୧ 𝓑ＡＲＣＡ ＢＯＹＳ

YOU AND THE BOYS were sky-high, thirty thousand feet somewhere over unfamiliar waters, headed straight into the chaos of the Asian tour.

it was hot press conferences, packed stadiums, buzzing fans, and the kind of schedule that left no room for rest — but right now? it was just the team, tucked into first class, laughing too loud and definitely annoying the flight crew.

szczesny was already passed out with his hoodie over his face, arms crossed like a bodyguard off-duty. pau cubarsí and balde were deep in FIFA on their screens, throwing insults like grenades. araújo and koundé were locked in a tense chess match, while eric garcía stood behind them with popcorn he’d stolen from fermín.

you had somehow ended up next to rashford — quiet, calm, unreadable rashford, whose transfer had stunned the football world and left half the locker room whispering. you didn’t know him well. not really. but the way he glanced your way mid-flight — soft nod, barely a smile — it wasn’t cold. just… guarded. new team. new city. new people. you got it.

“first time flying with this madness?” you asked, half-joking. he gave a soft chuckle, shook his head. “never like this,” he said. “feels like a movie.”

he leaned back, slid his cap lower, but didn’t put on his headphones. just stayed there, in that quiet zone between stranger and teammate.

behind you, dro was holding court — one of la masia’s brightest, barely 18 but already moving like he belonged. flick had been praising him in interviews, calling him “special.” you weren’t sure if the others noticed yet, but you did. there was something different in the way he read the game, even in training. pedri and gavi were teaching him the ropes — loud, big-brother energy — while lamine kept hyping him up from across the aisle.

iñigo and ferran were already arguing over aux rights, again. dani olmo and lewy were mid-tactical debate. raphinha kept throwing mini pretzels at toni’s camera lens, while guille, bernal, and casadó had basically turned their row into a snack fortress with an UNO warzone in the center. hector fort was slumped in his seat across from you, arm over his face, dead to the world — dro had taken a photo of him with a pringle on his nose and was already posting it in the groupchat.

you felt rashford shift beside you slightly, elbow resting on the divider. he looked over again. not saying much. but the look in his eyes? it said okay, maybe this won’t be so bad.

and you just nodded, slid your hoodie up, and leaned back. because yeah — this wasn’t just a trip.

this was the start of something. something real. a team stacked with talent. a la masia prodigy rising. new faces, new chemistry.

and you? the only girl you were right in the middle of it all — headed for a tour that might just change everything.

@𝓜𝐑𝐒𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐒