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Summary
"I didn't know you liked Simón that much." Ferran turned to stare at Pedri. His voice was level, filled with none of the warmth it usually had when he spoke to Pedri.
"I-I don't," Pedri stammered. For some reason, Ferran's dissecting eyes made him feel like he had to explain himself. Explain that while he and Unai had gotten closer in the months leading up to the World Cup, there was nothing going on between them. "We're just getting closer, that's all."
"Getting closer? Hm." Ferran arched an eyebrow. Ferran turned back to sit properly in his seat, putting his earphones in and closing his eyes. It seemed that was the end of the conversation. Ferran was all laughter five minutes ago. Now he was cold and distant. Ferran was never cold to Pedri.