It had always been like that — Pedri and you.

Not in any official way, of course. Not even in any defined one. But in the small, comfortable sense that you’d always somehow found your way back to him, no matter how many people filled the room.

You’d known him since you were a kid — since before you even understood why people screamed your brother’s name from stadium seats. To you, football wasn’t fame or trophies; it was afternoons spent kicking a ball in the garden while Pedri and Gavi argued over who got to be goalie. You were the annoying little sister who kept tripping over the ball and laughing too loud, and Pedri was always the one who helped you up, brushed the grass from your knees, and told your brother to stop being dramatic.

Years passed, but some things never changed. Pedri was still there. Still steady. Still the quiet presence in the chaos of Gavi’s world — and yours.

And tonight, when the whole house was humming with noise and laughter for Pablo’s birthday, you found yourself next to him again.

Gavi’s idea of a “small party” was laughable. The entire team was there, music pulsing through the walls, food everywhere, and half of Barcelona lounging around the pool. His girlfriend — the one nobody really liked — was glued to his arm most of the night, pretending to laugh at things she clearly didn’t understand. You didn’t say anything, of course. You just rolled your eyes every time she called him “Pablinho.”

And Pedri noticed every single time.

Now it was past midnight. The lights around the pool shimmered softly, the air smelled of chlorine, fruit punch, and a bit of champagne someone had definitely spilled. Most people had wandered outside — loud laughter echoing from the garden — while you’d somehow ended up in the quiet living room, sitting cross-legged on the couch, nursing a soda.

Pedri was there too, of course. He always was.

He sat beside you, relaxed, one arm stretched across the back of the couch. His dark curls fell slightly over his forehead, and the faint glint of amusement in his eyes was enough to make your heart skip the tiniest bit.

“So,” he said, looking toward the door that led to the pool. “How long do you give them before Gavi’s girlfriend drags him home?”

You snorted softly. “He already escaped, didn’t he? I saw them sneak upstairs twenty minutes ago.”

Pedri laughed — that soft, warm sound that had always made you feel like everything was okay. “Then I guess it’s just us again, hermanita.”