.

It was a Tuesday afternoon in summer, and most people only came to the bakery early in the morning on the way to work, or after work to collect their cakes or drink their daily tea. The weekdays were slow for in-store business, but it was always packed to the brim on weekends with tourists hoping to discover local culture and families who spent the day at the nearby beach.

You were so lost in thought that you completely missed the boy standing in front of you.

“Umm excuse me?”

You looked down at the sudden noise, making eye contact with a brown-haired boy with a frown on his face. He couldn’t have been that much older than you.

“Hi sorry! How can I help you?” You asked, your voice taking on the cheery note that your mothers always did when speaking with customers.

“I said I want to buy a cake.”

You squinted your eyes at the boy, he looked familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Okay, what kind of cake?”

“A birthday cake.” The boy huffed out, fidgeting with the cash in his hand.

You quickly grew annoyed at his attitude; it wasn’t your fault you hadn’t seen him. He was barely taller than the counter.

“Ok here’s the cake options.” You said, showing him a pamphlet with all the options listed.

“That one.” He said pointing to the green cake decorated with cars.

You nodded, ringing him up, “Ok it’s $35.”

The boy handed you the cash and you took your time double-counting the money to make sure everything was there.

You wanted to make sure you did your job perfectly.

“Aren’t you a little young to make a cake? Do you even know how to count?” He asked.

You stopped counting and looked at him, annoyance plastered across your face, you knew your mother would not condone you acting like this to a customer, but you couldn’t help it, “Aren’t you a little young to order a cake?”

“It’s for my brother!” The boy exclaimed.

“Ok… Pedro.” You spoke seeing his name on the order, “You can pick it up tomorrow at 5 pm.”

He gawked at you, “to-tommorow?” But I need it by tonight!”

You paid him no mind, “Well that’s how it works. You should have ordered sooner.”

He dug around in his pocket before pulling out some change, “What if I gave you this, would that change your mind?”

You looked at him unimpressed, “That’s $5.”

“It’s all I have! Please it’s my brother’s birthday today and I accidentally ruined the cake!” He was beginning to plead, and you couldn’t help but feel pleased now that the tables had turned.

“How did you ruin the cake?” You asked, not being able to contain your curiosity.

“I was playing football in the house, even though my mom always says I can’t play it inside, but it was too hot outside so I-“ You stopped listening to his rambling too focused on what he said.

He played football.

“Are you good?” You cut him off.

He grinned at your question, “Of course! I’m the best in my school!”

You smiled at him, a plan forming in your head, “Okay I’ll move the cake up the queue, so it’s done faster, but you have to teach me to play football.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “Why do you want to learn?”

“I want to be on the girl’s team. I always wanted to learn but my mom never let me play with the neighborhood kids because I was the only girl.”

He thought about your proposition, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head as he thought it over, “Won’t she care now?”

You rolled your eyes, “It’ll be a secret. Duh!”

He stared at you for a second longer before shrugging his shoulders, “Okay. But I get to set when we meet.”

You nodded, “Okay, come back to the bakery at 5 pm today and I’ll give you the cake and then you can tell me when we can play.”

He gave you a nod before exiting the store, leaving you nervous about how you were going to pull this off and excited about finally being able to play the game you had wanted to learn for years.

He came back to collect his cake later that day, and the next day marked your first official ‘training session’ as he liked to call them. You would meet him every other day at 6 pm on the empty football fields near the edge of your neighborhood, after school and your shift at the bakery.

You had told your family that you had made a friend, Marcy, and that the two of you would go biking every other day to explore all the different parts of the city.

Those training sessions soon turned into staying past ‘practice time’ to eat ice cream from the stand next to his house. Those then turned into day trips to the beach and exploring the random shops littered across the boardwalk.

Eventually, the angry boy that had turned up at your family’s bakery became your best friend, and when the two of you ended up at the same secondary school your bond only deepened, and soon you were spending every lunch period with him.

Now at 16, you and Pedro had long been football practice partners and best friends. Your family knew him well enough now, and you knew his like the back of your hand.

You had been lying on your floor, feet up, staring at the ceiling when Pedro had walked in.

“What are you doing?” He questioned, staring at you with narrowed eyes.

You rolled your eyes, “Jeez Pedro you’re so judgy. I’m bored, come lay.”

He huffed, but came to lie next to you anyways, feet knocking into yours as he tried to get them up, “You were supposed to meet me 10 minutes ago.”

You laughed, “Oh shit sorry. I just finished at the bakery.”

He nodded, turning to face you, voice taking on a softer tone, “How’s your abuela?”

You took in a breath, still not used to talking about it, “She’s better, still not talking though.”

Your grandmother had suffered a stroke two weeks ago when she was working late one night preparing a cake for one of her most beloved customers.

No one had found her for nearly 15 minutes after she had hidden herself in the back kitchen, away from your mother and tia getting ready for bed upstairs.

Since then, the bakery had flipped on its head, your whole family reeling in the loss of your grandmother, the woman who was always talking, the one who loved sharing stories and was patient enough to explain things as many times as you needed without fail, now being silenced to a life without the ability to share her ideas. Business had been booming right before your grandmother’s accident, but since then the demand had been too high to meet the supply, and slowly the customers were dwindling down. Your grandmother was the glue holding the bakery together, without her everything was falling apart, and your family was left picking up the pieces.

“I’m sorry.” Pedro spoke.

You shrugged it off, pretending it wasn’t ripping you apart from the inside out, “It’s fine. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Ok, well I heard back from the football scout.” He said changing the subject.

You shot up, eyes widening with excitement, “Oh my god! What did he say?”

You made eye contact with him, seeing the hesitation in his eyes, “What? Did something happen?”

He shook his head slowly, “No nothing like that.”

“Okay then…” You pressed, anxious to hear what happened.

“I got in.”

You screamed, tackling Pedro into a hug, sending you back to the ground. You kept your arms wrapped around him as you slid off his body, legs splayed across his, “That’s incredible! I knew you could do it, you’re amazing!”

He laughed at your affection, hand around your waist tugging you closer to him, “Thanks linda.”

“Why aren’t you as excited as me?” You asked, surprised at the fact he wasn’t screaming and jumping around with you.

“Uh- well the uhm- uh- joder I don’t- It’s in Barcelona.” He finally admitted.

Your hand slid off his shoulders and you looked at him in disbelief.

You were torn, on one hand, you were ecstatic for him, you knew he had been dreaming about this since he was practically born, long before he even met you. You also knew he was immensely talented, and that he deserved to be able to share his love for football with the world. However, you would be lying if you said you were only happy for him because there was a small part of you that couldn’t grasp the concept of him leaving, of not being able to graduate together like you always promised you would, or having no more summers filled with football, sugary delights, and pretending to be tourists.

He was your best friend, you told him everything, you had spent numerous nights spilling your souls to each other, saying any and everything on your mind. You knew that he still slept with a nightlight on at thirteen because he had seen Paranormal Activity and it has apparently “changed the trajectory of his life”. For every little insignificant moment of your life, he was there, like when you tripped and chipped your tooth in Mrs. Fernandez’s 8th grade history class, he was there helping you up after laughing so hard he had tears streaming down the sides of his face. But now, for bigger life events, like graduation, or university, he was going to be gone, hundreds of miles away.

“Are you going to say something?” He was nervous, chewing on his lip anxiously as he waited for your response.

You didn’t know what to say.

This was his dream; it would be too selfish to say anything to jeopardize that. So even though you felt a tiny skip in your heart every time he looked at you with those shining brown eyes and lopsided grin, you pulled back, “You should go.”

He took a deep breath staring at you so intently you were beginning to wonder if your face was giving you away, the words please don’t go I need you plastered across your forehead in red ink.

“You sure?” He asked again.

You avoided his eyes, not being able to handle the thought of your life changing so drastically in a matter of days, “Pedro this is your dream. You’ve wanted to play for Barcelona since you were little, you have to take it. This could be your one chance, you can’t miss out.”

“But what about what I’ll miss out on here?”

You sighed, “What lil ole’ me?” Don’t worry, I’ll still be here when you come visit. Besides I have other friends y’know?” You joked, finally looking at him.

His eyes shined so intensely with emotion that you had to quickly look away so you wouldn’t cry in front of him, a lump already beginning to form in your throat.

“So, when do you leave?”

“Next week.”

You let out a short laugh, “Oh, wow. That’s so soon.”

You heard him begin to talk but cut him off, feeling bad about how negative you sounded, “You’ll be playing for the A team in no time then. Can’t believe I’m friends with a celebrity.”

He smiled, bringing you up with him as he sat up, tilting your chin to make you look at him, “I’ll miss you.”

You gave him a soft smile, leaning up to brush his hair away from his face before pinching his cheek playfully, “I’ll miss you too linda. But Barcelona’s only a plane ride away.”

He groaned hearing the nickname, “Ugh Y/n how many times have I told you to stop calling me that.”

You giggled, enjoying making him mad, “Oh c’mon you know you love it.”

You glanced at the time, seeing it was a quarter past nine, “Oh shit, I forgot to close the bakery.” You said rushing to stand up.

He walked with you downstairs into the shop, “Isn’t your mom closing tonight?”

You shook your head, “She said she was going to see abuela early tonight since it’s her birthday. She told me to close it when she left, but I forgot.”

“Ok well, I should probably go then. See you tomorrow?”

You agreed, saying goodbye, watching him leave as you locked up.

He was halfway down the dimly lit street when he suddenly spun around,

“I’ll come visit you, I promise!” He shouted, walking backwards as he pointed at you with an annoyingly perfect grin.

“Yah, yah, whatever you say.” You teased, watching as his figure disappeared around the bend onto the main road.

You already had tears in your eyes when you shut the door. You cursed yourself for being so emotional lately, the news of your abuela, and now this was taking its toll on you.

You wanted to feel happy for him, you really did, but you felt like he was going at the worst possible time. Everything in your life was falling apart, while his was falling into place. You didn’t want to be the anchor weighing him down.

You were lost in your thoughts as you closed the store in a daze, watching as the open light flickered off encompassing you in darkness.

The next few days went by in a blur, days spent studying at school and nights spent locked away in the bakery, picking up extra shifts to accommodate the ever-growing task list. Pedro would sneak into the kitchen every evening, sneakily taking bites of the frosting when your back was turned with his fingers as he told you about his day and everything he planned to do when he got to Barcelona.

Eventually, the day you had almost forgotten about came. It was a Saturday morning, the weather was chilly for spring, clouds of rolling gray covering the sun, matching your mood perfectly.

You were standing at the train station with Pedro’s entire family saying goodbye.

“I know you’re shit at texting, so you have to promise to at least write me a letter every month, so I know what you’re up to.” Pedro said, hands going around you as he wrapped you in a hug.

“Letter? What is this eighteen century London?” You weakly joked, head resting on his shoulder.

“Ok fine not letter’s maybe emails? I know the cell service is bad in your neighborhood.”

You shoved him playfully, “Oi. Sorry not all of us are world class athletes and can afford to live in nice areas.”

He laughed, pulling you back into his arms, “I’m kidding, obviously. I love your little shack.”

You gasped, offended, swatting his shoulder, “I live in a house Pedro. A 2 floor house, not a shack.”

He chuckled above you, resting his chin on your head as he rocked your bodies back and forth, giving you one last squeeze, “Oh how I’m going to miss making fun of you.”

You glared at him, slipping him the finger when his mother wasn’t looking.

He boarded the train, looking back one more time as he waved.

You gave him a watery smile, not being able to hold back your emotions, holding hands with his mother as you watched him start the journey in front of him.

Then he was gone.

A few months had passed since then, and still not a single visit from Pedro, or Pedri as he went by now. He had planned to come for graduation but had a last-minute event that he couldn’t cancel. Then he was supposed to come for your birthday but missed it because he was finally offered playing time.

Each time he missed something, you felt a piece of your childhood chip away, like you were slowly losing the younger version of yourself that was all starry-eyed, putting all her trust in pinky promises and boys with twinkling brown eyes and dimples.

The immense sadness you had first felt when Pedri left had slowly turned into happiness once you learned just how much he was enjoying his time in Barcelona, and how good it felt to be able to play professionally and with other people who were just as passionate as him.

You still talked to him occasionally on Facetime, whenever both of your busy schedules allowed time, but your monthly letters were still going strong.

While you had once shitted on the prospect of making handwritten letters for each other, it has soon provided a sense of comfort for you. Reading his words, about his life, in his handwriting, written specifically for you, made you feel closer to him than you had in months. If you really stared at the words, you could almost make out his voice whispering them to you as he sat with you downstairs in the kitchen annoying you as you prepared the pastries.

You still saw his family quite a bit, bringing them sweets when you heard that Pedri’s older brother had graduated from university.

His mother had tried to convince you to go to Barcelona with them, but you had refused, not able to leave the bakery by itself, or your mother.

Since your grandmother’s stroke, your mother had become the shell of the woman she once was. No longer was she overly optimistic, or especially cheery in the morning when she opened the shop, stopping to ask every customer how they were, thanking them for their business. Now, she sat on a stool at the counter, routinized to a shift of taking orders, handing out receipts, and making the same four teas. The love that she had for baking was gone.

She went through her days in rehearsed speeches and solitude, her only outing being to visit your abuela every night.

Since her attack, your abuela’s health had severely diminished. While in the first weeks following the accident, she had made some process, being able to pronounce syllables and say names, she regressed significantly as Winter approached, blanketing the skies with bleak gray’s, turning the ground bitter and snowcapped.

It was the second Friday of the New Year when you received the call. You were in the middle of your online university class when you heard a shattering noise, followed by a wail.

You shot out of your seat, shaky hands slamming the computer shut as you raced towards the front of the store.

You found your mother slumped on the floor, sobbing into her hands, fragments of broken glass surrounding her small frame.

Onlookers watched as you slowly approached, reaching out a comforting hand before helping her up and guiding her to the back, where she could at least mourn in peace.

She didn’t say anything, but you already knew.

You led her into the back office, sliding the never-ending stack of bills off the chair, sitting her down, “Mamà, lo siento, eres muy valiente.” Mama, I’m sorry, you are so brave.

Her shaking hands grasped yours tightly as she tried to collect herself, looking up at you with hauntingly vacant red-rimmed eyes.

Your heart broke at the sight, your mother was the strongest person you had ever met, she was fiercely loving, and always held her head high, even when your father abandoned the both of you, even when she would get made fun of for her heavy Spanish accent, she never said anything, remaining perfectly poised.

Now that charade had been lifted, and you were beginning to realize that all those years spent thinking she was super women you had been wrong, she wasn’t, she was human, just like everyone else, she too cried, and wondered if she could have done things differently, but this was the first time she had ever been vulnerable enough to show you that side of herself.

“Lo siento princessa, te merces algo major. No he sido justo contigo.” She said, her voice frail and exhausted. I’m sorry princess, you deserve better. I haven’t been fair to you.

You shook your head, kneeling and hugging her around the waist like you did when you were nine, “No hat problema mamà. Estoy aqui para ti.” No problem, Mama. I’m here for you.

She smiled at you through her tears, fingers stroking your hair lovingly, “Mi niña.”

You hugged her harder, wishing you could take her pain away. You would give anything to see the color return to her face or watch her dull eyes fill with warmth once more.

Your life changed bit by bit after that. Each day it twisted into something more unrecognizable, until the joys of childhood seemed so far behind you, and the thought of your best friend no longer crossed your mind every day.

After the death of your grandmother, you and your mother had been thrown headfirst into the upkeep of the bakery. While you once had your tia to help when things got extra busy, she too moved, following her husband to the States. That left just you, your still grieving mother, and a growing stack of unpaid bills.

Every day felt like a repetition of the previous. Each morning you would wake up at 5 am, prepare the dishes for the next day, wake your mother up at 7 am when your classes officially began, half listening to lectures while working the cash register, and then at 5 pm you would take over baking when Meera, the sweet girl who lived across the street would have her shift, managing the front of the store. Finally, when your mother had left to visit your grandmother’s grave you would close the shop, making sure to leave a light on for when she came home in the early hours of the morning.

While she tried to be better for you, she still suffered adjusting to a new normal with your grandmother. Your grandmother had been a rock to her when she was going through the issues with your father and was always there to support her no matter what. Your mother threw herself into the business and not much else, these days she was just a shadow of her former self, quietly gliding past, doing everything with half the effort.

Between balancing your personal life, school, and the bakery, the thought of writing back to Pedri had completely slipped your mind.

It had been so long since the two of you had last seen each other, and you didn’t feel like the same girl who waved goodbye to him that Saturday morning at the station.

Since now and then your childhood had abruptly ended, joining your grandmother in the grave, and you had been thrown headfirst into adulthood, which consisted of stressing, overworking, and pleading with the electric company to keep the lights on another day.

All you had around you was things dragging you down, and you hated the thought of adding Pedri to the mix. Linda Pedri who always made you laugh with the weirdest jokes, and always encouraged you to follow your dreams. If only he could see you now you thought.

The letters that had been sent between the two of you had dwindled over time, with a new letter every month, going to 3 months, and now over 6 months. You were to blame for that, Pedri had written to you every month, just as he promised, but the worse things got for you, the better they seemed to be for him, and you didn’t want to say anything to mess that up for him.

He didn’t even know about your grandmother passing away.

His brother had moved to the States following his graduation and his parents spent so much time traveling between Barcelona and the US that they were rarely around anymore.

One of the last times he sent you a letter was 3 months ago, letting you know that he had been selected to be part of the Men’s World Cup team representing your country. You had been over the moon for him, jumping up and down, celebrating in your bedroom after you had received the news. You had been desperate to write back, letting him know how proud you were when your mother had walked past your room, the stench of alcohol radiating off her body.

You froze mid-sentence, twisting in your chair to watch her stumble into the bedroom.

You sighed; it was 3 pm.

All the things you wanted to say to him suddenly seemed too insignificant, what good news did you have to share with him? That you got accepted to your dream college but couldn’t go because your mother was unstable? Or that every day you woke up wishing you were ten again, free of stress, and playing football with him on the uneven field next to the supermarket?

There was no easy way to say it, and frankly, you were ashamed of the life you had been living. You wanted him to remember you as the funny girl who loved all that life had to offer and went to bed dreaming of the future.

So instead of replying you crumbled up the paper and tossed it in the trash.

You could love him, but maybe from afar was best.

He sent you one more letter after that asking why you hadn’t responded but you didn’t have the heart to tell him. So, you ignored it.

The next month a letter never came. You told yourself the sinking feeling you felt in your chest was just reality setting in.

You carried on with life but made sure to keep an eye on him whenever you could. You watched him win the golden boy award, fingers itching to send him a congratulations text, or a I knew you could do it, but your hands always hovered over the send button for a second too long.

The change you had been looking for came in the form of an seventeen-year-old, wide-eyed, brown-haired midfielder.

It was nearing the beginning of the summer season when the influx of tourists and long days would hit, you were in the back, as usual, preparing in advance. You had learned the hard way last summer what would happen if you made orders on a day-to-day basis.

You heard the bell above the door jingle and made your way to the front, a smile adorning your face, “Hi welcome. What can I get started for you today?”

There was a teenage boy standing across from you, mouth open but no words coming out.

You stared at him with a confused look, “Hello?”

He closed his mouth abruptly before words started spilling out, “Oh my god I can’t believe it’s actually you. You look so different in the photos.”

Now you were really confused.

“I’m sorry do I know you?” You asked, trying to remember if he was one of your classmates from secondary school.

He shook his head, “No sorry. I’m Gavi, I’m a friend of-“

“Pedro’s.” You finished his sentence, saying his name for the first time in what felt like years.

The boy looked at you stunned, “Yeah how did you know?”

You sighed, playing with your sleeve, “He always talked about you in his letters. Pablo right?”

The boy nodded excitedly, coming closer, “That’s actually why I’m here. I saw the letters. Happy Birthday by the way.”

You looked back at him stunned, “How did you-“

“Pedri has today marked on his calendar, and when I saw the open letters on his desk, I put two and two together.”

You couldn’t help the blush that took over your face, it had been so long since you had thought of Pedri and how he made you feel, but it seemed just a visit from his friend was bringing them all back to the surface.

Gavi noticed your red cheeks, “Awh where you guys in love?”

You choked on your spit, “What? No way! We were just friends!” You sputtered out, the blush only deepening.

Gavi laughed, “Funny Pedri said the same thing.”

You laughed nervously, unsure what he was implying.

“Anyways I’m here to bring you back to Barcelona to surprise Pedri.”

Your eyes widened at the thought, and you shrunk back, “What? I can’t go with you.”

“Well, why not?” He questioned.

“I uh- I have to take care of the bakery, I can’t just leave.” You relented, not wanting to tell him everything.

You had just met him 5 minutes ago for Gods’ sake.

“Well, don’t you have family that can run it while you’re gone? Pedri said it was family run.”

“No. I don’t.” You said defensively.

“Plus, I haven’t talked to him in months. I don’t even think he remembers me.” You continued.

Gavi let out a laugh, “That’s bullshit! I could never get him to shut up about you. Every morning it was Y/n this, Y/n that, ooh do you think Y/n would like this? It was like his favorite activity was talking about you. But then a while ago I just stopped hearing your name and I started to wonder why. So, I did some digging, and I found the notes.” He explained, hands gesturing wildly as he retold the events.

You raised your eyebrow at him, and he was quick to defend himself.

“Ok well not digging, I found the letters this morning on the desk, they were basically asking to be opened, and when I noticed that they stopped coming right around when Pedri started to act more closed off I knew you had something to do with it. So, I booked the first flight here, and now here I am.”

You didn’t know how to respond to his story. He waited for you to say something but you were too in your head. Pedri had been acting differently? Had you indirectly been affecting him negatively? Even when you went out of your way to avoid bringing him down you couldn’t help it. It felt like every higher power was working against you. Reminding you that you were no good for him, he was a gifted player who deserved all that life had to offer, and you were just an overworked, barely passing-by baker.

“He’s been acting different?” You spoke, voice soft as you tried to keep your thoughts locked away.

“Why’d you stop writing Y/n?”

You glanced up at Gavi seeing him already staring at you with sincere eyes, “Why do you even care?” You huffed moving away from the counter, putting space in between the two of you.

He only moved closer, leaning over the counter, staring directly at you, “I know the Y/n I heard about in stories and saw in pictures and she’s much different than the person standing in front of me. I just want to know why you pushed him away. I just want to know what happened.”

Your bottom lip quivered as you looked at him, every word he spoke felt like a sledgehammer to your heart, because you knew it was true, in trying to hold your family together, you were letting go of yourself.

You felt your eyes fill with water in spite of yourself, and you quickly glanced around the bakery, only seeing an old couple hidden away behind an alcove.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes, saying the words you had never uttered out loud before, “My grandmother died, and my mother’s an alcoholic. I’m all she has.”

You opened your eyes to see Gavi looking at you with a sad expression, probably feeling pity for what a shitty hand life had dealt you.

“I know this doesn’t change anything but I’m sorry.”

You accepted his apology, “Thanks.”

It was quiet after that, the hum of the tea kettle in the background and the chatter of the couple in the corner being the only noise.

Finally, Gavi spoke, “Does Pedri know?”

You shook your head softly, “No, and I don’t want him to. I don’t want to burden him with my problems.”

“He’s your best friend. Why won't you tell him?” He exclaimed.

“Because I know the second he hears he’ll drop everything and come, and I can’t be responsible for what will happen if he does. He’s dreamed of the life he’s living for years, I won’t take that away from him, no matter what.” You argued, voice stern.

Gavi was silent, taking in your words, “You’re a good friend.”

You let out a small grin, “I’m the best.”

He smiled, “At least come see him. Even if it’s just for a little bit.”

You groaned, “Gavi did you not just hear a word I said? I can’t leave the bakery. I’m like a prisoner stuck in a world filled with raspberry pastries and buttercream frosting.”

Gavi laughed, “Pedri told me you were funny. I kinda see it now.”

You gave him a playful glare.

“No but seriously, what do I need to do to convince you to come? You’re telling me you don’t miss him at all?”

You stared at him, “Gavi no offense but I don’t want to get all mushy gushy with you.”

“I won’t tell. Pinky promise.” He held out his finger, wagging it around till you took it.

You laughed at the silly notion remembering the times when pinky promises were the end all be all, “Ok you better not be crossing your fingers behind your back!” You pointed out.

He held out his other hand, shoving it in your face as you hit it away, “I’m not see!”

“Fine. I believe you.”

“Ok sooo…”

“So?” You asked.

“Oh my god Y/n spill your soul to me. I have to know.”

You giggled at his over-dramatization, “Ok, well uhm of course I miss Pedri. He was my best friend, and I wish he was still around, but I’d much rather him be happy without me than sad with me.”

“But he would be even more happy if you were with him.”

“I don’t know about that. If he saw me right now I don’t even think he would recognize me. I’ve changed a lot since we were last together.”

“But everyone changes. Plus, I’m sure he’ll love the new you even more.”

“Love? Who said anything about love?” You asked intrigued.

Gavi slapped a hand over his mouth, “I’ve said too much.”

Now you were curious, “No Gavi c’mon you can tell me. We’re friends.” You coaxed, trying to get him to cave.

He looked like he was really thinking about it before he gave in, “Don’t tell anyone, but I think Pedri was in love with you.”

You felt like the ground had just been pulled away from underneath you, earth’s gravitational axis shifting, sending you toppling over the edge of a cliff,

“What? Did he tell you that?” You asked breathlessly.

Gavi chewed on his lip, “Well not in so many words, just more in his actions. Like I said when he first met him all he did was talk about you, we all thought you were his secret girlfriend that he was hiding away somewhere in the islands. We obviously didn’t know the extent of it then. But then he started pulling away, and the wins didn’t seem as important to him anymore and I started to think people don’t really get that affected unless they really care about someone.”

You mulled over his words, “You know you’re pretty wise.”

“Thanks. I’ve been told so before.”

“Really?”

“No. Not once.”

You let out a snort, “Well here’s to firsts I guess.”

“What’s your first?” He questioned.

You smiled, “I guess going to Barcelona.”

He cheered at your answer, fists pumping the air. You quickly pulled his hands down with a disapproving look, “There’s customers!”

“There’s two people!” He exclaimed.

You shushed him beginning to come up with a plan to visit. You knew you couldn’t leave right away, you still had to assign people to cover your shifts at the bakery and see if your mother was stable enough to be left on her own for a few days. You also had to finish your university finals scheduled for next week.

You planned with Gavi for him to come back next week and help you tidy up any loose ends. Then you would hopefully be heading off to see Pedri for the first time in over a year.

You gave him your number and thanked him for coming to find you.

“Wait how did you find me?” You asked Gavi as he was leaving.

He smirked, “Pedri said you had the best bakery in town. So, I googled best bakery and followed the directions, and then voila there you were.”

You chuckled, happy that at least the bakery’s quality hadn’t diminished.

After Gavi left you busied yourself by preparing the store for when you were gone, adding extra shifts to the schedule that you could just barely afford, and diving headfirst into studying for your finals.

Meanwhile, in Barcelona, Gavi was being ruthlessly bullied by his teammates at Monday morning practice.

“Get this, Gavi flew all the way to the Canary Islands for one day. Because of a girl.” Torres commented, earning laughs from the other players.

Only Pedri looked up in surprise, “You went to the Canary Islands?”

Gavi passed the ball, debating telling the truth before deciding against it, “Yeah, was only there a couple hours though.”

“Who’d you see?” Pedri questioned.

Before Gavi could respond, Ansu cut in, “Mystery girl. She’s been texting him all morning. It’s a 928 number so you know it’s a Canarian girl.”

Gavi cursed him under his breath, “Ansu stop checking my phone you dick. I’m just talking to a friend.”

Ferran nodded, “Right. A ‘friend’ you’re going to go see again this weekend.”

Gavi groaned, silently begging for the questioning to end.

“Who are you texting, maybe I know them.” Pedri joked.

Gavi laughed uncomfortably, “I don’t think you know this one.”

The conversation died at that when Coach ordered them to split up and begin a practice game.

Gavi let out a sigh of relief, glad he hadn’t blown your cover.

The next weekend came, and you found yourself growing more and more nervous as the minutes ticked by. Gavi was supposed to be here in five minutes, and you felt like you were going to projectile vomit everywhere.

You walked into your mother’s room trying to distract yourself from the nervous flips of your stomach or the erratic beating of your heart.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine Mamà?”

She nodded from the bed, motioning for you to come closer, “I’ll be fine I promise. It will be good to get back to work.”

You bit the inside of your cheek anxiously. While the days of day drinking and passing out at noon were behind your mother, she still couldn’t help but crave a bottle every night. She was slowly recovering, and you hoped you being away wouldn’t cause her to relapse.

“You call if you need anything okay? I’ll come right away.”

She patted your cheek affectionately, “Go, you worry too much Y/n.”

You smiled kissing her cheek before heading downstairs just in time to see Gavi walk in.

“Oh look it’s my favorite non-patron customer.” You sarcastically said.

The boy grinned at you, giving you a hug, “Y/n how have you been? All ready?”

You nodded, “Yes sir. But feeling like I might throw up at any second so warning.”

He scrunched up his nose in disgust, “Please do not throw up in the plane or I will be so mad at you.”

You glared at him, “Please I’m much classier than that. I’m more of a throw up on the side of the road kind-of gal.”

He gave you a wary look, “Aren’t you just a gem?”

You smiled sweetly at him.

The plane ride went smoothly and by that you meant you didn’t throw up but instead just complained about it in between badgering Gavi about your nerves on meeting Pedri.

Finally, the boy had enough of your ranting, “Y/n. You're great but if I have to hear another word about how Pedri makes you feel I’m throwing myself off this plane, football career be damned.”

It was pretty silent after that. It was your first time on a flight since you were little and even though the flight time was extremely short you made the most of it.

You thanked the flight crew as you got off, earning a, “Enjoy your stay in Barcelona,” in response.

You couldn’t believe you were here, in Barcelona, away from your small little town for the first time in over a decade.

You and Gavi breezed through baggage claim and before you knew it you were getting into a car, greeting his father, and being ushered into his house.

“Thank you so much for letting me stay here.” You told his father once you walked inside.

He gave you a warm smile, “No problem at all chica.”

“This is my house so you should be thanking me if anything.” Gavi cut in, earning a wack on the head from his father.

You rolled your eyes, “Alright well thanks Gavi.”

He gave you a bright smile, “You’re so welcome.”

After that you made your way up to the guestroom, exhaustion taking over your body as you fell asleep, for the first time in a long time dreaming of the possibilities of the future.

You woke up to Gavi’s yelling, “Y/n are you up?”

You groaned, looking at the clock, before pulling a pillow over your head.

It seemed that not only bakers woke up at 5 am, but also athletes.

“What do you want?” You murmured.

“Do you want to come to practice?” He asked, entering your room.

Your eyes widened, you weren’t prepared at all, you hadn’t even showered or mentally prepared yourself.

“No way.”

Gavi groaned, kicking your leg that was dangling off the edge of the bed, “Fine, but I’ll be back at 2 pm, and then we have to figure out a plan.”

You glared at him, hiding your legs between the sheets, “Ok. Have fun.”

He waved goodbye, closing the door behind him, leaving you with only one thing running through your mind.

Pedri.

You wondered what it would be like once you saw him again. Did he still look the same? Was he still the same carefree, level headed guy you said goodbye to last year?

You hoped he wouldn’t be too mad about your unplanned visit.

You kept thinking over what you were going to say as you got ready, how you would explain why you stopped responding to him, telling him everything in your life you had been hiding for the past year.

Soon enough you heard keys jingling, unlocking the door, and Gavi’s sweaty face greeted you.

“Today’s practice was brutal.” He said, kicking off his shoes, and making his way to the kitchen.

“What happened?” You asked.

“Got grilled about you, as usual, everyone thinks I’m hopelessly in love with you. They know you’re here by the way.”

You nearly choked on your sandwich, sputtering, “Oh my god. How do they know? Do they know it’s me?”

He shook his head, “There were some photos taken by fans at the airport, guess we didn’t see them. Don’t worry though it was when we were hugging so your face is covered.”

You let out a sigh of relief, falling back into your chair, “Thank God. I can’t believe we almost blew it!”

Gavi laughed, “I know, we’re so bad at this. Pedri was so quiet today, I think he’s suspicious.”

“Really?”

“He said like two sentences all of practice, and the only time he spoke to me was to ask about the mystery girl.” Gavi pointed out.

You shrugged, “Maybe he was just out of it today.”

Gavi gave you a look, “We both know that’s not true.”

You sighed, looking everywhere but at him, “I think this was a bad idea.”

You felt Gavi walk up beside you, tilting your chin so you were forced to look at him, “Y/n shut up, you’re awesome. Yes, you’re annoying every now and then, and won’t stop talking even at the worst times,” you glared at him, “but I get why Pedri loves you so much.” You smiled at his words, the nerves dissipating.

In the distance, you could hear a door opening.

You went to open your mouth to thank him when suddenly he was ripped away from you and shoved to the ground, hard.

“Qué demonios?” Gavi asked confused before his lips turned into a straight line and a somber expression took over his face. What the hell?

“Pedri.” The boy spoke as he warily stood up, “I swear-“

“You fucking asshole.” Pedri was seething.

Your eyes widened at the situation, but you stood frozen in place.

Gavi went to speak again, hands outstretched trying to reason with Pedri but he was cut off,

“Ansu said her name and I swear my world tilted and my stomach dropped because there’s no way my friend would do that to me right? There’s no way the random girl he’s gone to see every weekend is my best friend who can’t even be bothered to send me a text back.”

Pedri shoved the younger boy in the chest again, pushing him against the rattling cupboards, “So then I come to your house paranoid, thinking I’ve gone crazy because I keep getting the feeling that your mystery girl isn’t a mystery to me, and then I come here and see this. You? With her? With my-“

“Pedro it’s not like that I swear.” You finally spoke up, trying to diffuse the tension.

He didn’t even spare you a glance, too focused on his anger and the throbbing pain he was feeling in his chest, it felt like the air was squeezing out his lungs every time he thought about you and Gavi.

He glared at the boy in front of him, teeth clenched, he never knew he could loathe anyone as much as he did Gavi, “You were supposed to be my friend.”

The midfielder shook his head rapidly, “I am I swear. If you could just let me-“

Pedri disregarded him, finally turning to look at you, “Y/n.” He said your name so bitterly that you shrunk back.

You reached out to touch him, but he quickly pulled away, a dry, humorless laugh spilling out, “You left me. And for what? For him?”

“Pedro if you just let-“

“It’s Pedri. Only my friends get to call me Pedro.”

His words stung. It felt like he was plucking every single strand of hope you had left and then stomping on them while you could do nothing but watch them whither away.

Your voice shook as you spoke, “Ok Pedri, please let me explain. I came here for you.”

He scoffed, “Right you came here for me. I haven’t heard from you in months, in months, and you just expect me to believe one day you were like oh I wonder how Pedri’s doing, and decided to hop on a flight here? If you really cared, you would have never stopped writing.”

You felt your eyes fill with unushered tears as you fought, but you refused to let them fall, “I care! In fact, I care too much!”

He gave you a sarcastic smile, “Well you sure have an odd way of showing it. Is making other people feel worthless how you show your love?”

You bit back a sob at his words, not expecting him to be so cruel, “I- I never meant to make you feel like that. I ju- just-“

“What Y/n, you just what?”

“I just thought you’d be better off without me!” You finally revealed your true feelings.

“That’s not your decision to make!” You were screaming at each other now, and you could see Gavi slip out of the kitchen from the corner of your eye.

“You don’t know what it was like-“ You started, but he cut you off.

“You’re right I don’t know. Only because you never let me in. Did you really think I wouldn’t be there for you? You are my number one priority!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, “I know you would have, but I didn’t want that for you. I knew the second I told you something was wrong you would have dropped everything and booked the first flight out. Things were just starting off for you, and I didn’t want to be one that got in the way.”

Silence followed your admission as you opened your eyes to see Pedri looking back at you with glassy eyes, chest heaving,

“I would have been there for you.” He emphasized, voice breaking.

You sighed, all the anger leaving your body as you slouched against the table, “I know.” You admitted.

You both looked around, unsure of how to move forward. You decided telling the truth was probably the best course of action.

“I stopped writing after my abuela died. Mamà went into a bad mental state, she just wasn’t herself anymore y’know? And I kept reading about all the amazing things you were doing, all the good that was coming your way, and I just felt like burdening you with my problems was only going to take away from that. All my accomplishments seemed insignificant at the time; how could I celebrate when my grandmother had just been buried? When my mother was grieving, barely able to stay sober long enough to remember she had a daughter let alone a bakery to run?” You shrugged your shoulders helplessly, “I don’t know, after that, life seemed so insignificant, like my sole purpose was to keep my grandmother’s legacy alive by putting everything I had into the bakery. I guess along the way I lost what mattered the most to me.” You confessed, looking up at him.

Pedri didn’t say a word, instead pulling you into his arms, rocking your bodies back and forth just like had done all those months ago at the train station. You squeezed him, burying your face into his chest and inhaling. He still smelled the same.

That fact alone gave you more comfort than you had in months.

You felt one hand rub soothing circles on your back, while the other went to play with the strands of your hair, just like he used to do when you were kids.

You couldn’t help the smile that took over your face.

Standing here, in his arms, you felt like there was suddenly hope again.

You pulled away to look up at him, but kept yourself in his embrace, “I’ve missed you so much Pedri.”

He looked at you for a moment, eyes sparkling like they always did, he had a strange expression on his face, like he couldn’t decide what to say. Finally, his expression shifted into one of sincerity as he spoke,

“I love you.”

Your world slowed down as your heartbeat picked up, did he mean it in the way you hoped he did?

The confusion must have shown on your face because he continued, “I’m in love with you. Honestly, I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen playing football behind my house, probably since even before then. You’re the kindest person I know, and every time I score a goal or achieve something you’re the first person I want to tell. I want to make you proud, and I know that these last few months without you have been absolute hell – I know I made promises I couldn’t keep, but I swear to you if you give me another chance, I'll never take you for granted. I just want to be able to share things with you again."

You were awestruck at his confession. You had dotted around the lines of friends and something more for so long, and all the praying you had done in your room at sixteen seemed to have finally paid off.

His arms slid down to wrap around your waist as he brought you flush against his chest, "C'mon Y/n say something."

You looked up into his eyes confirming your thoughts, yep, he still had the same warm brown eyes and annoyingly perfect smile. Your hands went up to his cheeks as you squeezed them playfully, "Of course I love you linda, I'm sorry it took me so long to admit it. And I'm the one who took you for gra-"

You were mid-sentence when Pedri bent down, unable to resist any longer, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

You kissed him back immediately, hands running up the length of his arms before settling around his neck, bringing him as close as possible.

You tugged on his bottom lip playfully and heard him let out a groan, the sound shooting straight to your tummy sending a storm of butterflies fluttering around.

You both finally pulled away, gasping for air, chests heaving, foreheads touching.

"I've always wanted to do that." He said, nuzzling his nose with yours softly.

You felt your heart thud against your chest, synchronizing to the beat of his after a moment, "Me too."

"How about you spend the night at mine tonight?" He asked.

Your eyebrows rose in shock, not expecting him to be so forward.

He quickly realized how it sounded, "Not like that Y/n. I just missed spending time with you."

And there was the fluttery feeling in your stomach again. It seemed every time he said anything from now on all you could do was blush.

You bit your lip, nodding, "I'd like that."

He grinned at you before his eyes focused on your lips again, "Don't do that, it's distracting."

"Huh?" You asked, but he was already leaning down, kissing you senseless once more.

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