Pedro was the neediest man on the planet.

There wasn't a single moment when he wasn't touching you, hugging you, kissing you, or looking at you with those eyes that seemed to caress the deepest parts of your soul.

Awards ceremony. You had accompanied him because Lux had other commitments.

As if the thousands of videos his fans took of you both every day when you went out to buy any silly thing at the mall weren’t enough, where he clearly covered your face in kisses and wouldn’t let go of you—not even to go to the bathroom.

Now they had 4K Ultra HD videos and photos of him, all sweet and diabatically affectionate on the red carpet, with you as red as a freshly picked tomato.

Needless to say, you scolded him throughout the entire ceremony, but it went in one ear and out the other before that scolding flew right off the balcony at the party. Within a couple of hours, he was already kissing your cheeks, hugging your waist, a bit drunk while singing and slow dancing.

… To the rhythm of Sabrina Carpenter’s latest hit.

Yes, we looked like a chicken breast in a can of sardines, completely out of place on the dance floor.

“I love you,” Pedro whimpered on your shoulder, sniffling and shaking his head. He was always like that—he drank a little and got nostalgic and sentimental, even with the waiter.

You swore you saw Brad Pitt looking down at both of you for a moment. Oh God, swallow me up, Earth, and spit me out on Cillian Murphy's bed.