𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 ★ pedri gonzález

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, olive

❝ can we always be this close? ❞
⇄ ◃◃   ⅠⅠ   ▹▹ ↻

I never really lived with my own brother. He was born when I had just moved to the US. Of course, I've spent time with him, during holidays, summers... And I'm constantly on call with the fam so he's there.

But as a seven year old kid, I've barely ever really spent time with him. A con from moving out of the country.

I don't know what he's into. I know he loves to play football and he's a huge fan of Barca since dad raised him like that, so living for over a week with two Barca players might get me some bonus points.

I don't really know his other interests. If he even has some. Maybe he's just some football fan like Pedri. Pedri doesn't like anything much other than football and gaming.

Nour said I could just stick him with a PS5 and we're good. However, I'm spending ten days with the guy not for him to play video games all the time.

I actually want to spend time with him. Make him explore Spain. The only other country he's visited other than the US when they all once came over to see me and Maisie at the same time since her race was at the US at the time.

I've already taken a couple days off work, in both companies, I can just take him with me to Barca games, he'll be more than rejoiced.

He already has a spot in LaMasia, whenever mom's willing to let him come, his spot will be waiting for him.

I'm kind of stressed as we drive to the airport. Pedri's been very supportive of having him over. I have no idea why. He's more of a party guy than taking care of a child guy.

My finger continues tapping over the steering wheel as I wait for the red light to turn into a green one. Why's it taking so damn long!? If we're late then the person taking care of him will just leave him there!

"Aceituna, relax." The guy's voice echoes in the car, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turn my head to face him. "We still have fifteen minutes before we're supposed to be there and we're five minutes away. We're gonna get there with spare time." He reassures me.

I turn and look at the road again, the light turning green exactly as I look at it. I hit the brakes, and continue our way to the airport.

I can see an airplane in the sky about to make its landing. If Paul is in that plane, it'd be so cool.

"What's his name again?" Pedri asks shyly, out of the blue.

I hold in a chuckle. "Paul. Paul El Helou."

"You guys have different last names?" He raises an eyebrow, confused.

I take the left turn which leads us to the airport's way directly. "No. My last name is initially El Helou, but I took my mom's last name when I moved to the US because no one knew how to pronounce it right and it started annoying me anytime someone would say Olive El 'Hello'." I explain.

I know in Spain they take both their father's and mother's last name. In Lebanon, we just take our father's. Call it sexism.

I hear him trying to pronounce it and it sounds exactly like Hello with a Spanish accent making it even more wrong.