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Gavi hasn’t felt low like this in months, and his eyes burn with it. He tries to blink away the sensation.
A undeserved win for Real Madrid.
He’ll have time to mourn, to feel this loss when he’s safe behind closed doors and away from the eyes of those who hate him. His teammates give him weary, pained looks as they pass by him, heading toward the tunnel, but Gavi doesn’t even try to meet them. He can barely stand. He feels the loss of this game all over him. His entire body aches and burns, and the exhaustion weighs heavily on his shoulders, pressing down so hard that he struggles to breathe. Gavi wants nothing more than to sink down onto the field and cry into the damp grass, the dirt that was meant to be his and his only. His vision blurs with tears, and his lip tastes salty as he sucks in some air and he gazes around the stands as he tries his best to hold back the tears, because he knows that if they spill over, the rest will follow.
This isn’t the first time he’s lost a match, and it wont be the last, but this one stings in a way the others never have. He gave it is all, his heart, his soul. He played his part and more, he did everything that was expected of him. He gave it his best, and it still wasn’t enough.
Gavi feels the lowest that he has in months, and the one person that he needs right now he can’t have anymore.
And it fucking hurts.
Gavi sucks in a deep breath, feels his lungs barely inflate before trying again, and then again, trying to steady himself as he finally looks at the crowd around him, trying to find a face that he has no business trying to find anymore. The stands are filled with fans, the air a cacophony of noise and excitement. People are screaming, chanting, shouting for the opposing team who celebrate on the pitch still and it makes Gavi feel sick. Gavi looks for a moment, and then can’t look anymore.
He turns and walks towards the tunnel, not looking back. There are reporters waiting, but Gavi walks past them without a word. He heads into the locker room, where his teammates are already, sitting or standing and pulling off their jerseys, their gear. Some of the faces are splotchy and red, some are dry. But none of them are smiling. They can hear the the shouts and cheering coming from outside. Real Madrid fans. Gavi’s stomach roils, and then he moves to sit down heavily on the bench by his locker.
He pulls off his jersey, the material stiff and scratchy in his hands. He folds it up, then unfolds, then refolds again, his hands shake and he struggles to keep them still. He gives up, tosses the jersey and starts on the rest of his gear. He peels off his socks and tosses them into a dirty pile, then his shorts. The sounds of his teammates’ voices fade into the background, and so does the noise from the stands.
He’s still shaking but can’t seem to stop. He tries to focus on his breathing, tries to take a deep breath, but it catches in his throat. He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and squeezes them shut. He doesn’t know how much time has passed by when he feels a hand press down on his shoulder. Gavi looks up to see Lewandowski standing over him, a solemn look resting on his face. His voice is quiet and gentle.
“Go get dressed. You need a shower.”
Gavi doesn’t want a shower, he wants to sit here, and let the misery sink into his bones. He wants to feel the ache and the pain, he wants to let it swallow him. Lewandowski gives him a look that says he knows what Gavi is thinking, and he isn’t going to allow it.
“Come on.” He whispers firmly, though not unkind. Lewandowski hooks his arm underneath Gavi’s and tugs him gently to his feet. Gavi let’s him, he steadies himself and then allows Lewandowski to pass him his wash bag before ushering him towards the showers. Gavi moves like a zombie.
“Shower,” he repeats, “you’ll feel better.”
Gavi doubts that, but he goes anyways.
The water is hot, nearly scalding. It beats against his skin, and the steam rises up around him, thick and heavy, curling into the air. It feels good, but not enough. Nothing is enough anymore. Not since Pedri -
Gavi let’s out a shaky breath. The thought of him sends a rush of longing through him, the ache so strong, it’s almost unbearable. He closes his eyes, and presses his forehead to the cool tile wall, his hands flat against the smooth surface. He inhales deeply, trying to steady himself.
He wants to go home.
But even home doesn’t feel like home anymore. And that hurts the most.
The loss is just the icing on the cake.
He stays like that for a long moment, the water cascading over his head, his shoulders, his back. It pools around his feet and pours down the drain. He can still feel the tears welling in his eyes, refusing to fall. He misses Pedri, he misses him so fucking much.
They haven’t been together, like that, for almost three months. Every day becomes harder to pretend everything is okay, it gets worse as Pedri rejoins the group for training now that his injury is almost fully healed, but nothing has changed now that he’s back. Things aren’t like that between them anymore, and every day it gets harder for Gavi to pretend he’s okay with that. He can’t help but think of Pedri, he misses him with every fiber of his being. It’s a constant dull ache, like a bruise that won’t heal, like a wound that won’t close, a throbbing, pulsating pain, and Gavi doesn’t know how much longer he can take it.
And it’s silly really, Pedri isn’t gone. He just isn’t Gavi’s anymore. He’s there, but just out of reach, close enough that Gavi can see him, talk to him, joke with him, but not close enough for him to touch, or to feel the warmth of his skin against his own. Not like they used, not like what he needs right now. And he wishes that it wasn’t the case, he wishes it wasn’t the way things were. He wishes that he could take back every moment he spent pushing Pedri away.
Gavi sighs, his chest tightening. It’s been a long day, and he’s tired, more than just physically. He gets sentimental when he’s tired, he hopes that this is all this is, deep down knows that it isn’t. He needs to get out of the shower, but doesn’t want to. Knows that
Pedri's not there to kiss him after the match, not there to pull him aside, and take him apart. He's not there to hold him close, or press soft kisses to his forehead, or wrap his arms around him and pull him in tight, to make him feel whole again.
His best friend isn’t there and Gavi is so fucking tired.
He takes a deep breath and straightens up. The water feels cold now, and the steam is starting to fade. He can’t stay in here forever, as much as he wishes that he could. Life goes on, Gavi has to deal with it. He steps out of the shower and grabs a towel, drying himself off, his mind wandering. He can’t seem to keep his thoughts in order, can’t focus on anything. He dries his hair, the fluffy towel soft and warm, and then he wraps it around his waist before stepping back into the locker room.
When he enters the room, he feels a little better to see that his teammates are still getting dressed, some are already ready, some still showering, others just sitting in the benches, their heads down. The air is still thick with defeat and disappointment, but Gavi can hear their voices lighten up slightly as he enters the room, a few optimistic words to boost the morale of the team. Gavi heads towards his locker again, trying not to look at anyone. He can feel their eyes on him as he does so, knows that they know he’s not okay.
He dresses slowly, his movements lethargic and sluggish. He can hear his teammates talk around him, their voices quiet and low. He doesn’t join in, doesn’t have anything to add. He lifts his head briefly as the locker room door opens, and in piles the players who have been out for recovery and had been watching their defeat from the stands, In walks Pedri.
Their eyes lock, and Pedri stops in his tracks. For a moment, it feels like the world has stopped spinning. Then Pedri looks away, and the spell is broken.
Gavi's chest aches. The team perk up as Pedri and De Jong enter and bring with them a sense of encouragement. They start telling jokes and laughing, and the mood of the room starts to lift. Gavi does his best to smile, but he can't help the feeling of melancholy that washes over him.
Pedri smiles and laughs with the rest of them, and Gavi wishes he could join in, wishes he could feel the same joy. He wishes Pedri would come and sit with him, would tell him it was okay, would pull him close and kiss him, just once. Just one more time.
But that isn't the way things are. Not anymore.
Pedri doesn’t come, doesn’t even look his way again. Gavi finishes dressing, pulling on his sweatpants, his hoodie, and a pair of sneakers. He sits and ties his laces, fumbles slightly as he does so without focus, trying to to think about the fact that Pedri is standing a few feet away from him but may as well be a million miles away.
“Gavito, Earth to Gavi!”
Gavi looks up, startled. Balde is standing in front of him, an amused smile on his face with Ferran and Pedri behind him. Pedri looks down at the floor as Gavi’s eyes land on him. He sighs, and refocuses on Balde. He blinks, hadn’t realised anyone was taking to him.
"Uhm, sorry, what did you say?" He asks, his voice coming out a little more cracked and pathetic than he would have preferred.
Balde laughs. "I said we're heading to Pedri’s to chill, u down?” He asks, Gavi feels stomach twist a little at the invitation.
"Uhm." Gavi stutters, surprised by the sudden offer. He’d rather not, but his brain isn’t coming up with an adequate excuse as quickly as he’d like.
"You have other plans?" Balde questions, his eyebrow cocked upwards as though he already knows the answer. He can read Gavi like a book, having known him since they were so young. Gavi hates that he can most of the time.
"Uh-uh, I just-" his words stutter almost as much as his brain does.
"You have nothing going on," Balde interrupts, a grin on his face, "so why don't you come hang with us."
Gavi looks from Balde to Ferran, then to Pedri. Pedri isn't looking at him, instead he's focused on his phone, a small frown on his face. Gavi doesn't want to be a burden on him. He's about to decline, when Ferran speaks.
"Come on man, it'll be fun," he says, grinning. "I'll get you drunk and we can play FIFA."
"Yeah!" Balde grins, nudging Gavi's shoulder. "We can play FIFA and get wasted." Balde says it like it’s an appealing offer. Gavi doesn't particularly want to get drunk or play FIFA, but he doesn't want to turn down the offer, not in front of the others. He knows that he'll just end up sitting in his apartment, staring at the wall. And if he's going to do that, he might as well have company.
"Sure." He agrees, reluctantly, "but only for a bit, I've got...stuff, to do." He mutters quietly.
Balde laughs and Ferran grins.
"That's the spirit!" He says. "Come on then, let's get out of here."
Gavi nods and follows the three of them out of the locker room and down the corridor. Pedri is still not looking at him, his head down and his eyes focused on his phone. He's walking a little faster than the others, a few paces ahead of them. Gavi watches him, wishing that things were different. That they were the way they were before, when Pedri would be the first person to check on him after a loss, when they would share secret smiles in the tunnel before a match, or sneak away for a moment alone in the locker room, their hands intertwined, their lips pressed together, their bodies close.
They reach the parking lot, and Gavi can't help but steal a glance at Pedri, the familiar yearning rising up in him. He wishes he could have Pedri like that again. Just for a moment. He looks away, and follows the others to Ferran's car, hoping that this night will be a good distraction from the pain.
He doubts it.
~~~
Pedri’s house is warm and comfortable, and smells like cinnamon. The walls are a soft grey, and the hardwood floors shine. Gavi toes his shoes off at the door, following the others through the entryway and into the living room.
“Sit,” Balde tells him, “I’ll get us some drinks.” He grins excitedly before he and Ferran disappear into the kitchen. Gavi sits down on the couch, watching as Pedri stands awkwardly next to the armchair, his eyes darting around the room.
“Do you want anything to eat?” Pedri asks him, quietly. The question takes Gavi by surprise and the younger man looks over at him, his eyebrows raised slightly and he shakes his head.
“I’m okay.” He replies softly. Pedri nods his head, looking down at his feet. “Alright,” he replies, chewing on his lip and he takes a deep breath, “I’ll be right back.” He tells him and not a second later he turns and heads out of the room, leaving Gavi alone.
Balde and Ferran return, carrying glasses and bottles of beer.
“Here,” Balde says, handing him a glass of some amber liquid. Gavi grimaces but Balde forces the glass into his hand, “Drink up.” He encourages. Gavi takes the glass and takes a small sip, it burns a little in his throat, but it’s cold and refreshing, and takes a little like Pedri. He sighs, and takes another sip.
The evening passes in a blur. The four of them spend it together, like old times, paying video games and watching movies. Gavi tries to engage, but his heart isn’t in it. Feels like he left it on the field, where it got trampled on by Vinicius.
Pedri stays mostly silent, offering his thoughts every now and again. Gavi tries not to watch him too closely, but he can't help but be drawn in by his presence. Ferran and Balde are talking loudly, laughing and joking. They're a little drunk, but not too far gone, and they're clearly enjoying themselves. They're talking about the game, about how the season has been, and how the team will bounce back from their latest defeat. They're discussing strategies, and tactics, and Gavi can't help but notice how the two of them have fallen into their own little bubble. They're leaning into each other, and their words are spoken softly, almost private. Gavi feels like he's intruding, like he's somehow a third wheel.
He sighs, and looks down at the ground, wishing that he had someone to talk to like that.
"You're quiet." Pedri's voice startles him and Gavi jumps slightly. He turns and looks at the older man, who's watching him with an expression that Gavi can't quite place.
"Are you okay?" Pedri asks him, as though second nature to him, his voice as soft and gentle as ever, and Gavi can’t help the swell of feelings that rise up in him, as much as he tries to stop it.
“Yeah.” Gavi mumbles, he doesn’t want to worry Pedri with his own silly problems. He’s not sure what’s going on between them, he’s not Pedri’s problem anymore. Knows that Pedri is just trying to be nice, because that’s who he is. He doesn’t want to cause any further issues.
“Are you sure?” Pedri presses, and Gavi nods his head again.
“Yeah,” he lies, “just tired.”
Pedri watches him carefully, his dark eyes searching Gavi’s face. As much as he often thinks he does, Gavi doesn’t want to let Pedri in, doesn’t want to show him how badly he’s hurting, doesn’t want to tell him how much it kills him that Pedri isn’t his anymore.
“If you say so.” Pedri whispers, his gaze not wavering. Gavi doesn’t like it, doesn’t want Pedri to look at him like that, like he can see straight through him. Like he knows exactly what Gavi is thinking. Like he knows exactly how Gavi feels. Gavi feels his stomach twist and turn. He looks away, and stares down at the floor. He's starting to feel a little dizzy, and the room is starting to spin a little. He takes a deep breath and tries to steady himself. He needs some air.
"I'm gonna go outside," he says, standing up and swaying a little. He feels a little tipsy, but not overly drunk, just enough to dull the ache in his chest, and to numb the pain.
"You sure?" Pedri asks, looking concerned.
"Yeah, yeah," Gavi replies, "I'll be right back." He tells him. Pedri watches him closely, and Gavi can feel his eyes on him. He ignores it, and makes his way out of the room and down the hall. He can hear the sounds of the others playing FIFA, their shouts and laughter. It's a welcome distraction, and Gavi's grateful for the escape.
He pushes the sliding glass door open and steps outside into the cool night air. The fresh breeze feels nice on his warm skin and he closes his eyes and inhales deeply. He can smell the sweet scent of flowers that were planted by Pedri’s mom, and the faint smell of wood smoke. It's comforting and familiar. He misses spending time here, it feels like so long since he had felt the peace that this brings.
He sits down on the porch swing and lets his head rest against the back of it, his eyes still closed. The alcohol in his system is making him feel a little lightheaded and the world is spinning a little, but the cool air is helping to clear his mind. It takes him a moment, but out here he feels like he can breathe again. He sighs, and opens his eyes. The night sky is dark, but there are a few stars out, the moon hanging high in the sky. It's a beautiful sight and Gavi can't help the longing he feels inside of him.
He sits there for a while, staring up at the stars and the moon, letting the breeze wash over him and the cool air clear his head. After a while, he hears footsteps behind him and turns his head, expecting to see Balde or Ferran, but instead his heart leaps into his throat and his breath catches in his chest. Pedri's standing in the doorway, his dark hair ruffled and his cheeks a little flushed from the heat inside. He looks a little unsure, and he's not meeting Gavi's eyes.
"Are you okay?" Gavi asks, his voice soft and low. Pedri doesn’t look okay, he looks as though he’s debating even coming outside, and that hurts. Having been so close to someone before and having that reduced to awkward conversations and avoidance, is so painful. Gavi tries not to dwell on it, at least Pedri is trying.
"I should be asking you that." Pedri replies, finally deciding to step outside and shutting the door behind him, blocking out the sound of Ferran and Balde and their playful drunken yelling. Pedri moves over to the swing and sits down beside Gavi, their knees brushing together. Gavi’s chest puffs out hair and the feeling of it. Gavi looks at him and shrugs.
"I'm fine," he murmurs, his voice is quiet and his eyes are trained to the floor and Pedri looks at him, a sceptical expression on his face. They swing lightly with the breeze in the air.
"You're a terrible liar," Pedri says, and Gavi looks away, his cheeks heating up. The words feel too raw for them now.
"I just..." he starts, trailing off, unsure of what to say. There was once a time where Gavi felt that he could tell Pedri absolutely anything, and time where he would want Pedri to know the ins and outs about him, but things haven’t been like that for a while now, and Gavi has forgotten how to talk to him.
"Tell me." Pedri whispers, as though sensing his caution, and trying to encourage him, his voice soft and gentle. Pedri has always been so good with words, opening up has always been so easy for him, unlike Gavi. Gavi hasn’t ever been good at communication, not with words, anyway. He doesn’t know how to tell Pedri what he means, what he feels. He doesn't know how to tell him that he misses him, that he longs for him, that his absence hurts him but his presence suffocates him. He doesn't know how to tell him all the things he's feeling. So, instead, he does the only thing he can.
He leans forward and presses his lips to Pedri's.
For a moment, Pedri doesn’t react, his lips are frozen under Gavi's and the younger man panics. He pulls away, his cheeks red, and his eyes stinging with tears. He wants to apologize, wants to explain, but the words die in his throat.
Pedri is looking at him, his eyes wide and his expression shocked. Gavi melts under the gaze, feels his world begin to crumble. The words begin spewing out before Gavi can even process them.
"I'm sorry," Gavi stutters, his voice shaking and if Pedri didn’t know any better he’d see that Gavi is about to cry. “I shouldn't have- I didn't-" he breaks off, and looks away, the embarrassment washing over him. He wants to stand up, to walk away, but his legs aren’t responding to the signals that his brain is sending them. The only thing that he can do is spew out weak apologies and stutter in embarrassment.
"Gavi."
Pedri's voice is barely above a whisper, and it's enough to make Gavi turn his head and stop his babbling. Pedri's expression has softened and he's no longer looking at Gavi with shock. His gaze is gentle and there's something else in his eyes, something that Gavi can't quite put his finger on.
"What are you doing?” Pedri asks, his voice barely a whisper, his lips trembling. Gavi’s voice catches in his throat as Pedri lifts his hand to stroke Gavi’s hair and Gavi’s shoulders slump, he can’t bare to look at the look of sorrow in Pedri’s eyes.
"I'm-I'm not- I don't know." Gavi stutters, his chest tightening and his voice breaking. Pedri shakes his head, and leans forward, pressing his forehead to Gavi's, his hand tightening it’s grasp on the back of Gavi’s skull, tugging his hair slightly desperately and grounding Gavi at the same time. Gavi’s eyes close at the contact between them, a gust of air leaving his lungs.
"You're drunk." Pedri says suddenly, his voice soft but clear. Gavi shakes his head, no. That’s not it. That’s not it all. I love you, he wants to tell him. He doesn’t.
"I'm not that drunk." Gavi replies, desperately, his heart pounding in his chest. He wants Pedri to understand, but he doesn’t know how to get him to. It’s his problem, he knows, and it’s not fair to expect Pedri to constantly read his mind and expect him to constantly deal with his emotional mood swings, but he wishes that he would. He wishes that he was a better man, wishes that he could get his emotions in check and finally accept himself and what he wants.
"You don't know what you're doing." Pedri murmurs, his breath ghosting over Gavi's lips as though tempting him. Gavi can’t bring himself to pull away, the feeling drawing him in closer.
"I know what I'm doing." Gavi replies, his eyes fluttering shut, “Pedri, please. I miss you so much it hurts.” He breathes. It’s true, his heart cannot take it anymore. He can’t understand how he can feel so attached to someone, how he can feel so alone and lost without someone. His heart beats for Pedri. Gavi’s afraid it’ll stop without him.
"You're hurting,” Pedri says, his voice cracking, and Gavi can't deny the truth of it, but Pedri continues, “from the loss. You’re looking for comfort, that’s all this is.” He tells him, but Gavi shakes his head desperately. He’s got it all wrong. So wrong. Gavi presses himself closer, tears falling down his eyes and he does his best to squeeze them down but nothing works.
"That's not true." Gavi argues, his voice soft and quiet. "I want you, Pedri, I've always wanted you." He feels as though he’s begging, and he might be. He doesn’t care anymore. Pedri doesn't reply, but he doesn't move away, and his breathing is uneven. Gavi can feel the tension between them, the heat that radiates from Pedri's body. He can feel his own heartbeat, and his lungs, constricted and tight, struggling to draw air.
"I miss you," he repeats, his voice cracking. "It's been months since I've had you, and it's been killing me. I can't stand it anymore. I need you, Pedri. Please”. And he is begging now, begging for Pedri to take him back. Every though and feeling over the past few months hurling out of him like a tsunami of water and crashing into Pedri. Pedri is silent, and for a moment, Gavi can practically see his mind thinking intently. Gavi can’t help it when he leans again, a little more forceful as he kisses Pedri sloppily, his tears but brushing against Pedri’s cheeks as he desperately tries to show him how he feels. The kiss is a mess, clumsy and desperate. Their lips collide and their teeth clack together. Gavi can feel more tears pricking at his eyes, and the knot forming in his throat. He doesn't care though, all he cares about is kissing Pedri, showing him how much he needs him.
Pedri doesn't respond for a moment, but then, after what feels like an eternity, he melts into the kiss, his mouth opening and his tongue sliding against Gavi's. It's like a jolt of electricity goes through the younger man and he lets out a moan.
"I'm sorry." Gavi whimpers, pulling back slightly, his lips swollen and his eyes wet. "I'm so sorry." He cries, peppering kisses all over Pedri’s face. His hands gripping onto him so tightly as if he might fade away.
"For what?" Pedri asks, his voice trembling, his eyes glazed over with emotion.
"For ruining everything, " Gavi replies, his heart aching. "I should never have pushed you away, I should never have tried to deny how I felt. I'm sorry, Pedri, I'm so, so sorry." He’s talking between sloppy kisses, his mouth moving over Pedri's as if they were one. Pedri doesn't speak, but he doesn't pull away either.
"I missed you," Gavi whispers, his eyes shining with tears, "I missed you so much."
"I know," Pedri replies, his voice barely audible.
"I'm sorry. Please forgive me." Gavi pleads, his voice cracking. Pedri doesn't answer, he simply pulls Gavi in, their lips crashing together, the kiss more desperate than ever. Gavi moans into the kiss, his hands sliding around Pedri's waist, pulling him closer.
The kiss is intense, the heat between them rising, their tongues battling for dominance. Gavi can feel himself cry into the kiss, but Pedri doesn’t seem to mind. Pedri's hands are gripping his shoulders, his nails digging into the skin. Everything he does feels so desperate, but he needs it so. They pull apart, their lips swollen and their eyes shining with tears.
"I missed you." Gavi whispers, his voice hoarse and he worries that he may break down any second now, the emotions getting too much.
"I know." Pedri replies, his voice quiet and strained, he runs his fingers down Gavi’s cheek, “I missed you too, you have no idea.” He whispers as he caresses him, leaning forward and planting a soft kiss to the younger man’s forehead.
"Can we... can we talk?" Gavi asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Pedri takes a deep breath, and nods his head.
"We have a lot to talk about."
"I know." Gavi agrees, and pulls Pedri in for another kiss, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip.
"Let's go inside." Pedri murmurs, his voice low. Gavi nods, and follows Pedri inside, his heart hammering in his chest.
It's not until later, much later, when Gavi's lying next to Pedri, curled into his side and the older’s arms wrapped firmly around him, that he realizes that the ache in his chest has disappeared.