Fortified -Pau Cubarsí-

10 - see you

Pau's duffel bag sits by the door, bulging with gear. A navy jacket with the Spanish national team crest peeks out from the zipper, like it's mocking me. Tomorrow morning, he'll be gone—off to training camps, games, and the endless busyness that comes with being called up to represent his country.

I try to ignore the way my chest tightens just looking at it.

Boira curls up in Pau's lap, her fluffy tail flicking lazily as he strokes her back. She purrs like an engine, content and oblivious to the weight in the room.

"She's spoiled," I say, leaning back into the couch and tucking my legs under me. "She doesn't even sit with me like that."

"That's because you're always trying to pick her up," Pau says, not looking up from the little gray cat. "Boira likes her space."

I cross my arms, feigning offense. "I do not always pick her up."

He glances at me, raising an eyebrow. "What about last week? Or when you got here? Or—"

"Okay, okay," I interrupt, laughing despite myself. "Point taken."

He smirks, but it softens quickly. His hand stills on Boira's fur, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. The only sound is the hum of the air conditioner and Boira's steady purring.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," Pau says after a while. His tone is light, but there's a thread of concern woven into it.

I shrug, picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion. "Just tired, I guess."

It's a lie, and we both know it.

Pau doesn't call me out, though. Instead, he shifts Boira gently off his lap and stands, stretching. "Want some water or anything?"

I shake my head, watching him cross the room to the kitchen. He moves so easily, like he belongs here, in this moment, in this space. The thought of him being gone—even for just a week—feels wrong, like pulling a thread from a perfectly knit sweater.

When he comes back, he's holding two glasses anyway. He sets one in front of me and drops onto the couch beside me, closer than before.

"You'll miss me, won't you?" he says with a teasing grin, nudging my knee with his.

I roll my eyes, trying to match his lightheartedness. "Obviously not. Who's going to annoy me about feeding Boira properly?"

He laughs, but the sound doesn't linger. His gaze shifts, and when he looks at me again, there's something unreadable in his expression. "It's only a week," he says, quieter now.

I nod, clutching the glass of water like it's an anchor. "Yeah. A week. No big deal."

Except it feels like a big deal. Because every time he leaves, I wonder if something will change while he's gone—if he'll come back and things between us will feel... different.

Pau leans back, stretching his arm across the back of the couch, his fingers brushing my shoulder. It's a casual gesture, but it sends a jolt through me anyway.

"I should probably head home," I say, breaking the silence before it gets too heavy.

His arm drops, and he sits up. "Already?"

I nod, standing. "You've got an early flight. You should get some rest."

He gets up too, following me to the door. My bike is leaning against the side of the house, waiting to take me back to reality.

As I reach for the door handle, his voice stops me.

"Cesca."

I turn back, and he's standing there, his hands in his hoodie pockets, his expression carefully neutral. But his eyes—they're anything but neutral. They're soft and hesitant, like he's holding something back.

"Take care of yourself while I'm gone, okay?" he says.

His voice is gentle, and it makes something in my chest tighten. I nod. "You too. Don't let Boira starve without me reminding you to feed her."

He chuckles softly, but it fades quickly. "I mean it, Cesca. Take care of yourself."

There's a pause, and then he steps forward, wrapping his arms around me in a hug that's warm and solid and so much more than I expected.

For a moment, I just stand there, stunned. Then I hug him back, pressing my cheek against his shoulder. His hoodie smells faintly of pine and citrus, and I don't want to let go.

When he pulls away, his hands linger on my arms, his thumbs brushing my sleeves. "See you soon," he says softly.

"Yeah," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. "See you soon."

I step outside and unlock my bike, the night air cool against my face. As I swing a leg over and start pedaling, I can feel his eyes on me, watching until I'm out of sight.

And as I ride home, the ache in my chest grows heavier with every turn of the wheels.

Lunette yaps:

soooo, how'd you like this? i really hated writing it but i had to for the next chapter to make sense.... also its like insanely short, but i feel like it gave the relationship a little more depth.

Alsooo, for all my girlies (or guys!) who want to watch Pau play this week....

Denmark v Spain (UEFA Nations League Group 4)
Friday 15 at 8.45pm CET in Copenhagen

Spain v Switzerland (UEFA Nations League Group 4)
Monday 18 at 8.45pm CET in Santa Cruz de Tenerife

😘😘

Word count : 850