Echoes of Glory: FC Barcelona Imagine

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ A Million Reasons (Pablo Gavi.)

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The floodlights of the stadium shine brightly against the dusky sky, casting long shadows across the grass as you watch the game unfold. Gavi moves effortlessly, gliding through defenders with that magnetic energy only he seems to possess.

Even with thousands of eyes glued to him, you feel like he plays for you, every pass, every touch of the ball another reminder of why you’re here, why you keep coming back to these games—why he’s so much more than a player to you.

You don’t remember exactly when it started, this feeling that seems to grow larger every time you see him on the field. At first, it was the way he plays with his whole heart, not afraid of the tackles, the mistakes, the challenge. But it quickly became so much more.

You sit back in your seat, barely able to focus on anything but him, and your thoughts drift to everything that’s led you here.

I have a million reasons why I like you, Gavi.

The first is simple: your passion. The fire in your eyes, the relentless drive. When you play, it's like the world fades away, and nothing matters but that ball at your feet. I’ve seen it time and again—the way you fight, the way you never give up even when it seems impossible. That kind of heart, it makes me believe in things I thought were just dreams. I watch you, and I feel like anything is possible.

But then, it’s not just about the game. It’s you, the way you carry yourself off the pitch too. The way you laugh. You’ve got this laugh that lights up the room, even when you’re not trying. It’s that effortless charm, that ease in how you navigate the world outside the stadium, with your friends, your teammates—every single time, I catch myself smiling because it feels like I know you even when you don’t know me.

Then, there’s the way you listen. I’ve seen clips, interviews, where you just stop, fully tuned in to what someone’s saying. You don’t rush to answer; you let them speak. That tells me you care, that there’s so much depth behind that fierce exterior. It’s one of those things you can’t fake, and it makes me like you even more.

And there’s your loyalty. You’re loyal to your team, to your friends, to your roots. I can see it in the way you talk about home, the way you carry Spain or Barcelona on your shoulders with pride. It’s that unwavering sense of belonging, and I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be someone you cared about like that. To have that loyalty directed toward me.

The stadium roars to life as Gavi makes another bold run forward, the crowd erupting around you. But your thoughts stay quiet, soft, focused on him.

Then there’s the little things. The way you push your hair back when it falls in your eyes, how you sometimes bite your lower lip when you’re thinking too hard. The way you stand when you’re frustrated or when you score and there’s that half-smile, half-smirk that just shows how much fun you’re having. They’re small details, but they mean everything to me. Because they make you real, make you human, and not just some star far away.

You feel your heart beat a little faster as Gavi looks up, scanning the stands for a moment. Your breath catches, and for a second, it feels like his eyes meet yours. But it’s fleeting, and you exhale, almost laughing at yourself for believing it.

But I like you for one of the most important reasons of all: you make me dream. When I watch you, it’s like I can imagine a world where we meet, where things happen, where I get to be a part of your story. It’s foolish, I know, but I can’t help it. Because liking you isn’t just about admiring from afar. It’s about hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, one day you’ll see me.

Another cheer goes up as Gavi makes a perfect pass, setting up a teammate for a goal. The crowd erupts, but you stay seated, eyes locked on him as he raises his arms in celebration.

You give me a million reasons, Gavi, but most of all, you make me feel alive. When I watch you, I forget the rest of the world. I forget my worries, my doubts, and all that’s left is this—this moment, where everything seems possible.

As the final whistle blows and the game ends, you watch as he jogs toward the tunnel, surrounded by his teammates. The energy around you is electric, but inside, there’s this quiet, burning sensation, something you can’t quite describe.

The stadium empties, but you linger, just for a moment. You don’t want to leave, not yet. Because walking away feels like letting go of this perfect fantasy, of this dream where Gavi is more than just a player on the field—where maybe, somehow, he feels the same connection that you do.

But you stand, finally, and begin to walk toward the exit, knowing you’ll be back. You always come back. Because even though he doesn’t know you, even though you’re just another face in the crowd, you’ll keep holding on to those millions of reasons, believing that one day, one moment, things might change.

And when they do, you’ll be ready.