୨ 𝓟 ＡＵ ＣＵＢＡＲＳＩ

WITH PAU, IT ALWAYS FELT LIKE COMING HOME. Maybe it was because you’d grown up side by side, chasing the same ball across the same fields, eating the same cafeteria food that never tasted quite right. Or maybe it was just because he knew you in a way no one else did.

You walked shoulder to shoulder down the halls of La Masia, the ones that had seen you both at your smallest. He was taller now, his Barça jacket marking him as someone who’d already made it further than the walls could hold. And yet, here he was — still teasing you like nothing had changed.

“Remember when you cried because you lost your first one-v-one?” Pau nudged you with his elbow.

You shot him a glare. “I was nine. And I didn’t cry — I got dust in my eye.”

He burst out laughing, shoulders shaking, and you couldn’t help joining in. For a second, it was like no time had passed at all — like you were still just two kids sneaking snacks after curfew.

But then, as the sound faded, you caught the way he was looking at you. Not just amused. Not just brotherly. Something softer.

You quickly looked away, eyes on the posters lining the wall. “Careful, Pau. If people see you hanging around La Masia this much, they’ll think you miss it.”

He tilted his head, then said quietly: “Maybe I just miss you.”

The words hung there, heavier than you expected.

And for the first time, walking those familiar halls, it didn’t feel exactly like siblings anymore.

You stopped at the end of the corridor, silence stretching — until a younger boy ran past, nearly tripping over his laces.

“Move it, lovebirds!” he shouted.

Your face went hot, Pau’s ears turned red, but he just laughed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Kids these days.”

You shook your head, hiding a grin as you pushed open the next door. “Come on, Barça star. Before someone else decides to bother us.”

And just like that, the moment slipped away — though not completely.

@𝓜𝐑𝐒𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐒