❦ - El Mar, El Sol Y Mi Corazón

I feel like if you openly support a team in the league you are president of, then you should not be the fucking president of said league

❦ - hell n back

summary:: late night pasta, music, wine and your boyfriend. that’s all you need.

warnings:: none

writers note:: yet again another fic for this series i need to save yall from this joao fic drout bc wtf is happening where they at… this is one of many to come!! ALSO I FORGOT WHO THE DIV BELONGS TO BUT CREDS TO THEM!

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana ; lmk if u wanna be added!

The music played low in the background, Joao’s playlist shuffling between smooth beats and soft melodies. He was in the kitchen, humming under his breath as he worked on his infamous late night pasta. You leaned against the counter, watching him with a mix of amusement and admiration.

‘You’re really taking this chef thing seriously,’ you teased, sipping on your glass of wine.

Joao glanced over his shoulder, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘Don’t act like you’re not about to ask for seconds.’

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny it. João wasn’t just good at football; somehow, he had the kitchen skills to match. Watching him like this, relaxed, playful, completely himself, reminded you how much you loved these simple moments with him.

‘You’re proud of yourself, huh?’ you asked as he plated the pasta, garnishing it with a dramatic flourish of parsley.

He slid the plate in front of you with a mock bow. ‘Chef João at your service.’

You burst out laughing. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘Ridiculously talented,’ he shot back, sitting down across from you.

The two of you ate in companionable silence for a few moments, the warmth of the food matching the easy comfort between you. Joao finally looked up, his eyes soft as they met yours.

‘You know,’ he said, twirling his fork, ‘I don’t think I ever told you how much I appreciate this.’

‘This?’ you asked, raising a brow. ‘The pasta? Because I’ll admit, it’s good.’

‘No,’ he said, chuckling. ‘I mean this. Us. You let me just… be. I don’t have to perform or prove anything when I’m with you. It’s like.’ He paused, searching for the words. ‘It’s like coming home.’

Your heart skipped a beat, and you set your fork down, meeting his gaze. ‘Joao, you don’t have to thank me for being here. That’s what we do, right? We take care of each other.’

He leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. ‘You make it sound so simple.’

‘Because it is,’ you said, reaching across the table to take his hand. ‘I love you, Joao. All of you. Even when you overcook the pasta’

He gasped in mock offense. ‘You didn’t just say that.’

‘I did,’ you said, laughing as he shook his head in disbelief.

‘Fine,’ he said, squeezing your hand. ‘But just so you know, you’re my favorite person. Overcooked pasta and all.’

And in that moment, with the music playing and Joao smiling across the table, you felt it too, this was everything. Simple, steady, and enough.

family meeting

credits to the owner!

summary: it was love at first sight

warnings: none

pairing: pablo gavi x fem!reader

request: hi can you write something about pablo gavi? like his family has a family gathering and his cousin brings her best friend and he falls in love (like head-over-heals madly in love) and his behavior just changes from shy to super confident around her and everyone makes fun of him afterwards

a/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE ❤️🎄🫶🏻🎀

taglist: @paucubarsisimp, @barcapix, @joaosnovia

requests are open!

masterlist

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, and Gavi's family had gathered at his family home for one of their usual family gatherings, enjoying the warm holiday sunshine. It was an intimate gathering, just a warm lunch, loud conversations and laughter echoing throughout the property. But for Pablo, it was a rare opportunity, because between his busy football schedule and his dedication to the sport, these family gatherings became something he looked forward to, even if he was usually the quiet one, sitting on the sidelines.

Pablo was shy, especially around people he didn't know well. His family understood this, so they never pushed him too hard to be in the spotlight. As usual, he was quiet and observant, sticking to his comfort zone and talking to close relatives. But today was different.

His cousin Blanca had insisted that she would bring a friend with her today - someone Pablo had never met before. However, Blanca mentioned her in passing many times and that he would definitely like her.

That girl was you, you gladly accepted your friend's invitation, having nothing better to do, and her parents liked you very much, so you went with them.

The moment you arrived, Pablo felt something change. You stood in the doorway with Blanca, laughing at something that had just happened on the way. Your long, shiny hair flowed and fell freely around your shoulders. Your bright, expressive eyes scanned your surroundings and your infectious smile seemed to light up the entire room. You greeted his family members, being so casual.

You were confident, funny, and effortlessly charming. The moment Pablo saw you, his heart started beating faster. He found himself staring at you. He was surprised by how beautiful you were, not only physically, but also how you made everything around you seem brighter.

You weren't like the other girls Pablo had met. There was something about your presence, the way you moved with ease and grace, that suddenly made him realize how nervous he was. He wasn't even sure why he was so drawn to you, he couldn't even take his eyes off you.

"Hola Pablo!" Blanca greeted him with a wave.

Pablo blinked, suddenly realizing that his cousin and you were looking straight at him. He waved to you shyly, his heart racing. "Hola" he managed to say, his voice a little too quiet for his liking.

You smiled warmly at his shyness. “Hola, nice to meet you! I've heard so much about you” you said, giggling lightly, but your tone was friendly and casual.

The words sent a wave of heat through Pablo's chest. He tried to find something to say in response, but he froze. For the first time, words failed him.

Blanca immediately noticed his awkwardness. "Come on, Pablo, stop being so shy. We're all family here!" she shouted and you just giggled.

Pablo laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes, sorry. I'm just a little tired from training earlier" he explained.

"But it's the holidays" Blanca frowned, looking at her cousin.

"I did the training on my own" he explained and she nodded, looking at him slightly suspiciously.

But you didn't let yourself be discouraged. “I understand that” you said with a smile that made Pablo's heart skip a beat. “I play a bit of football myself, so I know how exhausting it can be” you confessed reassuringly, winking at him before going to greet the others.

From that moment on, everything seemed to change. Every time you looked at him, Pablo felt a surge of confidence he didn't know he had. It was as if something clicked inside him. He wasn't the same shy guy anymore. With each passing minute, he found himself speaking more freely, laughing more easily. As they sat down to eat, he joked with the others, even teasing Blanca, who seemed a little surprised at how at ease she felt now. She didn't recognize her cousin.

Pablo had always been reserved, but with you it was different. He wasn't just shy Pablo anymore, he found himself leaning forward during conversations, maintaining eye contact and participating in jokes. It was like you discovered a new side to him - one that wasn't afraid to step into the spotlight. You made him feel seen in a way no one else had ever done before.

Gavi became overly attentive, offering to help you with anything, asking if you needed anything, offering you drinks, sitting next to you. His family noticed the change in him - the quiet, shy Pablo was now the most talkative and outgoing person in the room, especially in your presence.

He even dared to talk to you to get to know you better, but the tremble in his voice betrayed how nervous he felt around you. You smiled at him and then started a conversation about football, and after a while the boy relaxed and started asking you about it, which you didn't complain about at all, you liked it.

Then, for the rest of the afternoon, Pablo couldn't help but steal glances at you. Every time your eyes met, he felt a spark in his chest and so did you, feeling yourself blush slightly as you realized that Pablo had been paying attention to you the whole time.

There was no hiding the fact that your friend's cousin was a handsome guy, very handsome indeed. You've seen him many times on TV, Instagram or TikTok and have always admired his flawless appearance. He was definitely your type, you liked him a lot, but you didn't want to do anything against your friend.

However, every time you met his eyes, you smiled widely at him, not knowing that it was like a wave of warmth that washed over him. He didn't want this day to end. He wanted to keep talking to you, laughing, admiring you, feeling the strange, thrilling excitement of being in your presence.

You didn't realize how much you inhabited his head. The rest of his family also noticed his change. His cousins exchanged knowing glances with each other, and Aurora even nudged him playfully.

"Looks like someone's in love here" Aurora whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, smiling from ear to ear as the others laughed.

Pablo's face turned red and he immediately tried to turn away. "Shut up" he muttered, looking away, but it was too late. The teasing had already begun.

"Oh, look at him" his Uncle Juan said, smiling. "He was so shy at first, but now he's the life of the party. Who's the lucky one, huh?” he laughed.

The teasing continued and soon everyone was making fun of him for his sudden burst of confidence, even his parents!

Everyone was laughing, but there was warmth in it - no one was cruelly mocking him, they were just amused at how his behavior had changed so suddenly, and it was all thanks to you. Pablo took all the jokes and even started joking along with them, admitting that he was madly in love with you. The teasing doesn't bother him anymore because he knows he's on the right track. His self-confidence increases as he realizes that being himself around you feels incredibly natural, and he wasn't previously aware of how much he needed it.

Blanca also noticed her cousin's change, so she walked up to him shaking her head, "Wow, Pablo, I think you've become a completely different person since Y/N showed up, huh?" she said half jokingly, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Pablo just laughed nervously, trying to stay calm, but inside his mind was racing. Did you feel the same? Did he really fall in love with you that quickly? He had no idea, but he couldn't stop his heart from beating faster when you laughed or when your hands brushed against each other as you reached for the same dish.

The little moments you shared between you made his heart swell. To him, you had a magical aura around you that attracted him like a magnet. When he looked at you in full sunlight, he sighed silently, unable to look at you. He thought you looked absolutely beautiful that day, wearing plain denim shorts and a pink, square-neck, short-sleeved blouse.

He felt that you had won his heart that day, without any real effort, and he couldn't ignore it. Because you noticed him in a way no one else had before. You looked at him as a normal person, not as a famous footballer who plays for a top club. You saw him as Pablo, not Gavi, and he appreciated that.

As the evening drew to a close and the last members of the family gathered their things to leave, Pablo stopped at the door, his heart still beating like crazy after everything that had happened. The teasing, the laughter, the way you made him feel like more than just the shy, quiet kid in the room, it all seemed a blur. He couldn't shake the warmth in his chest every time you smiled at him.

He only just realized it now, but he was really starting to care about you in a way that left him breathless.

You stood by the door, talking to Blanca as the last few guests said their goodbyes. Pablo watched you from the corner of the room, his mind still taking in how natural everything seemed. The confidence he found next to you today was unlike anything he had ever experienced, even on the pitch. It was as if in just a few hours he had become a different person, a person who could laugh freely, tell jokes and hold his own in conversation. It's all thanks to you. He never thought he would ever feel this way.

Blanca looked over her shoulder and caught Pablo's eye. She raised an eyebrow, smiling at her cousin. "Will you say goodbye?" she asked, her voice teasing but quiet enough for only Pablo to hear.

Pablo's heart jumped into his throat. He stood there, deep in thought, not even realizing that it was time for everyone to leave. He shifted nervously, suddenly unsure how to act. Is it just a fleeting moment? Did he really have a chance with you? Could he somehow make his feelings known without sounding completely ridiculous?

Before he could talk himself out of it, he took a step forward, his feet moving on their own. His palms were sweaty and his heart was pounding hard in his chest, but he couldn't let this opportunity slip away. He had to say something. Anything.

Blanca walked away, leaving the two of you alone, and you turned to face him as he approached, your warm smile lighting up your face when you saw him. “Hola Pablo” you said, your voice as nice as ever, it warmed his heart. “Today was really nice. Thanks for meeting” you announced.

Pablo took his breath away for a moment. He could barely think clearly, but he forced himself to speak. "Yes...yes, of course. I had a great time too. I...I mean, honestly, I don't remember the last time I had this much fun" he chuckled awkwardly, feeling his face getting hot.

Your smile widened and for a split second, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared. It was just the two of you in that quiet moment, and Pablo felt a surge of boldness. "Would you like to... go out sometime? Just the two of us?" his voice cracked slightly and he cursed himself for sounding so nervous before running his fingers through his hair.

Your gaze softened, and for a moment, Pablo wasn't sure what to expect. Did he say something bad? Is that too fast? But then your lips curved into a soft smile and his heart beat even faster.

“Yes, I would like to” you said in a warm and sincere voice. “I really would like to” you assured him, giggling slightly at his nervous attitude, although you were also nervous inside, even more than he was, but you didn't show it.

Relief washed over Pablo like a wave, but he didn't know what to do with the newfound confidence that washed over him. He cleared his throat, trying to calm down. “Okay, cool. I'll text you” he choked out, smiling awkwardly but realizing something. “Um, Y/N…” he turned to you awkwardly, and you signaled him that you were listening. “I can get your number?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

You laughed quietly. “Yeah, sure” you said, scanning his face and a pleasant shiver ran down his spine.

He took the phone out of his pocket slightly clumsily, feeling how sweaty his hands were and nervously looking for the phone icon so you could add your number.

Once you handed it to him, he smiled gratefully, taking a deeper breath. "Thank you, I'll write to you" he said, looking down at the floor because he couldn't stand the intensity of your gaze any longer, and crimson shades took over his cheeks.

“Alright” you said, nodding. “I'll be waiting” you added more quietly, and Pablo looked back at your bright eyes, which sparkles danced in them. There was something playful and teasing in your tone of voice that made Pablo's pulse quicken.

As you turned to leave, Pablo instinctively took a step forward, reaching for the door. You both reached for the doorknob at the same time, and for a brief moment your fingers brushed against each other, sending sparks throughout your bodies. It was like an electric shock. Pablo froze, his heart pounding in his chest.

You looked up at him, your eyes shining with something he couldn't quite place. “It must be fate” you joked quietly, your voice playful as your fingers lingered for more than a moment.

Pablo swallowed, suddenly feeling a wave of courage he didn't know he had. "Yes" he whispered in a low voice. "I guess so" he added, chuckling nervously.

“See you later, Pablo” you said with a smile, walking slowly out the door.

“See you later, Y/N” he said to you, returning your smile.

You waved him away, joining Blanca and her parents, to which he, and others, waved back.

"Hopefully soon" he said to himself, then leaned against the doorframe.

The family chatter quieted down and Pablo stood there, watching you walk down the street with Blanca and her parents. His heart was still pounding, but he felt different now. Stronger. More alive.

Once he closed the door, he leaned against it, closed his eyes, and a smile spread across his face. Teasing, joking - it didn't matter. What mattered was that you saw him, really saw him, in a way no one else did.

For the first time, Pablo realized that his life would not always revolve around football. Maybe it was moments like this - moments where someone made him feel like he was enough. And as he stood there, replaying the scene from earlier in his mind over and over again, he knew one thing for sure - he couldn't wait to see where this new chapter with you would take him.

if you like this, please like, reblog or comment 🫶🏻

forever young ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 - pablo gavi

pairing: (childhood bff) gavi x reader summary: a scene from your childhood, a promise from your best friend, and a full circle moment word count: 889

a/n: it's finally done! this is the gavi fic i couldn't decide on the ending for - thank u to everyone who voted in my poll for it <33 😭 - also I KNOW there aren't live commentators when you watch football matches in person okay its for the plot

“In ten years, I’ll probably be so good that I’ll score all the time! And you can come and watch my matches!” 

You could remember it like it was yesterday - Gavi sitting next to you on a park bench, the two of you messily devouring ice cream cones you had begged your mum for enough pocket money to buy. He was excitedly explaining his plans for when the two of you were older, him being a professional footballer obviously, and you still by his side. 

“And when I do score, I’ll point up to you in the stands just like this, okay?”

“That’s so far away in the future, you’ll probably forget by then,” you sigh, but you can’t stop yourself from laughing as he poses and his melting ice cream drips down his small hands and onto the pavement below. 

“I won’t, I swear!” 

You nod unconvincingly, more concerned with making sure your treat doesn’t become a similar mess and for a moment the two of you sit in silence. The warm summer sun tingles on your round cheeks, even as the approaching afternoon causes it to dip below the horizon. You watch as Gavi tries again, and fails, to clean up his hands by lapping up the dripping ice cream. Despite being so young, you’re struck by a sudden desire to retrospectively freeze this moment in time and make sure the two of you can stay like this forever, safe from the changes growing up might hold. 

“I’ll have to go back soon,” Gavi’s voice cuts through your uncharacteristically angsty thoughts, as he turns back to you worriedly after noticing the dimming skyline. 

“Ah, right,” you mumble, slumping back onto the bench - the two of you had been enjoying yourself so much you had almost forgotten how strict of a curfew the academy gave him. 

“Hey, don’t worry!” Gavi pipes up, noticing your expression, “the more time I spend training the sooner you’ll get to watch me score super cool goals!” 

You try your best to muster up a convincing smile, not wanting to send him back in a bad mood after the two of you had had such a fun afternoon together. Satisfied, he finishes what’s left of his icecream before hopping up off the bench and brushing the crumbs of his cones off his lip. You stand too, albeit slower, since you too need to get home before it gets dark.

“Oh and hey, Fermin showed me how to use the dorm phone last night, so I can finally call you! Keep an eye on your phone tonight, okay?”  

Before you can reply he pulls you into a tight hug, and all you can think about is how you hope he can't feel how hard your heart is beating in your chest. Before you can hug back he’s already pulling away, shooting you another quick smile before turning to jog in the direction of the dorms, and you wave goodbye as you watch him go. You’re not sure why you do this, since you’re pretty sure he won’t see you - but if not for him, you wave to give yourself an excuse to stand there a little longer and watch his tiny silhouette disappearing into the afternoon sun.

Despite the deafening cheers of thousands of fans, Gavi is able to spot you from where he's standing on the pitch - his worried expression is instantly replaced with a beaming smile, his arms frantically waving to get your attention. As soon as you spot him you can't help but do the same, almost falling out of your seat as you do, excitement coursing through your veins.

Sitting back, you take a minute to take everything in - the vibrant green of the field is almost blinding and the clamour of everyone around you is enough to give you a headache. But more than anything, you're hyper-focused on one thing tonight, this being the first professional match you'd been able to watch your childhood best friend play.

The match starts with the shrill shriek of the whistle, and you're on the edge of your seat, eyes following the quick movements of the ball as best as you can. To be honest, you know very little about football despite Gavi talking your ear off about it at any opportunity you gave him - but you know enough to know he's absolutely killing it. It's actually a little difficult to keep up with how fast he's moving.

It happens before you can even register it, but the surge of cheers and people jumping up around you forces you up to your feet to join in. Your eyes race, desperate to find your friend - but it seems he's already found you, both eyes locked on yours as he points up to you with the widest smile you've ever seen.

At that moment, you see an echo of the young boy you had fallen in love with over ten years ago - and you can't believe he's kept his promise, the pose and smile the same as it had been back then. You're breathless with joy, and you feel your heart swell.

"Oh, and what's this? The young midfielder seems to be pointing up to someone in the stands!" the voice of a commentator booms through the speakers as you sink back into your seat, your cheeks almost aching from how wide you're smiling.

"We can't really see who it is, but whoever it is must be someone extremely special to him, and extremely lucky!"

Hey princess!! Could you add me to your taglist, pls ? 💓

yes amore, idk why i didn’t reply to this but if ill add u to general but if u wanna be apart of a specific one pls lmk xx

ღ - WHO I WRITE FOR. 💕

okay so like the title is quite deceiving but also i wanna say like i will write for any footballers or f1 drivers (i love being a tifosi) anywho so i hope this helps when requesting bc i know some of you have been hesitant bc ydk who i write for!! 💓

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five of your other fave writers. Spread the self-love! 💕💕💕💕❤️

hi queens i’m tryna clear my inbox so here we are and EID MUBARAK TO MY OTHER MUSLIMS 🙏

anyways here we are queens / kings / its 🥰

love && war part 2. - pablo gavi.

amore a milan. - joao felix. (I LOVE THIS SM.)

moonlight. - hector fort.

‘and we created you in pairs’. - kenan yildiz.

playing for keeps. - toni fernandez. (i forgot ab this.)

OKAY HERE ARE MY TOP 5 WRITERS (not in order bc i can’t choose for the life of me)

@barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @hollyf1 (ik ur not really that much of a fic writer but u never fail to make me laugh)

unmasked

credits to the owner!

summary: gavi wears a mask, but under your pressure he shows his true face

warnings: insecure!gavi

pairing: pablo gavi x fem!reader

request: maybe one where pablo was always playing cool around u as his first girl but one day he wasnt able to continue acting and he appear stupid in front of the reader but she did comfort him that she wants the real pablo not the actor one. i think its a anger then fluff

taglist: @paucubarsisimp, @barcapix, @joaosnovia

masterlist

It's been months since you first met Pablo, and in that time you've gotten to know him not only as a football prodigy, but as the good man he was in person. To the world he was a star, but to you he was just Pablo.

At first everything seemed like a whirlwind. You met by chance one evening at a cafe. He was just another guy, albeit a famous one, but as the days went by you saw what Pablo was like off cameras and spotlights. He was funny, smart and thoughtful in a way no one had seen on the field. But there was something that irritated you. He always wore this mask, this persona of the cool, untouchable guy. A boy who was always in control, a player who never cracked.

He smiled that teasing smile, his eyes shining with confidence, and everyone around him swooned. But with you, when it was just the two of you, there was always something hidden. This frustrated you because you wanted to meet the real Pablo.

You were his first girlfriend, Pablo didn't know how to behave around you without looking like a fool. However, you were able to feel the distance between you, as if he was afraid that if he showed you too much of himself, you would leave. Maybe he thought that the real Pablo wouldn't be enough for you, that to keep you he had to be the perfect version of himself, the one everyone expected.

You tried talking to him about it countless times, but he always avoided the conversation. He joked, laughed or changed the subject. You couldn't help but wonder why he was afraid to show you his true self.

It wasn't that you wanted to change him. You've never done this and you had no intention of doing so. You just wanted him to trust you enough to stop pretending. You didn't want cool Gavi, the guy who made everyone swoon with his natural charm. You wanted the real thing. The one who was nervous before important matches, the one who stayed up late talking about his dreams and fears. One who didn't feel the need to pretend to be invincible, but who could share his vulnerability with someone who truly cared about him. You wanted Pablo, your Pablito.

But life went on and you still shared quiet moments, laughed together, and even shared moments of deep conversation. However, Pablo's true face was always out of reach.

One afternoon you were waiting for him at his house because he gave you his keys and texted you to come over. You thought that maybe something would change today, that maybe he wanted to talk about something. How wrong you were.

As soon as he got home, you could see the exhaustion on his face. It wasn't the typical tiredness he felt after a long training session - it was something deeper, as if he was carrying a burden that had nothing to do with football.

“Hi” he greeted you, kissing you lightly on the cheek before plopping down on the couch next to you.

"Hey, how's training?" you asked, running your fingers through his hair, but he didn't look at you.

“Fine, same as always” he shrugged and you frowned.

There was silence between you. You scanned him with your eyes, breathing shallowly, while he stared blankly at the turned off TV. His smile was absent and his eyes were duller than usual. His fingers absently scratched his beard, the air thickening.

You had enough, you wanted to end it. You looked at him for a moment longer before speaking.

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked gently, your voice breaking the awkward silence.

He looked at you, and for the first time you saw a hint of hesitation in his gaze.

Normally he would have turned it into a joke to avoid answering the question, but that wasn't the case today, he had no shield to hide behind.

For a long, awkward moment, he just stared at you, his lips slightly parted, unsure of what to say.

"I'm...fine" he said, though from the way his words hung in the air, it seemed like he wasn't. The mask was still in place, but there was something different about it now. She wasn't as convincing anymore, you could tell. "I'm just tired" he added, sighing heavily.

But you knew something was wrong. You had spent enough time with him to recognize when he was hiding, or at least trying to now, behind his mask of the perfect boy.

“You know you don't have to be perfect around me?” you said quietly, concern evident in your voice. “You don't have to pretend that everything is always fine when I see that it's not” you added, looking at him intensely.

He shook his head, trying to smile, but his usual freedom to avoid answering was gone. "It's nothing" he said, his voice now hoarse. “I guess I've been working too hard lately” he looked for an excuse.

He didn't manage to fool you into it. You could always tell when he was faking it, when he was trying to convince you and himself that everything was okay when it wasn't. Your heart tightened in your chest. You knew it wasn't exhaustion from training, it was something much deeper.

You leaned forward, closing the distance between you and looking straight into his uncertain eyes. “Pablo” you said, your voice softer now, more serious. “You don't have to pretend to me. "I know you're more than the 'nice guy' everyone thinks you are" you began.

“I want to see Pablo, not Gavi” you added. "Besides, you always tell me that when I feel unsure, I should talk to you, so why don't you want to do it with me when you're confused?" you asked quietly.

It took his breath away and for the first time you saw something in his eyes that you had never noticed before. Sensitivity. Fear. It was as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders and he didn't know how to carry it anymore. For a moment, you saw the cracks in his armor, and they were more beautiful than you had ever imagined.

"I don't know how to do this" he confessed quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don't know how to be anything other than the guy everyone expects me to be. It's easy on the pitch because I know what I'm doing. But as for… then…” he gestured between the two of you, his eyes falling to his hands, unable to meet yours. “I don't know how to be real. It's just... I'm afraid that if I show who I really am, you won't want it” his voice cracked.

"I act like I'm always fine, like I'm the perfect player, the perfect guy. But... I'm not. I'm just... tired. Tired of pretending" he buried his face in hands.

Your heart ached for him, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. You always knew that underneath the surface, Pablo wasn't as untouchable and indestructible as he seemed, but today he showed you something no one else had ever seen - the truth.

But hearing him admit it, seeing him break down in front of you, it all felt real in a way you hadn't expected.

His words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Your heart ached with the pressure he carried alone, to this day.

"You are also my first girlfriend and... I don't really know how to behave, I don't want to scare you or disappoint you, much less lose you" he said contritely.

You slowly wrapped your arms around him, leaning on his shoulder, looking at him with tears in your eyes. He froze, looking at you as if he couldn't believe that you didn't pull away after his confession. On the contrary, you grabbed his hand and squeezed it, naturally intertwining your fingers, offering him comfort with this gesture.

“None of this will happen, Pablo. I won't leave you when you show your true self because I don't want a "perfect" Gavi" you said quietly, your voice confident. “I don't want an actor. I want you, Pablo. The real you. The one who is not afraid to be afraid sometimes, to show that he is human. This is the person I care about. Not the cool guy everyone else sees” you said in a soft voice.

His eyes searched yours, uncertain, as if waiting for you to take back your words, but you didn't. You had every single one of them on your mind, and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a small, genuine, hopeful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He was shy at first, but he widened as he squeezed your hand tighter.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice full of emotion.

You nodded, your heart filling with emotion. That was it. The moment you've been waiting for for so long.

“I've never been more sure of anything” you whispered, looking tenderly into his eyes.

Then there was silence, a calm, loving silence as the weight between you lifted. For the first time, you saw Pablo as he truly was - not a star, not an untouchable hero, but a man who could laugh, stumble, show fear and still be worthy of love. And he saw you, not as someone who admired him for his fame or skill, but as someone who cared for him exactly as he was.

He leaned in slowly, his face was only a few inches from yours, and kissed you softly and lovingly. This time it's not for to impress you. This wasn't a show, this was finally real, and you couldn't be happier that he had broken down the walls and finally let you in.

When you broke apart, Pablo leaned down, cupping your cheek in his hand, his forehead gently pressed against yours. There were no ostentatious gestures, no need for words. Just you two.

"I love you" he whispered, his voice full of sincerity.

The words seemed to have been coming for a long time, but now they didn't seem rushed or forced. They were real and you smiled wholeheartedly, responding in kind.

“I love you too, Pablo. Just who you are, not the actor you pretended to be. I love the real you more than you know and more than words can express" you confessed, seeing the sparkle of happiness and relief in his eyes, then kissed him again.

As the weeks passed, things changed between you and Pablo. He became more open, more authentic with you. It wasn't a dramatic change - more like a steady, gentle unraveling of the man he had always been beneath the layers of his public persona. He no longer shied away from asking you for help when he was struggling through a tough game, or how he unhesitatingly reached out to you for a silent reassurance that you were there for him, that he didn't have to be perfect to be loved.

He no longer tried to wear the cool guy mask. He realized that with you he could be tired, scared, be himself, and with each passing day you fell more and more in love with him - not with an actor or a superstar, but with the real Pablo, the one who needed comfort, who laughed freely and shared his fears without shame. He needed your love, and he had no problem showing it fully to you.

But it wasn't just about grand gestures. It was also about the quiet, tender moments you shared, like late night conversations that turned into long passionate discussions, cooking dinner together in his apartment, laughing about stupid things that didn't matter to anyone but the two of you. Every day you learned more about him, for example he had the courage to tell you about his childhood in Sevilla, what it was like before everything started.

For the first time, he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you. And each time you felt your heart fill with a mixture of love and admiration. This was the real Pablo you wanted from the very beginning. A young man who had dreams, doubts and fears, just like everyone else.

You broke down his walls and in return he gave you the most precious gift, his true self.

And that was more than enough.

if you like this, please like, reblog or comment 🫶🏻

would you write a Pablo gavi x Supercars!reader and he travels to Australia during one of his breaks to watch her in Bathurst?

❦ - vroom vroom.

warnings:: none

writers notes:: ignore the title i didn’t know what to make it 💔. also my asthmatic ass is dying rn bru im not making it out alive

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb @mariejuli @nngkay

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the weekend sun was hot, beating down on mount panorama, as the bathurst 1000 kicked into full gear. the atmosphere was electric, buzzing with anticipation and the roar of powerful engines echoing through the mountains. spectators lined the track, eyes glued to the high, performance cars tearing around every curve, weaving in and out of the iconic corners.

but amongst the crowd, there was one face you were searching for.

a few days earlier, during one of your brief breaks in between qualifying and race day, you’d received a message from pablo.

‘i’m coming to bathurst. i want to see you race. no more excuses.’

and there it was, the familiar grin on his face even through the phone screen. it was typical pablo, always full of surprises, always there when you needed him most.

now, as you prepared for your final laps in the race, you couldn’t help but steal glances over to the grandstands. your heart was a little lighter knowing he was somewhere out there, waiting for you, even though you had no idea where he’d be.

there were a million thoughts in your head, but one thing was clear: he was here, supporting you, cheering you on like he always did in his quiet, steady way. a part of you felt invincible knowing he was out there, and that alone was enough to push you even harder.

your team was making final adjustments to the car, and as you climbed back into the driver’s seat, you heard the familiar sound of a car engine roar to life from the pit wall. you turned, and there he was.

pablo. he had somehow found his way down to your pit, now standing just a few feet away, a wide grin on his face, looking as though he hadn’t just traveled halfway across the world to see you. he was in his usual casual attire: a hoodie, jeans, and his signature sneakers, but something about seeing him here, at your race, made your heart skip.

‘is this how it’s going to be every time?’ you joked, pulling your helmet down and adjusting your gloves. ‘you’re just going to pop up everywhere i go?’

he laughed, taking a few steps closer, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. ‘i thought i’d try and make an appearance at your biggest race of the season. plus, i’m curious about how you’re going to win this one.’

‘don’t worry,’ you said with a wink, ‘i’ve got this.’

‘just remember, i’m here cheering you on,’ he added, his voice soft but filled with undeniable pride.

his words settled in your chest, and it was almost enough to erase the tension you’d been feeling all week. with him here, it felt like you could take on anything.

the team was signaling for you to head to the starting grid, and with one last glance at pablo, you shot him a quick thumbs-up before stepping into the car. the sound of the engine fired up, and soon, you were on your way.

as you sped through the corners of bathurst, weaving between competitors, every turn was just a little bit sweeter knowing pablo was watching you. he wasn’t just some guy sitting in the grandstands, he was your biggest fan, the one who believed in you when you didn’t believe in yourself.

the race was intense, and with every lap, your confidence grew. you knew the track, the car, and most importantly, you knew you had someone special in your corner. and that thought kept you going.

after a nerve wracking final lap, you crossed the finish line in first place. the roar of the crowd was deafening, but the moment your car came to a stop, you couldn’t wait to take off your helmet and look for one person in particular.

pablo was already at the barriers, waiting for you, his face a mixture of excitement and pride. as you made your way over to him, he opened his arms and enveloped you in a tight hug, lifting you off your feet in the process.

‘you did it! i knew you could!’ he said, his voice full of emotion.

‘i couldn’t have done it without you,’ you whispered back, feeling the weight of the race finally start to leave your shoulders.

you pulled back slightly, looking up at him. there was something in his eyes, something more than just admiration. it was pure love, the kind that came with knowing you better than anyone else.

‘now,’ he said, a mischievous smile creeping onto his lips, ‘i think we deserve a victory celebration. how about we take the rest of the weekend off?’

you laughed, feeling the exhaustion start to catch up with you. ‘i like that idea.’

epilogue::


a few days later, you and pablo found yourselves relaxing in a quiet corner of a rooftop bar, overlooking the stunning sydney skyline. bathurst was behind you, but the adrenaline of the race was still coursing through your veins. you leaned back into his arms, your head resting on his shoulder, the sounds of the city mingling with the soft breeze.

‘thanks for being here,’ you said, your voice full of gratitude. ‘it really means a lot.’

‘i wouldn’t be anywhere else,’ he replied, kissing the top of your head gently. ‘you’ve got this fire in you, and i’m just lucky to be here to witness it.’

you smiled up at him, the quiet contentment of the moment filling your heart. ‘so, when’s the next race? i think i can get used to you showing up for all of them.’

pablo grinned, his arms tightening around you. ‘i think i’m going to make it my mission to be at every single one from now on. starting with your next one.’

‘deal.’

and with that, you both relaxed into the evening, knowing that whatever the future held, you’d always have each other.

Hiiiii I’ve been waiting sooo long to request from u I looooove ur writing <33

So hear me out luv a Hector Fort long fic (please make it long 8k+) where he’s a popular student and reader is like an unpopular middle class student and she’s kinda bullied for that but Hector starts dating her cuz he loves her but all his friends and people in school start calling her a gold digger and Hector keeps defending her so one day he gifts her a necklace like an expensive one right but she needs money cuz her mom needs meds and her fam aren’t doing well but somehow the popular girl in school that has a crush on Hector finds out and tells him so he thinks reader is actually with him for the money so he fights with her and break up and then later he finds out that she suffered and he regret it when he found her working 2 part time and became always absent in school and got sent to principal cuz she sleeps in class cuz she’s tired from working and make the endings fluffy but please make it angsty like I wanna cry I wanna bawl my lil eyes and heart out (I’m a sucker for angst I litt read sad books all the time)

If you are able to write this I thank u in advance darling <33

Have a great weekend and stay healthy and safe 💙

❦ - unpopular.

summary:: the req.

warnings:: angst but yk that.

writers note:: this took way too long to write but tbf this got requested ages ago and i’d write like once a week but it’s lowkey fun! also there’s a baby ref in this

w/c:: 9k

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb @mariejuli @nngkay

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montserrat academy smelled like money.

not literally, but in that subtle way: clean, polished hallways that echoed too much, perfume lingering in the air even after people had left, crisp uniforms that never seemed to wrinkle, shoes that didn’t scuff, phones without a single crack.

you didn’t belong there. not really.

you’d gotten in on merit, a scholarship, long nights of studying, beating the odds kind of story. your mom cried when you got the acceptance email. your little brother made a paper crown and called you ‘genius queen’ for a week.

but being in didn’t mean being part of.

you sat alone a lot. not because you were a loner, but because lunch tables filled up fast with people who didn’t look twice at you. your clothes weren’t trendy, your shoes were always the same beat-up pair of sneakers, and your accent still carried bits of the neighborhood you came from.

and the others… they noticed.

they didn’t push you or laugh in your face or throw your books across the floor like in those dramatic high school movies. no, it was quieter than that.

it was looking through you when you spoke in class. it was changing the subject when you joined the conversation. it was the way camila once complimented your thrifted bag, and everyone laughed like she’d told a joke.

you weren’t hated. just forgotten. misplaced. tolerated.

but you didn’t come to be liked.

you came to escape.

from the thin walls of your apartment, where you could hear your mom coughing through the night. from the grocery lists that had more crossed-out items than bought ones. from the part-time job you worked after school and on weekends, where your uniform smelled like espresso and burnt toast.

you told yourself that montserrat academy was a ladder.

get good grades. get out. get a future.

so you kept your head down. kept your notebooks full. tuned out the whispers.

until him.

héctor fort didn’t exist in your world. not really. he was the kind of student who was the school. son of someone important. name whispered like legacy. always surrounded. always laughing. not in a loud, obnoxious way, but in that warm, boy next door in a netflix teen show kind of way.

he played football, well. people wore his number on hoodies, not because they were on the team, but because he was the team. he was in all the sports day photos. he was in the group project that won nationals. he was even in the school tour pamphlet they handed to new families.

and he was everywhere.

in the mornings, leaning against his locker. during lunch, surrounded by people who hung on his every word. after class, headphones around his neck, bouncing a ball against his knee like he couldn’t sit still.

you noticed him because everyone did.

he noticed you, and that was the part you didn’t understand.

it started in october.

you were sitting behind the library, your favorite spot, shaded, quiet, full of soft rustling trees and the hum of faraway conversations you didn’t have to join. you liked being alone there. liked how the sun hit your notebook just right, how your soup thermos kept your hands warm.

you were rereading a chapter for literature class when footsteps crunched the leaves.

you didn’t look up right away. people didn’t usually come back here. but then you heard it, the unmistakable, too calm voice:

‘hey.’

you looked up.

héctor.

you blinked, then instinctively checked behind you, half-expecting him to be talking to someone else.

but there was no one.

just you.

‘is this spot taken?’ he asked, nodding toward the patch of grass near you.

you blinked again. ‘uh… no. it’s not.’

he sat. like it was normal. like it was nothing.

you waited for the joke. for someone to pop out with a camera. you waited to wake up.

but he didn’t say anything else. just pulled out a book, your book, actually. same edition, same dog-eared corner you had in yours. and opened it to where the next chapter started.

silence settled.

you told yourself not to read into it. maybe it was a coincidence. maybe he just liked the quiet too.

the next day, he was there again.

and the next.

by friday, he nodded at you like it was a routine. you didn’t even question it anymore. just shifted your bag to give him space and went back to your reading.

you still didn’t talk much. sometimes he’d point out a line in the book and mumble something about it being clever. sometimes you’d make a quiet joke and he’d laugh softly, like he was trying not to make it a big deal.

it wasn’t flirtation. not yet.

it was something else. something slower. something quieter.

and you didn’t understand it. didn’t know why he was choosing this spot when he had all the tables in the courtyard waiting for him. why he started borrowing your highlighters and returning them with smiley faces drawn on the caps. why he lingered a little longer after the bell rang.

but you didn’t ask.

because it felt… safe. and safe wasn’t something you had very often.

one wednesday, he showed up with two drinks.

‘one’s for you,’ he said, handing you a plastic cup with condensation beading down the sides.

you took it cautiously. ‘what is it?’

‘iced cinnamon oat latte,’ he said. ‘the guy at your café said it’s your usual.’

you stared at him.

he just shrugged, a little too casual. ‘i went there this morning. wanted to see if the pastries were as good as you always say.’

you blinked.

‘you went out of your way just to—’

‘they’re mid, by the way,’ he interrupted, sipping his own drink. ‘but this? this is good.’

you smiled, small and stunned.

and he smiled back, like he’d been waiting to see it.

you didn’t know what this was yet.

it wasn’t a relationship. wasn’t friendship, even, not quite.

but it was something. something soft. something beginning.

and even if you didn’t trust it yet… you were starting to hope.

you didn’t plan on him becoming part of your routine.

he just did.

it was subtle at first. like sunlight stretching across your bedroom floor, there before you really noticed, warm before you could name it. héctor started showing up behind the library before you even got there. sometimes with coffee. sometimes with an apple he’d take one bite out of, then forget to finish. always with that calm sort of presence. that ease you envied.

you learned little things.

he bit the inside of his cheek when he was thinking. he had messy handwriting and made his t’s too tall. he hated when people wasted food. he played with his necklace when he was bored. he smiled with one side of his mouth first, like the other had to catch up.

and he asked questions.

soft, curious ones.

‘what do you wanna do after this?’

you looked up from your book.

‘after school, i mean,’ he added. ‘like… life. what’s the plan?’

you shrugged. ‘go to uni. get a job. something stable. maybe sleep more than four hours a night.’

he laughed gently, but his eyes softened.

‘you don’t wanna dream big?’

you looked down. fiddled with the corner of your page.

‘i think surviving is dreaming big,’ you murmured.

he didn’t say anything right away. just nodded, slow, like he got it.

your classmates started noticing before you did.

you could feel the shift. the way people’s eyes followed you when you passed. the way conversations dropped to whispers when you walked into a room. it was subtle, at first. but it grew.

you weren’t invisible anymore. and it didn’t feel like a compliment.

camila started looking at you like you were a stray cat tracking dirt across her marble floors.

‘you and fort,’ she said one day in the hallway, voice sticky sweet, ‘are you, like… a thing?’

you blinked. ‘we’re friends.’

she laughed like that was the funniest thing in the world.

‘right. just checking.’

you didn’t tell héctor. you didn’t want him to feel like he had to defend you. not when things were still… undefined. you didn’t know what he called you when you weren’t around.

but then he asked.

‘do people ever give you shit?’ he said one afternoon, tossing a leaf in the air and catching it.

you paused. ‘what?’

‘about us hanging out.’

you looked at him, quiet.

he sighed. ‘it’s just, someone said something earlier and it pissed me off. they don’t know you. they don’t get it.’

‘get what?’

he blinked. caught your gaze. then shrugged.

‘you’re cool,’ he said simply. ‘you’re real. i like being around you.’

your heart did something weird and fluttery. you hated how easily he made you want to believe him.

‘well,’ you said, trying to keep your voice level, ‘i’m not really used to people liking me for… anything, so. that’s new.’

he looked at you for a second longer than he needed to.

‘they’re idiots if they don’t.’

your shifts at the café got longer. your manager asked you to cover weekends, and you said yes because your mom’s meds weren’t getting cheaper, and you didn’t know how to say no to survival.

you were tired all the time. your eyes stung during lectures. your back hurt from being on your feet too long.

and one friday, héctor showed up at closing.

you didn’t even look up at first, you were too busy restocking sugar packets.

‘hey, stranger.’

your head jerked toward the voice.

him. in sweats. hair damp from practice. a little out of breath like he’d rushed.

‘what are you doing here?’ you asked, blinking.

‘thought you might need company.’

you blinked again. ‘i… i have to mop.’

he grinned. ‘i’m great with mops.’

he wasn’t. he nearly slipped. twice. but he stayed. made you laugh. and when you locked up at the end of the night, he walked you to the bus stop, hands in his hoodie pockets, shoulders brushing yours.

‘thanks,’ you said softly.

he looked at you.

‘for what?’

‘showing up.’

he didn’t answer.

just nudged your hand with his, like he was asking a question without saying anything.

you let your pinky hook around his.

not quite holding hands. not quite nothing, either.

the next week, he brought you a sandwich during break.

‘you didn’t eat at lunch,’ he said, not even looking up from his phone.

you blinked. ‘how’d you—?’

‘you had your sad soup face,’ he shrugged. ‘figured you were tired of leftovers.’

you stared at the sandwich. it had your favorite cheese. the kind you only got when it was on sale.

‘you didn’t have to—’

‘i know,’ he said, finally glancing at you. ‘but i wanted to.’

and that… that was the beginning of the end.

because wanting you?

that was dangerous.

and you were starting to want him back.

by the time december rolled around, everything felt different.

you still woke up early. still packed your brother’s lunch. still worked weekends, still walked to school half-asleep with a thermos in your hands and a hoodie pulled over your ears.

but something in your chest had shifted.

it was the way you checked your phone before anything else, looking for a good morning text with a dumb emoji that never matched the mood. it was the way you stopped bringing soup because héctor always showed up with something better. it was the way his hoodie lived in your backpack now, just in case you needed it.

it was the way he’d learned to say your name like it was something soft.

and the way you stopped flinching when he did.

it was slow, so slow. every step of whatever this was. like he was giving you space to run, even though you didn’t want to anymore.

you hadn’t called it love yet.

not out loud.

but sometimes, when he leaned his head on your shoulder behind the library, when he handed you a drink with your name spelled right and a heart beside it, when he tied your shoe without saying a word and then stood up like it was nothing, you thought, maybe.

maybe.

the first time he asked you to come over, you panicked a little.

‘just a few of us,’ he said, fiddling with the ring on his finger. ‘nothing fancy. we’re watching the barça match. i’ll save you a spot on the couch.’

you hesitated.

you knew what his friends thought of you. knew the names they didn’t say to your face. knew you weren’t the kind of girl they invited to anything.

but you showed up anyway.

your jeans were the only pair you owned without a hole. your hair was in its neatest braid. you brought a bag of chips that cost more than they should have, but you didn’t want to come empty handed.

his house was everything you expected, clean, modern, a little too big for a family of three. his mom smiled politely, offered you juice. his friends barely looked at you.

except camila.

she smiled with teeth. leaned too close to héctor. made comments that danced on the edge of insults, just sharp enough to sting.

but héctor didn’t let you drift.

he kept his knee pressed against yours. he explained the game when you looked confused. he handed you a blanket when it got cold, and when the match ended and his friends were getting ready to leave, he pulled you aside.

‘you okay?’ he asked.

you nodded. too quickly.

he watched you.

‘you don’t have to pretend around me,’ he said, voice low. ‘i notice things too.’

you bit your lip.

‘i’m fine,’ you said. ‘they just… think you could do better.’

his brows pinched, jaw tightening.

‘no,’ he said. ‘they don’t get you. big difference.’

you looked up at him.

he stepped closer.

‘you’re the best part of my day,’ he whispered. ‘they can choke on their opinions.’

you laughed. you couldn’t help it. it burst out, messy and real.

and he looked so pleased with himself.

christmas break was colder than usual.

you worked doubles. your mom’s medicine ran out and insurance wouldn’t cover the new one. the heating in your apartment went out for three days, and you slept in the same bed as your brother, layered in sweatshirts.

you didn’t tell héctor. he was spending the holidays in menorca with his cousins, sending you photos of the beach and dumb santa filters on his face.

you didn’t want to ruin that with your problems.

he texted you the night before new year’s.

hey. can i see you tomorrow? like… actually see you?

you said yes, of course.

he showed up at your building at noon, wearing that navy jacket you liked, a bag in one hand and a little grin tugging at his mouth.

you met him outside, hair still damp from your rushed shower, shoes half-tied.

‘i brought snacks,’ he said. ‘and something else.’

you raised a brow.

he held up a small velvet box.

your stomach dipped.

‘don’t freak out,’ he said quickly. ‘it’s not, like, a thing. i just saw it and thought of you. that’s all.’

you opened it slowly.

inside was a necklace, gold, delicate, a tiny star on a fine chain. barely there, but still beautiful. something that caught the light just right.

‘héctor…’

‘you don’t have to wear it,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘i just… you look up at the sky so much, and it made me think of you. that’s dumb, right?’

you shook your head.

‘no. it’s not dumb.’

he reached out, slow.

‘can i…?’

you nodded.

he fastened it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. you held your breath.

and when he stepped back to look at you, his eyes softened.

‘perfect,’ he said.

you didn’t cry. not then.

but something shifted inside you. something quiet and seismic.

you wore the necklace every day after that.

under your uniform, tucked into your sweater at work. even to sleep. you touched it when you were anxious. let your fingers find the tiny star when you missed him.

you felt… seen.

loved, maybe.

but nothing good stays untouched for long.

camila noticed the necklace two days after school started again.

‘cute,’ she said, twisting her lip. ‘real gold?’

you didn’t answer.

she smirked.

‘must be nice, having a boyfriend with a black card. you’re really playing the long game, huh?’

you froze.

‘what’s that supposed to mean?’

she shrugged. ‘just saying. not everyone gets a promotion from barista to princess without putting in work.’

you walked away before your hands could shake.

you didn’t tell héctor.

again.

but you should’ve.

because you were about to need him more than ever.

the first time he said it, i love you, it wasn’t planned.

no candles, no build-up, no carefully picked moment.

it was raining. you were curled up on his bed, wearing his hoodie, socks mismatched. you were both tired, he had practice all morning, you had two shifts back to back, and your eyes kept fluttering shut during the movie playing in the background.

he turned toward you, head on his arm, eyes soft.

you didn’t even notice right away. not until he said it again, this time quieter. slower. more certain.

‘i love you.’

your breath caught.

he didn’t rush to fill the silence. he didn’t take it back or explain it away. just watched you with that look. the one that made you feel like the world wasn’t spinning so fast. like maybe you could stop running and rest for a minute.

you didn’t say it back right away.

you blinked, heart thudding in your chest, and whispered, ‘why?’

he smiled, small, real, almost sad.

‘because you still show up, even when everything tries to tell you not to.’

your throat burned. your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie. your eyes stung.

and when you finally said it, i love you too, his shoulders dropped like he’d been holding that breath for weeks.

he didn’t kiss you. not right away.

he just pulled you closer. held you like you were something breakable and sacred at the same time.

like he knew you hadn’t been held like that in a long time.

after that, things got easier.

he called you more. waited outside the café when your shifts ran late. sent you dumb tiktoks and notes in your locker. sometimes he showed up at your place with dinner, stuff your mom liked, stuff your brother would actually eat.

he never made it a big deal.

never made you feel small about needing help.

never made it feel like charity.

just said, you’d do the same for me.

you fell for him a little more every time he said stuff like that.

he called you star girl sometimes. said the necklace made you look like you were born under something magic.

you rolled your eyes at him, but you never took it off.

not even once.

one night, after your shift, you both sat in his car in the parking lot. your feet were killing you, your voice was hoarse, and your eyes burned from staying open too long.

he reached over, took your hand.

‘come away with me this summer,’ he said.

you blinked. ‘what?’

‘somewhere quiet. no pressure. no uniforms. just you and me and maybe the sea.’

you laughed. ‘and how would we afford that?’

‘i’ll figure it out.’

‘you say that like it’s easy.’

he looked at you, serious now. steady.

‘i say it like i want you there. and when i want something, i make it happen.’

you looked away.

no one had ever made room for you like that before. not in plans. not in futures.

you squeezed his hand.

‘okay,’ you whispered. ‘just you and me and the sea.’

he smiled, wide. like you’d given him the world.

you started dreaming again.

tiny dreams.

less tired. more time. a quiet apartment with bookshelves. a degree with your name on it. dinner that wasn’t just toast or soup. a boy with brown eyes and soft hands waiting at the end of every day.

you let yourself believe you could have that.

you let yourself feel safe.

loved.

wanted.

just long enough for it to really hurt when it was taken away.

you noticed the change before it happened.

it started in the eyes. the way he looked at you.

less soft. less sure. less warm.

just for a moment, maybe two. but you felt it. deep, right between your ribs.

you brushed it off at first.

maybe he was tired. school, training, everything piling up. you told yourself you were being paranoid. that old voice in your head, the one that used to whisper they don’t stay, was lying again.

but then the texts got shorter. the calls went unanswered. the lunch spot behind the library sat cold and empty for three days in a row.

and then… the whispering started again.

it was different this time. sharper. louder. less subtle.

someone knew.

you caught it in the hallway.

‘heard she sold the necklace.’

‘seriously? damn. i knew she was in it for the money.’

‘poor thing’s gotta pay rent somehow, i guess.’

your blood ran cold.

you didn’t say anything. didn’t ask. didn’t confront.

you waited for him to bring it up.

but he didn’t.

not until the fourth night you waited for him after your shift, in the freezing cold, with your fingers numb and your chest tight and your backpack too heavy.

his car pulled up late.

he didn’t smile when he saw you.

you slid into the seat, heart already racing. he didn’t kiss your cheek. he didn’t say hey, star girl.

he just drove. quiet. stiff. hands clenched on the wheel.

you didn’t ask until you were two turns away from your apartment.

‘did something happen?’

he didn’t answer right away.

just exhaled. sharp. through his nose.

and then—

‘i heard you pawned it.’

your heart dropped.

‘what?’

‘the necklace.’

your voice cracked. ‘what are you talking about?’

‘camila said—’

‘camila?’ you cut in. ‘you’re listening to camila?’

his jaw tightened. ‘she showed me. a friend of hers works at the shop downtown. said you came in last week.’

your mouth went dry.

you opened it. closed it. opened it again.

because it was true. you had gone. but not to sell it. not to pawn it. you wanted to ask if they could hold it. just in case. if things got worse.

you didn’t do it. you couldn’t.

you still wore it. every day. tucked under your uniform. over your heart.

‘i didn’t sell it,’ you whispered.

he didn’t look at you.

‘you really think i’m using you?’ your voice trembled.

‘i don’t know what to think right now.’

‘you think i’m a gold digger?’

he winced at the word, but didn’t deny it.

you blinked, tears building fast, throat closing.

‘i helped pay for my mom’s medication last week,’ you said, voice barely a breath. ‘we ran out. the insurance wouldn’t cover the new one. she was in pain, héctor. i didn’t tell you because i didn’t wanna make you feel like you had to fix it. because i know you’re not a bank. you’re a person. the person i—’

your voice cracked.

‘—i loved.’

his face crumpled for half a second. but he turned away. again.

‘you should’ve told me,’ he said quietly.

you laughed, a bitter, wet sound.

‘and you should’ve believed me.’

silence.

you looked out the window. hand pressed flat over your chest, where the necklace sat, cold against your skin.

‘pull over,’ you whispered.

‘what?’

‘pull over.’

he did.

you stepped out. shut the door before he could say anything else. started walking.

and he let you go.

you didn’t cry when you got home.

you didn’t cry when your mom asked if you were okay, or when your brother offered you the last piece of bread from dinner.

you cried when you got to your room. when you closed the door. when you sat on your floor, in the dark, and finally unclasped the necklace and held it in your hand.

it glowed a little in the streetlight from your window.

a gift. a promise. a lie?

you didn’t know anymore.

you stopped answering his texts.

you couldn’t look at him in the halls. didn’t go behind the library. didn’t walk past his locker.

he tried. once.

‘can we talk?’

you shook your head. didn’t trust your voice.

he nodded. stepped back.

but he looked wrecked.

and you hated that part of you still wanted to run to him. still wanted him to take it back. to say he was sorry. to say i believe you.

but he didn’t.

not yet.

so you stayed quiet.

and tired.

and alone.

the first night he didn’t come to find you, you couldn’t breathe.

he didn’t text you. didn’t leave a voicemail. didn’t even try to look for you after school. you spent the whole night trying to tell yourself it wasn’t personal. maybe he needed time. maybe he was too ashamed. maybe he just didn’t know what to say.

but the silence echoed. louder than any apology. louder than anything he could’ve said.

you tried to distract yourself. books, homework, scrolling through your phone as if it could ease the ache gnawing at your chest. but nothing worked. nothing could fill the space he left behind.

you found yourself wishing you’d never said it. wishing you could take back those words, the ones that shatteredeverything. wishing that maybe, just maybe, if you had just stayed quiet, everything would’ve been okay.

but you couldn’t go back.

and in the silence, it became real. this wasn’t a misunderstanding. this wasn’t just a fight. this was something bigger. something that felt too heavy to carry.

the pain, his pain, stuck to your ribs. suffocated you. not from the words he said, but from the words he didn’t say.

he never even tried to fix it.

the next day, he didn’t try to find you. he didn’t come to your locker, didn’t sit beside you in class. he walked past you in the hallway, his gaze drifting somewhere else, anywhere but toward you.

it stung. the cold indifference. the way he looked like you weren’t even worth a glance anymore. like you were just another girl he used to care about.

he didn't apologize. he didn’t even see you.

he just, walked away.

and you hated yourself for still feeling something.

you tried to keep your distance. tried to push him out of your thoughts. out of your heart. but no matter how many times you told yourself you were better off, you couldn’t shake the image of his eyes. the way they softened when they looked at you. the way he’d whispered “i love you” like he’d meant it.

but that was before.

now, all you had were the remnants of the promises he’d made.

the necklace. the plans. the quiet moments. the love you thought you had.

and it hurt. oh god, it hurt more than you thought anything could.

you kept walking. kept working. kept pretending that it was okay, that you were okay. but every step felt like a betrayal of the love you had given him. the love you’d believed in.

that night, after another shift, you barely made it home before your mom noticed.

‘you look terrible,’ she said. ‘how’s your day?’

you didn’t answer right away. just slid off your jacket and put it on the chair. sat down at the kitchen table.

‘work’s fine,’ you said, your voice shaking despite the effort to sound normal. ‘it’s fine.’

but she wasn’t fooled.

she sat across from you, her eyes narrowing. ‘you know you can talk to me, right?’

you nodded. but the words were stuck in your throat. the words that needed to come out wouldn’t.

because they weren’t just about a fight.

it was about everything.

you stayed quiet. stared down at the table, where the unfinished bowl of soup from earlier sat cold.

‘does he love you, honey?’ she asked, her voice soft, gentle. like she already knew.

the question hit you like a punch to the gut. does he?

you thought you knew the answer.

you thought he did.

but now? it felt like that love had been a fragile illusion.

‘i don’t know,’ you whispered, voice breaking. ‘i really thought he did, mom. i really did.’

the next day, he still didn’t talk to you.

but she did.

camila. the girl who had spread the rumors. the one who’d whispered about you being a gold digger. the one who had poisoned his mind with lies.

she smiled at you like nothing had happened. like she hadn’t been the one to rip the love you had apart with her venomous words.

‘hey,’ she said sweetly, leaning against the lockers like she owned the space. ‘still hanging around him? thought you’d know by now. boys like him don’t stay with girls like you. they never do.’

you didn’t respond. couldn’t.

your stomach twisted, but you didn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing you break.

you could feel her eyes on you as you walked away, but you didn’t turn around. you didn’t let her win.

by the time the final bell rang, the weight of the day crushed down on you. the world felt like it was closing in. your chest ached with every breath, your heart heavy, suffocating in the grief you couldn’t shake.

when you got to your locker to grab your things, you found something unexpected.

a small envelope, tucked into the corner of your books.

your hands shook as you opened it. and there, inside, was a note.

it wasn’t from him.

it wasn’t even signed.

just words, scrawled quickly. desperate.

he's sorry. he doesn’t know what to do. he needs you.

you stared at it. your vision blurred, and the sting in your chest deepened.

he needs you. but where was he? where was his apology? where was the man who promised to never leave?

he hadn’t even fought for you.

and the truth cut deeper than anything else.

he was still the same. still too afraid to face the mess he’d made. too scared to fix what was broken between you.

he had let you walk away. had let her win. let her voice drown out his love for you.

you couldn’t stay anymore.

not for him. not for this.

you folded the note carefully and shoved it into your bag. you walked out of the school, the weight of everything pressing on your chest, and didn’t look back.

that night, after another endless shift, you found him waiting for you. he was standing at the end of the street, hands shoved deep in his pockets. eyes wide, searching.

you didn’t stop.

you couldn’t.

and when you walked past him, you heard his voice crack.

‘i love you.’

you didn’t turn around. didn’t say anything. didn’t stop walking.

because love wasn’t enough anymore.

he didn’t sleep that night. couldn’t.

his phone was on his desk, buzzing with texts from friends, but he didn’t care. nothing mattered except the silence between you two. that’s all he could hear now. nothing but the deafening silence, thick with everything he hadn’t said, everything he should’ve said.

he thought about all the moments he could’ve fixed it. all the times he could’ve walked up to you and held you, apologized, and told you the truth. but no. he let his pride get in the way. let his insecurities shape his decisions. and now he was paying for it.

he sat up in his bed, staring at the wall, replaying the fight. hearing your voice break when you said, “you think I’m a gold digger?” like a knife to his chest. he couldn’t shake it.

he thought about all the things you must’ve gone through. about your mom needing medicine. about the struggles you were fighting on your own. and he had been too selfish to see it. too blind to see that you weren’t asking for anything from him except love.

the doorbell rang early in the morning, dragging him from his thoughts. he wasn’t surprised when he saw his mom standing there, her arms crossed, her face full of concern.

‘you look like shit,’ she said bluntly, walking in without waiting for an invitation. ‘what happened?’

‘i fucked up,’ he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. ‘big time.’

‘what’d you do?’ she asked, her voice softer now.

he shook his head, not sure he could explain it. not sure he could tell her that he’d messed up the best thing in his life, that he’d pushed away the only person who had ever really cared about him, really cared.

‘i hurt her,’ he said simply. ‘i hurt the one person who was real with me. and now she’s gone.’

his mom sighed and sat down beside him. ‘i don’t know what you want me to say, Hector. but you can’t change it unless you show her you care. unless you prove that you’re willing to fight for her. words are cheap, son. you’ve got to show her you mean it.’

he swallowed thickly. ‘but what if she doesn’t want to fight for me anymore? what if she’s just... done with me?’

‘then you’ll live with that,’ she said, looking him dead in the eye. ‘but you’ve got to at least try. she’s not a game you can just walk away from. she’s a person. and you’ve got to show her that you see her as that. if you love her, you’ll fight for her, no matter what.’

he nodded, but the weight of the reality set in. could he fix this? or had he already ruined everything beyond repair?

the next day at school was just as empty as the night before. he walked through the halls, trying to act like everything was fine. but every glance, every whisper, reminded him of the mess he’d made. his friends were quieter around him, his old group of popular kids acting like nothing had happened. but he knew better. they weren’t the ones he was fighting for.

he wasn’t even sure they cared about him anymore.

and then he saw you.

you weren’t looking at him. you never looked at him anymore.

you were with your friends, sitting by the lockers, talking quietly, like you didn’t even notice him across the hallway. and he couldn’t help but watch. watch how you smiled at them. how easy it seemed for you to laugh with them, like the last few weeks hadn’t existed. like you hadn’t been in love with him.

but he knew. He knew the truth, and it ate him alive.

his phone buzzed in his pocket. a text from his best friend: ‘yo, you good?’

he didn’t answer.

he couldn’t.

he knew if he answered, it’d be a lie. because he wasn’t good. he wasn’t even close to good.

he was broken. and it was all his fault.

you had to leave early that day. your mom had called, telling you she couldn’t pick up her prescription, and the pharmacy wouldn’t hold it any longer.

you didn’t want to be there. didn’t want to be anywhere near that school, near him. near the empty spaces where his words used to live.

the walk home was long. longer than it usually felt. with each step, you felt the weight of everything. everything that had happened, everything that was falling apart, and everything you had tried so hard to hold together.

and as you walked, you realized something: you missed him. you missed him so fucking much.

you hated yourself for it. because he hadn’t fought for you. he hadn’t cared enough to look for you. to hold you and make it right.

and yet, you were still here, still aching for him, still wondering if things could go back to the way they were before everything fell apart.

the whole situation made you sick. it made you feel small and foolish.

you needed to take a breath. you needed to move on. but every time you told yourself that, you could still feel him. feel his presence, his touch, his words, lingering like a ghost you couldn’t shake.

he didn’t wait long after you left.

he caught up with you on your way home. when you saw him in the distance, you stopped in your tracks, trying to pretend you didn’t feel the same pang in your chest as he got closer.

he was panting, out of breath, his eyes wild like he’d been searching for you for hours.

‘please... talk to me,’ he begged. ‘i can’t just let you walk away from me. not like this.’

you swallowed hard, eyes burning. ‘you already did. you walked away first.’

his hand reached for yours, but you pulled back, too hurt to let him in.

‘i didn’t mean it,’ he said, voice raw, desperate. ‘please. i’m so fucking sorry. you have no idea how much i regret listening to them. to camila... to everyone. i’ve been an idiot. i was scared, okay? i didn’t think someone like you would ever love someone like me. i thought—’

‘you thought what?’ you interrupted, voice trembling. ‘that i was just after your money? that i was just another girl who wanted a piece of your life?’

he winced at the accusation, guilt washing over his face.

‘i’m sorry. i didn’t think. i should’ve trusted you. but i was just so scared that i wasn’t good enough for you. i was scared of losing everything, and i let that fear take over. i let it make me do things i’m not proud of.’

you stood there, feeling like you were holding onto something that was slipping through your fingers.

‘you shouldn’t have been scared,’ you whispered. ‘you should’ve trusted me.’

he nodded, tears gathering in his eyes. ‘i know. i was stupid. but please... please don’t walk away from me. i love you. and i can’t lose you.’

for the first time in days, you met his eyes, and for the first time in days, you felt the faintest trace of something, maybe hope. maybe, just maybe, he still meant it.

but for now, it wasn’t enough.

he didn’t text you after that night.

you didn’t text him either.

and the world stayed still for a while.

it wasn’t silence the way it had been before, cold and final. this was different. quieter, softer. like the space between two people holding their breath, unsure if they’re falling apart or falling back together.

you were tired. tired in a way that sleep couldn’t fix. tired of hoping, of second-guessing, of giving and not knowing what you’d get back.

you still showed up to school. you still worked both jobs. still helped your mom with everything she needed. still carried the weight of a life no one at school ever saw.

and he noticed.

he saw the way your uniform wrinkled more now, like you didn’t have time to care. he saw the dark circles under your eyes. saw the way you zoned out in class, like your body was there but your mind wasn’t. he saw all of it. and it killed him.

because he knew that pain. knew he had a part in it.

and even worse, he knew you wouldn’t let him help anymore.

it was a week after he’d found you on that street when you saw each other again. not just passing glances or accidental run ins. this time, it was real.

you were sitting in the back of the library, curled into a hoodie three sizes too big, your head in your arms, notebook half-filled with messy equations and tired handwriting.

you didn’t hear him approach.

‘you’re gonna burn out,’ he said quietly.

you looked up, blinking slowly. ‘already have.’

he sat down across from you like it was the most natural thing in the world. no drama. no begging. just silence and the low hum of pages turning around you.

‘i’m not here to fix anything,’ he said after a beat. ‘i know i don’t have the right. but i just wanted to sit with you. if you’ll let me.’

you didn’t answer right away.

you should’ve said no. told him to leave. told him that he lost his chance.

but the truth was, you missed him. and you were tired of pretending that you didn’t.

so you shrugged.

‘it’s a free country.’

and he smiled. just barely. just enough to let hope breathe again.

you didn’t talk much that afternoon. he watched you scribble notes. you watched him flip through a textbook he wasn’t really reading. every so often, your knees would bump under the table, and neither of you pulled away.

it was stupid how natural it still felt. how easy it was to fall back into rhythm, even with all the cracks between you.

but neither of you brought up the fight.

not yet.

it was too soon. the wound was still fresh. and you both knew that healing would take more than one soft moment in the library.

still... it was a start.

later that week, he found you in the cafeteria, sitting alone, a half eaten sandwich beside your notebook. your head was resting against your hand, eyes barely open.

he didn’t say anything. just slid into the seat beside you and offered his water bottle.

you took it without a word, too tired to argue, too drained to push him away again.

‘you’re not sleeping,’ he said gently.

you gave him a look. ‘gee, wonder why.’

he looked down, ashamed. ‘i deserve that.’

‘you deserve worse,’ you muttered, but your voice lacked the venom it once had.

he nodded. ‘i know.’

a pause.

and then, softly, too soft:

‘i don’t expect you to forgive me. not yet. maybe not ever. but i just want to show up. for you. however you’ll let me.’

you stared at him for a long moment. longer than you meant to.

‘you can sit,’ you said finally, nodding at the chair across from you. ‘but that’s all. don’t expect anything more.’

he nodded. and he stayed.

and just like that, he became part of your orbit again.

not your boyfriend. not your enemy. just… there.

he started walking you to your classes, just a few steps behind, never pushing. he offered you his jacket when it rained. he kept his distance when you needed space. and sometimes, he didn’t say anything at all.

but he was there.

and that meant something.

not everything. not yet. but something.

because you were still healing.

and healing doesn’t happen in grand gestures or perfect apologies.

sometimes, it’s just someone showing up. again and again. until the silence doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

he knew he had no right to ask for more.

he was lucky you even let him sit beside you. lucky you didn’t spit his name like poison anymore. lucky you didn’t flinch when his hand brushed yours by accident.

he was still tiptoeing around your pain. still watching you fold into yourself every time the world got too loud. still noticing the little things, how you wore the same three hoodies on rotation, how you never touched the food in the cafeteria anymore, how your phone always had a message draft open but never sent.

you were hanging on by threads. and he hated that he used to be one of them, and then chose to cut himself loose.

so he didn’t push. he didn’t beg. he stayed in the quiet with you.

and he noticed things again. like how you never showed up to first period anymore. how you’d started asking to borrow pens because you kept forgetting your own. how your eyes glazed over in the middle of conversations, like your brain just... shut off sometimes.

he asked around, lowkey. your teachers were frustrated. your friends were worried. the front office said you’d been absent a lot.

he didn’t ask why. he already knew.

he figured it out when he passed by the corner store one night, walking home after practice, and saw you inside, half asleep behind the counter, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, eyes barely open. it was past ten.

his heart sank.

he stood there outside the glass door for a while, just watching you ring up a woman’s groceries, nodding politely, smiling weakly. it wasn’t your real smile. it was your i don’t have the energy to exist smile. and he felt like shit for knowing it.

when he finally came in, the bell above the door jingled, and you didn’t even look up.

‘i’m clocking out soon,’ you mumbled, automatically, voice tired and soft.

‘not here to shop,’ he said gently.

your head jerked up like you’d been shocked. and your eyes met his. and you just blinked, like your brain was short-circuiting.

‘why are you here,’ you asked, voice flat.

‘i was walking home,’ he said. ‘and saw you.’

you didn’t answer. just turned back to the register, scanned a pack of gum for a teenager with headphones in.

‘do you always work this late?’ he asked quietly.

you didn’t look at him. didn’t need to.

‘someone has to pay the bills.’

he nodded slowly, like the guilt in his stomach hadn’t just quadrupled.

‘i didn’t know.’

‘you didn’t ask,’ you said simply.

and that hurt worse than if you’d yelled.

when your shift ended, you didn’t expect him to still be there. but he was, leaning against the wall near the exit, arms crossed, eyes soft.

‘you really don’t have to do this,’ you muttered, walking past him.

‘i know,’ he said, falling into step beside you. ‘but i want to.’

you sighed, too tired to argue. and so the two of you walked in silence. your backpack looked heavier than usual. maybe it was. maybe you were just too drained to hide it anymore.

he offered to carry it halfway through.

you said no.

but when your steps started to slow and you winced mid stride, he reached over and took it anyway.

you didn’t stop him.

the walk to your building was quiet, but not uncomfortable. just slow. heavy. like everything between you was still being rebuilt, brick by broken brick.

he paused at your doorstep, holding the bag out to you.

‘i meant it, you know,’ he said.

you looked up.

‘meant what.’

‘when i said i’d show up. no matter what.’

your fingers brushed his when you took the bag back. you didn’t pull away this time.

‘okay,’ you whispered.

just that.

but for him, it was enough to keep going.

because maybe this wasn’t the end. maybe you were still letting him in. inch by inch. breath by breath.

and if there was still space for him, no matter how small, he was gonna stay.

every time.

until you believed he meant it. until you believed you were worth it.

and maybe, just maybe, you’d let him love you again. this time without fear. without conditions. just love.

quiet, steady, and real.

you didn’t mean to fall asleep at school again.

you tried. really. but your eyes had started burning halfway through third period, and your head had gotten heavy, and the warmth of the classroom mixed with the low buzz of the teacher’s voice just… pulled you under. you didn’t even feel it happen.

you woke up to the principal’s voice.

he was standing over you, your name tight in his mouth, like he’d said it more than once. your classmates were staring. the room was too quiet. your face was warm with embarrassment, but your limbs were heavier than shame.

you mumbled an apology and tried to blink yourself back to life, but your head still felt like it was filled with fog. your teacher looked guilty. the principal looked frustrated. and you just felt small.

he asked you to come with him.

you didn’t say anything. you just stood.

you sat across from him in his office, hands in your lap, hoodie sleeves tugged down past your knuckles. you’d been here before. when your absences started stacking. when your grades slipped. when someone reported that you were always nodding off, always running late, always “not quite here.”

he didn’t yell. he wasn’t cruel. he just sighed.

‘this isn’t sustainable,’ he said gently. ‘you’re clearly overwhelmed. your teachers are worried. you’ve changed, and not in the way we like seeing.’

you nodded slowly, unable to argue. because it was true.

‘is everything okay at home?’ he asked.

you hesitated, then nodded again. even though the truth was, not really. but what could he do? what could anyone do?

‘i’m just tired,’ you whispered. ‘that’s all.’

his frown deepened.

you left with a warning and a pass to go lie down in the nurse’s office. you didn’t go. you just sat on the steps outside the building, elbows on your knees, forehead resting on your arms.

you didn’t cry.

not because it didn’t hurt.

but because you didn’t even have the energy to.

hector found you like that.

he was supposed to be at practice. he left early. said he had a stomach ache. he didn’t. he just had a feeling. a gut-wrenching, aching sort of feeling that he needed to find you.

he spotted you from across the quad, folded up into yourself, hair falling forward, body still.

his chest cracked open.

he crossed the space between you like it was instinct. like his legs moved before his brain could catch up.

he sat beside you without asking.

you didn’t look up.

‘i heard,’ he said softly. ‘what happened.’

your voice was barely there. ‘did the whole school?’

‘doesn’t matter.’

you exhaled shakily, but didn’t speak.

‘you wanna talk about it?’

you shook your head.

so he didn’t push.

you sat like that for a while, him beside you, you folded in two, the sky slowly shifting above.

then, out of nowhere, you whispered, ‘i’m trying.’

he turned to you.

‘i know.’

‘i’m trying so hard, hector. and i just… i’m so tired of trying. and still getting nowhere.’

his throat tightened. ‘i see you. i see all of it.’

‘no you don’t,’ you said, finally looking at him, eyes rimmed red. ‘no one does. they all think i’m lazy, or ungrateful, or not trying hard enough. but i’m doing everything. i’m keeping my mom alive, and i’m paying rent, and i’m working every shift they give me, and i’m still failing everything and—’

your voice cracked.

‘—and i don’t know what else to do.’

he didn’t hesitate. he pulled you into him, arms wrapping around you like he’d wanted to since the first moment he messed up.

and you didn’t fight it.

you just sank into him, into the warmth of him, into the steady heartbeat under his hoodie. and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself fall.

‘i’m so sorry,’ he whispered into your hair. ‘for every second you had to feel alone.’

you didn’t say anything.

but your fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeve like you didn’t want to let go.

he didn’t leave your side after that.

not for a second.

he helped you with your homework that night. sat beside you on the floor of your living room while your mom rested in the next room. he watched you write your essays, helped quiz you for math, brought you coffee even though you told him not to.

he didn’t care.

he was there.

he texted you in the morning to make sure you woke up. met you outside your first class with breakfast in a paper bag. walked you to work after school. waited outside until your shift ended.

you kept telling him you didn’t need saving.

he kept telling you he wasn’t trying to save you. he just wanted to love you right this time.

and little by little, piece by piece, you started to believe him.

because love doesn’t always come in grand gestures or perfect words.

sometimes it shows up late, with shaking hands and tired hearts.

sometimes it’s soft and quiet and steady.

sometimes, it’s him, carrying your backpack without asking, walking you home in the rain, whispering that he’s proud of you when you finish your homework even though your eyes won’t stay open.

sometimes, love is just showing up.

and this time, he was here to stay.