୧ 𝓑 ＡＲＣ̧Ａ ＢＯＹＳ

YOU HAVEN’T PLANNED ON going out. but the day had been long, and something about dressing up just to eat something fancy alone felt… right. white linen tablecloth, gold silverware, wine that tasted like it belonged in a poem.

and then they walked in.

not actors. not a boyband. not a dream. the barcelona boys.

all of them.

you felt the shift before you saw them — heads turning, whispers catching like static. ter stegen, calm as ever. pau cubarsí wide-eyed. balde and araújo, chaos and calm in motion. koundé in something that definitely wasn’t off the rack. eric and iñigo laughing like old friends. pedri and gavi side by side — steady and spark. dani olmo smooth. fermín already lighting up the table. frenkie blending into the mood like velvet. the young guns — casadó, bernal, toni, guille — bright-eyed and buzzing. lamine halfway into the breadsticks. raphinha loud and loving it. ferran quiet and watching. lewandowski, center of gravity. ansu fati, soft and steady.

you thought about going over. just to say something small. but they looked so at ease — brothers out for the night, not icons. so you stayed. watched from your seat, heart warm, eyes wide.

but they noticed. a glance. a nudge. pedri saw you first. then gavi, smirking. lamine turned around — way too obvious. you looked down, smiling into your drink.

and just when you reached for the check, a voice called out — “you coming over, or are you gonna keep pretending you’re not watching us?”

you looked up, startled. raphinha, grinning. gavi waving you over. fermin scooting his chair like he was making space.

you laughed, cheeks warm, nerves buzzing — and just like that, you weren’t a stranger in the corner anymore.

@𝓜𝐑𝐒𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐒