Football Oneshots

*Pedri - Midnight

*TW: SMUT

The icy air blows the stubborn whisps of hair out of my face. Thoughts of regret fill my mind, but against my better judgement I keep walking in the direction of the stench of vodka and sweat. 

2 months of heartbreak and “soul searching” has done me no good. I blame this beautiful, godforsaken city for being my constant reminder of him. The sight of the jersey I used to wear religiously is enough to bring tears to my eyes. I hate that I can't even spend 90 minutes watching my childhood team without being reminded of him.

I'm not quite sure how it all happened. How a year of loving each other ended without me even realising it. He pushed me away, month after month, injury after injury. Our relationship has never known a moment of peace. But I thought that I did enough to keep him mine. 

“I'm glad you made it hermana,” Gavi says, pulling me in through the front door. 

“I promised you I'd be here,” I respond, embracing him in a hug that seems to last a lifetime. 

“He's out back if you want to avoid him,” he says, walking me through the crowded living room. With such a lovely backyard and pool, I can't imagine why people would chose to spend their time in Gavi's house instead. 

I twist my face at his comment, the thought of us being this close to each other sends chills down my spine. 

“Or if you want to see him,” Gavi adds, my reaction making it hard to tell how I feel.

“I just want to have fun with my friends and enjoy the last few hours of the year,” I begin. “I will admit he is the only thing on my mind right now, but I'm not here for him.”

“For who?” A voice says, creeping up behind us. I turn around, met by the glossy eyes of the man I once loved. Still love I guess. 

“Hi Pedri,” is all I can manage to say. 

“Hi y/n.” 

Tension fills the room, the awkward smiles of Gavi and Ferran make its way through my peripherals. They slowly back away, leaving Pedri and I both planted in place.

“I'm surprised you came,” he says, staring into the deepest depths of my soul.

“Did you expect me to stay home for new years?” I reply, with more attitude than I intended. 

“I honestly tried to not think of you at all these last few weeks,” he says. This one sentence hurts me more than I imagined possible. I want him to think of me, I want him to miss me. 

“I did fail,” he adds, lowering his head to speak directly into my ear. “I expected us to spend new years together.” The warmth of his breath against my skin starts the rush of blood to my cheeks. “Just you and me at home, preferably less clothes than this,” he says playing with the straps of my dress. 

“Pedri,” I begin. 

“Say my name again,” he says with darkness in his voice. His hand moves from my dress and he clutches my face in his palms. The heat searing against his frozen hands.

“I can't do this.” I speak to avoid melting entirely into his touch. “You hurt me.” 

“You're the one that broke up with me.” 

“You disappeared long before that. I'm just the one that had the courage to leave.” 

“You know I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, pulling me closer to him. Our faces separated by mere centimetres.

“But you did,” I whisper back.

“Let me fix this.” 

In what feels like a moment of blacking out, we end up in a empty room, letting go of all the built up pain and frustration the last 2 months have brought.