𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 ★ pedri gonzález

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙬𝙤, olive

❝ you got no reason to be afraid. ❞
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

"Eh, seret bi espania. (Yup, I'm in Spain now.)" I tell my mom over the phone. I informed my family three days ago that I was moving.

They've been all spamming me with calls and messages. My family is not a normal kind of family. Why? Because we're Lebanese. Lebanese families are just built different.

We weren't raised like everyone else. Lebanese families have faced various challenges over the years, like political instability, economic hardships, social issues...

While the rest of the world was upgrading themselves and becoming more and more sophisticated. We were still stuck on choosing a fucking president.

Basically it affected job opportunities, access to basic necessities, and overall financial stability for many families. That's why most of us are separated in different countries.

But no matter how hard life got, we still valued our families and loyalty to each other and traditions. Every Sunday, no matter what, the whole family sat at our lunch table up in the mountains and we enjoyed our weekend. And when I say family I don't just mean my parents and siblings, I mean my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins...

Luckily, we weren't poor growing up. We weren't rich either but we were comfortable enough to put food on the table every day and have a good education.

Until one day, a day that has changed my life forever and triggered my decision to move out of the fucked up country that I used to call home.

Lebanon will forever be my heart and soul, my home. But after what happened that day, I just ran.

Every lebanese citizen ran the day we woke up and streets were burning and people were revolutionizing. Everyone was doing there best to leave and try to get a normal life in another country.

At first, I thought I would never leave my home. Until I just wasn't comfortable enough to walk down the streets in fear of dying.

And I ran. Leaving my family behind. Or at least what was the rest of my family.

"Larsen?" I hear a voice snapping me back to life. I look around an see Pedri walking outside to join me in his garden.

"Mom, berja3 bde2elik. (Mom, I'll call you back.)" I say to my mom over the phone before hanging up immediately, not giving her a chance to question me about the voice she just heard.

"What's up González Sr.?" I put my phone down on the table as I look up at him.

"I heard that you don't want to move in cause it's my house and you apparently respect my space." He starts up a conversation as he sits in the chair in front of me.

Damn that González Jr., I knew she let it go too soon for it to be over. I sigh. "You should take it as a win." I tell him. "I know when someone's not my biggest fan."

He chuckles when I talk. Laughing and sarcasm are actually the González's defense mechanism. I've known Isabel for a while, always laughing and joking. I've now known Pedri for a month, he's just like his sister.

I guess growing up the way they did, that's the bare minimum. Absent, abusive parents normally leads to depressive or prisoned kid. While Isabel has anxiety and was once depressed, she's still going on and living life the best way she should.

I don't really know Pedri, I know he never was depressed or anxious, never acted up and started drinking or smoking as a kid. I know he's now one of the best footballers of this generation. And for someone to go what he went through during his childhood and still come out on top is the definition of strong mentality.