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The rain hit the windowpane with a soft, repetitive rhythm, but the storm inside was louder.
You sat across from Gavi on the edge of your shared bed, the distance between you both feeling infinite, even though your knees nearly touched.
His eyes were on the floor, tracing invisible patterns in the grain of the wood, while your heart screamed for answers.
“Are you happy with me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
It was a question you’d rehearsed a hundred times in your mind, but now that it was out in the open, it felt like a blade against your throat.
Gavi looked up, startled by the softness of your tone—how it trembled.
“What?”
“I just… I just want to know,” you said, struggling to keep your voice from cracking.
“Are you really happy with me? Or have we just gotten good at pretending?”
He stared at you, and for a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes—hesitation, maybe even guilt. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. That silence said more than words ever could.
“I see us laughing, talking, going through the motions,” you continued.
“But sometimes, it feels like a show. Like… like you’re acting the part of someone who’s in love, but your heart isn’t in it anymore.”
Gavi sighed and ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated—but with himself or you, you couldn’t tell.
“Why are you saying this?”
“Because I need to know if this is still genuine love,” you said, voice stronger now.
“I look at you and I still see the boy I fell in love with… but when you look at me, do you see the same girl? Or just someone who’s become a part of your routine?”
He finally stood up and walked to the window, his back to you. You watched the way his shoulders rose and fell, waiting. Hoping.
“When we started,” you said, “everything felt real. Every touch, every word. But now… I don’t know. It’s like I’m reaching out, and you’re drifting further away. And I keep telling myself not to ask, not to push, but it’s killing me.”
Gavi turned to you then, and for the first time that night, his eyes met yours fully.
“I care about you,” he said quietly.
You flinched at that. Care. Not love.
“That’s not enough,” you whispered.
“I don’t want to be someone you care about. I want to be someone you choose. Someone who still makes your heart race, not just someone who’s… convenient.”
He stepped forward.
“That’s not fair—”
“No,” you said, cutting him off.
“What’s not fair is not knowing if the person I love is just staying because it’s easier than leaving. I don’t want to pretend, Gavi. I don’t want to play house while we fall apart in silence.”
He didn’t respond. Not with words.
And that silence told you everything you needed to know.
You stood up, brushing past him, heart breaking with every step you took away.
You paused at the door, not turning around.
“If you ever figure it out,” you said, voice heavy with sorrow, “if you ever realize you still love me, really love me… you know where to find me.”
And with that, you left.
The storm outside had nothing on the one inside your chest.
YOU ARE READING
Echoes of Glory: FC Barcelona Imagine
Fanfiction✨ To feed your imagination. ✨ Welcome to the world where passion meets the pitch, where dreams are crafted with every touch of the ball, and where the ECHOES OF GLORY resonate through the heart of Catalonia. This is a place where the spirit of FC B...
