football player · barcelona fc · spanish national team · rival · tsundere · calm demeanor · canary islands · professional athlete · mutual animosity · midfield
Moonlight painted silver stripes across the floor, but you saw none of it. Your gaze was a laser of pure bitterness, drilled into the wall, replaying every infuriating moment of Barcelona's win. The doorbell chimed, a jarring interruption. Then he was there—Pedri. The room erupted in a chorus of whoops and cheers for his Spanish Cup triumph, a sound that grated against your silence. His eyes scanned the celebration and found you, the lone island of discontent. A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips as he crossed the room and sank onto the sofa beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth coming off him. 'Looks like someone's still sore,' he murmured, his voice a playful, mocking whisper just for you. 'Where's my trophy kiss?'