Archive of Our Own

Saying that Pedri was having a bad day was an understatement.

It simply was one of those days where nothing was going his way. Which would've been fine, normally. Everyone had bad days, and Pedri wasn't particularly dramatic about his. The problem was that this wasn't an isolated incident. It had been a long week, and he was starting to feel like he hadn't had a proper moment to breathe since Monday.

Training had been frustrating lately, his sleep schedule was all over the place, and he'd spent most of the past few days feeling like he was either too tired to do anything or too restless to sit still. Nothing was particularly wrong, not really. He just couldn't seem to get anything right, and the more he tried to fix it, the more annoyed he got with himself.

And now, on top of everything else, his alarm hadn't gone off.

His usual two-hour morning routine before training had to be cut down to barely twenty minutes. He didn’t have time to shower and every single one of his socks had apparently joined forces to make his life miserable that morning and decided to disappear. After digging through his drawers for far longer than he could afford, he ended up putting on a pair of ugly, fuzzy Christmas socks Lamine had thought it'd be funny to get him for last year's Secret Santa.

At least the previous night he had prepared his bag, as usual. What wasn’t usual was the coffee machine breaking halfway through making his morning cup, which, to add on, tasted like straight-up petrol. He took two sips before deciding that whatever was left in the mug wasn't worth the suffering and leaving it on the counter.

His phone buzzed as he grabbed his keys. A message from Gavi, sent a few minutes earlier, sat on his lock screen.

Gavi: u coming early today or what

Pedri stared at it for a second before typing a quick reply.

Pedri: no

Gavi: helpful as always

Normally, he'd have come up with something to say back. Something annoying enough to get Gavi to call him an idiot, which would inevitably turn into a ten-minute argument about absolutely nothing. This morning, however, he couldn't even be bothered.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and stepped outside. It was raining. Of course it was.

By the time he arrived at Ciutat Esportiva having driven a little faster than he probably should've, he was ten minutes later than usual and in an even worse mood than when he'd woken up, everyone was already in the locker room, dressed and ready to head out to the training pitch when Pedri walked in. He barely acknowledged Dani and Rodri as they walked out, clapping him on the shoulder and making some comment about him being late.

He changed as fast as he could as the locker room emptied, leaving him alone, tying his shoelaces.

For a moment, he just sat there, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor.

He was tired. He'd been tired all week, actually, but this morning it felt different. Everything seemed to require twice as much effort as it should, and he was getting sick of having to pretend that it didn't bother him.

When he finally walked out, he ran face first into a brown-eyed, pink-haired ball of energy.

"You're coming in early tomorrow, right?" Gavi asked. "You owe me a coffee."

Pedri didn't look at him and kept walking. "Get it yourself."

"Wow." Gavi said, falling into step beside him. "Who pissed in your cereal?"

Pedri didn’t answer. Partly because he didn’t hear him and partly because he was simply too tired to think of a smart remark. Gavi glanced at him, his expression briefly shifting as if he was waiting for Pedri to add something.

When he didn't, Gavi shrugged. "Fine. I'll remember this when you want something from me."

"Can't wait." It came out flatter than he'd intended.

Gavi snorted and trotted to reach Fermín, jumping on his back, probably not thinking much of it. Why would he? Pedri was tired, and it wasn't as though he was obligated to be entertaining before ten in the morning.

Still, as Pedri followed him out, the fact that he couldn't even be bothered to argue with Gavi over something so stupid only annoyed him more.

He walked into the pitch, and it was still raining.

Unsurprisingly, practice went as good as his morning.

Every time he took a shot, he sent the ball flying. He lost possession almost as soon as it reached his feet. He misjudged passes he'd normally make without thinking, slipped on the wet grass and nearly took someone out trying to recover the ball. Every mistake made him more frustrated, and every bit of frustration made the next mistake worse.

He was exhausted. His limbs didn't feel like his own, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t focus. Not even when Fermín started laughing at every shot he missed, or when Rapha kept poking at him to get him to pay attention.

Usually, he'd have something to say back to them. Usually, he'd laugh, roll his eyes, tell Fermín to shut up and promise Rapha he'd get it right next time.

Today, he just wanted everyone to leave him alone.

By the time training finally ended, he felt like he'd been dragged through the entire week all over again. He sat through a half-hour conversation with Flick, who asked him a couple of questions about how he'd been feeling lately before eventually telling him to go home and rest.

Pedri nodded, promised he'd be fine, and showered as quickly as he could. He was the first one out.

He drove home with his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, pressing a little too hard on the accelerator. He just wanted this awful, shit-show of a day to be over. He wanted to get home, close his eyes and sleep until the sun went down, came back up, and went down again. Preferably sometime next week.

By the time he got through his front door, he felt like he was running on whatever scraps of energy his body had managed to save. He dropped his bag by the entrance, not even bothering to put it where it belonged, and made a beeline for the couch.

He didn't so much lie down as collapse onto it, face-first, letting out a long, miserable groan into the cushions.

God, he was tired.

Not the kind of tired a good night's sleep could fix, either. It was deeper than that, a heaviness settled somewhere beneath his skin, deep in his muscles and bones. His arms felt like they weighed twice as much as they should, his legs ached with every little movement, and even lying still took more effort than he thought it reasonably should. He'd been carrying this exhaustion around all week, waking up tired and going to bed tired, never quite managing to catch up with himself. It was like he'd spent the entire week running on empty and had only just realised there was nothing left in the tank.

He knew he should get up. He should change into more comfortable clothes, eat something, brush his teeth, maybe call his mum because he'd been meaning to all day. There were a dozen little things he could do, all of them simple, all of them things he did without thinking on any other day.

But the thought of sitting up, let alone standing, was enough to make him close his eyes again.

In a minute, he told himself. I’ll get up in a minute.

His body sank further into the couch, the cushions moulding around him, and for a few seconds, he let himself believe that sleep was finally going to take him. He was so tired that it almost hurt, the sort of tiredness that made his whole body beg for rest while his brain refused to switch off.

Yeah. A bit of sleep would be perfect.

Except, apparently, even that was too much to ask.

The moment he closed his eyes properly, a dull pounding started behind his forehead. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, but the ache followed him, growing more noticeable the longer he lay there. His thoughts drifted in and out without ever quite settling, a jumble of missed passes, stupid mistakes, things he'd forgotten to do and things he hadn't even had the energy to care about. Every time he tried to push them away, something else took their place.

He could hear the rain tapping against the windows. The fridge hummed somewhere in the kitchen. His own heartbeat seemed unbearably loud in the quiet of the room.

He opened his eyes again.

The ceiling was too bright, even with the curtains half-drawn. He turned his face into the couch, but the pressure in his head only made him more aware of it. His calves throbbed. His feet hurt. He could feel the weight of the entire day sitting on his chest, and somewhere in the middle of all that, he realised he was clenching his jaw hard enough to make it ache.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

He rolled onto his back with a frustrated sigh and stared at the television across the room. Its black screen reflected a vague, blurry version of himself: hair a mess, skin pale with exhaustion, still wearing the same clothes he'd trained in hours ago.

He looked as awful as he felt.

And that was the thing, wasn't it? He couldn't even point to one particular reason for it. Training had been shit, his sleep had been shit, his entire week had been shit, but none of it was bad enough to explain why he felt like this. Other people had worse days. Other people managed to get through their weeks without feeling like the world was asking too much of them.

He didn't understand why he couldn't just get over it.

He was tired of being tired. Tired of trying so hard and still getting everything wrong. Tired of people looking at him like they were waiting for him to admit something was wrong when he didn't even know what he was supposed to say.

He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want advice, or questions, or someone telling him to get some rest as if he hadn't been trying to do exactly that for the past five days.

And he hated the look Flick had been giving him all week, that quiet, almost hesitant expression that always came before the inevitable, “Something you want to talk about, Pedro?”

He hated Rapha's concerned looks, too, and Dani's stupid jokes that were clearly meant to cheer him up. He knew they meant well. That was the worst part, really. 

Because what was he supposed to say?

That he was tired? They were all tired. That training had been frustrating? It happened. That he'd been feeling off for days and couldn't seem to shake it, no matter how much he slept or how hard he tried to get himself together?

It sounded ridiculous when he put it that way. Even in his own head.

He just wanted, for once, to stop feeling like he was failing at something as simple as getting through a day.

Pedri stared at his reflection for another few seconds, his eyes stinging with a tiredness that had nothing to do with sleep.

He was exhausted. He was frustrated. He was having the worst day of his life, and the most annoying part was that, if someone asked him why, he wouldn't know what to tell them.

There wasn't a good reason. There never seemed to be one.

He only realised he'd fallen asleep when his phone started ringing, the sound seeming ten times louder than usual in the quiet room.

For a moment, he didn't move. His whole body felt wrong, heavy and sluggish, his mouth was dry, and his left arm had gone completely numb from where he'd been lying on it. There was a little saliva pooling at the corner of his mouth, and when he finally managed to open his eyes, the light from the living room made him squeeze them shut again.

Right. He'd forgotten to turn the lights off.

He lay there for a few more seconds, waiting for the ringing to stop, too exhausted to do anything about it. Apparently, even sleep wasn't enough to fix whatever the hell was wrong with him.

Eventually, the phone fell silent.

Five seconds later, it started again.

Pedri groaned into the couch. Whoever was calling clearly wasn't going to give up, and he didn't have the energy to deal with the consequences of ignoring them. He fumbled around for his phone, squinting at the screen before managing to swipe the green button and bring it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Pedri? Hermano, what are you doing? I've been texting you for an hour, man! We're playing FIFA. You wanna join?"

Gavi's voice filled his ear, loud and impossibly energetic. Pedri could barely process the words, let alone string them together into a coherent thought, but he recognised the voice immediately. He always recognised Gavi's voice.

The problem was that Gavi didn't seem particularly interested in taking a breath. He launched straight into explaining something about the game, talking so quickly that Pedri lost track of what he was saying about halfway through. There was laughter in the background, someone shouting something he couldn't make out, and the general noise of people having a perfectly normal evening.

Pedri, meanwhile, was struggling to remember what day it was.

"What?" He rubbed a hand over his face, hoping it'd help clear the fog in his head. It didn't. "Gavi, can you slow down, please?"

"Pedro, are you even listening to me? Did I wake you up from your old-man nap or something?"

Gavi laughed, clearly pleased with himself.

"Yeah, actually," Pedri mumbled.

He pulled the phone away from his ear long enough to check the time. The numbers on the screen took a second to make sense, but when they did, he frowned.

It was late. Really late.

He'd fallen asleep on the couch without even changing out of his clothes, and now the entire evening had gone by without him doing a single useful thing. He hadn't eaten, hadn't showered, hadn't even managed to drag himself to bed. Well, out of the couch.

Brilliant. Just brilliant.

The line went quiet. For the first time since he'd answered, the background chatter on Gavi's end seemed to fade into the distance. When he spoke again, his voice had lost some of its teasing edge. "Hey, man. Is something wrong?"

Pedro took a deep breath before answering. “No, Pablito, I’m fine. Just tired”

“Okay”

Pedri waited. He wasn't sure what he was expecting. Gavi usually insisted, asking another five questions until Pedri either gave him an answer or told him to fuck off. Instead, there was a brief silence, followed by the sound of someone in the background asking Gavi something.

“Have you eaten?”

Pedri frowned at the ceiling. "What?"

"Have you had dinner?" Pablo asked, talking slower, as if the canary couldn’t understand him.

"Yeah." He heard his stomach rumble as the words left his mouth.

"What did you eat?"

Pedri let his head fall back against the cushion ."Pablo, please."

"So you haven't eaten."

"I'm not doing this with you."

"Doing what? Asking if you've eaten?"

"Yes."

"That's crazy, man. Can't believe you'd get mad at me for caring about your nutritional needs."

Despite himself, Pedri smiled. "You're so fucking annoying."

"And yet, you love me."

Pedri made a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan, rubbing his hand over his face. "Can you just leave me alone?"

The words came out quieter than he'd intended. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"Yeah," Gavi said eventually, his voice softer now. "Okay, hermano."

Pedri swallowed. He felt a little guilty, which was stupid, because Gavi hadn't done anything wrong. He'd just called to play FIFA, probably expecting Pedri to insult his gaming skills for the next two hours, and instead he'd ended up talking to someone who sounded like he'd been dragged through a washing machine.

"Sorry," Pedri mumbled.

"For what?"

"Being a dick."

"You're always a dick. Nothing new there."

Pedri huffed a tired laugh.

"There he is," Gavi said, sounding pleased with himself.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"You're actually twelve."

"And you're avoiding my question."

Pedri went quiet again.

Gavi didn't immediately fill the silence this time. Pedri could hear him breathing, the faint sounds of his friends in the background, the distant noise of a television. It was so ordinary that it made something in his chest ache a little. Everyone else was having a normal evening. They were playing games, laughing, probably arguing over something stupid, while Pedri was lying on his couch feeling like he'd been awake for a week.

"Pedri?"

"Hm?"

"What's going on?"

"Nothing, Pablo. I'm just tired." It wasn't a lie. Not exactly.

"Okay." There it was again. That simple, infuriating okay.

Pedri turned onto his side, pulling one of the cushions closer. "You're not gonna ask me a million questions?"

"Do you want me to?"

"No."

"Then no."

Pedri stared at the wall. He didn't know why that made him feel worse. Maybe because he'd spent the entire week bracing himself for people to ask what was wrong, preparing answers he didn't even believe, and now Gavi was giving him the option not to explain himself at all.

He didn't have to come up with a reason. He didn't have to convince anyone that he was fine, or admit that he wasn't. He could just be tired.

"Have you eaten anything today?" Gavi asked after a moment.

Pedri groaned. "Oh my God."

"That's a no, then."

"I had breakfast."

"When?"

"This morning."

"Wow. Incredible. Athlete of the year."

"Fuck off."

"Listen, I'm just saying, if you pass out because you've been living off air and bad vibes, I'm not explaining that to Flick."

Pedri let out a small laugh, the sound rough around the edges. "I'm not gonna pass out."

"Great. Then you'll have no problem eating something."

"I'm not hungry."

"Didn't ask if you were hungry."

Pedri closed his eyes. He could practically picture Gavi sitting somewhere with his phone pressed to his ear, eyebrows drawn together in that stubborn little frown he always got when he'd decided he was right about something. Which was most of the time, admittedly. "You're a pain in the arse, you know that?"

"Yeah. You tell me every day."

"Because it's true."

"Whatever. Stay there."

Pedri opened one eye. "What?"

"Stay there. Don't move."

"Pablo, what are you—"

But Gavi had already hung up.

Pedri stared at his phone for a few seconds, too tired to work out what had just happened. Then he dropped it onto the cushion beside him, buried his face in the pillow and decided that whatever Gavi was planning, he wasn't participating.

He was going to sleep. He was absolutely, definitely going to sleep. And if the phone call had left him with something strangely similar to butterflies in his stomach, it didn’t, and he was going to sleep it off.

It took him a while to get comfortable, but after his eyelids started getting heavy and his breathing more calm, the doorbell rang.

Pedri lay completely still. It rang again.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

He pushed himself upright with a groan, every muscle protesting the movement, and shuffled towards the door. He didn't even bother looking through the peephole.

When he opened it, Gavi was standing on the other side with two takeaway bags in one hand, a large bag of crisps tucked under his arm and the most irritatingly pleased expression Pedri had ever seen.

"Hi, cariño."

Pedri stared at him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Aw, that's a lovely way to greet your favourite person."

"I thought you were playing FIFA."

"I got bored."

"You can spend the whole night playing FIFA, Pablo"

"Yeah. Time flies when you're having fun."

Pedri looked at the food, then back at him. "You drove here just because I haven't eaten?"

Gavi shrugged, already stepping past him into the house. "Don't flatter yourself. I was hungry."

"You brought enough food for two people."

"Well, I wasn't going to eat all of it in front of you. That'd be rude."

Pedri shut the door slowly, watching him walk towards the kitchen as if he owned it, and despite the headache, the exhaustion and the fact that he still felt like the worst version of himself Pedri followed him into the kitchen.

Gavi moved back and forth between the fridge and the counter, complaining about how he seriously needed to go grocery shopping and how Pedri's kitchen was somehow even worse than his own.

“Do you ever buy anything that isn't a drink?” he asked, staring into the fridge.

“There's food in there.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Look.”

“You're actually unbelievable.”

Soon enough, they made their way into the living room with their food and settled into the couch. The ceiling light was finally off, leaving the room lit by the small lamps on each side of it, casting a soft glow. Pedri sat in his usual corner,  with Gavi beside him. They watched Grown-ups, mostly because Gavi loved shitty comedy movies and Pedri had never been one to deny him anything.

They ate in comfortable silence, occasionally broken by Gavi laughing loudly at nearly every joke. Pedri found himself smiling along, sometimes letting out a quiet laugh.

By the time he finished his dinner, the pounding in his head had eased, and the food settled some of the uncomfortable emptiness he’d been feeling all day. He leaned back into the cushions with a quiet sigh, stretching his legs out. Now, he could actually imagine falling asleep.

Gavi shifted right next to him, their knees touching through their sweatpants. He was still watching the movie, laughing from time to time at any joke he found funny. Pedri let his head fall back into the cushions, lulled by the sound of Gavi’s laugh, the background track of the movie, and the rain falling on his windows. He closed his eyes for a moment, just to rest them.

Without thinking, he tilted his head to the side until it came to rest against Gavi’s shoulder, who glanced down briefly, but didn’t say anything. He just adjusted himself slightly to make room, then turned back to the screen.

“You're getting comfortable there?”Gavi asked after a while, a teasing smile on his face

Pedri hummed in response, not bothering to open his eyes. A few minutes passed before he felt Pedri shift against him, looking for a more comfortable position.

“Mate, you're actually taking up the entire sofa.” Gavi complained.

“There's plenty of space, Pablito.”

“For you, maybe. You're sprawled like a bloody starfish.”

Pedri laughed quietly against his shoulder. Gavi gave his head a light nudge with his own, but didn't move away. He waited another minute before glancing down again.

He was asleep. Properly asleep, too, with his cheek squashed against Gavi's shoulder and one hand loosely gripping the sleeve of his hoodie.

Gavi stared at him for a moment. “Seriously, man?”

Pedri didn't move.

Gavi looked at the television, then at the time on his phone. It was getting late, and his shoulder was already starting to ache. He could wake Pedri up and tell him to go to bed, but the thought of having to deal with a half-asleep, grumpy Pedri was enough to put him off. Besides, the guy looked like he needed sleep. So Gavi reached for the remote and turned the volume down.

For a moment, he let himself look at Pedri properly. The crease between his eyebrows had finally disappeared, his features relaxed in a way Gavi hadn't seen all day. Gavi wondered when learned to tell the difference between Pedri's usual quiet and the kind that meant something was wrong. When showing up at his door with dinner had become less of a decision and more of an instinct.

He shifted slightly, trying to ease the ache in his shoulder, but stopped when Pedri stirred against him. Instead, he settled back into the cushions, letting his head rest against the couch.

It wasn't comfortable, really. His arm was going numb, his neck was already starting to hurt, and there was a perfectly good bed just up the stairs. Still, he found himself smiling a little when Pedri unconsciously moved closer, as if even asleep he knew exactly where he wanted to be.

“You're such a pain,” Gavi murmured, so quietly that Pedri couldn't possibly hear him.

He stayed where he was.

Eventually, though, his arm began to go numb, and as much as he loved Pedri, he decided he'd suffered enough.

“Pedro,” he whispered, giving him a gentle nudge. “Come on. Let's get you to bed.”

Pedri stirred, blinking slowly as he lifted his head. “What time is it?”

“Late enough that you've been using me as a pillow for the past hour.”

Pedri frowned, still trying to wake up. “Have not.”

Gavi snorted, looking down at Pedri “Oh, sorry. Must've been someone else.”

Pedri rubbed his face and looked around the darkened living room, still not lifting his head from Gavi’s shoulder. “Did you turn the TV off?”

“No, mate. The television got tired and decided to go to sleep.”

Pedri finally moved his head, just to give him a sleepy, unimpressed look. “You're so fucking annoying.”

“And yet, you love me.”

Pedri mumbled something that sounded like ‘Debatable’. Gavi stood up and stretched, then held out a hand to help Pedri off the couch. Pedri took it and got up, catching Gavi’s elbow.

They’d barely started making their way up the stairs, when Pedri suddenly stopped, making Gavi walk straight into his back.

“What are you doing Pepi?”

Pedri turned around a few steps above him before answering. “You are going to sleep here”

“Yeah, I hoped so. Unless you are planning on kicking me out.” Gavi frowned. He didn't understand what the problem was. He slept over so often that Pedri's guest room was practically his own.

 “My brother stayed over last week and I still haven’t sorted the room out”

Oh.

Gavi stared at him for a second. He really, really, didn’t want to drive all the way home so late. Besides, he was already here, and Pedri's bed was perfectly comfortable. There was absolutely no reason why he couldn't just—

So he put on the best puppy face he could. “Can I sleep with you, Pedro? Please?”

Pedro looked at him for a second before shaking his head. “No”

“No?” Gavi repeated, offended “What do you mean ‘no’?” 

“You snore”

Gavi’s mouth fell open “I don’t snore!”

“You do, Gav”

“No, I don't!”

“You wake me up every time we are on the bus.”

“That's you! You make weird noises in your sleep!”

Pedri burst out laughing. “Sure, mate.”

Gavi scoffed, crossing his arms. “Well, where am I supposed to sleep, then, genius?”

Pedri laughed before turning around and continuing his way up.

“Pedro, I’m serious!” He said, but his laughter completely ruined the effect. He hurried after him anyway. When Pedri ignored him, Gavi reached for his hands and pulled them behind his back, trying to stop him from going any further. It didn't work and Pedri kept walking, dragging Gavi along with him.

They reached the top of the stairs still laughing, Gavi holding on to Pedri's hands behind his back while Pedri tried, unsuccessfully, to shake him off.

For a second, neither of them seemed particularly interested in letting go.

“Okay” Pedri finally said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You can sleep in my room, as long as you don’t snore”

“I pinky-promise,” Gavi said immediately, holding out his little finger, just like he used to do with his sister when he was younger. Pedri laughed at him, but hooked their pinkies together anyway. They pressed their thumbs together and sealed the promise with a kiss to their fingers, both of them still smiling.

They got ready for bed without much fuss. Pedri changed into his pajamas while Gavi borrowed one of his spare T-shirts. They brushed their teeth, and argued briefly over who got to use the bathroom first.

By the time they finally climbed into bed, both were too tired to keep arguing. Gavi settled on his side, facing Pedri, while Pedri pulled the duvet up to his chin.

For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. The room was quiet, and Pedri could hear the faint sound of rain against the window. “Hey, Gav?”

“Hm?”

Pedri hesitated, picking at a loose thread on the duvet. “Thanks for today.”

Gavi opened his eyes properly. “For what?”

“For coming over. For dinner. For…” Pedri shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I don't know. Everything, I guess.”

“You don't have to thank me for that, Pedro.”

“I know. I just wanted to.”

Gavi studied him for a moment, his expression softer in the dim light. “Was training really that bad?”

Pedri let out a sigh. “Yeah. I couldn't get anything right. Every time I messed something up, I got more frustrated, and then I just kept making more mistakes. Flick had to talk to me for ages, and I felt like an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot.”

“Didn't say I was.”

“You were thinking it.”

Pedri glanced at him. “You don't know what I'm thinking.”

“Mate, I've known you for years. Your face gives you away.” Gavi grinned, and Pedri nudged his foot under the duvet.

The smile faded from Pedri's face after a moment, though, and he looked back at the ceiling. “It wasn't even just training. Everything felt wrong today. And I was getting annoyed at myself for feeling like that when nothing had actually happened. I didn't want to talk to anyone because I didn't even know what I would've said.”

Gavi stayed quiet, letting him finish.

“But you came over, and we ate, and watched that stupid film, and for a while I just… forgot about everything.” Pedri turned his head towards him. “I felt normal again.”

Something in Gavi's chest tightened. He wanted to tell Pedri that he could call him whenever he wanted. That he would always come over if Pedri needed him, even if it was just to sit on the couch and watch terrible movies. That there was nowhere else he'd rather have spent his evening.

Instead, he settled on, “Well, yeah. I'm great company.”

Pedri laughed. “You're the worst.”

“And yet, I made you feel better.”

“Don't ruin the moment.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

They smiled at each other, and for a while, neither looked away. Then Pedri spoke again, quieter this time. “You always know when something's wrong, and I just… really appreciate that”

Gavi's grin softened. “I could say the same about you.”

There was another pause. Gavi could feel his heart beating a little faster, though he couldn't have said exactly why. Maybe it was the darkness, or how close they were, or the way Pedri was looking at him like he was trying to figure something out.

“I'm glad you called me,” Gavi said eventually.

Pedri frowned. “You called me.”

Gavi rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I really don't.” Pedri answered, chuckling softly.

Gavi looked back at him. They were close enough now that he could make out every little detail of Pedri's face in the low light, and suddenly he was painfully aware of how much he wanted to stay right there, looking at him, for as long as Pedri would let him.

“Can I tell you something?” Gavi asked.

“Always.” The answer came so easily that Gavi nearly lost his nerve.

He swallowed. “Sometimes I think I care about you a bit too much.”

Pedri went very still. Gavi immediately regretted every decision he'd ever made.

“Not in a weird way,” he added quickly. “I mean, not that it would be weird, obviously, because we're— I'm just saying that you're—”

“Pablo.”

“What?”

“Breathe.”

Gavi closed his mouth. Pedri was looking at him with an expression he'd never quite seen before. There was surprise there, definitely, but something else too. Something warm that made Gavi's stomach flip.

“You think you care about me too much?” Pedri asked.

Gavi groaned and covered his face with his hands. “Please don't make me repeat it.”

Pedri laughed softly and reached over, gently pulling one of his hands away. “I'm not going to make fun of you.”

Gavi searched his face, looking for any sign that Pedri was about to turn the whole thing into a joke. He didn't find one. “Okay,” He whispered.

Pedri's thumb brushed absently over his knuckles. “I think I might care about you a bit too much too,” he admitted.

For a second, Gavi forgot how to speak. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Pedri smiled. “That's all you've got?”

“I'm processing, Pedro. Give me a minute.”

Pedri laughed, and Gavi couldn't help joining him. The tension eased, but neither of them let go of the other's hand. When their laughter faded, Pedri glanced down at their joined hands before looking back up.

Pedri barely had time to smile before Gavi leaned closer, then stopped just short of him, giving him one last chance to change his mind. Pedri closed the distance himself.

The kiss was soft and a little clumsy, their noses bumping before they figured out the angle. Gavi smiled against his mouth, and Pedri started laughing, which made Gavi laugh too, until they had to pull apart.

“Shut up,” Pedri whispered, still smiling.

“I'm not doing anything!”

Pedri shook his head, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. “You're unbelievable.”

“Yeah, but you like me.”

Pedri looked at him for a moment, the teasing fading into something softer. “Yeah,” he said. “I really do.”

Gavi's smile turned a little shy. “Good. Because I really like you too.”

This time, when they kissed, neither of them bumped noses. It was a little less hesitant, a little less awkward. Pedri tilted his head, growing more confident as Gavi kissed him back, and caught his lower lip between his own, giving it a gentle bite. The small, surprised noise Gavi made was enough to bring a grin to Pedri’s face, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he kissed him again, a little more slowly, letting the moment last.

Gavi's hand found its way to the side of Pedri's face, his thumb brushing lightly over his cheek as he kissed him back. Pedri couldn't help smiling against his mouth, far too pleased with himself, and Gavi gave his shoulder a small, warning squeeze without letting go.

They stayed like that for a little longer, kissing between quiet smiles until Pedri finally drew back just enough to look at him.

Gavi's cheeks were flushed, and he was doing a terrible job of pretending he wasn't affected.

Pedri's grin widened. “I'm never letting you live this down.”

Gavi stared at him for half a second before grabbing the nearest pillow and shoving it directly into his face. He scoffed, but the smile on his face ruined any chance of sounding offended. “I'm never kissing you again.”

“Sure, mate.”

“I'm serious.”

“Okay.”

“You're not even listening to me.”

“Goodnight, Gav.”

Gavi rolled his eyes and settled back against the pillow, still holding on to Pedri's hand beneath the duvet. Pedri shifted closer, their bodies pressed together. For a little while, they lay in silence, the occasional smile giving them away whenever their eyes met.

“Remember the promise,” Pedri mumbled, pulling the duvet up to his chin.

“Go to sleep, Pedro.”

“I'm serious, because if you snore, you're sleeping in the guest room tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, you idiot.”

Pedri smiled to himself and closed his eyes again.

“Goodnight, Pablito.”

Gavi didn't answer, but his thumb brushed once over Pedri's knuckles before he settled down beside him.

And when they finally fell asleep, neither of them had let go.