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Andres' house was always really warm, Xavi thought.
Trophies displayed prettily in a cabinet in the hallway, humble and nearly hidden, a pretty terracotta glaze that twirled around counters and tiles in the kitchen, couches that were equal parts beautiful and equal parts comfortable in the living room.
Compared to Xavi's small apartment across the city, it was a whole different world. So it made sense for the two of them to have their weekly wine nights at Andres' place.
"Here," Andres said sweetly, coming to sit down on the floor next to Xavi, holding another bottle of wine. A nice red, Xavi remembered Ramos giving it to Andres many moons ago at some function where they had gotten entirely too drunk.
"Thank you, estimada," Xavi replied, his native language slipping past his tongue as Andres placed the bottle on the coffee table. They sat in silence as Xavi filled both of their glasses, Andres' head on his shoulder, the heater blaring somewhere in the background.
"That's enough, Xavi," Andres chuckled, gently knocking Xavi's arm. "The training staff will kill us if we go into training with hangovers."
Xavi shrugged, swirling his wine around his glass. "It's their fault that we're drinking, maybe they shouldn't have made us run laps in the rain."
Andres snorted, and Xavi sighed, taking a sip of his wine before pressing a kiss to his friend's barely-haired head.
"Listen," Andres said suddenly, the light-hearted atmosphere almost dissipating completely, and Xavi swallowed another sip, turning to his side so that they were face to face.
"I know that Agüero called you," Andres murmured. "This is a lot worse than we thought."
The elephant in the room was usually pushed aside, none of them ever really finding a good time to highlight it. International break had just finished, and Leo had come back happier, the smile they had missed back on his face, the light shining a bit brighter in his eyes.
"He told me about the bruises," Xavi mumbled, looking down at his lap. "They were so bad, Andres, Sergio was about to call the ambulance but Leo stopped him."
"I know," Andres replied, placing a hand on Xavi's shoulder.
Xavi looked up, eyes shining with unshed tears, and Andres cooed softly, grabbing Xavi's wine glass from his hand and settling it on the coffee table. He shuffled forward, pulling the Catalan into a tight hug.
"I just wish we could do something," Xavi choked out, tears threatening to spill, "but Leo is so scared that his career will be ruined. It's like Guardiola has some dirt on him or something. Every time I mention it, he just gets so scared. I don't know what to do, Andres."
"I know," Andres repeated, a hand running through Xavi's thick hair. "It's hard, there's obviously much more to it than we know."
"But it's ridiculous!" Xavi mourned. "This kid is getting hurt everyday by the literal manager of our team. Fuck, Andres, he raped him. Leo was so scared when we found him, and we can't do anything about it."
Andres didn't say anything, just continued stroking his hair and nodding along.
"And the worst part is that we have to play along," Xavi spat. "We have to act like that piece of shit is the greatest gift of God, and then we have to praise him in interviews and smile with him for the cameras. He's abusing a kid, for fucks sake!"
"I know, Xavi," Andres said, "but if Leo doesn't want us to do anything, we shouldn't. We need to do this on his terms, just in case we accidentally do something that makes it worse."
"I should've noticed sooner!" Xavi said, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I'm on the captaincy team, I should've known that something was up with him."
"You couldn't have know," Andres said softly. "Not even Agüero knew, and those two are closer than anyone I know."
"Agüero said that Leo can't even sleep through the night without waking up from nightmare," Xavi cried, the tears now falling free, and Andres tried his best to wipe them away. "It should never have gotten this far."
"Xavi," Andres whispered, "Xavi, it's not your fault."
"I-"
"Xavi," he repeated, this time more firmly. "None of this is your fault. You didn't know, none of us knew. We found him, we helped him, and now we're just doing the best we can."
"I can't just sit here and watch him fade away," Xavi sobbed. "He's like a little brother to me, and I can't do anything to help him."
"You can help him by being there for him," Andres soothed. "He trusts you, and if you do or say anything to the wrong person, that trust will be lost, and Leo will have one less person on his side."
Xavi sniffled, and Andres pulled him closer. They sat in a damp silence, Xavi's tan skin shaking from anger, the tear tracks on his face gently wiped away by Andres' fingers.
"I love you," Andres said gently, and Xavi looked him in the eyes. Andres smiled sweetly, and he smiled back, pulling his friend closer until his face was buried in his neck.
"I love you too," Xavi whispered. "T'estimo molt."
They stayed in that same position until Andres' leg began to cramp, and then they separated, focusing back on the wine on the table.
"We should invite him over," Xavi said between sips. Andres raised an eyebrow. "Leo?"
Xavi hummed in approval. "Maybe he'll feel more comfortable talking if there's no chance that Guardiola is around."
"Yeah," Andres agreed. "That might be a good idea."
"That poor boy," Xavi sighed. "El meu pobre, pobre nadó. T'hauria d'haver protegit millor, meu dolç."
"I can't understand what you're saying, but I know that it's probably some self-deprecating shit," Andres deadpanned. "Xavi, we will help him, he will be okay, we just need to focus on the future."
"I know," Xavi mumbled.
"Good," Andres said, and he wrapped his free arm around Xavi's shoulder, bringing him in closer.
The heater crackled in the distance, the Barcelona traffic blaring through the window. The thought of Leo plagued their every moment, but for now, in the warmth of Andres' living room, they were okay.