Summary: Ferran is in love with Pedri since...ugh, forever, damn. But Pedro Gonzalez Lopez is straight-right? Right?
Tropes: Slow burn / Best friends to lovers / Cuddling / Smut (in the later chapters) /Angst
I wish this moment could last forever.
As Araujo lifts the trophy—our trophy—and the crowd explodes in thunderous applause, I feel like I'm dreaming. It doesn't matter how many titles I win, this feeling will never go away. It's the moment I realize how much I've accomplished and what a great team we have... and then there is Pedri. He was jumping at the same time as me just a second ago, but now he is sitting behind Rapha, who's shouting something in Portuguese.For a few minutes, we're all just a mass of happiness and glory. Then, as we each head toward our friends and families,I realize neither Arantxa nor my parents are here. They couldn't come to every big match, could they?
I walk around, feeling a little dizzy and lost. Rapha is walking around with Taia and Gael, a wide smile marking his face. Natalia waves, and I wave back. I turn around and there is Cubarsí with his girlfriend. Damn it, am I the only single guy on this team?I let my shoulders slump as I try to find my way to the bench. On my way there, I bump into somebody...
"Ferri! Come, meet my girlfriend!" Pedri glances behind his back and says, "Come on, Ale, you gotta meet the famous Tiburón."
She looks exactly like she does in the pictures Pedri showed me: her wide smile isn't shy at all as her warm brown eyes meet mine. Her long hair falls over the Barça jersey she's wearing—the exact one Pedri told me he wore in the match against Celta, before he gave it to her.
"Thanks for looking after him out there, Ferran," Alejandra says.
"Always," I whisper, though the word tastes like ash in my mouth.Pedri is grinning while he watches us meet for the first time. I'm glad he's happy and that my approval and opinion matter so much to him, but if he ever found out about my feelings...
"It’s so good to finally meet you, Ferran," she says, stepping closer.For Pedri's sake, I force my best, most genuine smile onto my face. I open my arms and wrap her in a warm hug. She's sweet, from what he'd told me, and she truly cares about him; she doesn't deserve my bitterness. I hug her tight, asking myself why can't i be just...happy for them.I mean happy with all of my heart, not just a puedacito.When we pull apart, Pedri’s eyes are shining with pure pride.
"Pedri! Hijo!"We all turn around to see his parents navigating through the crowd on the pitch.
"Mamá! Papá!" Pedri’s face lights up completely. He jogs over to meet them halfway, leaving me standing there with Alejandra,us both watching him embrace his parents. He looks so ridiculously happy.He has everything he ever wanted: the trophy, his family, and the girl of his dreams.
And then there's me. An extra in his perfect movie.
"Hey, look over here! Give us a smile!"
A club cameraman suddenly appears out of nowhere, his heavy lens pointing directly at us. Pedri hears him, chuckles, and immediately reaches out for Alejandra's hand, pulling her into the frame. His parents step back, smiling as they watch the young couple.
"Come on, Pedri, show the fans some love!" the cameraman calls out with a grin.Pedri doesn't hesitate. He wraps his arm tightly around Alejandra's waist, pulling her against his chest.Time seems to slow down to a torturous crawl. Pedri leans down, his eyes closing as his lips find hers in a deep, passionate kiss right in front of the flashing camera.The crowd’s roar sounds suddenly muffled, as if I’ve just been pushed underwater. The confetti raining down from the Camp Nou sky looks like a blur of colors. My chest tightens so hard it physically hurts to breathe. Seeing them together on a screen was one thing, but watching his lips move against hers just two feet away from me is a completely different kind of torture. That's the mouth that laughs at my jokes, the mouth that whispers secrets to me on the team bus.
And it will never belong to me.
The cameraman cheers, lowering his device with a satisfied nod: that's a photo that will break a thousand hearts, but none as broken as mine. Pedri breaks the kiss, a flush on his cheeks, his eyes locked on Alejandra as if she’s the only person on the entire pitch.
"Oh, look at you two," Pedri's mom says, stepping forward. Then, her eyes lock onto me, and her smile grows even wider.
"Ferran! Come here, don't just stand there. We need a photo with you too!"Before I can protest, Fernando, his dad, wraps a heavy, warm arm around my shoulders, pulling me into their circle.
"Absolutely. You're practically part of the family, Ferran. Come on."
Alejandra steps back politely, giving us space and offering to take a couple of shots with Pedri's phone. I try to hold my breath, trying to block out the scent of Pedri's cologne so close to me.
"Get closer, boys!" his dad says.Pedri grins, throwing his arm around my neck, pulling me tight against his side.
"Come on, Ferri, smile! We won the league!" he yells right into my ear.For a few seconds, as the camera flashes, I pretend. I pretend I am just the happy best friend, a second son to his wonderful parents, and that the warmth of Pedri’s body pressed against mine is purely platonic. I flash my signature Tiburón smile for the camera, but inside, my heart is shattering into a million pieces. This is my family too, in a way, but I am living a lie.As soon as Alejandra hands the phone back, the spell breaks. Pedri immediately turns his attention back to her, showing her the photos, their heads close together.I can't do this anymore. The air feels too thick, the stadium too loud, the reality too suffocating.
