Chapter Text
Fernando’s words still rang in his ears as Pedri left his cousin’s house and got into his car.
He slumped back in the driver’s seat, running a hand over his face.
Sometimes love isn’t pretty. It’s not neat, and it’s not textbook perfect. There’s no template for love. Sometimes it’s dirty. Sometimes it’s a bit creepy. And sometimes it hurts.
He thought of Fernando’s dejected posture and strained smile. He thought of the way Fernando looked at that Portuguese kid. Then he thought of Maya, and his other ex-girlfriends. They all were beautiful and nice, but if Pedri was honest with himself, he hadn’t felt with them even a fraction of what he did with Gavi—and he didn’t mean just sex. He hadn’t felt the irresistible urge to touch, to kiss, to pull closer, to be with them. He’d never had trouble looking away when they smiled. He’d never been impatient to see them. Everything—his reactions and his emotions—had been controlled. Predictable. Shallow. And he had liked it that way. He had liked it.
Pedri was jerked away from his thoughts when the passenger door suddenly opened and someone got in.
The Portuguese kid. Félix. He wasn’t even wearing a jacket and was covered in snow. He glared at Pedri. “What the fuck did you do to him? Fernando’s drinking, and he never drinks. Whatever you did, go back and fix it!”
Eyeing him, Pedri realized the guy wasn’t really as young as he had thought. He might be the same age as Gavi. There was just something about the curve of his mouth that made him look vulnerable and innocent. But now that Pedri looked at the hard expression on the guy’s face, it was obvious how wrong his first impression was. Something told him this guy was very far from being innocent and vulnerable.
“Me?” Pedri said. “If anything, I should be the one asking that question.” Damn it. He shouldn’t have said that. Fernando didn’t want Félix to know.
But there was no trace of confusion in Félix’s face. Félix averted his gaze.
Pedri’s eyes narrowed. He studied the guy.
“You know,” he said as realization dawned on him. “You know, don’t you?”
Félix nodded, still not looking at him.
“If you know, then let him go.”
“It’s not that simple,” Félix said tersely.
“It’s very simple. He loves you; you know it and still make him watch you with your girlfriend. Don’t you give a shit about him at all?”
“You don’t get it.”
“No, I don’t,” Pedri said, his voice hard. “I’ll tell Fernando you know.”
Félix grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare,” he growled, deep brown eyes flashing. His expression transformed completely, something ruthless and ugly lurking in his gaze. “If you do that, I’ll make sure he’ll never talk to you again, got it? I can do that. If he has to choose, he’ll always pick me, not his cousin. He’s mine.”
Pedri stared. Appearances could certainly be deceiving. Cute, innocent kid? Right. “Does he know what a selfish piece of shit you are?”
Félix laughed, as if he’d said something funny. “Fernando knows me better than anyone. He’s seen me at my worst.” Something like wonder or perhaps embarrassment appeared on his face. “I’m not a very good person, but he loves me anyway. I’m not giving him up. Ever.”
Pedri shook his head slowly. “Don’t you see how cruel it is? Don’t you care? It’s breaking him.”
His jaw tightening, Félix dropped his gaze. “I know,” he whispered hoarsely. “I hate hurting him, but I just—I can’t let go, okay? He’s… I owe him my career. I owe him everything I am now.” He turned away to look out the window. “I went from being a poor nobody from an orphanage to a star footballer who makes two hundred thousand pounds a week. I have everything I’ve ever dreamed of. I shouldn’t need him anymore.” He paused. When he spoke again, his voice was full of resentment. “But I do. And I hate this—this emotional dependency and constant craving his attention and approval. I never depended on anyone emotionally until him—I never had anyone to depend on. I hate all these emotions, hate being scared he’ll get sick of me and leave, you know?” Félix smiled crookedly, shaking his head. “Of course you don’t get it. No one gets it.”
“I get it,” Pedri said. “Better than you think.”
Félix shot him a skeptical look. “Really? You feel that way, too?”
“Well, not that way exactly. I’m nowhere as messed up as you are.”
“Thanks,” Félix said. “So what’s the problem? I guess there’s a woman?”
“A man,” Pedri said. For some reason, it was easy to talk about it to Félix. Probably because this kid was far more fucked up than he was.
“Huh,” Félix said and muttered something that sounded like; must run in the family. “So, what about the guy? He doesn’t want you back?” Félix frowned. “Though it’s unlikely if he’s gay.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Félix snorted a laugh. “Don’t you own a mirror? You look a lot like Fernando, and Fernando is very handsome. Pretty much everyone at our football club is in love with him.”
But not you.
“Anyway, what about that guy?” Félix said.
“I want him.”
“Eh, and that’s a problem… why?”
Pedri looked out of the windshield, staring through the heavy snowfall.
“Wait, when you say ‘I want him,’ do you mean you want to hold his hand and smooch him to death or do you mean—”
“I mean everything.” Pedri thought of Gavi’s face, his hazel-brown eyes, his plump lips, and that goddamn smile, the curve of his neck, his little dark nipples, his thighs, his strong legs wrapped around him, his tightness, his heat—
Pedri smiled self-deprecatingly, feeling his dick twitch. “And I mean everything. From gazing at him sappily to wanting to rub my come into his skin and make him stink of me inside and out.”
“Um,” Félix said. “Too much information, mate.”
Pedri looked at him. “You do realize Fernando probably has less than pure thoughts when he looks at you, right?”
Félix flushed and fidgeted, biting his lip. “I try not to think about it.”
“You should,” Pedri said, his voice harder. “He’s not the parent you never had. He’s not your older brother. He’s not a monk. He’s a healthy man in his prime. If you love him as much as you claim to, you’ll stop being a selfish little shit and let him go.”
Félix’s eyes dulled immediately. “I can’t.”
Pedri heaved a sigh. “Are you sure you aren’t even a little into guys? I used to think I was completely straight.”
Félix shook his head. “Men do nothing for me.” He looked at his fingers and said hoarsely, “You know, I’m glad I’m not gay. If I’m this needy and dependent when I don’t want him physically, I don’t even want to think what a clingy wreck I would be if I wanted him that way. I probably wouldn’t let him out of my sight.”
He looked at Pedri again, his deep brown eyes wide and pleading. He looked like an innocent, vulnerable kid again. “Don’t tell him I know. Please.”
Pedri pressed his lips together but nodded shortly.
“Thanks.” Félix placed a hand on the door’s handle but paused. “You know, when I was sixteen, I damaged my spine. Everyone thought it was a career-ending injury. I was scared as hell. What if all the doctors were right and I couldn’t walk again? So, I kept putting it off—if I didn’t try walking, I couldn’t fall, after all.” A wistful, soft smile appeared on his face. “But Fernando—he was my physio at the time—he told me if I didn’t try, I wouldn’t not fall, either. So, I tried. And now I’m the best winger in the world.”
“And the humblest too,” Pedri said with a snort, turning on the windshield wipers to clear the snow. “Thanks, I got the moral of the story, but it’s unnecessary. I don’t kid myself anymore.” Pedri smiled ruefully. “I can’t stay away from him.”
Félix nodded without a smile. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely, opening the door. “I get it. Good luck.”
“You, too,” Pedri said and started the engine. “Don’t break my cousin’s heart.”
Félix’s answer was lost in the howling wind and swirling snow. Maybe it was for the best.