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Summary
"I want you to drive me home." Usually, Gavi poses this as a question with his chin tipped down, looking at Pedri through his eyelashes the way he knows Pedri likes but won't admit.
Today's different. Gavi's frustration has calcified into something sharp. He's itching for something — actually, a lot of things that feel just beyond his reach. More minutes. Less pressure. An end to all the bullshit online chatter about him not being called up to the national team. A warm, reassuring hand on the back of his neck and another on his waist. Pedri's hands.
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Gavi learns how to tell Pedri what he wants.