Chapter Text
June 2008, Foios.
It was a rough game day for Ferran Torres. He arrived at the field 20 minutes earlier than required, ecstatic to play as a striker for his newfound team. It was only Ferran’s third game on his rec football team, and he had high hopes of scoring and making his team proud. Proving himself. But as the match began, Ferran found himself struggling to keep up with the opposing team. Every time the ball was in his possession, he was instantly flanked by enemy defenders. The rigorous match ended with a score of 3-0. Ferran was thoroughly disheartened by the team’s disappointing performance, unable to score even a single goal.
When Ferran returned home, he left the house almost immediately.
“Where are you going Ferri?” His mamá inquired as he sprinted out the door, even though she already knew where Ferran was going.
The orange tree.
Ferran loves the orange tree. Every time he felt frustrated, sad, or some other complex emotion the 8 year old couldn’t yet put a name to, he would walk to the tree. His happy place.
As he ran the familiar path to the orange tree, he recorded all the comforting details he already knew by heart. He raced past the canary yellow house, the dog residing there barking at him through the window was routine at this point. He passed the local café as well. The one that always had a sweet scent, like fresh pastries, wafting through the surrounding air. Recalling that scent once again filled Ferran with a sense of nostalgia, a piece of his home.
As Ferran reached the orange tree, he noticed something. No… someone. He saw the back of someone’s head peeking from behind the trunk of his tree. He got closer, trying to observe who was at his tree. He noticed he was a little younger than himself, maybe 6? He had messy brown hair, round eyes that appeared brown, but looked hazel in the warm sunlight. He had a reserved disposition, like he was afraid to take up too much space.
“Hey, what’s your name?” Ferran asked the boy with a cheerful smile, though he was still tense as his sacred sanctuary was breached by some stranger.
“I’m Pedro, but most people call me Pedri.” He said with a lilting accent, one Ferran wasn’t accustomed to hearing. Ferran paused for a moment, assuming Pedro— Pedri— would ask for his name as well. Ferran decided to take initiative when Pedri stayed silent.
“I’m Ferran, are you not from here? You talk a little funny.” Ferran said playfully, hoping to lighten the mood of the serious boy in front of him. Instead he appeared to be slightly insulted by the remark. “I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Ferran added. “It’s just that I’ve never heard anyone around here pronounce words like that.” The shy boy looked more at ease with the other’s reassurance.
“I moved here from Tegueste, Tenerife a couple weeks ago.” The timid boy replied. Seeing the taller boy’s confused expression he elaborated, “I’m from The Canaries.”
“Wow, that’s really far. How old are you?”
“I’m 6, how old are you?” The corners of Ferran’s mouth upturned slightly, pleased that Pedri had made an effort to continue the conversation. He sat next to Pedri, comfortable with his new acquaintance.
“I’m 8.”
“That’s my favorite number. I want to be 8.” Pedri said, with an expression between a smile and his resting face. “My favorite footballer is number 8.”
“Is it Iniesta? I really like Iniesta. I play football too, I had a game today! Do you play any sports? Are you a footballer?” Ferran asked excitedly, suddenly hyper at the mention of his sport.
“Yeah, it is Iniesta. I don’t play football, but I’m planning on starting once I turn 7, in November.”
“Do you wanna come over? We can play football at my place, in my backyard. I don’t live far.” Ferran asked, eager to make a new friend.
“Okay, let me go ask mi madre.”
“Okay! I’ll be waiting here!”
About 5 minutes later, Pedri came running back, with a suppressed smile on his face. Anyone who even caught a glimpse at him could easily tell he was thrilled.
“My mom said yes! ¡Vamos!” He exclaimed, obviously enthusiastic about what’s to come.
They walked together back to Ferran’s, his frustration regarding the earlier game now forgotten. Ferran happily led the way, showing Pedri every little fragment of his home that made it feel like home. He showed him the café, they waved to the dog peering through the yellow house’s window, barking at the two excitedly.
💜💛
“It’s really nice here.” Pedri uttered, almost inaudible with his bashful tone. Ferran smiled at the younger boy.
“It is, I’m sure it’s nice in The Canaries as well though, right?”
“Yeah, I like The Canaries better than here, but stuff in Foios is cool too.” Pedri spoke softly, looking down at the floor as if he was homesick. Ferran felt a pang of sympathy for him. Pedri is just a young boy in a new, uncharted place.
“This is my house.” Ferran said, smiling up at the establishment. The house was painted such a light blue, it was almost white. His home looked as if it was welcoming the two boys inside.
“¡Hola Ferran! ¿Y quién es?” Ferran’s mamá inquired politely. Clearly happy that Ferran is making new friends.
“Hola señora, me llamo Pedri. Soy de Las Islas Canarias.” Pedri said, putting all of the manners he’d ever learned into that single sentence.
“Wow, that’s so cool. I would love to visit Tenerife sometime.” Ferran’s mom said enthusiastically.
“That’s actually really funny mamá, because Pedri just happens to be from Tenerife.” He turned to Pedri, “Tegueste, no?”
“Yeah, Tegueste.”
“Ah, that sounds like a dream! Ferran, we should go sometime, don’t you think?”
“Sí mamá, sí. Anyways, me and Pedri are gonna go play football outside.” Ferran said, looking forward to seeing Pedri play.
“Okay, I’ll be making dinner. And Pedri, feel free to stay and eat with us!”
“I definitely will señora…” He paused, not knowing Ferran’s surname. He turned to Ferran with an inquisitive expression, awaiting an answer.
“Torres.” Ferran said to Pedri, finishing the other boy’s sentence with a thoughtful smile. “Let’s go out to play now!” He went through the back door with Pedri following close behind. Just two small boys on their own path to an immense future.
The following months, almost every day was like that one. Ferran and Pedri would play soccer, go swimming, or even just talk at the orange tree, their orange tree.