Chapter Text
It has been one month to 15th August. One whole month since Ferran Torres joined Paris Saint-Germain. One whole month since Désiré Doué learnt what it's like to sport a crush on his teammate.
Mind you, it's the worst thing in the world. He would not wish this on his worst enemy.
It came out of nowhere really. Désiré was only 19 when he found out about Ferran. His first year in the team. He was trying to make his place in a team where everybody was much older, much more established and decorated than him. It was nerve wrecking.
The only person he would feel comfortable around was Ousmane Dembélé. The forward was the most welcoming out of everyone, having only joined the club a year before, knowing and understanding the struggles of being a newbie.
It was before Désiré’s first away game, he was so nervous he had bitten the skin of his thumb raw. Dembélé had tried distracting him by telling stories about his days in Barcelona. Désiré knew the transfer wasn't the easiest or smoothest; he remembered the headlines and the articles. It was a pleasant surprise to hear stories of Ousmane’s old teammates.
That was the first time Désiré saw Ferran. It was a picture from a post match celebration where Ousmane and Ferran were standing side by side. The Spaniard had his arm around Ousmane’s shoulders and they both were clearly laughing at something.
“That's Ferri, crazy boy, I miss him” Ousmane says before swiping to show more pictures.
That was Désiré’s first time hearing about Ferran, a single, slightly blurry picture accompanied by hardly seven words of context. But god did it leave a mark on Désiré.
He remembered searching up Ferran’s name in the dark of the plane back home, when everybody was either asleep or silent. Ousmane next to him was snoozing with his jacket’s hood over his eyes.
Ferran looked like a frat boy is what Désiré’s initial thoughts were. Buzz cut, backwards cap and a thin silver chain around the neck. Désiré was in a trance when he stalked Ferran’s Instagram profile all the way down to the first picture, back when he was a young boy playing in Valencia.
It was a proper task making sure he doesn't accidentally like any picture Ferran posted a million years ago. After the daze wore off Désiré realised what he had been doing, shut off his phone and willed himself to fall asleep.
The measly parasocial crush lingered in the back of Désiré’s mind. In the following weeks he tried to get more information out of Ousmane by casually asking him about his Barca days, but his efforts were unfruitful. So after the third failed attempt to make Ferran be brought up in a conversation Désiré forced himself to move on.
Eventually Désiré did move on, there's only so much you can think about someone you don't know at all.
That was until the 2026 world cup where Désiré was going to represent his country in the senior team. Wearing a navy blue jersey sporting the number 20.
The world cup was the first time in a year or so that Ferran started plaguing his mind again. Désiré felt 19 again. The idea that he might actually get to meet the man or see him in person would make his heart race. The 21 year old felt pathetic.
His first ever world cup was an experience. From the group stages all the way till the semi final Désiré felt like he was living in a dream. Even though it was a different team, teammates, coach and country than what he was used to, Désiré felt so at home.
Everything was perfect, moreover France was yet to play against Spain meaning Désiré was yet to see Ferran and somehow make a fool of himself.
That was until July 14th. France had beaten Morocco 2-0 in the quarter-finals and now they were going to play the semi-final against Spain.
Playing against Spain meant playing against one of the most dominant teams in the tournament. Playing against Spain meant Désiré had to play the best football of his life. Playing against Spain meant Désiré would finally play against Ferran.