Chapter Text
It’s so pleasant to wake up wrapped in warmth, arms holding him tight and close to Gavi’s chest. He can hear the sound of his heart beating, can smell the faded scent of his cologne still clinging to his skin.
A hand is tracing patterns across his back gently, soft enough in order to not wake him.
Pedri’s head spins when he looks up to find the man staring at him intently, his brows furrowed, looking as though he’s contemplating something important. It quickly morphs into affection, a smile breaking across his face as his eyes crinkle beautifully. The fingers on his back stop, moving to cup the back of his head and pull him closer to the man’s face.
He expects a good morning kiss, but it doesn’t happen. Gavi instead brushes their noses together, a nose kiss, if you will. It’s almost more intimate than a real press of their lips. He’s doing it solely to be close to him, to show his care for him, not for any gain of his own.
“Morning.” His voice is always so rough in the early light, sounds so addicting. “How’d you sleep angel?”
“Good.”
Amazing when you’re here
, goes unsaid, it’s probably too much, could disrupt the delicate balance of whatever they were. Pedri’s brain will do that.
What were they? They weren’t dating, weren’t friends anymore, this was fuckbuddies. Fuckbuddies with a straight man. It’s almost a worse situation to be in than lying to his parents and showing off a guy who wasn’t even his.
The nausea is immediate, he needs to empty his stomach of all the thoughts swirling in his head.
What was he doing? Why did he let Gavi fuck him last night? Why did he lose his virginity to a man he didn’t belong to? Was he fucking with his head, was he doing it on purpose, was it some sick and cruel joke? Did it mean something? Was he gay?
He tears himself away from the man and runs to his shared bathroom across the hall, dropping to his knees. The first sign is always nausea, that unease in his stomach telling him something is incredibly wrong. The feeling that rises to his throat hangs there for a long moment as it crawls up his esophagus slowly. Next comes the heat in his mouth, immediately followed by a wave of saliva coating it.
And then he throws up.
His stomach isn’t particularly full so nothing but bile comes out. It’s always worse when it’s like this, throwing up stomach acid that burns his throat. The muscles of his stomach contract aggressively, his head spinning around the room as his eyes squeeze shut. His eyes always tear up and his nose runs, his body trembling with the effort of releasing his pent-up anxiety.
He had known it was coming, had known he’d freak out last night, simply a delayed reaction.
He didn’t hear Gavi follow him, but he was sitting at his side, rubbing his back in slow circles. “Sh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He’s mumbling, their knees brushing together.
It’s humiliating to be seen like this by someone outside of his family, it isn’t pretty, it smells horrendous, it’s embarrassing. He looks disgusting, no one is pretty with a mouth full of vomit.
Gavi would beg to differ because somehow, this beautiful creature always managed to look stunning no matter what he was doing.
Eventually, there’s nothing left coming out, leaving him to dry heave into the toilet as if his body doesn’t know when to call it quits. When the contractions finally end and his body begins to still slightly, he spits before leaning against the wall. His legs still shake and his eyes are closed, he feels a bit better now, despite hating the feeling.
The footballer pulls him in, wraps him in a hug, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Are you okay, amor?”
His eyes squeeze again, it hurts, it hurts more than he’s ever hurt before. If he hadn’t been so exhausted he’s sure he’d throw up again. Finding the strength to pull away from safe arms and stares blankly. “Don’t call me that.”
The man’s face pales so slightly, his brows shooting up before he nods his head slowly, “Sorry.”
“What is this? What the fuck are you doing?” It was supposed to sound mean and critical, instead, it comes exasperated.
When Gavi doesn’t meet his eyes he swallows thickly. They train on the floor, Pedri is still naked, more aware of the fact now, at some point the Sevillian had pulled on boxers. He stands on his trembling legs, pushes the man away when he tries to help, and storms back to his room in order to find anything to wear.
He throws on an oversized sweater and pulls on a loose-fitting pair of sweats. Gavi is behind him, staring with large blinking eyes.
“You’re straight.”
The man nods his head dumbly like he has no rebuttal but seems incredibly confused. His hands are picking at his nails, he looks so uncomfortable and out of place, almost like a nervous child waiting to be yelled at.
“Why do you keep trying to get in my pants? This isn’t friends, Gavi.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice was so small and quiet, looking at the floor, his face tinged pink looking so guilty.
The anger surges, he’s not sure where it comes from but it’s burning hot and vile, “What the hell are you doing? Coming over and acting like my fucking boyfriend? We aren’t dating, it was all fake. So why are you still here?”
His thick eyebrows furrow, finally glancing up and looking directly at him. He looks beyond confused now, confused and hurt. Good, now they feel the exact same way. “Because we’re friends Ped-”
“We aren’t friends. Friends don’t fuck. Friends don’t come over and cuddle on the couch and call each other pet names. So what the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to mess with me? Because it isn’t funny, I thought you were better than that.”
His upper lip curled upward, his face taking on a new expression, a wave of matching anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What do you want from me?” His body curls in on itself slightly, arms reaching out helplessly, eyes prickling with tears. He knew this would have to happen sooner or later, that they would have to talk about everything and end whatever this was for the better. The sooner it was over the sooner he could refocus on classes, move on, and forget this whole predicament. He needed to cut the man out of his life completely or he would constantly hold out hope for more.
Gavi looks taken aback, a strange sort of sadness washing over him, disarray written across his face. “I-” Voice cracked with only one syllable, his eyes watering. He hadn’t wanted to confront his feelings, every time he thought he had them figured out doubt crashed into him like a tidal wave. He’s constantly going back and forth, a war torn between him. “I don’t know.” He finally whispers.
Pedri tries not to cry, knowing how embarrassing it is to cry over a boy who doesn’t love you back. “You don’t know?” He can’t help when hot tears sizzle down his cheeks, wiping at them furiously.
Gavi walks towards him, trying to take him in his hands in order to provide some sort of evil comfort, he shoves him off and takes another step back. “I don’t know, you have to understand how confusing this is for me.”
“I don’t have to understand anything, Gavi. All I know is that this,” He gestures between them, sniffling as his heart aches, feeling like it will burst or shut down, “Fucking sucks.” A bitter silence hangs in the air. “You’re hurting me.”
His mouth opens, trying to find the words, but Pedri’s confession feels like a slap to the face. The last thing he had ever wanted to do was harm him in any way, this was his angel boy after all. The only thing that had ever made him feel emotions so deeply, was his ocean. “I’m sorry.” They’re both crying, it makes him feel like a little boy again, begging for his mother to talk to him at only ten years old. “I’m sorry.”
He tries to get closer, knowing only Pedri’s body against his will make him feel sane again, but he keeps backing away, looking at him so disgusted. Scared. The way he had looked at Marco in the bar. He was just like him, another straight guy that had broken his heart, had betrayed him because he couldn’t get his own head out of his ass.
“Pedro-”
“Stop.”
“Pedro, please, I can figure this out, I promise.”
His bottom lip quivers, anguish and dread filling his body. He looks at the man with near disgust, so much fury behind such pretty eyes, “And what if you realize that you were right? That this was nothing more than an experiment?”
“It’s not-”
“No, Gavi. It is. What if you decide you don’t actually want me? You expect me to sit and wait around for you to figure out all your stupid repressed bullshit? I can’t do that. I can’t keep pretending like we’re a lovesick married couple. I won’t do it. Not anymore.”
“Please-” I can’t lose you, I can’t live without you, I need you, I want you, I love you, you’re everything to me, you’re so much more, just give me some time, just a little time to understand everything, I’m so confused but I know I’ll get it together, we can make it work, we can do it, I don’t think I’ll survive without you, I’ve never felt this way before and I don’t think I’ll ever feel it again, please you have to understand.
The words go unsaid because Pedri snaps and turns away. “Get out.”
“No, Pedri please, we can talk about this, we can work it out-”
“Get out before I call Ferran and have him drag you out.”
He sucks in a breath, his hands shaking and a pit forming in his stomach. His throat hurts, “Just let me explain-”
He turns back around and he looks wrecked. Free-flowing tears are streaming across his face, sliding down his neck, his eyes are red and puffy, but it’s the look on his face that will haunt Gavi for the rest of his life. It’s indescribable, nothing can put into words how distraught he looked. His voice was high and cracking, “Please leave me alone.”
The Sevillian had always known he’d give Pedri anything he asked, he just didn’t think he’d be able to do this. Grabbing his clothes off the floor he slowly makes his way to the living room in a complete daze in order to get dressed.
He had known they needed to have this conversation and had meant to do it that morning after they had both eaten. He wanted to explain everything, tell him he had deep feelings for him but he thought he may have some internalized homophobia because of his parents, that just give him some time and they could figure everything out together. He wanted to tell Pedri he loved him, but that it scared him to no end, he tried to be cool about it but it was all so frightening, learning he didn’t know himself nearly as well as he had previously thought.
Eric and Ferran walk into the house just as he’s slipping on his shirt. They’re the perfect couple, holding hands and almost completely enraptured in one another until they spot Gavi standing in the room.
They freeze, staring at his teary eyes and red nose, the look of heartbreak in his expression. Eric is walking over to him, about to ask a million questions, but Gavi’s looking at Ferran’s hardening face. There’s something dark and furious there before he decidedly bolts down the hall.
Gavi can’t stay, the apartment walls feel like they’re closing in. Brushing past the elder man he runs out the door, down the stairs, and into fresh air. He doesn’t stop running. Runs and runs and runs.
This is what he always does, runs away from his problems, tries to flee them before they’ve built.
He doesn’t know where he’s going but he doesn’t stop.
…
Ferran finds his best friend in a pile on the floor, clutching at himself and sobbing hysterically as if the world is coming to an end. It felt that way. His world had walked out the door only minutes ago.
He never thought he’d let a man turn him into a husk of himself.
Ferran is a good friend, scoops him into his arms and places him on the bed, petting his hair and hushing his cries. Eric joins them, sits on the bed, and holds Pedri’s trembling hand.
He cries for thirty minutes, his friends sitting with him as his heart shatters into pieces, turns into dust, and floats away. It feels as though he’s been hollowed out, someone scooping away every vital organ and leaving him completely empty.
When he finally stops, shaking and sniffling, rubbing at his face, the interrogation begins.
“What happened, Ped?” Ferran speaks, voice soft and concerned.
He shakes his head, the bitter taste of bile on his tongue, “He fucked me.”
Eric’s face would have been comedic if not for the situation at hand, looking baffled and utterly shocked. “He what? ”
“Last night. We were-” He hiccups, “We were supposed to watch the game and I don’t know how but we ended up in bed and- and I asked him to fuck me, and then- then it happened and it was amazing.”
They both nod, Eric, trying to be kind and understanding while the Valencian looks about ready to kill.
Pedri decides to continue, needs to get everything off of his chest so he can move on with his life. “And I wasn’t even worried about what it all meant, I just passed out. But then I woke up and he was cuddling me and touching me and then I threw up and he kept acting like my boyfriend and I couldn’t do it. I asked him about everything and he told me he was confused and I needed to give him time.” He shakes violently, leaning his body against Eric’s, and trembles, feels the longing in the marrow of his bones, “I can’t do it. I can’t keep pretending. He’s going to wake up one day and realize that I’m not what he wants, that I’m an ugly loser freak who he doesn’t need. He’ll decide he isn’t gay and he’ll toss me away because that’s what’s easiest. And if I keep holding on it’ll only get worse. But he was so upset, he didn’t want to leave, kept trying to hold me and all that shit.”
“Pedrito, you are not an ugly loser freak. You are an amazingly strong and capable man, you’re a fucking genius who stops at nothing to get what he wants.” Eric’s voice is firm and reassuring, a hand smoothing over his hair.
Ferran finally chimes in, hard and bitter, “You did the right thing. If he can’t make up his fucking mind and open his eyes to realize you’re the best thing that will ever happen to him then he doesn’t deserve you in any capacity.”
It stings because it’s true, although he wishes he would have told him to call Gavi and apologize, have him march his ass back to the apartment so they can kiss and make up and wait for one another. Pedri wouldn’t be able to survive it.
“I miss him. I miss him so much and I wish everything was different and I wish I had never agreed to let him come with me to Tenerife.”
The Catalan man shuts his eyes, “I’m sorry, I never should’ve orchestrated it.”
“It isn’t your fault, amor.” Ferran hums and squeezes his lover’s hand, “Gavi needs to figure himself out, but it isn’t your job to help him. You can’t do that to yourself.”
“I know. I love him.”
…
He wastes no time throwing himself into his studies, spending hours upon hours working on math problems and rereading his old physics textbooks. He finishes the rest of his book, aches because Gavi isn’t there to finish it with him, moves on to the one about Tesla, and remembers the younger man reading it in his bed.
He spends his every waking hour buried in science and arithmetic, barely eating or sleeping, solely focused on distracting him from the longing in his soul. He does everything he can to not even think about him, and tries desperately to cut him out of his life.
But Gavi is always there, his ghost and memory haunting his every move, wondering what he’s doing right now, does he feel the same, does he ever wonder about Pedri? He can hear the quips Gavi would make if he was standing in the kitchen studying with him, imagines them cooking together whenever he makes the same boring meal because it’s the only thing he knows how to make.
He sees him when he sleeps, big hands stroking his cheeks and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. He cuddles his pillow and pretends it’s a firm and warm body holding him, imagining those perfect arms curled around him, using his biceps as a pillow. He imagines Gavi kissing him with his plush pouty lips, taking him apart with only his mouth.
He stares at his collection of shells and curses each and every one. He tries to throw them away but that almost hurts more, so they sit untouched on his shelf.
When he goes to place his book in the top drawer of his nightstand he sobs.
A small shell sitting next to his bottle of lube.
Pedri has no idea when it had been placed there, probably when he had been sound asleep after his magical fucking session.
But that must mean Gavi had brought it with him, had full intention of giving him another seashell even after the charade had ended.
He can’t bear sleeping alone. Not now.
Eric spends the night, lays in bed with him inches away while Ferran builds a makeshift bed on the floor for himself. He’s eternally grateful to have such perfect and caring friends and wonders what he’s done to deserve them.
…
It’s been two days and the pain hasn’t subsided in the least. Ferran is at school, Pedri had been home since ten in the morning after an early class. He’s getting ready to leave the apartment to get groceries, they’re running low on everything and it’s a nice distraction to keep him from wallowing in his room.
When he opens the door he’s left stopped in his tracks, staring at his doorstep.
A glass jar of seashells with a string of twine tied around the neck as well as a note.
He swallows thickly, eyes filling already, forced to confront his feelings and acknowledge the lack of a dimpled boy with the prettiest smile and large brown eyes.
Part of him wants to throw it away, burn the note before he can read it, and forget this has ever happened. Bury all of this inside of himself and forget, forget, forget.
He picks up the jar, fingers sliding over it, it’s very large, completely filled. His fingers trace at the twine, taking in the care that was put into it before picking up the note.
He shuts his door and walks back to his room slowly, staring blankly straight ahead until he’s sitting on his bed.
Carefully, he unfolds the letter and reads.
From Tenerife to my darling angel boy,
I collected these for you when you had gone out with Fernando and left me alone. I was bored out of my mind and I missed you so much so I walked to the beach and filled a bag with seashells.
It feels wrong to keep them, they were always meant for you. I thought we had more time, I thought we would have forever. I wanted to give you one every day for the rest of our lives because that’s what you deserve. I can’t do that anymore.
This whole mess is my fault and I shouldn’t have dragged you into it. I need to be honest with myself and figure out what this is, and I can’t bring you into that. It’d be a lie to say I’m not confused because I am. I’m confused and scared. I’ve never felt such strong feelings for a man before, I thought I knew who I was, but you’ve taken everything and flipped it on its head.
If I could change things, I would. But I can’t guarantee you anything. I don’t think I’m gay, but then there’s you and you’re all that’s ever on my mind. I can’t imagine ever marrying a man, but when I picture my wedding day, it’s you that I’m standing across from. It’s silly to have imagined it. I probably sound insane telling you that I want to marry you but I’m working on my honesty, with you and myself. There are so many things I want to say that will go left unsaid, so many things I want to share with you that we’ll never have.
I’m sorry for not telling you upfront, I’m so sorry for causing you so much pain, all I ever wanted was to see you happy.
In such a short amount of time, you’ve stolen my heart and claimed it as yours.
It frightens me how much I miss you, how much I need you. All I want is for you to be mine.
I can’t hurt you anymore, I won’t do that to you. You’re the best person I’ve ever met, the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I feel so eternally lucky to have known you.
I’m so sorry. I want to give you what you need, and what you need is for me to leave.
Don’t ever for a second think it was you, you are perfect. You’re so incredibly beautiful, the most beautiful boy I’ve ever laid eyes on. You’re so kind and thoughtful, so fucking funny, so quick-witted.
Some day, someone’s going to give you everything, they’re going to love you like it’s breathing and you are going to realize just how precious you are. He’ll sweep you off your feet and cherish you, will share all your greatest accomplishments and greatest defeats. I hate the man that gets to do that for you.
I love you, Pedri.
You are my ocean.
Gav