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denial.
Fermín was already not in the best of moods when Gavi and Lamine decided to ruin his life.
He’d misplaced one of his shoes this morning, and spilt half of his protein shake on the sidewalk. Worse was the fact that the pitch seemed less alive than normal, and not just because the sun had barely finished rising.
Raphinha was gone.
“You do realize that the man isn’t dead,” Gavi said abruptly. “You can stop checking the door to the dugout like his ghost is going to suddenly manifest there. He’ll be back in a couple days.”
Fermín looked up from where he was fixing his shin guards to stare at him. “What are you talking about?”
Lamine rolled his eyes. “Capi,” he deadpanned. “Gael gave him a cold, not the plague. Your crush is showing bad, hermano.”
Fermín blinked once. Then twice. Then a third time. “My what?”
Gavi snorted. “Your crush.” He said the words slowly, as if Fermín was a child. “You know, the one that you have? On Raphinha?”
A crush on Raphinha? No. No way. Sure, he wanted Raphinha in a physical way—who didn’t? He’d love for Raphinha to hold him still as he fucked Fermín’s mouth until he cried, or have Raphinha whisper filth in his ear as he took him from behind.
He’d also love for Rapha to gently run his hands through Fermín’s hair as he used his mouth to get off, for Raphinha to tell him he was a good boy. He’d love—
Whatever. That wasn’t the point. The point was that he wanted Raphinha in a physical way only. Fermín didn’t want to date him or hold hands with him or do any of that other stuff with him. He just wanted to fuck him.
“You’re mental,” Fermín said as he stood back up. “Completely mental.”
Gavi hummed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, hermano.”
See? Completely mental.
anger.
“I don’t have a crush on Raphinha!” Fermín screeched as he kicked the ball.
It went long, and high, and wide, and basically every possible word someone might use to describe off-target.
This did absolutely nothing to help ease his frustrations.
“Okay,” said Adeyemi slowly. He sounded cautious; as if he was in fight-or-flight. “Nobody said you did?”
If only. “Except somebody did say that!” he argued. “In fact, two somebodies said that!“
Marc, who had clearly been drawn in by the outburst, looked at him with consideration. “Let me guess: it was Gavi and Lamine?”
Some of Fermín’s anger and frustration drained out of him from the force of his shock alone. “What makes you say that?”
Dani shrugged. “Well, they’re the only ones convinced you didn’t know about it.”
Fermín blinked. “What,” he said stupidly.
Another shrug. “The rest of us figured you knew you liked him and just chose to ignore it.”
“Wait,” Fermín said slowly, voice tense. “Are you telling me that everyone on the team thinks I like Raphinha?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘thinks’…” Marc started.
Fermín glared hard enough that he closed his mouth and averted his eyes.
Balde took over. “Yes, everyone thinks you like him.” Fermín pointedly ignored the dramatic tone. “And for good reason.”
“Enlighten me,” Fermín said flatly. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What are these good reasons?”
(Air quotes necessary and subsequently implied.)
“You always bring him water when he’s out,” Dani said.
Fermín scoffed. “So?” he asked. “He’s my friend.”
“I’ve been your friend for a decade and you don’t get me water,” Gavi muttered.
Fermín graciously chose not to mention the fact that Gavi always did that for Lewy. Fermín proceeded to forget the fact that he just compared him and Rapha to Gavi and Lewy.
“You do whatever he asks,” Lamine pointed out.
“He’s the captain,” Fermín argued.
A shrug. “You do it off the field too.”
Fermín’s anger was starting to come back tenfold; his hands were shaking by his sides and he felt ready to scream.
“Back to practice!” Flick yelled, saving them all. “And Fermín? Go find that ball.”
“Yes, sir,” he called back. Then he crossed his arms and stormed off without a word.
bargaining.
It was clear to Fermín that his anger had overshadowed his ability to express why he didn’t like Raphinha. It was also clear that every single person on this team was an idiot who needed statistical information and proven facts to accept reality.
So he decided to employ a new tactic during their lunch break.
“I can’t have a crush on Raphinha,” he announced as he slammed his tray onto the table with enough force to nearly spill his drink.
Pedri blinked. “Okay,” he said slowly. “And why might that be?”
Fermín had an answer ready. “He’s older than me.”
Apparently everyone else had answers ready too.
“I’m older than Laura,” Dani said suddenly.
Anthony nodded. “And I’m older than Annie.”
Balde nodded. “And I’m—”
“By like two years max!” Fermín interrupted. “Rapha is six years older than me.”
“So?” Eric asked. “Gavi’s boyfriend is sixteen years older than him and you don’t see him having severe mental breakdowns over it.”
(Except Fermín did see that—numerous times, both before Gavi started his relationship with Lewy and after. Hell, he still had them every once in a while.)
“We aren’t talking about me,” Gavi sniffed.
Marc shrugged. “Well, you can’t deny that it’s a relevant point to bring up.”
Except Gavi could, apparently, deny it. “No, Fermín and Raphinha are relevant.”
When Marc opened his mouth to argue, Fermín decided it might be best if he brought another point to the table.
“Rapha is recently divorced and has a child,” he said.
“So?” Dani asked, echoing Eric. “Gavi’s boyfriend is also recently divorced.”
Gavi squeaked. “Hey, it’s not recent; it’s been at least—”
Xavi interrupted Gavi to argue another—admittedly undeniable—point. “Not to mention Lewy also has a kid. Hell, he has two kids.”
Gavi winced. “Can we please stop using my relationship as a reference?”
Marc shrugged and said, yet again, “You still can’t deny that it’s a relevant point to bring up.”
Gavi crossed his arms over his chest protectively. “But everything you’re using it for is bad!”
Lamine sputtered. “The entire point we’re trying to make by using it is that it’s not bad!“
“You—”
“Does anyone else feel like this is a weird version of the five stages of grief?“ Eric whispered.
“If he is, then doesn’t it seem kind of backwards? This feels like denial,” Anthony said.
Dani shook his head. “Nah, this is definitely bargaining. He’s indirectly admitting it and now everyone is just using Gavi’s relationship as a way to make Fermín accept it.”
“Plus the denial happened earlier when me and Gavi mentioned it to him and he ignored us for the next two hours,” Lamine added.
Anthony nodded slowly, clearly accepting that. “What about the anger?”
Marc snorted. “Dude, did you not see Fermín’s little meltdown earlier? The one where he kicked the ball like he was aiming for a goal post in Andalusia and not one less than a hundred meters away?”
Cubarsí shook his head. “I think Anthony was in the gym for that.”
A brief pause. “Oh,” Lamine said. “Well, earlier when we were running drills—”
Fermín pointedly ignored the by-play happening next to him, lest his remaining sliver of sanity disappear.
“Me and Raphinha are on the same team,” he blurted instead.
Adeyemi blinked. “Obviously?”
Did Fermín need to explain everything? Jesus. “Would that even work? I’m literally the only—”
He cut himself off and looked toward Pedri, who was staring back at him with a flat expression.
Koundé clapped his shoulder. “Nice one, hermano,” he whispered into his ear.
Fermín aggressively shoved him off.
“No, wait—that’s a good point,” Lamine said, fearless as ever. “Ferran and Pedri made it work for, like, years before Ferran left.”
Before Ferran left. Yikes.
“So did me and Robert,” Gavi added quietly. “Not for years like them, but we did. We love each other, so now we’re making it work time zones away too.” He shrugged slightly. “If we can do that, then you…”
Fermín pushed his tray away and stood up, his appetite suddenly lost. It was all he could do not to book it out of the cafeteria.
depression.
He wasn’t entirely sure if it was the melancholic note the last conversation about relationships ended on or something entirely different, but Fermín could say with full confidence that he was at least slightly depressed.
Maybe it was Gavi’s use of the word love—because that was definitely different than a crush. A crush was all butterflies and nervousness and blushing. A crush was the gooey, tooth-rotting air that always surrounded Lamine and Cubarsí.
Oh, fuck it.
This whole “five stages of grief” thing Eric mentioned was stupid. Fermín refused to be depressed.
acceptance.
It was dark out and only a handful of the team remained when Fermín finally spoke the words out loud.
“I think I have feelings for Raphinha,” he said slowly. Then he shook his head. “No; I know I have feelings for Raphinha.”
Much to his surprise, Gavi and Lamine didn’t tease him. They didn’t make fun of him for having mood swings and acting like a grade schooler all day. Instead, Gavi more or less apologized.
“I honestly didn’t think you’d freak out so bad,” he said gently. “I wouldn’t have said anything otherwise.”
“Nah, we totally would’ve still said something,” Lamine argued, a response that earned him a light slap on the back of the head by Cuba. Lamine rubbed the spot with an exaggerated pout before adding, “But we might’ve said it nicer.”
“Or at the very least eased you into it,” Gavi offered, clearly deciding to abandon any and all pretense that he might have emotional maturity. “Because honestly? It was about time you figured it out.”
Now that was something Fermín didn’t agree with in the slightest. “Why would I want to know that I have feelings for someone who doesn’t like me back?” he demanded, glaring at his feet. “Hell, why would anyone want to know that?”
Everyone around him suddenly went eerily quiet. Fermín looked up, confused.
“What? Am I wrong?” he asked when nobody made a move to say anything.
“Of course you aren’t wrong,” Cuba said slowly.
“At least you aren’t wrong objectively,” Eric finished.
Lamine nodded. “But since Capi definitely likes you back, you’re wrong now.”
Of all the confusing things Fermín had been told today, this one definitely took the cake.
“Why wouldn’t you start with that?” he screeched.
Lamine raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Because on the off chance that all of us were wrong and you actually didn’t like him? I’m not having that kind of guilt on me, hermano.”
Gavi nodded. “I mean we knew we weren’t wrong, but still.” He shrugged. “Contingencies and stuff, you know?”
Pedri snorted.
Fermín pursed his lips. “So you're all basically telling me to go for it.”
“I mean, I don’t see why you shouldn’t,” Anthony offered slowly.
“You’re right,” Fermín said, a rush of confidence suddenly flowing through him. “I’m going to do it.”
…when Raphinha came back to practice. Damn it.