Echoes of Glory: FC Barcelona Imagine

๋࣭ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ A Love That Knows No Rush (Alejandro Balde.)

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Love had always seemed like a rush to you—something people chased after, desperate to feel something, anything. You had seen it in the way couples around you fell too quickly, mistook attention for affection, and mistook passion for permanence.

You wanted something different. Something patient. Something real.

And then, there was Alejandro Balde.

You met him through mutual friends, at a gathering where laughter spilled over good food and late-night conversations.

He wasn’t the loudest in the room, nor the one seeking attention, but somehow, he had a presence that was impossible to ignore.

It was in the way he listened rather than spoke, the way he observed rather than took up space, and the way his kindness was effortless—like it wasn’t something he did, but something he was.

At first, you convinced yourself that your connection was just friendly.

After all, Alejandro was busy, always on the move with his football career, and you had your own dreams to chase. But it was the little things that chipped away at your denial.

The way he always made sure to walk on the side of the road closest to traffic, his body instinctively shifting to shield you.

The way he never let you open a door if he was around, as if it was second nature for him to do it for you.

The way he remembered details about your day, even the small, passing comments you barely remembered saying.

The way he spoke to people with the same level of respect, whether they were his teammates, waiters, or complete strangers.

The way his eyes softened whenever they landed on you, as if you were something worth cherishing.

It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t overwhelming. It was steady, like a rhythm you never realized you had been missing.

One evening, after a long dinner with friends, the two of you found yourselves walking through the quieter streets of Barcelona.

The city buzzed with life, but within that moment, it felt like it belonged only to the two of you.

"You’re quiet tonight," Alejandro murmured beside you, his voice carrying the same warmth it always did.

"Something on your mind?"

You hesitated, then exhaled a small laugh.

"Just thinking about how rare men like you are."

He glanced at you, amusement flickering in his gaze.

"Men like me?"

You stopped walking, turning to face him.

"You’re the kind of man who was written by a woman."

His eyebrows lifted slightly, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"And what does that mean?"

You bit your lip, gathering your thoughts.

"It means you’re the kind of man who respects people, not just the ones who can do something for you. You open doors, you make people feel safe. You don’t treat kindness as a favor—it’s just who you are. And… that’s rare."

For a moment, Alejandro just looked at you.

Then, he took a step closer, reaching for your hand—not to hold, not to claim, just to touch. Just to be there.

"That’s how it should be," he said simply, his voice steady.

"Loving someone should mean taking care of them, respecting them. Making sure they always feel safe."

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

"Even if they’re not yours?"

His jaw tensed slightly, but he gave you a small, knowing smile.

"Even then."

And just like that, the air shifted.

There was no urgency in his love, no pressure, no expectation. He was willing to wait, willing to love in the quiet, in the background, in the way that didn’t demand but simply existed.

It wasn’t the kind of love that rushed or overwhelmed.

It was the kind of love that stayed.