୧ 𝓐 ＬＥＪＡＮＤＲＯ ＧＡＲＮＡＣＨＯ

THE AIR SMELLED OF LEATHER AND LUXURY, THE FAINT SWEETNESS OF YOUR PERFUME LINGERING IN THE QUIET OF THE ROOM. It wasn’t always like this — glass walls overlooking the city, closets lined with Prada, Van Cleef glittering against velvet trays. You remember when it was just the two of you at fourteen, sitting on cracked pavement, his sneakers torn, his laugh too loud for the silence of the night.

Back then, he was just a boy with dreams bigger than his world. Now, he’s a world champion, his face on billboards, the name “Garnacho” carried in chants across stadiums. Chelsea blue wrapped around him, yet when the final whistle blows, he still runs home to you.

Alejandro sits across from you, reclined in the low light, a glass dangling from his hand, his chain catching a glint of gold. His eyes find yours — the same eyes you’ve known since you were kids — and there’s something raw there, something that fame never touched.

He reaches for your wrist, pulling you close, your Van Cleef bracelet cool against his skin. “You know none of this means anything without you, right?” His voice is husky, steady, the weight of truth heavy in every word.

The silence that follows isn’t silence at all — it hums with everything he doesn’t say out loud. With every bag, every car, every trip… it’s not repayment. It’s devotion. It’s his way of putting the world at your feet, the same way you once put his dreams above your own.

And in that moment, surrounded by everything you could ever want, you realize you already had it all.

@𝓜𝐑𝐒𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐒