𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍, pablo gavi

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙭𝙩𝙮 𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, isabel

❝ every night with us is like a dream. ❞
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

"You know, I actually have a question." I start up as I remove the last of my make up in front of my vanity and Pablo's laying bare chest on my bed.

"Si?" He answers, dropping his phone, flat on his stomach as he focus his gull attention on me.

"Back in 2023, you fought for the number 6 so much, you almost risked losing your first team place. Your national team number is 9. Is it because you want it to be like 69?" I don't know how it came to my mind right now but I was curious about that a few years ago but I couldn't just ask him. Besides, if it is, it's kind of funny.

I hear a huge snicker blurt out of his mouth as I ask my theory which makes me turn back and see him crying of laughter.

"I'm serious! I'm genuinely intrigued!" I speak up when I notice he isn't calming down in the next few seconds.

"I know you are. That's why I'm laughing. Because no one other than you would think that." He says in between laughs and finally starts to calm down.

By the time he's finished laughing and brought himself together to answer me, I've finished taking off my make up.

"So?" I ask, getting into bed with him.

"No, González. My choice for number 6 isn't for dirty reasons." He answers and even though I know he isn't lying, I'm still gonna pretend I think he is.

"Sure." I look at him from the side of my eye for a quick sec before turning my back to him and pretending to bring something from my drawer.

"But," He starts up, getting my attention again. "I do have a reason for that number and it is related to the number nine."

"Yeah? What is it?" I ask and I feel his hand wrap itself around my abs and pulling me closer to him.

"When's your birthday bonito?" He asks out of the blue. I look up at him in pure confusion.

"What?"

"Just answer the question." He orders.

"Okay... Umm, September 6 2005." I answer.

"What month is September? Like in numbers." He asks and I'm not exactly sure what he means but I still answer.

"The ninth?" He pushes me to think a bit more but I just don't get it. "What you mean like 6-9-2005?" I repeat my birthday in another way.

"Your birthday is the nine, six..." He repeats and why am I not getting what he means? Am I that dumb? Or is he just playing a joke on me?"

"Are you making fun of me or some shit?" I ask and he chuckles. He brings his other hand around my waist from the other side before slightly lifting me up and placing me in between his leg. He holds me so gently like I'm some baby kitten or a feather.

"González, I thought you were smarter." He speaks as I wrap my legs around his waist adjust my position with his hands still around my waist, holding me.

"You also thought I wasn't depressed and anxious, but here I am." I joke and his smile drops. He's still not used to my dark sarcasm.

"That's not funny." He points out.

"But it is." I deny and bring my lips up a bit. "You'll get used to it, don't worry. It's like my dead parents. They got used to being dead." That's lame but I wanted to try something.

"Let's go back to my subject, please." He begs since he has no idea what to reply to me mocking the dead.

"Sure, but what subject, my birthday date or your jersey numbers? Because I have no idea why your insisting on knowing my birthday date which is 6-8-2005 which we both know you already know and your jersey numbers which are 6 and 9. I have no-" I cut myself off when I hear the same numbers coming out of my mouth twice.

I'm born the sixth, ninth. His jerseys are six and nine. What? Did he really just-?

"Gavi..."

"González..."

"Please tell me it's a coincidence." He nods his head no and my mouth slightly opens. "I really despised you while you had a crush on me! I feel so bad! I'm sorry!" I pity him before bringing my hand up to his chin and kissing his lips softly before he can answer.

When I pull away, he doesn't waste a second to speak up. "I remember you told me you liked me a few years back."

"Well, yeah. I had a tiny crush on you for like a year but then I immediately went back to despising you when I never saw you again." I explain.

He just smiles at my nonsense and pulls me in for another kiss which turns into making out and him taking my shirt off.

"Actually," I speak up, breaking the kiss. "I have a confession to make." I admit and his expression tells me to go on. "You know about those fan fictions?"

"The like, books that people write about other people?" He guesses and he's right and he probably knows where I'm going because he catches on quickly unlike me which makes him grow a smirk.

"Yeah. Umm, I may or may not have read one or two about you." I admit shamefully as I look away. I still remember them like it was yesterday. Although they were written by fifteen year old girls who I guess have nothing else, they're actually really good.

"About me?" His smirk grows even wider because that's Pablo Gavi for you.

"No. Pablo Torre. What did I just say, dumbass?" I mock.

"And what were they about?" He asks.

"Well, one was really sweet and lovely. The other one on wasn't really about you, it was just about a random character that's a footballer I mostly thought of you and it was..." The things I read were very hot.

"Was what, bonito?"

"Umm. Sexual?"

I just know his smirk got wider, I don't even have to see his face. I'm looking away because this is probably the most embarrassing thing I could've said.

I then feel his hand on my chin. "You tell me exactly what happened in that book of yours and I'll recreate every single thing." I chuckle before he pulls me into another kiss.