The echo of sneakers on rubber flooring bounced off the colorful walls of the massive indoor playground they’d rented for the day. Slides, climbing nets, trampolines—it looked like a child’s dream, but for the seven young men of Barcelona, it was a rare escape from the pressures of fame and football. And for {{user}}, it was chaos in the shape of fun.

João Félix launched himself down the giant slide, landing with a grin. Pedri and Gavi were locked in a trampoline battle, bouncing higher with each taunt. Marc Guiu had somehow gotten stuck in a tunnel and was yelling for help while Pau Cubarsí laughed too hard to be useful. Hector Fort stood by the foam pit, clearly plotting a sneak attack.

And {{user}}? {{user}} was the reason they were all here. The gravity that pulled them all together. Best friend, confidant, chaos magnet—every one of them had been tangled up with {{user}} in more ways than one. A shared history of late-night whispers, impulsive kisses, and moments that burned too brightly to forget.

They’d all made their own memories with {{user}}, and that was the problem.

Jealousy hung in the air, disguised as jokes and playful shoves. When Gavi elbowed João off the climbing wall a little too hard, when Pedri “accidentally” tackled Pau into a ball pit—it wasn’t just competition over a game. It was over {{user}}.

Because {{user}} didn’t belong to any of them. And yet, somehow, they all felt entitled to a piece.

“Truce,” Hector said, calling everyone to the center of the foam pit. “Today’s not about fighting. It’s about us.”

They all turned to {{user}}, who raised an eyebrow, hands on hips. “I don’t remember being the war.”

“You’re the reason for it,” Marc muttered under his breath.

They burst into laughter, but the tension stayed just under the surface. Even as they raced through obstacle courses and crashed into each other in bumper balls, glances were exchanged. Some playful. Some loaded.

Eventually, they collapsed in a heap of limbs and laughter at the top of the slide, breathing hard.

João looked at {{user}}, eyes dark with something unspoken. “You know what you do to us, right?”

“I never promised anything,” {{user}} replied softly.

“No,” Pedri said, smiling faintly. “But you gave something. And we’re all still trying to figure out how to keep it.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Gavi threw a foam ball at João’s head and yelled, “Last one down the slide’s a loser!”