#pg8

Grey clouds hung low over the city, and the rain drummed a soft, steady beat on the windows. Inside, Pedri sat curled up on the couch, a thick wool blanket draped over his shoulders and legs. His book lay forgotten in his lap as his eyes traced the pattern of raindrops sliding down the glass.

You settled beside him, your body leaning into his side. The blanket slipped over you both, and you felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your head.

“I love days like this,” Pedri said quietly, voice low and content. “No noise, no pressure. Just... calm.”

You nodded, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment. “Me too.”

His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, and his fingers began tracing slow, soothing circles on your back. It was a silent language, words weren’t necessary when every touch said you were home.

The world outside faded into background noise, the rain’s soft tapping, the occasional rumble of thunder far away. Inside, there was only the slow heartbeat between you.

Pedri’s fingers tightened around yours. “We don’t do this enough,” he whispered.

You smiled, looking up at him. His eyes were warm, slightly tired, but full of something steady and true. “We should,” you agreed.

For a while, you both just sat like that, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket and the quiet pulse of being together. Your head rested lightly on his chest as he shifted to press a kiss to your forehead.

No plans, no distractions, just a calm, slow day spent wrapped in softness.

The rain kept falling outside, but, inside, the world felt like it had paused just for you two.

written by @paucubarsisimp The rain had been falling for hours — slow and lazy, like even the sky didn’t feel like rushing today.

You and Pau had been curled up on the couch since late morning, the blanket half on, half off, one of his legs hooked around yours like he was afraid you’d float away if he let go. Your head was resting on his chest, and he had both arms wrapped around you like a sleepy octopus — one hand tucked into your hair, the other playing with the hem of your shirt.

He smelled like warmth. Like skin and soft cotton and that one hoodie he always left at your place, the one you were currently drowning in.

“You’re so warm,” you mumbled, nose squished into his collarbone.

Pau hummed, lips brushing the top of your head. “You’re literally stealing all my body heat.”

You smiled against his neck. “You love it.”

“Maybe,” he whispered, and kissed your temple once. Then again. Then a third time, slower. “But only 'cause it’s you.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, and he looked down at you with that half-sleepy, all-heart look — the one that made your chest ache a little in the best way.

He leaned down, kissed your cheek.

“You’re cute.”

Kissed your nose.

“Too cute.”

Kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Stop being so cute, seriously, it’s unfair.”

You laughed, trying to hide your face in his hoodie, but he caught you with a grin, kissing you properly this time — soft and slow and just a little too long. When he pulled back, your smile matched his.

“You always do that,” you whispered, dazed. “What?” “Kiss me like I’m made of clouds or something.”

He smiled, eyes half-lidded. “Maybe you are.”

You laughed again, and he kissed your laugh too — once, then twice more, like he couldn’t help it. His hands slid up your back, slow and gentle, thumbs brushing along your spine, grounding you.

The rain tapped on the window like a soft drumbeat, and the whole world outside faded to a quiet blur.

“Can we stay like this forever?” you asked, fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

Pau nodded, burying his face in your hair.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Me, you, this hoodie, and about a hundred kisses. That’s all I need.”

You grinned, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed your forehead one last time — firm and steady, like a promise.

And you stayed like that, in the soft hush of the rain and the warmth of each other, letting the world slow down around you.

written by @paucubarsisimp The rain had been falling since early morning — soft and steady, the kind that makes everything feel slower. Outside, the sky was a dull grey, but inside, the apartment felt warm in that lazy, rainy-day kind of way.

You were tucked into the corner of the couch, legs curled under a blanket that definitely used to belong to Ferran until you claimed it. He walked in from the kitchen barefoot, hoodie sleeves pushed up, holding two mugs like they were precious cargo.

“Vale, don’t move,” he said quietly, setting them down. “This one’s yours — more honey, just how you like it.”

“You’re learning,” you teased, already reaching for it.

He gave you a small smile, the kind that showed just a little dimple. “I’m a fast learner when it comes to you.”

You made room and he didn’t hesitate — just dropped onto the couch next to you and pulled the blanket over both of you like it was second nature. His arm went around your shoulders without a word. His hand found yours. Like muscle memory.

“You’re clingy today,” you mumbled, though your head found his chest anyway.

“No es verdad,” he said, trying not to smile. “You’re the clingy one. I’m just… here.”

You laughed against him, soft and sleepy. His fingers started moving gently up and down your arm, absentminded, almost like he didn’t realize he was doing it. But you knew Ferran — he always knew. He was just quiet about how much he loved closeness.

“Days like this feel like they don’t really count,” you whispered. “Exactly,” he said. “Like we get a break from everything.”

His voice was low, lazy, like the rain outside. And for a while, neither of you said anything — just listened to the sound of water on glass and the distant hum of the city trying to keep moving.

He kissed the top of your head so softly you barely felt it. “Podemos quedarnos así todo el día si quieres.”

“You sure?” you murmured, already sinking deeper into him. He nodded.

“I’m not going anywhere. Esta es mi parte favorita del día.”

Your favorite part too.

The rain tapped steadily on the windows, the soft rhythm filling the quiet room. You found yourself snuggled in the little nest Lamine had built on the floor, a fortress of pillows and blankets he’d dragged out with a proud grin, declaring it the “best rainy day setup.” Honestly, you couldn’t argue. It was the perfect spot to escape the wet chill outside.

Lamine lounged back comfortably, phone forgotten in his hand as his eyes tracked raindrops racing each other down the glass. You shifted closer, resting your head on his shoulder. His steady breathing slowed your own, a comforting anchor amid the muted gray outside.

“You always know how to make this kind of day feel special,” you murmured, fingers trailing lazy circles on his arm.

He glanced down at you with a smile, nudging your shoulder softly. “Rainy days aren’t meant for running around,” he said. “They’re for slowing down, doing nothing, just being together.”

You felt the warmth of the thick blanket draped over both your legs and the way his hand slid up to tangle with yours. It was a simple gesture, but it filled the silence with quiet connection.

The smell of hot chocolate lingered in the air. Earlier, Lamine had disappeared into the kitchen, returning proudly with two steaming mugs, the sweet scent mixing with the scent of wet concrete from the open window.

You sipped slowly, the warmth spreading through your chest matching the glow of being here, now, with him.

Outside, the rain showed no sign of stopping. But inside your little haven, time seemed to pause. The world outside could stay cold and wet while you lay here wrapped in quiet and comfort.

Lamine’s voice was soft when he spoke again. “I don’t need anything else today. Just this.”

You smiled, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “Neither do I.”

And in that moment, wrapped in his warmth and the gentle sound of rain, everything felt perfectly still.

Outside, the streets glistened wet and slick under the steady rain. Inside Pablo’s apartment, the world was softer, filled with warmth, the quiet hum of the heater, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air.

You sat curled up on the floor next to him, your back resting against the couch as Pablo fiddled with the cord of a knitted blanket, pulling it free and spreading it carefully over your legs.

He looked up with a small smile, eyes bright despite the gray outside. “This is exactly what I needed,” he said quietly. “No pressure, no noise, just... this.”

You nodded, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Same here.”

The two of you settled into the quiet rhythm of the rain, the sound soft and steady. Pablo shifted closer, letting his shoulder bump against yours, sharing warmth without words.

“I love rainy days like this. It means I get to spend time with you and do nothing,” he said after a moment, voice calm and thoughtful.

You laughed softly. “Yeah. Sometimes doing nothing is the best.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady warmth beneath you. The steady pulse of his breathing became a soft rhythm you could follow, matching the rain’s gentle fall.

Outside, the city seemed washed clean and quiet, but inside Pablo’s apartment, the world was full of gentle moments, small smiles, soft touches, and the slow, quiet joy of being together.

Time stretched out softly as you two stayed wrapped in the blanket and the peace of a rainy day that had nowhere to go but right here, in each other’s company.

written by @paucubarsisimp The rain had been falling all day, soft and steady, like even the sky wanted to stay quiet for a while.

Héctor showed up at your place just before noon, his hoodie soaked through, curls damp, cheeks a little pink from the cold. He didn’t say much when you opened the door — just gave you that shy smile and shrugged with a quiet, “Hola.”

You knew exactly why he came. He always did when it rained.

Now, he was curled up behind you on the couch, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other resting lightly on your chest, like he never wanted to let you go. His breathing was slow and steady, and you could feel the heat of his body pressed close to yours, legs tangled, fingers absentmindedly playing with the edge of your shirt.

He didn’t seem to want anything more than just being close. Just having you close.

You slowly turned to look at him, and he met your eyes with that half-asleep gaze — calm, quiet, and something else you couldn’t quite name but felt deep down.

“Here again,” he said with a small smile, barely above a whisper. “Yeah,” you said, running your fingers along his cheek.

He leaned in to kiss your cheek, then your nose, then your jaw — slow and gentle, like he wanted to memorize every touch.

You laughed softly. “You always kiss me like it’s the first time.” He blinked. “It’s because I want to remember it all.”

He kissed you again — this time on your lips, barely more than a warm brush — and then rested his forehead against yours.

“Can we just… not move today?” he asked, voice low and rough with sleep. “Depends,” you teased, “what if I want some coffee?” “I’ll make it,” he said without hesitation, eyes still closed. “But you have to come back right after.”

You smiled, and he pulled you closer. “Clingy.” “And you’re my favorite,” you whispered.

He kissed your shoulder through the fabric, then your collarbone, and then your lips again — slow, sweet, and patient.

You stayed like that, wrapped in the sound of the rain and the warmth of his arms, letting time pause just for the two of you.

He held you like nowhere else mattered.

well, she wasn't really on her own as her arms occupied a happy, healthy 6-month-old who was growing by the day.

she was running late actually, needing to get him and herself ready, she had been too busy trying to shove the last box of belongings into her room so the nursery was free of mess.

she held the infant securely in one arm before shoving her crate of clothes into her new bedroom before entering her son's room - the only room completely furnished with its own personal touches of photo frames and the letter 'P' stuck to the wall, it was the most homiest room in the apartment. 

her phone balanced on her shoulder and cheek on loud speaker, nodding along to her mother's words as she flicked through her son's wardrobe.

“—and some chocolates of course, more roses— oh! did i mention the handbag? my new handbag—”

“—wow, very cute mami, he does not disappoint," you pictured every item she received for valentine's, joe never failing to spoil her. 

"—yes, he said he was trying to get your flowers to you today but the business closed unexpectedly so he said it might be a while!"

"—it's fine, mama, tell him not to worry. i haven't gotten flowers from dad either." 

"—and pedri?"

"no, no flowers from pedri."

you heard her low gasp on the phone. "why?!"

you shrugged, forgetting she couldn't see you, "i don't know, i didn't expect some, anyway. he has more important things to worry about that i don't blame him for, i'm not bothered. " the line stayed quiet. "i have just over an hour to get ready and get paco ready, i should go."

"does he have a game today?"

"yes, although I don't know if he's even playing . ." you mumbled more so to yourself, "it's starts in about 2 hours so i'm kind of cutting it short here."

"that's ok, i just wanted to call and see how your valentine's was but it sounds like a pretty sad one to me."

you gawked at your phone at her bluntness.

"are you upset?"

"no!" you assured, holding up the cute, comfy set for paco to wear. "it's fine. i'd be more surprised if he had gotten me something."

"hmm, i still thought he would have gotten you something on behalf of your son," she mumbled, not impressed.

to be honest, you'd be lying if you said you didn’t too. he’d always gotten you flowers (alas, you were together) but, this was pedri you were talking about, stuff like that would fly over his head. "ma, this is pedri, i don't even think he realises valentine's has past, it is the least of his worries right now," you defended him.

"still."

you stared at the wall. "ok! well, going to go. i will maybe call later after the game. have a nice day, mami—"

"—gracias, honeyyy," she dragged, "kiss my handsome grandson for meee—"

you nodded and promised, ending the call so you could get ready. 

you tried not to tell your mom too much about pedri-football-relationship stuff (at least any negatives) just because she could be pretty biased and didn't completely understand your lifestyles, certainly not pedri's, so talking to her sometimes about it was like talking to a brick wall. also, she rarely saw you, hardly saw pedri, so she failed to realise he wasn't always the version she encountered each time you visited her in the states during his time off. she never had to see stressed, angry and work-mode pedri. 

you did replay her words though, how she had the same idea in mind when you thought you'd at least get some sort of delivery on behalf of your son.

after all, it was the thought that counts.

that was only why you would have liked something - as a gesture of the appreciation - for looking after your son. you didn't need a cartier ring or 20 bouquets of roses, a simple card through your door would have done the job. 

and yet, here you were, trying not to overthink it before you were left with another wave of dejection.

he's injured, stop making this about you. 

he has a muscle injury in his leg, he can write a card!

"come on my boy, let's get you ready," you huffed, the 6-month-old looking at you blankly through the gaps in his cot. 

you were convinced he hated you too.

well, that was the dramatic side to you — you knew deep down he didn't hate you, you were his mama after all, but he definitely had a favourite and it certainly wasn't you. in fact, you were convinced the order of favouritism went dad, grandad and grandma, uncle fer, then you. he loved his abuelitos, you thought maybe he just liked being around guys, but then pedri's mom was definitely one of his favourites as she was the only one he would choose over his abuelito, and fer was pedri's clone so why wouldn't he be obsessed with him? 

urgh. you didn't know. you loved him with every bone in your body and smothered him in kisses the minute he woke up but all he gave you is return was furrowed brows and a sore head from pulling your hair. you didn't know what the big deal was anyway – you had him a lot more than what pedri did and had more time to go out and do stuff with him, what was the big fuss about papi?!

that was the one thing he got from his mama - the infatuation with the footballer. 

nothing else. "are we going to go see papa?" you crouched on the opposite side of the cot.

he had only turned 6 months on the 8th and was coming into his own little person. a spitting imagine of his papi for sure, no DNA test needed, but his personality was yet to be confirmed. he could just about sit up now and make unnecessarily loud noises - which rosy said pedri used to annoyingly do all the time - so, you had in mind it might not just be looks he was getting from his papa.

getting the two of you ready was no big deal, your regular routine if anything. before you knew it, you were trotting down the steps to the complex's parking lot, buckling your baby in his carrier before making your way to the stadium. it was a home game and an earlier match than usual so he was coming along for the day.

to be honest, you were bringing him as a pick-me-up for pedri after this month's recent events. 

this time last week, you'd been here watching him score the winning goal, and the day after he'd told you how he'd picked up an injury from the same game. you were yet to find out how serious it was, but if it had anything to do with his hamstring, you knew it'd be a good lot of weeks.

you were nervous to see pedri in general. the last time you spoke, he was upset to say the least over this injury, and you were getting the wrath of it. 

"—hola, mi guapo!" rosy's warm tone had your baby swinging his entire body around in your grip from the car park. his dummy immediately fell out from the smiles he was giving, melting her heart all over again. she felt like she’d stepped through a time machine back to 2002 the minute he’d been born.

"'tu guapo' was squealing and chirping the whole drive over," you informed her as the other two came over. she laughed as fer tried to take his nephew while his dad stole the baby's attention. paco adored pedri’s side of the family. he loved yours too, but he saw them a hell of a lot more than them, and he was obsessed.

"how are you, querida?" his mom sided with you as the boys took paco, knowing she would get her turn when the game started and they'd be jumping in the stands too much. she linked your arm as you made your way through the building with your passes, pedri's name and face on all of them. 

"i'm okay, how are you? how is pedri? have you heard anything? can he play or is it that serious?"

barca were having a pretty good season so far, which came with a lot of sacrifices, but evidently worth it. they still suffered losses but there had been more wins than defeats this 2022-2023 season which was great, however, pedri had picked up an injury which almost overwrote the positives; the 20-year-old's presence made a big impact on the team. 

it was an hour before kick-off and fer had texted his brother that the family, and paco, was here, and quickly before listening in on tactics with xavi in the changing room, he snuck out to see his family and son.

pedri searched for any one of your figures, his mind clouded with a dark fog that had him almost wanting to stomp in his footsteps. his fists were tight at his sides and his jaw was tense, trying his best to stay composed when all he wanted to do was yell, and probably cry, but he couldn't. not in front of his family, not in front of his son, not in front of his team, and not in front of the cameras. he'd got the news yesterday evening after his final examination to confirm how long he'd be out for and come today to tell xavi and the team.

rounding the corner in the halls beneath the stadium, his stone-set face broke as he captured eyes the exact same as his own, peering curiously over your shoulder. 

"mi hijo!" he beamed for the first time in days, arms already outstretched for his son. he hadn't seen him in almost three days. he'd taken him an hour before late-night training but he'd slept the whole time, so it practically didn't count. 

"i missed you so much, mi niño," he repeatedly kissed his tiny cheek as his mini-me emerged in smiles and giggles, happy in the hands of his papi. "you cheer me right up."

your whole body felt fuzzy, an unexplainable amount of warmth spreading throughout you at the sweet sight of both boys but also in the same thump of your heart came an achy, hollow feel.

you missed them together.

you missed pedri.

even though time had barely passed, you missed him as your other half. 

you loved him. of course you did.

you could lie and say you didn't care for him at all, but your eyes told everything, the curve of your lips, that automatic glow that washed over you being around him: you just automatically lit up.

even if you wanted to hate him, your heart would never allow it.

you missed him. 

to be honest, you didn't really know why you both broke up, you didn’t want to, but you did.

it happened after the night he limped off the pitch with medics by his sides, when it had first occurred that serious damage had been done. 

he had been stressing even before this accident: suffering with repetitive injuries, dealing with defeats, with the club's situation as a whole, being harshly overplayed as well as the nonstop criticism online all at the age of 20: it was taking a toll on him. he'd shared to you how it was getting him down and how he felt useless to everyone – and now he'd thrown a baby into the mix which only made him feel worse.

he voiced his concern for his lack of attentiveness to both you and paco which you couldn't have waved off enough, you'd told him not to worry and that it didn't matter. you'd still be there for the three of you and do whatever you could to help him. you'd been through it together before and you would do it again.

however, whether the addition of a baby this time was the final push, you didn't know, but this injury had pushed to him—shoved him harshly over the edge.

he lost it. shouted how you didn't get it and how he was a failure at everything: how he was a shit football player, a shit boyfriend, and now a shit dad. how he had no time for anyone or anything, barely himself. how he needed to focus and work on himself but couldn't do so without neglecting you and paco which he didn't want to do. pedri wasn't sold on himself as a dad to begin with, too young and too busy, anxiety riddled in his veins the moment you told him the news, but this just confirmed it for him, knowing the rehab he was going to have to do and extra training and treatment - paco would forget about him and you and the media would class him a deadbeat dad, abandoning his newborn child. 

he barely saw you and paco as much as he wanted to, with paco being born early august, he didn't even get a whole month to enjoy the arrival of his son before he was thrown into the new season, and with xavi's coaching for this 'new era' of barca, it felt like he was never not training. and he had other things to do, whether for his own brand, media for barca, sports ceremonies, shoots for partnerships or balancing his own social life with friends and family – he was tired. 

it was something you never minded when it was just you two, you weren't the neediest girlfriend, but sometimes pedri was coming home and falling as sleep the moment he fell to the couch while you accidentally fell asleep trying to put paco to bed, the pair of you not even sleeping in the same room. 

you could no longer travel to his away games anymore like you used to with his brother, or make up your lost time with a fun date night. there were so many responsibilities this time around, all of which he felt like he couldn't fulfil.

so, before his blood pressure shot through the roof or he had a mental breakdown, you knocked one thing off the list.

"—pedri, pedri, stop worrying about me and paco," you held his face, bringing his ranting outburst to a halt "–stop worrying about us. we're going to be fine," you held his face still. "i . . i don't . . don't worry about me, okay? look, for now, i don't want you stressing over trying to make time with me or making plans for my birthday or anniversaries or anything like that, we can forget all that, alright?" you gulped, silence filling the room. "let's put it on pause. let's stop for a minute, okay?"

he didn't seem to fully grasp what you were saying. he knew what his complaining might have interpreted but he didn't think this was a possibility.

"in rational terms . . . i don't need you for anything,” you sighed, “paco does. prioritise your time with paco, not me. he needs his papi. i'm more than happy to stand on the sidelines if you can at least make a little time with him," you reasoned. "i know you're busy but i want you to feel as at ease as you can, pepi, i want to make this as easy and as stress-free for you. i don't want you running yourself down over all this stress and guilt, it's not good for you and paco and i certainly don't want to see you like that. take it easy. we'll be fine,” you cradled his face, “maybe until you feel like yourself again we'll pick up where we left, when the season's over and we see how you did. i know you're under a lot of pressure, i know the club is under a lot of pressure and i know you don't want to let anyone down. i know you don't want us thinking we're second to barça and i know we're not. it's just how things are at the minute and i get that, pedro, don't think for a second i think of you like that.” you were hurt at the thought he'd ever think you'd think that of him: he did his best and that was all you could ask for. "we'll see how the season goes but we're still by your side. paco and i will stay at the apartment so we're not disturbing your sleep schedule and you're not disturbing ours. you can visit any time on any day, just call, text — whenever you want, we'll work around you."

it's not like you had college or work to go to anymore, and it wasn't like you had a million friends to go out with all the time. "speak with your management tomorrow, go through things and get organised. don't overwhelm yourself, don't overwork yourself. don’t be afraid to say no. and this injury — it's temporary, not forever," you raised your brows, lifting his head up by his chin. "you're getting in your head because you're in a shit position and you feel stuck. you're not stuck. you'll get through it and we're all here to help you, you know this." 

"but i feel useless, y/n—" he sat down, "pathetic, i—"

"—for now, you do, you’ll feel like that, yes. but you're not pedri. keep working hard, keep coming back stronger. do whatever you need to do, we're all gonna be waiting for you. you know you're important to the team, your absence doesn't go unnoticed," you looked down at him, hating him sink so low. 

it took a lot to get through to pedri when it came to this stuff, very rarely he listened to what people had to say to him - or believed it, better put. his dad was probably the only person he really took advice from, or coaches or players he rated: if it came from their mouth, he'd believe it 100%. anyone else wasted their breath. it had to come from them or him. "you're the type of player who comes back from an injury and plays like he never missed a game."

now that — that did something. you could tell from the way the tail of his brow twitched and you knew he'd at least considered what you said. "stop being hard on yourself."

"but you—how is this fair to you—"

"—pedri, i don't care. i understand. i can survive being ‘single’ for four months," you broke a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "i'm fine. i don't mind. i’ll not be running off anywhere,” you chuckled, “paco is my priority: take him whenever you get the chance, take him out, visit him for an hour, be there for his bedtime, i don't even have to be in the room, just focus on him. all he wants is for you to look at him . ." you tucked your hair behind your ear, "he's obsessed with you."

it did hurt a little at the idea of being blanked but you would survive, paco was the priority, and like you said, it was temporary, not forever. if things went as expected, cameras would flash with you both holding up the trophy, paco in your arm and pedri's lips on yours, a happy, united family again with another trophy title under your boyfriend's belt. 

"i don't want you coming home stressed and angsty and taking it out at home and paco wondering why everyone’s arguing all the time," you never really argued with pedro, if at all in the entirety of your relationship, you were just so united that you never had any issues - it was only recently when he started picking up injuries that he crumbled under pressure, that was it. never any arguments over unfaithfulness, jealousy, disrespect — you were best friends, you'd never dreamed of doing anything that you thought for a second would hurt or offend the other.

you both felt unworthy of the other.

"we don't fight but house is tense," fer couldn't even open a cupboard to grab a plate, pedri had somehow found issue with it and the two brothers were yapping at each other, fer telling him off how it's not fair everyone has to deal with his bad mood. "it's just for now."

"'til the end of the season?"

"if that's what you want, yes." you looked at him.

june.

pedri didn't like the idea of paco not living there full time. "so what, co-parenting?"

"it doesn't have to be hard, pedri. we will just live in seperate houses, you pass that apartment block on the way to camp nou every day. paco's starting to get into a sleeping routine."

"–but he's starting to teeth."

"–all the more reason why to do this. you already need to work twice as hard as everyone else now with this injury, i don't want him to fuck up any chance of rest you get," you were being really selfless right now and probably setting yourself up for a lot, but you could handle it. you could do it. "it'll be fine, pedri. i wouldn't suggest this if i thought i couldn't do it - if it'd be pointless. we'll let it run and see how it goes. stop doubting yourself."

you could read his mind, the worry of doing this on his own, the frustration of dealing with people's opinions. 

after a long pause, looking at the floor with furrowed brows, he let out a sigh. "ok."

"okay?"

he nodded, remaining silent. "i will miss him."

. . are you going to miss me?

"i'm not keeping him from you, he'll just stay over in the apartment," you frowned. "pick him up whenever you want." 

he rubbed his forehead, and you decided to push him no further. it was a lot to take in and accept, but you had faith it would all work in both your favour. it would be good for the three of you. "you have nothing to worry about other than yourself. no relationships, no responsibilities, nothing but your recovery," you squeezed his shoulder.

he'd crossed the ends of his feet and leaned his elbow on the table, pulling the hairs of his brow, "so are you still my girlfriend?"

"you can still refer to me as your girlfriend, we’re just strictly co-parenting 'til further notice," you almost rolled your eyes. you weren't going to sleep around if that's what he thought.

“like a break?”

“mm . . whatever you wanna call it."

you didn’t like how that sounded on his tongue.

he huffed a sigh, deep in thought, but before you could say else more, paco began to cry from his room, and you left pedri with his thoughts.

your eyes burned the second you turned your back. 

you didn’t know why. you did you best to dab them dry, not understanding why you were upset.

you replayed the whole encounter over and over again, wondering what he was thinking, if he was going to stick to it or come to you tomorrow and tell you how dumb you were for leaving (even though you weren't really going anywhere) and that he needed you to be there every step of the way.

but then you thought of pedri's strong independence and how that was super unrealistic: there would be no 'you're staying here', 'no, we're doing this together' or 'i can't do this without you'. his independence was both a blessing and a curse, he did and dealt with things on his own, something you grew accustomed to pretty quickly, therefore, didn't take to heart when he didn't want your help straight away. 

he was the first person you ran to, on the other hand. you’d be at a loss.

you took a minute to process it all yourself.

he said he would miss paco . . did that include you? 

you'd been really mature and put your big girl pants on and brave face with your reasoning — but your heart had never felt so heavy. nerves so shaky.

you were so scared for what you'd gotten yourself into. you'd put yourself up for a lot . . but you had faith you'd get it right. you always did. independence had been naturally forced on you as a kid so you appreciated company a lot, but this was a sacrifice for a moment in time, it'd pay off. 

things will be back to normal before you know it. 

you could do this. 

"—it's temporary, not forever," his mum repeated the famous words that first came from your mouth, comforting her son as you zoned back in.

he was too busy puckering his lips towards his baby, probably not wanting to hear words of comfort as he was still very much frustrated.

you watched from behind fer, fiddling with the soft comfort you brought everywhere for your son, stroking the little monkey in the corner while the brothers entertained the infant.

he was so handsome.

you were embarrassed to be looking at him.

the whole situation felt embarrassing. young couple split months after birth of newborn baby?! shock of the century. 

it didn't matter, to be honest. you still wanted him in the end, you’d only ever wanted him, before and after paco, you couldn’t see yourself with anybody else. you might never need to announce it for nothing had changed, your eyes still went black when you looked at him.

pedri didn't look at you once.

he didn’t even acknowledge you. solely on paco, then to his dad when he spoke to him, and then he was called and he had to go, and he handed paco back to his mum. 

you found it . . odd. a little dumbstruck almost, but, you tried not to take it to heart, knowing he had his reasons and it wasn't personal.

right?

did you do something maybe? missed a text maybe? he had you pulling out your phone and checking your last convo, which was 2 days ago when he told you he to was on his way to get paco.

so you hadn't ignored him, and you hadn't said anything . . .

he's still in a mood. he's gonna be ignorant without even realising. 

you pulled the strap of the paco’s backpack up your shoulder and followed behind the family to the stands, running over everything once more just incase . . . but nothing.

nothing came to mind.

you weren’t on bad terms or anything, or at least you didn’t consider yourselves to be . . does he think it’s bad terms?

no, you know what? it's a one off. he'd never blank you for no reason.

it’s not intentional.

pedri was better than that. he knew better than that, he simply thought too highly of you to stoop to that standard.

pedri wouldn’t dream of treating you that way.

notes: first chapter! honestly have no idea how long this could go on for but hopefully not a ridiculous amount 🙈 so excited for this series! it’s gonna melt hearts and break hearts 🤭 i’m thinking of doing flashback chapters inbetween, so parts on them younger, first meeting, finding out about paco, etc! so let me know - i’m open to ideas and opinions! vote + comment + reblog as always, ‘n happy reading! 🩷