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The news was everywhere: “Ferran Torres is leaving Barcelona.” For sure, it was sad news for the fans, but for Pedri? he was more than just a teammate; he was his best friend.
From the moment he opened his eyes that morning, Pedri knew it was a shity day, and you might call it a gut feeling, but he knew something bad was about to happen; he would never, in a million years, have thought it would be the news of Ferran's transfer. For the first article he saw, he didn’t buy it, even after seeing it everywhere; he didn’t quite believe it until he opened Instagram, and the official Barcelona account hit him like a truck. It couldn’t be true; Ferran would never do such a thing without talking to Pedri about it. He sat on his couch for a few more minutes, trying to process what was happening, then he reached for his phone again and called Ferran. He waited and waited; Ferran didn’t answer. He couldn't wait any longer, so he reached Gavi, and he answered the call right away. “Hey man, how's it going?” Pedri didn’t answer him. “Have you heard the news?” Pedri asked, sounding pretty serious. Gavi paused for a moment before answering. He knew exactly what he was talking about, and then he said, “You didn’t know? I mean, Ferran had told us way before. I thought you knew.” Pedri froze. He didn’t even know what to say. Ferran, his best friend, one of the most valuable people in his whole life, refused even to let him know that he was leaving for PCG. That wasn’t even possible. He felt a shiver all over his body. He tried to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat. “Are you ok, mate?” Gavi asked, sounding a little concerned, then he continued, “I think you should talk to him.” The funny part was that Ferran hadn’t even answered him. He pulled himself together before responding, “Yeah…Well, I guess I'll see you later,” and that was when he ended the call.
He opened the chat with Ferran and started typing, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ He looked at the text and then deleted it. The truth was hitting him harder every second. He was angry; he was sad; he was desperate and wanted to cry, but what he wanted most was for Ferran to be there with him right now. Telling him that it's all fake and nothing will ever separate them. He wanted his arms around him, the kind of hug that could last forever, but all he could do was sit on his couch, looking at his phone, waiting for an explanation or maybe a call. He started typing again; it was only a word: ‘congratulations,’ and tears started dropping from his eyes as he pressed send.
He couldn’t stop himself from crying; actually, he didn’t even try to stop. All these feelings he had tried to bury deep in his heart were back, and he couldn’t even tell Ferran about it because he was leaving, and there was no chance for him to tell Ferran anymore. But his leaving wasn’t even the worst part. It was the fact that everyone knew, but he found out from the news, like the fans. Pedri still couldn't believe it. So, all he could do about it was cry, and he did, until he fell asleep on the couch.
It was almost midnight when he woke up with a horrible headache; he didn’t need a minute to remember what had happened. He reached out for his phone only to find out about the 15 missed calls and a couple of messages from Ferran. he swallowed hard before checking the messages: ‘Pedri, please don’t say that.’ ‘I'm so sorry. I should have told you sooner. Can we please talk?!’ And again, the last one from 10 minutes ago: ‘Pepi, for God’s sake, PLEASE ANSWER ME.’ he looked at the screen, but he couldn’t find the right words to even answer him. He didn’t know what to say. What explanation could even fix this mess? So, he didn’t answer him. Not because he didn’t want to talk to Ferran; he actually wanted nothing more than that, but he couldn’t face him.
Later that night, the rain started pouring, and it felt like even the sky was crying at how miserable Pedri was. The air in his house was thick, so he tried to distract himself from Ferran. He had warmed up some leftovers from last night. Put on a TV show. But he couldn’t stand to watch it for more than 10 minutes; he turned it off and stared at his food that was now running cold. He didn’t have the Appétit to eat, and all of this over a guy who was nothing more than a ‘best friend’. A bitter smile crossed his face as regret washed over him; he was stupid to think they could ever be anything more. They held hands; they would touch in a way that friends didn’t; they hugged, but they were never anything more than friends. So yeah, he was simple, thinking there was even a chance. He was deep in thought when the doorbell suddenly snapped him out of it. It was Ferran.
He froze. Of course, Ferran would come to his door, even though it was almost two in the morning.
At first, Pedri didn’t want to open the door, but resisting had never been something he was good at, especially when it came to Ferran. Maybe, deep down, a part of him still hoped Ferran was here to tell him that none of it was real, that everything he’d heard was just a lie.
So, after the third time the doorbell rang, Pedri finally opened the door.
Ferran was standing there, looking miserable and exhausted like a wet, lost puppy, his expression showing that he had run in the rain. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in two days. But what caught his attention the most were his eyes, and Pedri knew him well enough to know that he was drunk.
“Hey,” Pedri finally said, breaking the silence.
Ferran looked at him as if he was trying to read his mind, studying his expression to figure out how he should answer. He swallowed hard before speaking. “Hey”. He fixed his gaze on the floor again, searching for the right words to start the conversation. But before he could say anything, Pedri spoke again. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be celebrating right now? Oh, it must be exciting, moving to Paris, isn’t it, Ferran?”
His words were sharp. Ferran hadn’t actually expected that, and all he wished in that moment was to disappear into the ground. “Pepi, please…” he murmured desperately, almost gasping for air. The rain was washing over him. “Can I come in? Just please let me explain”.
For sure, Pedrie couldn't resist leaving him outside like a wet dog, but he regretted it as soon as Ferran stepped into his house because now he wanted nothing more than to hug him and cry in his arms. He fixed his gaze on him and waited for him to speak as his own eyes slowly began to well up with tears. So, he just decided to talk first. “Why didn’t you tell me, huh? You are seriously telling me that everyone knew before me? Do I even mean anything to you?”
“Pedri, don’t say that you mean the world to me,” Ferran finally answered, his voice deeper now from the alcohol in his blood, as he took a few steps closer. “Don’t lie to me.” Pedri was raising his voice now; he couldn’t hold back his tears any longer, so he let them fall. “If you actually cared about me, you would have talked to me; you would have told me before even deciding to leave Barcelona. Not showing up at my door all wet and drunk when everything is over.” Ferran was really exhausted; he looked at Pedri with his sorrowful eyes. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Pedri. I couldn’t do it. Believe me, I tried. I wrote to you; I made speeches in my head each night before bed. But I couldn’t do it because I knew it would only take a ‘don’t go’ from you to change my mind, and I can’t stay in Barcelona anymore. You know how they treat me here.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “And you have no idea how many times I showed up at your door but didn’t dare ring the bell and talk to you. Not because I didn’t want you to know, but because I love you too much to look you in the eyes and tell you that I was leaving.” Pedri froze. That couldn’t be true; he must have heard him wrong. That was what he thought until Ferran repeated himself: “Yeah, Pepi, I love you. More than just a friend, more than what we ever were, and I couldn’t keep this to myself any longer. And I'm sorry that I'm leaving, and I love you. I'm sorry.” Pedri let his tears fall as he moved closer and said, his voice lower than before, “Shut up. I love you too,” and he closed the distance between them, pressed his lips against Ferran’s, and kissed him with even more intensity, pouring all the emotions he'd been holding back into the kiss.
For a moment, Ferran was too stunned to move, but as soon as he came to his senses, he found himself lost in the kiss and then kissed him back even more desperately. Pedri ran his fingers through Ferran's hair while standing on his toes and leaned more into him, closing the remaining space between them until there was barely any distance left. They kissed in a way no lovers ever could. It was sad, but it was true. After years of denial, years of pretending, and years of quietly hoping this moment would finally come, they had both gotten what they wanted. It was late, far too late, perhaps, but it was real. And, in the end, that was all that mattered.
They slowly pulled apart, just enough to catch their breath, their foreheads still resting against each other. Ferran reached for Pedro’s lips again, this time pressing a soft kiss on them before pulling him closer into his arms, hugging him in a way that made him afraid that if he let go, he would vanish away.
Neither of them talked for the next couple of minutes. They just held each other tightly. Pedri wasn’t crying anymore, but he was still shivering, and with each shiver, Ferran held him tighter, reminding him that he was there. He breathed him in with all his being, as if he were trying to memorize his presence, afraid that the moment he let go, he might lose him all over again.
Finally, Pedri broke the silence with his voice, softer than ever. “Please, Ferran, don’t leave me. I can't do this without you.” Ferran felt the warmth of Pedri's breath against his neck. He held him even tighter to calm him down. He had made up his mind about leaving, and it was too late anyway; they had already announced it in the media. “I promise you we'll be all right, and I will finally find a way to make us work.” He paused before continuing, looked into Pedri's eyes, and said, “And I promise you, no matter how far away, I will always love you”.
The end-