FROM FRIENDS TO MORE || Gavi x Pedri

Chapter 42 :: Empty

The locker room buzzed with the post-training energy, a symphony of tired groans and excited chatter. Pedri, however, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the worn floor, his mind a battlefield of conflicting emotions. He felt a hand on his shoulder, a gentle touch that jolted him back to reality.

"Hey, you alright?" Ferran Torres stood beside him, his face etched with concern. Ferran had always been a calming presence, a steady hand in the storm. He knew Pedri well, understood his quiet intensity, his vulnerability hidden beneath a facade of stoic composure.

Pedri shook his head, a silent plea for understanding. Ferran sat beside him, his eyes filled with empathy. "What's going on, Pedri?" he asked, his voice soft, reassuring.

Pedri hesitated, his throat tight with unspoken words. He had been wrestling with Gavi's messages all day, each one a fresh wound on his already battered heart. Gavi's apologies felt hollow, his promises empty. Pedri knew he shouldn't be reading into them, shouldn't be letting them stir up hope, but his heart refused to listen to reason.

"It's Gavi," he finally admitted, his voice a barely audible whisper.

Ferran nodded, his expression understanding. He knew about the rift between them, had witnessed the silent tension that hung between them like a dark cloud. He had seen the way Pedri's eyes lit up when Gavi was around, the way his whole demeanor shifted, radiating a joy that was almost tangible.

"What's he saying?" Ferran asked, his voice gentle. "Is he trying to make things right?"

Pedri sighed, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. "He's apologizing," he said, his voice laced with a bitter irony. "Saying he didn't mean to hurt me, that he cares about me. But it feels... empty."

"Empty?" Ferran echoed, his brow furrowed in concern. "Why do you feel that way?"

Pedri looked at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and confusion. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's like he's saying the right things, but his words don't reach me. They don't feel sincere. It's like he's just going through the motions."

Ferran listened patiently, his hand resting on Pedri's shoulder, a silent gesture of support. He understood the pain of unrequited love, the frustration of feeling unseen, unheard. He had been there himself, years ago, his heart broken by a love that had never been reciprocated.

"Maybe he's just scared," Ferran suggested, his voice a gentle balm on Pedri's wounded soul. "Maybe he's afraid of hurting you again, so he's holding back."

Pedri shook his head, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I don't know," he said, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. "I just want him to be honest with me, to tell me how he really feels. I can handle the truth, even if it hurts. But this... this silence, this uncertainty, it's killing me."

Ferran knew he couldn't offer easy answers, couldn't fix Pedri's broken heart. But he could be there for him, a steady presence in the storm. He could offer a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, a reminder that he wasn't alone.

"You're not alone, Pedri," he said, his voice firm, reassuring. "I'm here for you. And you know, there are others who care about you too. Don't bottle up your feelings. Talk to someone, anyone. Let it all out."

Pedri nodded, a small flicker of hope igniting in his eyes. He knew Ferran was right. He couldn't keep his feelings bottled up inside, couldn't let them fester and grow into a toxic brew of resentment and despair. He needed to talk, to express his pain, to find a way to move forward.

He looked at Ferran, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Thanks, Ferran," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Ferran smiled, his heart aching for his friend. He knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but he was there to walk it with him, to offer support and encouragement every step of the way. He knew that Pedri was strong, that he would find his way through this, but for now, he needed someone to lean on, someone to remind him that he wasn't alone.