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his eyes were hard and steely; a dark brown instead of their usual golden hazelnut. they were narrowed and seething; full of fury and untamed rage that pedri thought he would never see... and they were looking straight at him. it didn't phase him though, as he was looking at ferran with the same expression twisted on his own features.
pedri could feel the anger bubbling, boiling inside of him; acid curling his stomach and steam coming out of his nose, poison in every word he spits out. there wasn't a single word to describe the sheer intensity of the anger he was feeling - all he knew was that it shook his bones and placed prickling sensations on his skin; that it was directed to none other than ferran in front of him.
the person he loved the most. the one person who loved him the most.
but pedri wasn't thinking of love at that moment - the person in front of him was a stranger. a stranger who wore his boyfriend's face, but not quite right - the boy he loved didn't have that glare on his beautiful features, nor would there be shadows painted in the slopes and crevices of his beautiful face where a bright smile should be. it was an intruder in this boy; someone else taking over him. this wasn't the "ferran torres" pedri loved - the "ferran" who wrapped him up in his sweaters in the winter, the boy who would never walk back to the benches alone and placed soft kisses on his head and looked at him like he was the universe. his universe.
shit, if that was the case, then there was an intruder in pedri's body as well - anger; swimming in his veins and radiating from his every pore. it infiltrated him and left him seething, leaving a dark trail of thoughts and sharp insults in its wake. it was stupid really.
"you've gone quiet."
pedri was so sick of the silence that overcame the two of them whenever they happened to be lucky enough to be in the same room for more than a minute. ferran was always coming and going like the wind, never staying long enough for pedri to say anything more than a hello before he was gone again.
"i'm tired. leave me alone."
and he was tired, pedri knew that; tired of working and practicing, tired of trying to live up to everyone's expectations of him, of his definite greatness even though he tiptoed on a tightrope and knew that failure was just below him. he was tired of having to be in the spotlight and there was only so much a twenty-six-year-old could give until there was nothing left.
"i'm tired too, ferri! i've been dealing with everything myself for so long... can't you see all this space between us?"
but pedri was tired too, tired of working hard in this thing he called a "relationship", tired of having to call him in the early hours to check if he was okay, only to get a half-mumbled reply. tired of having to juggle his own personal problems without him to tell him everything was okay, tired of having to add him to his list of everything that was going wrong in his life. tired of trying too hard and giving in smiles that sucked out everything he had left in this hollow body of his to ferran only to have it all go unnoticed.
"i only see another nagging, demanding person who wants something from me. well, i'm tired of it all, i'm so tired of this."
he didn't have to say it, but they both knew what he meant to include.
"i'm so tired of you."
and that unspoken sentence clicked something inside of him. a switch that he had been holding down for so long - ever since ferran had stopped paying attention to him as much. ever since he slowly stopped caring about him, stopped noticing him, stopped trying in this relationship. ever since he stopped loving him.
and those unspoken words clicked on that switch that he had been struggling to keep down, and suddenly all his hurt and anger and sadness and pain and rage came flooding out of the traps he had so heavily guarded in his heart.
"you're tired of me? well then i'm fucking exhausted with you. all you ever do is act like you don't even care and ignore me!"
it was silly and childish. pedri should've worded it better or never said it at all, but the cage that he had built for his turbulent emotions was gone and he was feeling every punch of pain and loneliness, every kick of anger and rage bubbling inside of him, ready to explode.
"is that all you ever wanted from me? some attention? i'm afraid you can't get everything you want in your life, sweetie. not all of us have the time to bow down to your glory, sorry."
ferran's lips curl up into a sneer, and the previous tiredness in his eyes faded as anger started to seep in.
"i'm so sick of putting my everything into this relationship when you clearly don't give a shit."
pedri's body was rigid, his eyes starting to narrow into a glare.
"i'm so sick of you jumping on my back for five seconds i'm not looking at you."
ferran lit a fuse with that, a ticking bomb inside of him that he didn't know existed.
pedri was so furious at him - he put so much effort into his relationship, in making sure ferran was happy, he was cared for, making sure he was supported and knew he was loved. pedri stood back when ferran needed him to and stayed loyal to him throughout it all. pedri endured his work schedule and his annoying little habits, all the tired excuses and lack of dates, the separation and distance. he loved him but here ferran was, claiming that pedri was too much.
hijoputa.
ferran had lit the fuse to a bomb inside of pedri - a bomb of anger and tiredness and frustration and lack of love - and he was ready to detonate in seconds.
their firm words turned into sentences that ended in blades, then became phrases meant to do the same damage as a punch, and soon enough, their words turned into a rapid fire of bullets from their mouths; words darting back and forth, like the ball managing to travel across the field, but never actually scoring a goal.
and before they knew it, they became short-fused bombs that went off every other second, spitting out insults and yelling at each other - sentences exploding with every syllable.
it was a battlefield, and it didn't matter who won.
pedri broke with every angry comment ferran said to his face, rebuilding himself just in time to explode again, making sure he caught him in the crossfire.
ferran loomed over him, not like a solid wall of security and comfort like he usually was - ferran loomed over pedri like a shadow of darkness, making it all too easy to see all the cracks and fractures in the boy he loved.
pedri was waving his hands, yelling at ferran as their volumes increased into a full-blown screaming match. his voice was starting to scratch and he could tell ferran's was doing the same, but it stopped neither of them from spitting out another bitter phrase, another angry comment, another hurtful insult.
pedri could feel the bitter tears forming in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. he refused to show any sign of weakness in the midst of the war. no, he would not let himself be the fragile one anymore. he could barely keep up with what he was saying; his anger coming in spurts and hisses, ferran's doing the same. he heard his words and he threw them back at him, though many of them stayed embedded in pedri's heart like knives.
"clingy. stuck up. brat. insensitive. intolerable. thoughtless. selfish. needy."
pedri dished out his own knives too, in hopes they'll cut deeper than the ones ferran threw at him. of course they hurt. they left him broken and bleeding but pedri was too busy aiming and firing to tend to them. it was easier to throw his knives and bombs than it was to admit how shattered he was. to admit that he was just fragments of a lonely, hurt boy and start the slow, agonizing process of fixing what was left behind.
it was always easier to destroy than it was to rebuild.
pedri wasn't sure how long they'd been fighting for - it could've been a minute, an hour, a decade - all his negativity was pouring out and soon he'd be left breathless, empty, and broken. his face was red from rage, panting from breathlessness when he glared at ferran, his cheeks equally as tinted and chest heaving.
"i'm done. with this. all of this. i'm done with you, ferran."
he spat those words out, putting his last traces of malice into every syllable.
he's dismayed to hear the crack in his words, the shaking tremor in his voice, but what's done is done and he couldn't take his words back - he wouldn't, not when so many of ferran's words were shards of broken glass stabbed into his heart, just seconds away from crumbling what was left of him from the war.
pedri knew he had to get out of there before he fell into pieces right in front of him. he'd come too far; he would not break in front of him. he didn't want to stay in the battlefield any longer, not in that war-torn room with the intruder in the body of the boy that he loved so much.
he had to leave. he had to escape.
pedri turned on his heel and walked the other way, giving ferran one last glower before walking away, forcing himself not to tremble with every step. the fight left him weak, but he wouldn't let him see that.
it was at that moment when two of their fellow teammates ran into the scene: gavi and unai. gavi was completely confused at what had unfolded, saying they heard the commotion from across the building. unai scrambled to give ferran a hug, quiet murmurs pedri didn't care to understand anymore.
gavi gave pedri a confused yet concerned look. he was about to ask what happened, only to be dismissed with a wave as pedri kept walking. he finally started to feel the tears stream down his face the more his heavy feet pressed on the floor. the tears were welling in his eyes and he didn't make a move to brush them away until he was sure he was far enough away from ferran and from gavi, who was still calling for him to come back.
pedri walked outside of their HQ, the fresh, crisp air cooling his red face, his burning anger, the tears in his eyes. he walked around aimlessly, trying to gather himself up again.
deep breaths. blink back the tears. don't think of ferran.
think of the sunset that covers the entire city with a soft orange glow, and how ferran's eyes were the exact same colour as the skies. think of a wide open field and your arms around ferran after scoring a goal. think of the rain falling down in a constant, steady motion and ferran twirling a Barça-themed umbrella above you, leaning down to kiss you, dipping rainwater all over himself.
no. not that. you've got it all wrong.
ay dios, you're not very good at this are you? not very good at loving ferran, even when you were absolutely livid at him? pathetic.
pedri was so lost in his thoughts - his stupid thoughts of ferran and how mad he was at him, for him - so much that he didn't see that the pedestrian walk sign had turned red.
he didn't hear the engines. he didn't see the headlights. he didn't hear the horn until it was too late, his eyes widening as the light came closer at an alarming speed, blinding him like a deer stopped in its tracks.
he felt it though - the metal, aluminum, and steel against his skin and bones and a war-torn heart, colliding with a loud, sick crash that was louder than any stupid argument.
"PEDRI!!!!!!!"
and just like that, pedri was finally knocked down.