𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄, pedri gonzález

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙭𝙩𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚, olive

❝ i'm doing better than i ever was. ❞
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

"Paul!" I yell out to my brother as I run after the little creature, about to assassinate him. I don't know how I was convinced that he wouldn't be too much of a bother.

"Paul El Helou, bismmil rab, ta3 la hone abel ma odorbak kaf edem el kel w ychoufouk aam tebke. (in the name of God, come here before I slap you in front of all these people and they'll see you crying!)" I continue.

Yet, after my threat the little boy continues running around the Placa de Catalunya. He's either gonna get stolen or gonna trip and fall. Either way, I'll be in peace. Just kidding. Or not.

The little boy is fast and agile. Perfect for football, and perfect for running away. Sure, I go on runs, but I jog. I don't do fucking 5K's.

My breathing isn't the best either, especially when I'm not warmed up. Damn it, where's Pedri when you goddamn need him!?

Getting sandwiches shouldn't take that long. "Paul! Rah etba7ak! (I'm gonna assassinate you!)" I yell my heart out, completely ignoring the looks coming from Catalans around.

I can hear him laugh. The little man's playing with me, I swear to God if I didn't love him to death, he'd already be buried in a hole by now.

I can't keep running anymore and I stop myself, trying to catch my breath for a second. Which doesn't last long since he'll be gone by the time I look back up.

I keep my eyes on him, as I push the people out of the way to catch the little rat. He turns his head around for a second to see where I am, and that's when the inevitable happens and the little guy bumps into someone and falls to the floor.

Don't get me wrong for my words, I'm a great sister, I swear to God, but thank God!

I can finally stop running. I watch as the little boy sits butt first on the floor, about to cry as he holds in his tears.

I walk towards him, worry taking over me. Sure he's stopped but now I'm scared he's gotten actually hurt.

The person he's bumped into has stopped too and is still by his side, bent down as he makes sure he's okay.

Standing right next to him and the man wearing a cap who's trying to help, I watch him crying a little. Awh, damn it, my poor baby.

I bend down, "Lo siento, gracias, yo- (I'm so sorry, thank you I-)" I start apologizing to the man, but once I see his face that was hidden by his cap, I stop. "Nadim!?" I sigh, relieved.

"I knew his face was too familiar." He expresses. Before I continue with Nadim, I want to check up on Paul. I excuse myself for a sec, turning to my little brother. "Are you okay, love?" I ask, cupping his cheek with my hand.

He seems perfectly fine, no bruise, no blood, thank the Lord for real this time. His little crying turns into less of an outburst and more into relief as he nods his head yes, pouting.

I offer a weak smile, before placing a kiss on his tiny little flushed cheek. I then grab him and pull him up with me as I stand back up.

I hold him up in between my arms, reason number one, to comfort him, and two, so he doesn't escape me again. "Didn't I tell you to stop?" I recall, teasing him.