Chapter Text
Gavi brought the makeup bag onto his lap, clumsily pulling the zipper open as he searched for the gel eyeliner. "Do you really think I should do my eyes?" he asked Aurora.
A groan came from behind him. Gavi knew Aurora had rolled her eyes. "Remember this, okay? Listening to women leads to happiness!"
Gavi pouted slightly. Of course, he wanted to look like a superhero at the high school prom, but makeup was something he'd never even considered. Seriously? Gavi, who could beat anyone at arm wrestling in gym class, wearing makeup! Gavi thought he'd become the hottest gossip among all the high schoolers.
Aurora seemed to sense his hesitation. She walked over and, with her acrylic nails, poked him a few times on the shoulder. "Don't worry, your manliness isn't going to disappear just because you put on makeup once."
Gavi's face flushed red. He shrugged his shoulder to shake off Aurora's hand and pushed her away playfully, pretending to be mad. "Keep talking like that and I'll tell Mom."
Aurora laughed a few times. "Fine. I'm going out with friends later. You can find a tutorial and try it yourself."
Gavi opened his laptop and searched on YouTube. His eyes skimmed over a few of the top recommended videos when suddenly he heard Aurora's voice, distant as if from another country. "By the way, you almost make me think you're homophobic."
Fuck. Gavi's finger trembled violently. He clicked on a transgender person's channel, and lively Latin music instantly drowned out the sound of Aurora closing the door. Gavi sat there frozen for a few seconds before realizing he hadn't even tried to argue with her.
He exited that channel and found a male blogger instead. His hands, usually precise enough to catch a football thrown by a teammate, felt impossibly clumsy holding the delicate eyeliner pencil. Actually, Gavi looked up at himself in the mirror. Those dark brown eyes had been called beautiful by more than one guy. Gavi knew his trembling wasn't just about the makeup.
Aurora was wrong, because Gavi was gay. No one knew except Fermín.
There years ago,at sixteen, when other boys bragged about stealing kisses from girls, Gavi just sat among them, silent like a little puppet. Gavi would lower his head, curl his knees inward, and pull at the carpet fuzz again and again, not understanding why he felt nothing for girls. At first, he tried to be like his friends and get close to them. Because he was pretty, most girls he asked agreed to spend an afternoon with him. But nothing ever came after that. Throughout their dates, Gavi acted like he wanted to keep as much distance as possible, walking several feet apart, stammering awkward refusals when they offered to share ice cream. One girl, on the walk home, asked him if he hated her. Gavi, almost panicking, apologized over and over, insisting no, he just didn't feel it. The girl, who wore thick glasses, lifted her head and looked at him properly for the first time. Or maybe she was taking a slow, careful inventory. After a few seconds, she said something that would define Gavi's life:
"If I were you, I'd wonder if I was gay, instead of wasting more time dating girls."
Gavi sprinted home, took an online sexuality quiz, and discovered he actually liked boys.
"Alright, and that's our eyeliner done! Hope you all catch that lucky guy tonight!"
The YouTuber's voice yanked Gavi back to the present. He blinked a few times and saw a crooked, wobbly black line at the corner of his eye. It looked awful! Gavi made a face at his reflection and wiped the line away with a makeup wipe. Looking up again, his gaze caught a thin, white plastic tube hiding in the corner of the makeup bag.
Later, Gavi would want to kiss the hand that picked up that plastic tube, but at first, he was just curious. He turned it over in his fingers and noticed gold-engraved italics at the tip. "Choose Magic Eyeliner—perfect wings in one swipe! Comes with a random magical effect!" Gavi whispered the tagline and laughed at the cheesy sales pitch. Why not, he thought. Aurora would be back before he could even manage a decent line. He uncapped the pen and carefully, tentatively brought it to the corner of his eye—then got seized by a strange, endearing impulse.
Gavi moved the pen away from his eyes and started moving it across his cheek instead. Facing the mirror, he traced each letter slowly, freely. When he finished his cheek, he moved to his chin. A thrill made him tremble. When he was done, he squirmed with satisfaction.
Now, staring back at him in the mirror, his face was no longer just bare, flushed skin. Slightly smudged letters spelling "PEDRI" were scattered under his eyes, and just below his wet lips, "KISS ME." Gavi smiled at his reflection for a long, long moment. He pulled out his phone, took a picture, thought about it, and chose the hidden folder. Suddenly, he couldn't just sit still. He jumped up, ran to his room, and dug out his Spain national team jersey.
Gavi caught his reflection in the full-length mirror: his face marked with black graffiti, wearing only the team jersey. It wasn't long enough, barely covering half his ass. Gavi shifted his hips slightly, feeling the soft fabric brush against the pale skin of his upper thighs. His face burned bright red. When he turned fully, the name on the back was revealed: Pedri.
He imagined the man from his thoughts standing beside him. He knew he'd be patient, but utterly unable to resist him. Hands darker than his own would grip his waist, exposing every taut line. Pedri. Only Pedri. Pedri would start slowly kissing his earlobe, burying his face against Gavi's shoulder. Gavi would feel his want, hard and undeniable, pressing against him. Pedri would ask if it was okay. And Gavi would never, ever say no to him.
A small, soft whimper escaped Gavi's lips. He suddenly realized he'd been standing in front of the mirror, fantasizing about Pedri touching him. His hand, without him noticing, had already bunched up the hem of the jersey, exposing a long stretch of smooth, pale skin. He was half-hard in his boxers. Gavi bit his lip, feeling an uncontrollable clenching deep inside. An unbearable sensation made him rub his thighs together. He wanted to run but couldn't even make himself take a step. He stood frozen, praying for the feeling to pass, when he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening downstairs. Then his mother's warm voice: "Gavi, come down! I bought you your favorite chocolate!"
Oh God, Mom! Gavi wanted to run down and hug her, but then he remembered the graffiti—the letters—still on his face. He rushed to the mirror, scrubbing furiously at his cheeks with a makeup wipe. A cold dread seized him. Gavi stared helplessly at his reflection. The black markings were still there. Not even faded.
"Gavi? Did you go out?" His mother's voice was louder now, accompanied by the sound of slippers on the wooden stairs. She was coming up! Gavi scanned the room, looking for somewhere, anywhere, to hide. His mother only knewthat his favorite player was Pedri. If she saw those letters... Gavi didn't know how he'd explain.
The woman finally reached the door. She pushed it open slowly, saw the scattered makeup on the desk, the computer screen frozen on an ad. "That's weird, where'd he go?" She turned her head, scanning the room. All of Gavi's furniture was still in place. She noticed the wardrobe door was ajar. "Maybe he just grabbed some clothes and went out to see a friend," she murmured to herself. She closed the wardrobe door and left the room.
Only after the door clicked shut did a low, labored breath escape from under the bed. Gavi slowly maneuvered his arm out from under his body. He unlocked his phone. Fermín had sent him a string of question marks.
: What do you mean?
: I saved this pic : )
: ?????? Why aren't you saying anything?
: You okay?
not really（
Had to hide from my mom just now
: Are you sure it won't come off?
YES
: Coming over now.
Gavi crawled out from under the bed. He found the eyeliner pen. A new line of text had appeared on it. "Tip: The ink will only disappear after you've had sex three times with the person whose name you wrote! Wishing you happiness!" Gavi read it twice. Then he hurled the pen onto the bed. He was completely lost. He pulled the jersey off, put his hoodie back on, and sat at his computer, searching for cleaning products.
When Fermín got the photo, he thought Gavi was messing around. But his message made it clear this was serious. He used the spare key Gavi had given him, slipped inside, and crept quietly to his friend's bedroom door.
"Open up. It's me, Fermín!" Fermín whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one had seen him. A sudden, firm grip yanked his arm, and he stumbled, crashing right into Gavi. They both tumbled to the floor.
"...This hurts..." Gavi's muffled voice came from underneath him. Fermín scrambled up, and the moment he saw Gavi's goofy face, he burst out laughing. Gavi glared at his friend but didn't lose his temper. He knew if the situation were reversed, he'd have laughed his ass off first, too.
Fermín laughed for what felt like an eternity. Gavi was starting to get flustered. "Did you come all this way just to laugh at me?" He stood up, sat on the edge of the bed, and rested his chin in his hands. Fermín sat down quietly beside him, his feet on the carpet. After a few seconds, he said, "I'm guessing you're ready to try disinfectant."
Gavi rolled his eyes, flopped sideways onto the boy's lap, and covered his face with both hands. "Yes, but it'll wreck my skin, and I still want to go to prom."
"Let me see that thing."
Gavi handed it over obediently. He heard the boy let out a strangled noise. Shit. He'd forgotten about the writing on it.
"You're not actually going to have sex with Pedri, right? Pedri, the Barcelona footballer Pedri?"
"I don't know." Gavi peeled his hands away from his face a little, glanced hopefully at the mirror. The letters were still perfectly clear. Fermín started laughing again, and Gavi's whole upper body shook with him. Gavi wished he could pretend to be mad again. He tried glaring, tried crossing his arms, but he couldn't stop the corners of his own mouth from twitching up. They leaned into each other and laughed together for a long time.
Fermín wiped his eyes. "Okay, so what's the plan?"
"I still don't know. Maybe Aurora has something that can cover it up. God, I only have a month until prom!" Gavi stood up, pacing the room. "I can't just send Pedri a direct message and be like, 'Hey, big fan, please have sex with me or I'll never be happy!'"
"Wait!" Fermín's voice shot up. Gavi stopped, looked at him. A strange feeling told him the next words would be important.
"What did you just say?"
Gavi rolled his eyes again, groaned. "I said I can't just send Pedri a direct message—"
"Why not?"
"What?"
"You can do that, Gavi! We'll just make a few backup accounts in case he gets too mad and blocks you."
"No!" Gavi pulled away from Fermín's grip and flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling like he was talking to himself. "What if he hates me for it, Fermín? If he blocks me, then I'll never be happy."
A weight settled carefully on the mattress beside him. Fermín's messy, unbrushed hair brushed against Gavi's neck. "Just try it once, Gavi. How will you know what happens if you don't try? What if you actually do sleep with Pedri?"
This was Fermín. Fucking Fermín. Gavi almost hated him, because he was making him want to cry. Today had already been ridiculous enough. Gavi really didn't want to turn into some sappy TV protagonist.
Gavi waited a few seconds. When he spoke, his voice was thick. "Okay. I'll try."
Fermín gently nudged his arm. Gavi felt the weight beside him lift. "I gotta go. Keep me posted! Message me anytime."
Gavi managed a small smile. He didn't speak again. Instead, he pulled out his phone and texted Aurora. When that was done, he lay back, closed his eyes. He heard hurried footsteps coming towards him. It looked like he had a lot more explaining to do.
Pedri opened his eyes, his throat so dry he could barely speak. He stayed burrowed under the covers for a few more seconds, but the dryness wouldn't go away. Sighing, he carefully stepped around his sleeping dog and made his way to the kitchen counter in the dark. He fumbled for a glass, and heard his phone buzz in his pocket.
He didn't feel like checking it. He finished his water, but the buzzing came again. Maybe it was Ferran? Or Fer? His mom wouldn't message this late. A few names crossed his mind. He unlocked his phone and saw it was a social media direct message notification.
Pedri groaned, put the glass down, and got ready to go back to sleep. He appreciated the fans' passion, but not replying was a form of self-preservation. The dog, woken by the noise, wagged its tail and came over. Pedri smiled, bending down to scratch the big guy's back. His phone, not fully back in his pocket, slipped and hit the floor with a dull thunk.
"Alright, alright, tail, move for a second." Pedri shifted the dog's hindquarters aside to reach his phone, his finger accidentally sliding into a message thread. He watched as message after message—messages he hadn't even known existed—marked themselves as read.
: Oh my god! You actually check direct messages?
: I don't mean any harm! Everything I'm saying is true!
: Are you still reading?
: My name is Gavi : )
: I always watch your games!
He sat down on the floor, back against the cabinet. He knew he should just pretend this hadn't happened, stand up, go back to sleep. But there was something earnest, something intensely sincere in the sender's words. In the darkness, Pedri's eyes were fixed on the bright screen. All he could hear was the dog's soft breathing. And at some point—no one could pinpoint the exact second, not in time or space, not even about feeling—his heart lurched. His breath caught. An unnameable tremor reached the deepest part of him.
Pedri started reading the direct messages from this boy named Gavi, one by one. He realized, with some embarrassment, that Gavi had initially been using his direct messages as a memo pad. He now knew what Gavi had studied for his exams a year ago. He knew Gavi's favorite songs and why he loved them.
By the time he scrolled to the most recent messages, his fingers were stiff from the cold. He accidentally sent a period. Gavi read it instantly.
Pedri exhaled. He realized that while he had been slowly, carefully reading, the boy had been waiting for him the entire time. He couldn't help but look at the adorable photo again. It gave him the strange illusion that the boy was right there beside him, that their faces were close, that he could almost smell him.
And yet he hadn't even met him.
He stared at the screen, his fingers tapping uselessly against the air. But he knew Gavi was still there. This shouldn't be happening. He knew it shouldn't. Gavi hadn't forced him to say anything. It was Pedri who wanted to speak. Pedri who wanted to keep messaging, not just send a period.
Fuck. Pedri ran a hand through his hair. He typed quickly, as if if he paused, he'd say something else.
---
Gavi pressed the screen against his forehead, trying to fill his entire vision with the period Pedri had sent. Pedri was probably asleep. Maybe the period was all there was. He was scared, but he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes.
: Thank you for your support. Good night.
Gavi shot up in bed, clutching his phone, pacing a chaotic path through his sheets, pillows, blankets. He wanted to scream, but it was too late. He shoved a pillow between his thighs. He didn't know how to reply. He kept editing and re-editing.
Pedri watched the three blinking dots dance. He waited almost a minute.
Finally, Gavi's new message appeared.
: Good night.
God. What even was that? Pedri laughed, tucked his phone into his pocket, and stood up. He lightly smacked his own forehead and turned to walk back to his bedroom.