Chapter Text
Let it be known that Robert Lewandowski would do anything for his kids.
‘Anything’ includes standing in line at an exclusive (and ridiculously expensive) FCB meet-and-greet.
Whoever thought of cramming this many people in the sweltering bowels of an arena must've been on drugs.
Robert stands behind the metal barricade, his sweater a poor decision that now clings uncomfortably to his damp skin. The heat presses in from all sides, amplified by the bodies packed tightly around him. The air is thick and heavy, laced with the sickeningly sweet scent of floral perfume and the unmistakable tang of sweat.
Preteen girls scream in every direction, their high-pitched voices blending into a deafening assault on Robert’s ears.
He's been awake since four in the morning. A cup of coffee and some Ibuprofen would do wonders for his mental state.
At least Klara and Laura look happy. They’re fully decked out in striped blue and red, eyes wide in anticipation and clutching onto their cellphones while they wait for their beloved FCB to show up.
Seeing his girls so full of joy is the only thing keeping Robert going. They’ve talked about this meet-and-greet for weeks, their excitement bubbling over into every conversation about their planned outfits and makeup.
Makeup. Klara and Laura are into makeup now. Robert has yet to wrap his mind around it. His girls are growing up, and they’re growing up fast.
And Robert won’t be able to see it all. Not completely, since he only has the girls on weekends and school holidays.
It’s exactly why he savors the time he has with them. He loves being spending time with his daughters— even if that means being squished in a room with boy band worshippers in various stages of puberty. Girls with braces, girls with acne, and girls with neon pink streaks in their hair. Wide-eyed and smitten and on the verge of combustion.
It pains him to think that Klara and Laura are now part of this tribe. That the days when Disney princesses were their favorite people are now far in the past. That in a few more years, Robert would have to worry about them getting boyfriends.
Or girlfriends. Either way, Anna is a trained martial artist. Divorced or not, she and Robert would be working together to bat all the suitors away from their two babies.
Said babies have pushed their way to the front of the crowd, eager to be the first ones to see their favorite boy band.
"Do you think Pau will like my outfit?"
"Of course he will! Do you think Fermín will like mine?"
Even now, despite the noise and the heat, Robert can’t help but smile at their enthusiasm. He, on the other hand, hasn’t had a decent night of sleep in days. The last thing he feels like doing is standing in a room filled with screaming people.
Still, he stays. He endures the sweat trickling down his back, the headache pounding in his temples, and the near-constant shrieks of excitement. He does it all for Klara and Laura, knowing how much this means to them. He’s determined to make it as special as possible, even if it means enduring a few hours of discomfort.
Robert takes a deep breath, steadying himself for the long wait ahead. Again, he would do anything for his kids.
“Where are they?” Laura cranes her head to get a better view, just in case FCB already entered without anybody noticing. “They said they would be here at five.”
“Be patient,” Klara scolds her sister. “They’re probably still getting ready.”
They better hurry up then. As priceless as time with his kids is, Robert didn’t spend that much money for those boys to be late.
The girls are fidgeting, shifting from foot to foot, when a side door suddenly swings open.
Robert turns to see a big bald man with a neck full of laminated passes step inside, his voice booming over the din. “Who here is ready to see FCB?!?”
The response is immediate and ear-splitting. Shrieks pierce the air, and Robert is sure he will be deaf by the end of the night.
The door opens wider, and five boys stride in, all dressed in bright, primary color-coordinated outfits.
The screaming amplifies, so loud you would think they're all on a rollercoaster.
Robert can see the appeal. The boys are cute— all crisp and clean-cut. Their hair is full and fluffy and their skin is dewy and fresh, as if they’ve been raised on an organic farm and only fed green grass.
They’re the epitome of youth. All smiles and dimples and no trace of facial hair.
Jesus, how old are they anyway? Fifteen? Sixteen?
Robert knows of boy bands. Old ones like MSN and BBC. How could he not when their songs were on the radio all day? The only one Robert actively listened to was NSYNC, but that changed when Justin Timberlake went solo, and Robert stopped listening to boy bands entirely.
That was until his daughters discovered FCB on YouTube two years ago. Since then, car rides with the girls have been filled with nothing but bubblegum pop boy band music.
Robert looks around the room. He isn't the only middle-aged father trailing after his kids like an underpaid assistant.
“Pau!” Klara screams, jumping up and down like she has the zoomies. “Pau, look here!”
Laura holds her phone high up in the air. “I love you, Fermín!”
Robert leans down between them. “Which one is which again?"
“Dad!” Klara exclaims, looking around to make sure nobody heard her uncultured father ask that.
Thankfully, Laura comes to his rescue. “Left to right: Pau, Hector, Pedri, Fermín, and Gavi.”
They all look exactly the same to Robert. Except the one with a full sleeve of tattoos that Robert doubts he's old enough for. Perhaps he's the ‘bad boy’ of the group. He hopes he isn't Klara’s or Laura’s favorite. “Where's Jude?”
Klara gives him a scandalized look. “Dad! I told you a billion times, Jude isn't part of FCB. He's in Merengues." She looks around to make sure nobody heard that either. Like anyone can hear anything over the loud screaming. “That’s the group we don't like!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Robert apologizes. His ex-wife knows way more about FCB than he does. Last Christmas, she had gotten the girls bags full of FCB shirts, posters, plush toys, and other merchandise you could slap five boys’ faces on.
The bald man’s voice booms over the din, cutting through the relentless wave of excited chatter and high-pitched screams. "I need you all to form a line up here to the left. You'll each get your turn for a quick hello and a photo with the group. No selfies. Our photographer will take the pics, and you'll be able to download them later online. Do you all understand?"
The crowd responds with a mix of murmurs and nods, though the energy remains electric, charged with anticipation. Klara and Laura cling to every word, their excitement undiminished despite the clinical nature of the instructions.
Robert, however, frowns. It all seems so impersonal, so devoid of the warmth and connection that his daughters probably imagined when they first learned about this meet-and-greet. A quick hello, a photo snapped by some faceless photographer, and then they’re shuffled off to make way for the next batch of eager fans.
Certainly, there were better ways Robert could have spent his money. He could have taken them to Disneyland, where at least there would have been some genuine interaction, even if it was with a person in a Mickey Mouse costume.
But no, Klara and Laura had wanted this— a moment with their favorite boy band. And as stiff as it seems, Robert couldn’t deny them that experience.
The crowd begins to shuffle into a loosely formed line, moving like a slow, awkward wave toward the left side of the room. Robert takes a deep breath and guides his daughters into the queue, placing his hands on their shoulders.
The girls are vibrating with excitement, their voices a constant stream of chatter about what they’ll say, how they’ll pose, and whether or not Pau and Fermín will remember them from the last concert they attended.
Robert’s mind moves to more practical concerns. How long will this whole thing take? How will they get out of the parking lot once this is over? Is there a chance of them getting a decent meal before the girls crash from an adrenaline high?
The line moves slowly, and Robert finds himself with plenty of time to observe the others around him. The girls ahead of them are bouncing on their toes, fretting with their hair and clothes and making last-minute adjustments in hopes of looking perfect for the boys.
The parents, for the most part, look resigned, their faces a mixture of exhaustion and forced cheerfulness. Like Robert, they’re all here to make their kids happy— even if it means enduring a meet-and-greet which feels more like an assembly line than a magical moment.
There is a concert after this meet-and-greet too, which means more standing and screaming. Robert is not looking forward to it.
As they near the front, Robert can see the boys of FCB more clearly now. They’re standing in a loose line, all bright smiles and perfect postures, waving to the crowd and exchanging brief words with the fans who pass by.
They’re well-trained in this, Robert thinks. Those five boys are experts at giving just enough attention to make each interaction feel special, even if it lasts only a few seconds.
But it’s all so polished, so scripted, that Robert wonders how much of it is genuine.
“We’re almost there, Dad!” Laura says, tugging at Robert’s arm. “I can see them!”
Robert nods, trying to muster enthusiasm. “Do you two remember what you want to say?”
“I’m going to ask Pau about the new album,” Klara says, fretting with the red and blue ribbons in her hair.
Laura grins. “And I’m gonna tell Fermín that I love him.”
Fermín has probably heard that thousands of times, but Robert isn’t going to burst her bubble. “Just don’t faint, okay?”
“I won’t!” Laura promises, but Robert can see the nervousness in her eyes. It’s a big moment for the girls, and as much as he’s mentally counting down the minutes until it’s over, he knows this will be something they remember for a long time.
Finally, it’s their turn. The line moves forward, and suddenly Klara and Laura are standing in front of the boys, who greet them with wide smiles and enthusiastic waves.
The girls freeze in place, their rehearsed lines seemingly forgotten as they stare up at the band members with awed expressions.
“Hey there!” Pau says, his voice smooth and friendly. He’s taller up close. “What’s your name?”
“K-Klara,” she answers, blushing shyly. “My sister’s name is Laura.”
“It’s nice to meet you two,” Pau says. “We really appreciate you coming all the way here to see us.”
Klara stammers something incoherent, and Robert feels a rush of sympathy. He gently nudges her forward.
Klara takes a deep breath and manages to find her voice. “When is the next album coming out?”
Pau smiles, glancing at the other boys. Bandmates? Is that what they call each other? Do they refer to themselves as a band even if none of them play any instruments? “We’re working on it right now, so it should hopefully be out soon. Are you excited?”
Robert thinks it’s a rehearsed response, one that doesn’t actually give anything away, but Klara is over the moon.
“Yeah!” Klara practically squeals. "I love all your music."
Laura, emboldened by her sister, steps forward to face Fermín. “I love you, Fermín!”
Fermín smiles, showing off two rows of pearly white teeth. Robert is relieved he hasn’t gotten veneers like other pop stars his age. Veneers are weird at best and terrifying at worst.
The photographer steps in, motioning for everyone to gather closer for the photo. Klara and Laura squeeze in between the band members, their faces glowing with happiness. Robert steps back, content to let the girls soak in their moment in the spotlight.
“What are you doing, Dad?” Klara questions, shocked that Robert would willingly drift into the background. “You should be in the picture.”
Robert didn’t think Klara and Laura would want their old man in the picture with their favorite boy band. “It’s okay, sweetheart. The picture is for you and your sister.”
Laura shakes her head. “You have to be in it too, Daddy!”
Robert opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get the words out, one of the boys from the band chimes in. “Yeah, Daddy,” the boy says, a playful lilt in his voice. “You should be in the picture too.”
Robert turns to look at the speaker, and it takes him a second to place the name with the face.
Gavi. The boy’s name is Gavi, if Robert’s memory of Laura's lesson earlier serves him right. He vaguely recognizes the boy from the countless posters and music videos that have filled his home since his daughters discovered FCB.
Gavi is young. Well, all the boys are young, but Gavi looks especially boyish with his tousled hair and brown doe eyes— so big that they seem to take in everything around him.
“If you insist,” Robert says, trying to smile as he steps back into the group, positioning himself between Klara and Gavi.
The photographer lifts his camera. Robert shifts sheepishly between Klara and Gavi, trying to make sure he’s not blocking anyone. Just as he finds his spot, he feels a light touch on his waist. He glances down to see Gavi’s arm resting there, casually circling around Robert's sweater.
The contact sends a small jolt through Robert, catching him off guard. Gavi doesn’t seem to notice— or if he does, he plays it off by holding up his free hand in a thumbs up.
Suddenly, Robert becomes acutely aware of how close Gavi is standing next to him. He can feel the heat radiating off the young star’s body, can smell the faint scent of cologne (Or is it baby powder?) lingering in the air.
Gavi turns his head slightly, flashing Robert a quick grin before facing the camera again.
“Smile, everyone!” the photographer calls out, and Robert barely has time to gather himself and smile before the camera clicks and captures the moment.
The photo is over in a flash, and Gavi’s arm slips away, leaving Robert wondering if he imagined the whole thing.
“Thanks for coming, guys,” Fermín says, like he’s been friends with Robert and the girls his whole life. “We hope you have fun at the concert later.”
“We will!” Klara promises. Beside her, Laura looks like she is going to burst into tears of joy. It’s a good thing Robert packed tissues.
Before Robert knows it, they’re being ushered out of the way to make room for the next group of preteens and their parents.
“Enjoy the concert too,” Gavi says, looking at Robert. His lips curve into a smile, and it’s only then Robert notices the pink sheen on his lips, undoubtedly brushed with lip gloss. “Take care.”
Klara and Laura are on cloud nine, chattering excitedly as they walk away from the meet-and-greet area, but Robert is still a little dazed from the brief, unexpected interaction.
Robert pauses, glancing back at Gavi, who is now surrounded by the next batch of eager fans. For a moment, their eyes meet, and Robert feels something stir inside him— a flicker of something unexpected and new. He swallows, nodding as he responds, “You too.”
Robert doesn’t wait to see Gavi’s reaction. He turns back to his daughters, who are giggling and gossiping while they stare back at the boys. It happened so fast, almost too fast to process, but they’re beaming, their happiness radiating in waves.
“Pau Cubarsi just talked to me!” Klara exclaims. “I am going to remember this moment for the rest of my life.”
“That was incredible!” Laura places her hand on her chest like she’s having palpitations at the age of eleven. “My heart is beating so fast!”
Robert listens, nodding along. As relieved as he is that the meet-and-greet part of the evening is over, he can’t help but replay those few moments with Gavi in his head, wondering just what that was all about.