Chapter Text
Mid January, 2016
The final bell of Ferran's first day rang at three-thirty.
Within seconds, the corridors exploded into life. Doors flung open, teachers called after students to remember homework, and the front gates quickly became clogged with teenagers eager to get home.
Ferran stepped out into the warm January afternoon with his backpack slung over one shoulder.
"See you tomorrow!" Dani called. They had had last period Algebra together. "Don't get lost again.
"I only got lost once," Ferran protested.
Dani raised an eyebrow. "You said that you got lost three times." He laughed. "Oh well, I'll see you in the morning."
"See you."
After waving goodbye to the four boys, Ferran headed towards the pick-up area.
His mum's little silver hatchback was parked beneath one of the trees, windows rolled down and music quietly playing through the speakers.
María spotted him immediately. She leaned across to push open the passenger door. "How was it?"
Ferran climbed inside. The door had barely shut before the words started tumbling out. "It was actually really good."
María smiled as she pulled away from the curb. "Really?"
"Mhm."
"Biology was awful because they're way ahead of where we were in Valencia."
"Oh?"
"And I didn't even take biology this year, so I had absolutely no clue what they were talking about."
"So what happened?"
"The boy I sat next to gave me all of his notes from the start of the term."
"He just... gave them to you?"
"He'd had an extra copy."
María smiled softly. "That's kind."
"He's really nice."
"What's his name?"
"Pedri."
Ferran settled further into his seat. "We've got biology and history together, and art, but that's not until tomorrow. And history was much better because we'd actually done that topic already. I even helped him with one of the questions."
"Oh, look at you."
He grinned. "And he introduced me to his friends at break."
"Already?"
"Mhm. There are four of them altogether: Pedri, Dani, Eric, and Joan."
María listened patiently as he described each of them.
"Dani's funny, and Joan's absolutely massive, I swear he's taller than everyone, even me. Eric wears glasses and seems really quiet. And I'm pretty sure that Joan and Eric are dating... I'm not certain, but they were holding hands and being cuddly and stuff. And Pedri..." He paused.
"What about Pedri?"
"I don't know. He's just... easy to talk to. We both really like football."
María glanced sideways for a moment before returning her eyes to the road. "I thought you said you were worried nobody would talk to you."
"I was."
"So what changed?"
"I got sat next to the right person."
The words came out without him really thinking.
María smiled to herself. "I suppose sometimes that's all it takes."
He nodded. "I think so."
"So..." She stopped at a set of traffic lights. "Are any on the football team?"
Ferran laughed. "Mami."
"What? I know you. You're practically bursting to tell me all about it."
Ferran knew that his mother was nowhere near as interested in football as he was, despite being his biggest supporter. Out of respect for that, he normally tried not to chat her ear off about it too much.
He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Yes. They all play."
"I knew it."
"Pedri and Dani are midfielders, Eric plays midfield and defence, and Joan's the goalkeeper. And," he couldn't stop himself smiling. "I've got my trial after school on Wednesday."
María reached over at the red light and squeezed his arm. "You'll smash it."
"I hope so."
"I know so." The lights changed, and she pulled away. "You've been kicking a football around since you could walk."
"I've also kicked plenty over the fence."
"That too."
They both laughed.
"I just..." Ferran looked out of the window at the passing countryside. "I really want to make the team."
"You will."
"Even if you don't," she smiled, "you've still made four friends in one day."
He hadn't thought about it like that. Four friends already. His chest felt unexpectedly light. Maybe Barcelona really was starting to become home.
By Thursday afternoon, Ferran finally knew which staircase led to the science block. He'd managed to only take one wrong turn all day - which, in his opinion, counted as excellent progress.
Classes were beginning to feel familiar, teachers had started remembering his name, and he no longer needed to stare at his timetable every period change. And every morning, there was always someone waiting beneath the big tree at break. Usually all four of them.
"So," Dani said at lunch, nudging Ferran's shoulder. "Big day."
Ferran looked up from his sandwich. "I know."
"Nervous?" Eric asked.
"A little."
"You'll be fine," Joan said.
"The coach's been looking for another striker."
Pedri nodded in agreement. "And you've already played at a good level."
"It's still different."
"It always is," Pedri replied.
"But once you're actually playing, you stop thinking about it."
Ferran hoped he was right, because despite everyone's confidence, his stomach hadn't stopped fluttering all day.
🩷
School finished, and students once again streamed through the gates.
Instead of following them, Ferran headed towards the gym locker room and changed into his training kit.
He made his way towards the football pitches behind the sports hall. The familiar smell of freshly cut grass settled his nerves almost immediately. Football always did.
The changing room buzzed with conversation; most of the players already knew one another.
Pedri spotted him first. "There he is."
Dani tossed him a training bib. "Took you long enough."
"I was changing."
"You were panicking."
"I was not."
"You definitely were."
Joan grinned. "He definitely was."
Ferran laughed despite himself. "Thanks for the support."
"We're supporting you. In our own way."
Coach Morales gathered everyone into a semicircle.
"We've got a couple of trialists today." He looked towards Ferran. "Just play your football. Don't try to impress me with any fancy footwork or anything; the best way to get my attention is by making the right decisions."
Ferran nodded.
The session began with passing drills. Almost immediately, everything felt natural. Pedri's passes arrived exactly where Ferran wanted them. Firm, accurate, and easy to control. Dani constantly made himself available for the next pass. Eric communicated surprisingly fiercely from the backline. Joan's voice carried across the pitch every few seconds.
It felt less like playing with strangers and more like joining something that already worked.
As the drills progressed into small-sided games, Ferran relaxed.
His movements became sharper, his first touch cleaner, and he made runs without even thinking. Pedri spotted nearly every one of them.
One perfectly weighted through ball split the defenders.
Ferran reached it in stride, took one touch, then another, before shooting. He watched the ball soar past the other team's goalkeeper and straight into the top right corner.
"Yes!" Dani shouted. "Great run!"
Pedri simply gave him a quick high five and a pat on the back before jogging back towards halfway.
A few minutes later, Ferran returned the favour, slipping a pass into Pedri's path that allowed him to set up another goal.
"See?" Pedri said as they jogged back. "Passing is prettier."
Ferran laughed. "I'll admit, that one was nice."
"I knew you'd come around eventually."
By the final training match, Ferran wasn't thinking about impressing anyone anymore.
He was just playing. Talking, laughing, enjoying himself.
When Coach Morales finally blew the whistle, everyone slowed to a walk.
"Good work, team."
The team began collecting footballs and bibs. Ferran wandered over to where Pedri, Dani, Eric and Joan were already standing together beside the benches.
"Well?" Dani asked. "How'd it feel?"
"A lot better than I expected."
"Told you."
"You looked comfortable," Eric added.
"I think so."
Before anyone could say anything else, Coach Morales walked across the pitch towards them.
He stopped in front of Ferran. "You've played at a decent level before."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes, Coach."
"I could tell."
For a split second, Ferran's stomach tightened again.
Then the coach smiled. "I don't see any reason to wait."
He held out his hand. "Welcome to the team."
For a second, Ferran just stared. "...Really?"
Coach Morales chuckled.
"Really. You earned it."
Ferran shook his hand, unable to stop smiling. "Thank you."
The coach nodded once before heading off to speak with another player.
The second he was out of earshot, Dani threw both hands into the air. "I told you!"
Joan wrapped an arm around Ferran's shoulders and gave him a congratulatory shake. "Nice one."
Eric smiled brightly. "Congratulations."
Pedri's grin was quieter than the others, but somehow it reached all the way to his eyes. "I knew you'd make it."
Ferran looked around at the four boys. Three days ago, he hadn't known a single person in Barcelona. Now he had teammates, friends, and people who were genuinely happy he'd made it.
His smile only grew wider. "Looks like I'm buying a round of Aquarius."
Dani grinned. "You hear that? He already knows the rules."
The five of them laughed together as they headed towards the changing rooms, their voices carrying across the emptying football pitches in the chilly January evening.
🩷
By the time María pulled into the gravel driveway, the sun was beginning to sink behind the hills surrounding the raspberry farm.
The sky had turned soft shades of orange and pink, stretching over the endless rows of raspberry bushes that neither of them had the slightest clue how to look after.
The second the car came to a stop, Ferran was already reaching for the door handle.
"I'm going to call Arantxa."
María laughed as she climbed out of the driver's side. "I thought you might."
"I've got to tell her I made the team."
"I know."
He'd already rounded the front of the car by the time María unlocked the front door. The farmhouse still smelled faintly of fresh paint and cardboard boxes.
Lluna came skidding across the wooden floor the moment the door opened, followed by Minnie at a much more dignified pace.
"Hola, bebés." Ferran barely had time to crouch down before both dogs were covering his face in enthusiastic kisses. "I know, I know. I missed you too."
He scratched behind Lluna's ears before standing again. "I'm going to the living room. Come."
"No, you're not," Maria chimed in.
Ferran stopped halfway across the hallway. "...I was literally already going."
María pointed towards the staircase. "And you're literally covered in sweat."
He looked down at himself. His training shirt was damp, grass stains decorated one knee, and there was a faint streak of mud down one shin.
"Well... true, I guess."
"I'll make you some dinner."
"But I want to call Arantxa."
"You can. After you've showered."
"Mami..."
She folded her arms. "Do you really think your sister wants to watch you sit there smelling like a changing room?"
"...Probably not."
"Exactly." She smiled. "Go."
"I'll have food ready by the time you're finished."
Ferran sighed dramatically. "You're ruining my emotional reunion."
He bounded upstairs two steps at a time. The shower took approximately four minutes. Normally, he would've lingered beneath the warm water after football training, letting his muscles relax.
Tonight,e he washed his hair at record speed, threw on a clean hoodie and a pair of joggers, towel-dried his hair just enough that it wasn't dripping onto the floor, and hurried back downstairs.
María looked up from the stove. "That might be the fastest shower you've ever taken."
"I can be quick."
"I've been waiting sixteen years to witness this miracle."
"So dramatic, mamá."
"I'm just saying."
She slid a plate onto the table - pasta topped with homemade tomato sauce and grated cheese.
Ferran's stomach growled immediately. "I love you."
"I know. Love you too." She ruffled his still-damp hair as she walked past. "Eat."
He was already opening his laptop before he'd properly sat down. The familiar Skype ringtone echoed around the kitchen.
It rang three times before Arantxa's face appeared on the screen.
"Hola!" Her grin was just as bright as ever.
Ferran immediately grinned back. "Hi!"
"Look at you. You survived."
"Barely."
"Oh, dramatic."
"I'm serious."
"You've known me for sixteen years."
"I know exactly how dramatic you are."
He laughed. "I missed you."
"I missed you too."
She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "So, tell me absolutely everything."
He didn't need asking twice. "I made the football team."
Her eyes widened. "What? Already?"
"My trial was today. And Coach Morales came over straight after training and said I'd made it."
Arantxa clapped her hands together. "I knew you would!"
"I was so nervous."
"I don't care. You made it. I'm so proud of you."
María walked past carrying her own plate. "I told him he'd make it."
"You were right."
"I usually am."
"You two are impossible," Ferran muttered.
Neither of them acknowledged the comment.
"So," Arantxa continued, "what's the team like?"
"It's really good. I've already made a few friends."
"Already?"
"Mhm."
"There are four of them." He took a forkful of pasta before continuing. "Pedri, Dani, Eric, and Joan."
Arantxa rested her chin on one hand. "Tell me about them."
"Dani's hilarious, he, like, doesn't stop talking. I don't think silence is actually possible for him."
Arantxa laughed. "I know people like that."
"Joan's insanely tall, and I swear he's still growing. He's the goalkeeper. Eric's really quiet. He wears glasses. But once he starts talking, he's actually really funny. And..."
She noticed the tiny pause. "And?"
Ferran shrugged, pretending to be far more interested in his pasta than the conversation. "Pedri's nice."
"Nice?"
"Mhm."
"That's all?"
"We've got biology, history and art together. He helped me find my classes, he gave me his biology notes, and he's really good at football."
Arantxa smiled knowingly. "Mhm."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You've got a look."
"I don't have a look."
"You do."
"I really don't."
She took a sip from her mug, somehow still smiling. "So... this Pedri."
Ferran groaned immediately. "Oh, don't start."
"I haven't started anything."
"You've definitely started something."
"I was simply asking about your new friend."
"He's just my friend."
"I know."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
She held both hands up innocently. "I think it's lovely you've met someone who's made settling in easier."
Ferran relaxed again. "...Yeah. He has. If it wasn't for him, I'd probably still be wandering around trying to find biology."
"Well, there you go. I'm glad." She smiled softly. "You sounded really nervous before your first day."
"I was."
"But," he looked down at his dinner, "it doesn't feel as scary anymore."
Arantxa nodded. "I hoped it wouldn't. You've always been good at finding your people."
"I didn't think I'd find them this quickly."
"Sometimes you just get lucky."
María appeared behind Ferran. She leaned into the camera.
"Hi, cariño."
"Hi, mamá."
"He's been talking non-stop since he got in."
"I can imagine."
The three of them laughed together. For nearly an hour, they talked about everything - university, the raspberry farm, how many boxes still hadn't been unpacked, Arantxa's newest placement at the children's clinic, football, school, teachers, friends.
By the time the call finally ended, Ferran's cheeks actually hurt from smiling so much.
He still missed his sister - that wasn't going to change anytime soon. But as he closed the laptop and looked around the old farmhouse, it didn't feel quite as empty as it had a few days earlier.
Double Art was first period on a Friday morning, and by the fourth day of school, Ferran had already discovered something rather important about Bachillerato art.
Nobody cared.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. The teacher cared.
She clearly loved art, wandering around the room with charcoal dust permanently smudged across her fingertips and enthusiastically explaining perspective, lighting and composition.
The students, however, not so much. Half the class had headphones hidden beneath their hair, someone at the back was attempting today's maths homework instead, a couple of boys were quietly playing cards behind the backpack sitting on their table, and one girl had somehow managed to get away with reading a novel for the last twenty minutes.
The teacher occasionally reminded everyone to stay on task, but never with any real conviction. It seemed everyone had silently agreed that art was less of a lesson and more of a supervised social gathering.
Ferran certainly wasn't complaining. He wandered over to the table he'd now automatically claimed with Pedri.
"Good morning."
Pedri looked up from unpacking his pencil case. "Morning."
"You ready for another incredibly productive lesson?"
Pedri smiled. "We'll see."
Mrs Romero clapped her hands together at the front of the room. "Alright, everyone. Our task today is a greyscale anatomical study."
A collective groan echoed around the classroom.
"I'd like you to sketch either your own pet or an animal of your choice. Focus on proportion, pay attention to the way light falls across the body, and please..." She looked meaningfully towards the boys playing cards. "Actually attempt the task."
They nodded with exaggerated sincerity. "We definitely will, miss."
She gave them a look that suggested she'd heard that promise many times before.
Within five minutes, the room had settled into a comfortable hum. Pencils scratched across paper, conversations drifted lazily between tables, and someone quietly played music through a phone speaker before being told to turn it down.
Ferran glanced across at Pedri. Unlike most of the class, he was actually working. His sketchbook lay open in front of him, one hand moving steadily across the page as soft layers of graphite gradually formed the outline of a dog's face.
It was... really good. Like, actually, really good.
The proportions looked perfect, the fur already seemed soft despite only being different shades of grey, even the eyes somehow looked alive.
Ferran leaned over slightly. "You're good."
Pedri shrugged without looking up. "I'm alright."
"No, I'm serious. I can barely draw a stick figure."
That finally earned a laugh. "I don't believe that."
"You should."
Pedri smiled to himself as he blended another section with the side of his pencil.
Ferran watched for another few moments. "Is that your dog?"
"Mhm."
"What's his name?"
"Nilo."
The smile on Pedri's face softened almost immediately.
"He's a black Labrador, we're pretty sure that he's just over a year old."
Ferran's entire expression lit up. "You've got a Labrador?"
Pedri nodded. "Best dogs ever. You like dogs?"
Ferran stared at him. "...Like dogs?"
Pedri paused. "I've never heard anyone ask that question with quite so much offence."
"I don't like dogs. I love dogs."
Pedri laughed. "I can see that."
"I genuinely think they're the greatest thing humans have ever done."
"I don't think humans made dogs."
"You know what I mean."
"I do."
"So..." Ferran rested his chin in his hand. "Tell me everything."
Pedri looked amused. "Everything?"
"Everything."
"Where'd you get him?"
Pedri carefully shaded around one of Nilo's ears. "He was abandoned."
Ferran's smile disappeared. "What?"
"One of my parents' friends found him as a tiny puppy in one of those big rubbish skips out the back of his work."
Ferran frowned. "Someone threw away a puppy?"
"They think so. He couldn't have been more than a couple of weeks old. He was tiny, and pretty skinny."
Ferran's heart hurt just imagining it. "That's awful."
"Mhm."
"My parents were just going to foster him at first."
"But..." He smiled again. "I don't think anyone actually believed he was ever leaving, so we adopted him, and he's been ours ever since."
Ferran couldn't help smiling. "That's such a good story."
"He still thinks he's tiny, but he really isn't. He tries climbing onto everyone's laps."
"He's a Labrador," Ferran said knowingly.
"That sounds about right."
"What about you?" Pedri asked. "You've got dogs?"
"I've got two."
Pedri looked genuinely interested. "What are they called?"
"Lluna and Minnie."
"Lluna's kind of like a German Shepherd and Minnie's a Podenco Andaluz."
Pedri smiled. "They sound completely opposite."
"They are. Lluna thinks she's responsible for protecting the entire family. Minnie thinks she's responsible for bossing everyone around. Especially Lluna."
Pedri laughed. "I've met dogs like that. They're ridiculous."
"They're perfect." Ferran reached for a blank sheet of paper. "I'm going to draw them."
"You can draw?"
"...Absolutely not."
"Then why?"
"I've got confidence."
Pedri watched with quiet amusement. For approximately three minutes, Ferran actually worked hard. Circle, another circle, four legs, something vaguely resembling ears, a tail.
He frowned. "It looks..."
Pedri leaned over. "...Creative."
"It looks like a potato."
"A very furry potato."
"I think the faces are wrong."
"They might be."
Ferran added another line. Now it somehow looked worse.
"...I've made it angry."
"You have."
"I'm giving up."
Pedri laughed as Ferran dramatically slid the paper away from himself.
"It honestly looks like something a ten-year-old would draw."
"I was trying to be encouraging."
"Don't."
"I appreciate honesty."
Pedri smiled. "I think football's probably your stronger talent."
"I'll happily accept that."
He abandoned the pencil altogether, folding his arms on top of the table instead. "So. What else can you tell me about Nilo?"
Pedri looked back down at his sketch. There was another small smile.
"He snores really loudly, he steals socks, my dad pretends he hates it, but he secretly loves him, my mum lets him sleep on the sofa, my brother says he's spoiled, which he is... but none of us plans to stop."
Ferran listened happily, asking question after question.
How much did he weigh? Did he like swimming? Was he clever? Did he fetch tennis balls? Did he bark much?
Pedri answered each one patiently. He clearly wasn't obsessed with dogs in quite the same way Ferran was, but he loved Nilo. That much was obvious.
The conversation drifted naturally from dogs to football, then to favourite films, music, and what they'd both done over the Christmas break.
By the time the first period ended, Ferran realised he'd touched neither charcoal nor pencil in almost forty minutes.
Mrs Romero wandered past their table.
She looked down at Pedri's beautifully shaded Labrador before turning towards Ferran's abandoned masterpiece.
She stared at the strange, potato-shaped creature for a long moment. "...Interesting interpretation."
Ferran covered his face with both hands. "I'm so sorry, miss."
Pedri quietly bit the inside of his cheek, trying very hard not to laugh.
Mrs Romero laughed, "I wouldn't quit your day-job, eh?"
The second she walked away, Pedri finally gave up. His laughter escaped before he could stop it.
Ferran looked over at him with mock offence. "You think you're funny."
"A little."
"You laughed."
"I did."
"You were supposed to support me."
"I tried."
"You called my dog a furry potato."
"I said creative first."
"You thought of a potato first."
Pedri couldn't even deny it. Still smiling, Ferran shook his head.
"I'm never attempting art again."
"I think that's probably for the best."
They both laughed as the bell rang for their first break of the day, neither of them particularly surprised to realise they'd spent almost the entire two-hour double lesson doing very little art and a lot of talking.
🩷
Friday afternoon seemed to arrive much quicker than the rest of the week had.
The final bell echoed through the school, and within seconds, the familiar rush of students poured into the corridors.
Ferran was just stuffing his history book into his backpack when Dani appeared in the classroom doorway.
"You coming?"
Ferran blinked. "...Coming where?"
Dani looked confused. "To the restaurant. Pedri didn't tell you?"
Pedri, who was still packing his own bag, looked up.
"Oh. I thought I had."
"You definitely didn't," Ferran laughed.
Pedri smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."
"We usually go there after school. My parents don't mind. We just... hang out."
"Most days," Eric added as he and Joan appeared behind Dani.
Joan slung an arm comfortably over Eric's shoulders. "It's basically our headquarters. If you want to come?"
Ferran didn't even need to think. "I'd love to. I'll just double-check with my mamá."
"Perfect."
After approval from Maria, the five of them headed out through the school gates together.
Instead of turning towards the busier streets, Pedri led them into one of the older neighbourhoods a little further away from the city centre.
The streets gradually became narrower.
Apartment buildings sat close together, balconies overflowing with flowers and washing lines stretching between windows.
Small independent shops occupied the ground floors, their owners chatting with customers standing outside.
It felt comfortable. Like the sort of neighbourhood where everybody knew everybody else.
"Nearly there," Pedri said.
They turned one final corner. Above a wooden doorway hung a green sign painted by hand.
Tasca Fernando.
Warm light spilled through the windows despite the afternoon sunshine still lingering outside. As soon as Ferran stepped inside, he instinctively slowed.
The restaurant was beautiful, not fancy, but comfortable and welcoming. Every table seemed to be occupied, conversations filled the room alongside the clinking of cutlery and the occasional burst of laughter from one corner or another.
And the walls were covered in framed FC Barcelona memorabilia.
Old shirts, signed photographs, match programmes, scarves, a framed newspaper clipping celebrating a league title. Ferran's eyes bounced from one piece to another. He almost stopped completely.
"Come on," Dani laughed, gently nudging his shoulder.
"You can admire papá's museum later," Pedri teased.
Ferran hurried after them, still trying to take everything in.
Behind the counter stood a woman with warm brown eyes, just like Pedri's, and short curly hair tied back beneath a navy apron.
The moment she spotted Pedri, her whole face lit up.
"There you are, mis chicos favoritos."
Pedri smiled. "Hola, Mamá."
She walked around the counter and immediately kissed his forehead before making the rounds of the other three boys, giving them each a side hug.
Only then did she notice Ferran. "Hola, you must be Ferran."
He blinked. "You know who I am?"
Rosy laughed.
"My son has mentioned you once or twice."
Pedri looked away very quickly. "Mamá..."
"What?" She smiled innocently before turning back to Ferran. "I'm Rosy. It's lovely to finally meet you."
Finally? Ferran wasn't entirely sure what to make of that wording. "It's nice to meet you too."
Before he could think about it any further, another man emerged from the kitchen carrying two plates, one in his hand and the other balanced on his forearm. He had kind eyes, flour dusted across one sleeve and a tea towel thrown over his shoulder.
"Pedri."
He nodded towards the boys before looking at Ferran. "And this must be our newest visitor."
Pedri sighed. "Papá..."
Fernando laughed. "What? I'm being friendly." He held out his hand. "I'm Fernando. It's nice to meet you, son."
Ferran shook it. "I'm Ferran. Thank you for having me."
"Nonsense." Fernando smiled warmly. "Any friend of these four is welcome here."
Something about the way he said it settled every remaining nerve Ferran had carried into the restaurant.
Within minutes, the five boys had claimed a table tucked into one corner. Before anyone even had a chance to ask for anything, Rosy appeared carrying a tray.
"Here."
She placed five glasses of Aquarius onto the table.
Another two large platters followed, filled with golden croquetas, still steaming gently.
Pedri's face immediately brightened. "My favourites, mamá"
Rosy laughed. "I'm well aware, mijo."
She smiled at Ferran. "Pedri's been telling you about these all week, apparently."
Ferran looked across the table. "He has."
Pedri looked faintly embarrassed. "They're really good."
"They're the best food in the universe," Dani corrected.
"That's what he said."
"It is."
Pedri folded his arms. "I'm right."
Eric picked one up. "He's actually right."
Joan nodded seriously. "This is one of the few things we all agree on."
Ferran laughed. "Alright. That's a lot of pressure."
He picked up one croqueta and took a bite. It was delicious.
Dani grinned. "See?"
Ferran finished chewing before immediately reaching for another. "Pedri."
"Mhm?"
"You weren't exaggerating."
"I know."
"These are incredible."
"I know."
"They might actually be the best thing I've ever eaten."
Pedri tried very hard to hide how pleased he looked. "I told you."
The conversation drifted easily between football, homework, teachers and whatever ridiculous thing Dani had apparently done in chemistry the previous week.
Ferran found himself laughing far more than he expected.
At one point, he realised he'd already eaten four croquetas.
Nobody else seemed remotely surprised.
"They always disappear quickly," Eric said.
"I'm beginning to understand why."
A little while later, the restaurant door opened again.
A young man who looked almost exactly like an older version of Pedri walked inside, a girl with long dark hair who slipped her hand comfortably into his beside him.
"There he is," Pedri muttered.
His older brother spotted them almost immediately. He walked over, smiling. "Afternoon."
Fernando appeared from the kitchen. "You two are late."
"We know."
Fer grinned before looking towards the unfamiliar face sitting with the others. "You must be Ferran."
Ferran stood. "Hi."
"I'm Fer." He offered his hand. "And this is Lola."
She smiled warmly. "It's lovely to meet you."
"You too."
"We've heard quite a bit about you."
Pedri froze. "...What?"
Fer looked innocently at his younger brother. "What? We have."
Pedri's ears immediately turned pink. "No, they haven't."
"We absolutely have. You've mentioned Ferran basically every day this week."
"Fer."
"What?"
"You have."
"'He's from Valencia.', 'He's joining the football team.', 'He likes David Villa.', 'He's actually really nice.'"
Pedri covered his face with one hand. "Madre mía."
Lola burst into laughter.
Rosy, listening from behind the counter, called over cheerfully. "I told you he'd be embarrassed."
"Mamá!"
Ferran was trying, and failing, not to laugh. "So..." He looked across the table. "You've been talking about me all week?"
Pedri refused to make eye contact. "...Perhaps."
Dani immediately pointed across the table. "We told you. We absolutely told you."
Eric smiled into his drink, and Joan looked thoroughly entertained.
Ferran couldn't stop grinning. "I'm never letting you forget this."
Pedri groaned. "I knew this was going to happen."
"Oh, definitely."
"This is perfect teasing material."
"I regret introducing you to my family."
"You should."
The whole table dissolved into laughter. As the conversation carried on, Ferran noticed something else.
At school, Eric and Joan had been affectionate - holding hands, sitting close together, the occasional arm around a shoulder. He'd thought that had already been quite a lot.
Apparently, that was them showing restraint.
Outside school, they made absolutely no effort to hide that they were together.
Joan absentmindedly played with Eric's fingers while they talked. Eric leaned comfortably against Joan's shoulder whenever he laughed. At one point, Joan quietly brushed a crumb from the corner of Eric's mouth while making deep eye contact, and neither of them even seemed to notice they'd done it.
Dani watched the whole thing with theatrical disgust. "Oh, for goodness sake. You two are unbearable."
Joan didn't even look up. "You're jealous."
"I'm nauseous."
Eric rolled his eyes fondly and pressed another kiss to Joan's cheek before sticking his tongue out at Dani like a petulant child. "You'll survive."
"I genuinely might not."
"You've been saying that for two years," Pedri pointed out. "And yet somehow, you're still here."
Dani sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately. I question why every day."
Everyone ignored him. Ferran found himself smiling into his drink. He'd wondered on Monday whether they'd actually been dating or whether they were simply unusually affectionate best friends.
Apparently, there had never been any doubt.
He wasn't offended. If anything, it was kind of nice. They looked happy, comfortable, and completely themselves. Nobody around them seemed to care in the slightest. Fernando chatted with customers, Rosy carried plates between tables, and Fer and Lola ordered food. The five boys laughed over another story from Dani. Life simply carried on.
As Ferran looked around the little restaurant filled with conversation, warmth and the smell of fresh food, he realised, despite only having been in Barcelona for four days, it already felt as though he'd stumbled into something he'd been looking for without even realising it.