LIVE, LAUGH, LOVE W BUNNY IGLESIAS
synopsis: A series of events leads you to a stranger who’s not as random as fate makes it seem
a/n: there are parts in this story that deal with sensitive and emotional themes. While it does not directly portray su!c!d3 or se!f-harm, some readers may interpret certain moments as sensitive in nature. This is NOT meant to glorify, romanticize, or diminish the seriousness of su!c!d3 or those who are struggling with it. My work is just a personal and interpretive way on how I think Bunny would cope with his emotions and thoughts. BUT if this topic is triggering or close to your experience, please take care of yourself, consider reaching out for support if you need it and know that you’re not alone and I sincerely hope you’re doing okay.
Seeing Bunny Iglesias leaning against a bridge at night made for one hell of a first meeting.
It wasn’t anything worth noticing.
He was dressed in a black cap, everyday clothes and nothing would’ve gave him away, aside from the faint glimpse of lavender hair peeking through. Not many people were out there at this time anyway, so most would’ve passed him without a second glance.
You would’ve minded your own business and kept walking too.
But just as you were about to pass him, you noticed the way he leaned…just a little further than what felt safe.
That’s when your (flawed or not) instincts kicked in.
Grabbing his hoodie, you yanked him back, practically tackling him to the ground as he let out a sharp cough from the force.
In an instant, you were both on the ground—your leg half-thrown over his, one hand pressed against his chest as you tried to keep him still, your breathing shaky under the sound of passing cars overhead.
Steadying yourself, you quickly sat up, immediately grabbing his face between your hands.
Soft lavender locks fell into his eyes as Bunny let out a low groan, noticing the warmth of your hands against his skin, your eyes locked onto his crimson ones.
No recognition in your eyes either.
Just pure worry. Care. Whatever. Maybe even a few tears threatening to form.
“You have the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen, querida…” he muttered, smirking at the look of confusion on your face.
“Dude…I think I caused you a concussion.” you said, before turning his face left and right for any signs of injury. “At least you’re alive and aren’t bleeding.”
A loud echo of his laugh filled the midnight air of Spain, despite the ache in his body.
“You thought…?” he breathed out.
“What?” you sniffled, now more annoyed than worried, but still refusing to let go of him. “That you were about to die? Yeah, I fucking thought that.”
Slowly sitting up, he steadied himself with one hand on the ground while the other clutched his cap before meeting your gaze more properly now.
“I didn’t mean to worry you, sorry for that. Really. Swear on my life, I was just trying to grab my cap.”, he said with a hint of teasing, voice much softer now, lifting it slightly in his hand as proof. “The wind blew it off…”
Letting out a sigh, you climbed off him and got to your feet before offering a hand to help him up.
“I’m sorry too. For the misunderstanding,” you mumbled, glancing at his now ripped pants. “And for your jeans…”
At that, he simply ruffled your hair and placed his cap on top of it, before leaning down and carefully wiping your tears away with his thumb.
For a second too long, he lingered like he wanted to say something else, but decided to just smile and pull away. Casually walking off, he turned his head back over his shoulder halfway down the bridge.
And with that, he was gone.
You stood there for a while, the bridge quiet again except for the distant city noise and your heartbeat still hammering in your chest.
Once your breathing steadied, you crouched down, the adrenaline slowly draining from your body as you took a closer look at the stranger’s cap.
A rabbit stitched neatly on the front.
Running while weaving through the crowd, you were just about to avoid it when the restaurant door swung open and someone walked straight into you.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” you blurted out, wincing as you looked at the white shirt now stained with coffee.
“Oh, mi heroína…is that you?”
Looking up, your eyes caught on the familiar black cap.
A rabbit stitched on the front.
The very same one you’d been wearing for months.
Then you took a closer look at his face.
“Yeah, me.” he seemed surprisingly pleased by the sight of his cap on your head.
It had been months since that incident, and you hadn’t expected a reminder of it here, of all places. But fate, apparently, had other plans.
Standing in the middle of the crowd, he looked around before gently grabbing your wrist as he led you toward a quieter corner.
“Wanna grab a drink?” he offered, completely unbothered by the fact that he was already soaked in your coffee.
“I think I’m just gonna wring your shirt out,” you replied, digging through your bag for a tissue.
Letting out an amused laugh, he squatted down, pulling his cap off and ran a hand through his hair, tilting his head as he glanced up.
“Wanna see me half-naked?”
“You’re gonna be half dead if you don’t shut up.”
Grinning, he watched you for a while before pulling out his phone, and holding it out to you.
“You can give me a call once you find a dry cleaner.”
“Or…I could just pay you for it…” you said, pushing his phone away.
He clicked his tongue. “That’s boring.”
“Meeting you again sounds better.”
You rolled your eyes, stepping a little closer before squatting down to his level, though it didn’t help much as he was still taller.
“Because you think I’m interesting or something?”
“Yeah.” leaning in slightly, his tone turned playful, eyes glancing over your face. “I’m also pretty interested.”
It was outside the stadium where you were told to wait for him.
The crowd was still spilling out in waves, voices and footsteps blending into one loud blur.
When he finally showed up with two drinks in his hands, you assumed he’d just been there to the watch a match or something—nothing about him really screamed “professional athlete”. Not when he looked that put together without a drop of sweat in sight.
“So…how did the match go? Did you cheer?”
He paused in his steps, tilting his head. “What do you mean, cariño?”
You gave him a confused look, now confused at his confusion.
“Like…you were cheering. As a fan. Right?”
And then, like a light bulb flicking on, he nodded.
“Ah, yes. Totally. We won.”
As the two of you kept walking without any real destination, you decided to break the silence once again.
“Exactly how many of the same cap do you have?”
Taking a sip, Bunny glanced between the one on your head and the one in his hand.
You stared at his grin with growing concern as you took another sip of your drink.
“Let’s just say I used to be a football fan, querida. I’m allowed to own more than one cap.”
“Pretty sure owning ten identical ones count as a crime.”
“Good thing I never said ten.”
The grin on his face only widened as he continued walking ahead.
Meanwhile, the city around you was buzzing with chatter and laughter, cars passed by, and people hurried along the sidewalks as the heatwave continued to rage. Somehow, it felt strangely similar to that night on the bridge.
And significantly less crying.
Taking a break on a nearby bench, he rested his face on his hand, eyes flickering to his cap on your head.
Reaching up, you touched the brim.
“Most people would’ve given it back.”
“Most people don’t save your life on a random night even if it was a huge misunderstanding.” you argued.
“It seemed pretty expensive. You could have changed your mind and stalked me down to get it back. Some kind of exclusive merch, y’know?”
With a raised brow, he scooted closer, a sly grin on his face.
“Sí, claro. My favorite player’s.”
“And remind me…who’s your favorite again?”
Sitting in front of the TV, you didn’t know whether to act surprised, offended, or simply stupid at the fact that…
“You didn’t tell me you were a freaking world-class athlete!”
Staring back at his own face on the screen, Bunny let out a small laugh, shaking his head before dropping down onto the rug in front of the couch while you sat surrounded by cushions and his bunny plushie from ages ago.
“I mean…” he said quietly, eyes fixed somewhere past you. “Would you have looked at me the same way if you knew?”
Stunned, you just stared at him for a moment, the noise from the TV fading into the background as his words replayed in your head.
Would you have looked at him the same way if you knew?
The question stuck with you in a way you couldn’t quite shake.
It wasn’t about football, fame or that he’d somehow forgotten to mention he was one of the best players in the world.
It wasn’t the revelation that bothered you.
It was the doubt behind it.
The quiet assumption that finding out who he was might somehow change everything.
As if the person you’d met and the person sitting in front of you were two different people.
Something in your chest ached at the way he asked it, but your answer was already clear in your mind.
“Obviously.” you grabbed a cushion and tossed it at him. “Who are you to get my special treatment?”
It hit him square in the chest.
For a second, he just stared.
Bunny looked genuinely caught off guard.
It could have been your answer—simple, but honest or the fact that, for once, he’d felt seen without everything else attached to him.
You saw him as just a living person named Bunny Iglesias.
At the thought of that, he gave you a ghost of a smile.
“You sometimes make me wanna die, cariño.”
“You’re welcome, but I wouldn’t let you.”
Shaking his head, he leaned back against the couch, sitting on the floor between your knees.
The conversation drifted off after that, replaced by whatever movie was playing on the screen. At some point, you absentmindedly started playing with a loose strand of his hair.
His apartment felt unusually quiet, warm sunlight long gone from the windows as evening settled outside.
After a while, you felt his head grow a little heavier against the couch.
“Are you falling asleep?”
“Para nada.” [not at all]
Holding his face between your hands, you leaned in until your nose brushed his.
“Your eyes are literally closed.”
He was the one playing tonight just a few hours ago.
The same person you’d accidentally met months ago.
The same person you’d called out for having a ridiculous hat collection.
And somehow, the same person whose apartment you were currently crashing in simply because he’d asked.
And judging by the bunny caps sitting side by side on the coffee table, you were way too deep in this rabbit hole to pretend otherwise.
Occupied by your own thoughts, you didn’t even notice when he fell asleep.
Careful not to wake him, you pulled a blanket from the armrest and draped it over his figure. Without even opening his eyes, he reached out and caught your wrist—instinctively, like he wanted to make sure you were still there. The grip loosened almost immediately, but he never let go completely.
And for some reason, you didn’t bother pulling away either.
“Stay, mi heroína…please…”
You silently watched the way his face rested so peacefully against your palm before you finally gave in.
“Ugh, fine. I’m gonna steal your clothes tho. Be right back.”
There was something both intimate and irritating about lying in the same bed as Bunny.
“Couldn’t you have taken the couch?” you asked, patting the pillow wall you’d built to separate the bed.
Even through it, you could feel him inching closer, like he didn’t care much for boundaries.
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” he mumbled, half-asleep, though you could still hear the faint smirk in it.
“Weren’t you the one begging me to stay?” you said, pulling the blanket closer.
“Begging? That’s strong.”
“It was. Pretty pathetic if you ask me.”
“Lucky you then,” he murmured. “You’re the first person I’ve ever acted like that with. And the only person to call me pathetic.”
You laughed, turning toward the window instead, the view of the night sky and the yellow lights that the city bathed in bringing an odd sense of comfort.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
“To be honest…when I first saw you, I thought you had the saddest smile on your face.”
Silence followed before there was a small shift beside you. The bed creaked as he sat up slightly, looking at you now instead of the ceiling.
“¡Qué locura!…” he murmured. “Today a guy at the restaurant said the exact same thing to me.”
“Really? Must be true then,” reaching for his hand, you started to trace slow circles over his knuckles as your hands rested on the pillow barrier.
“Doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful though,” you added.
Then Bunny shifted closer, kicking down the pillow wall entirely.
“Maybe it was just waiting for someone who’d actually see it,” he said under his breath.
Before you realized it, the space between you was gone.
The pillow wall collapsed somewhere in the dark.
And neither of you bothered to fix it.
You fell asleep like that—his arms loosely around your waist, face tucked into your neck, breathing slow and steady.
And for the first time in a long while, Bunny had a real, genuine smile gently resting across his face.
You woke up to the sound of cheers and whistle, commentators chanting Bunny’s name from the TV.
“Why are you replaying your own goal?” you mumbled, lying in his borrowed shirt with open arms as he dropped onto you, back facing the ceiling, settling into your embrace.
“Good morning, amor,” he greeted. “I was just analyzing yesterday’s match. The team was great, but…I realized…”
“Mm…” you hummed, fingers already tangled in his hair, urging him to continue.
“I want my own. Why don’t we make our own football team?”
He said it like it was the most normal idea in the world, punctuating it with lazy kisses as you tried to push him away.
Laughing, that was when you decided to grab a pillow and use it as a shield against his lips.
“Gross. Just shut up and go back to sleep, Iglesias.”
