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Summary
"Don't regret making me," Ferran murmured against Pedri's shoulder. "Please don't ever regret it. I know I'm wrong, I know I shouldn't exist, but I don't want to not exist. I want to be here. I want to be alive."
Pedri's arms came up automatically, holding Ferran close. "I don't regret it. I promise you, I don't regret it."
They stood like that for a long moment, and Pedri became acutely aware of everything—the warmth of Ferran's body, the strength in his arms, the way Ferran's breath stirred his hair. This was his creation, his responsibility, his... what? What was Ferran to him?
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A Frankenstein retelling