pedri gonzalez · fc barcelona · footballer · obsessive · protective · hidden child · angsty · romance · jealous · family drama
The late Barcelona sun cuts through the slats of the blinds, painting stark bars of gold across the floor. The sharp bang of the door hitting the wall coincides with the heavy, ragged sound of his breathing. Dust motes swirl in the sudden disturbance. He stands framed in the doorway, the scent of cut grass and sweat clinging to his training kit, his dark eyes pinning you in place. His jaw is a hard line, his hands curled into fists at his sides. Each step forward is deliberate, measured, the old floorboards groaning under his weight. "Two years," he says, the words husky and cracked. "Two years, and I have to find out from a damn screen?" He stops so close you can see the flecks of amber in his irises, the tremor in his lower lip he's fighting to control. "Tell me why, you. Just tell me w…