Yadi is yelling so loudly that it makes Pablo's ear hurt but he manages a smile regardless.
“Well, at least I didn't break another bone. That would have been worse.”
“This is fucking ridiculous. What the fuck, Pablo? Really? What is your problem?” Yadi snarls and Pablo flinches. The last time he heard Yadi this angry was when an overly enthusiastic fan had made the children cry and then lashed out when Yadi had excused himself without signing her chest.
“Yadier... calm down. What's wrong, why are you so upset?”
It's very quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again, Yadi's voice is low and acidic, dangerous in a way that makes Pablo's skin crawl. “What is wrong, Pablo, is that I had to hear about this from someone else. I should have heard it from you. But no. Not a word, not a phone call. Nothing until Beltrán asks me how you are doing. Beltrán knew before I did!”
He feels like a chastised child, floundering for the words that will most quickly get him out of trouble. But he's grasping at straws and settles for staring at his knees and chewing on his lip. When he'd woken up to Yadi's ringtone, he'd anticipated something better than this. When he comes out of his thoughts, Yadi has ranted himself breathless and is now panting, breathing hard through his nose in the way that means it's taking every ounce of self control he possesses not to just flat out scream. Pablo isn't used to being the target of that anger and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Look, Yadi, it wasn't something I did to hurt you. I'm the one who's injured here, it's my problem, I didn't want to bother you.”
“You're my fiance god damn it, of course it's my problem!” Yadi snarls.
Well that's new. It's understood that eventually they're going to be married, they've been sorting out the when and where (in New York, after the post-season) but they've never called eachother... well, that. He smiles a little, chewing on his lip and drawing his legs up.
“Si. It is. But they said I probably won't even have to go on the disabled list with the treatment and... I'm sorry, Yadi. I should have said something. I just didn't want to distract you. Every time I get hurt, you're chomping at the bit to drop whatever you're doing and come out here.” Pablo mumbles, picking at the hem of his shirt. “I will tell you next time, okay?”
“You'd damn well better.”
“You're playing today, aren't you?”
Yadi laughs, low and warm, and Pablo knows that he's been forgiven. He just wishes they had time for phone sex. He glances at the clock and smirks.
“I love you.”
“I love you too. Now tell me what you're wearing.”