Ferran Torres ¹¹

Ferran had returned from PSG with the idea of ​​getting Pedri back, although the closer the moment of seeing him got, the less sure he was that it was possible.

The first time he saw him in months was from across the hall. Pedri was with Anthony Gordon, laughing at something Anthony had said. Ferran didn't just see that they were close. He saw Anthony gently take Pedri's hand for a few seconds. Pedri didn't pull away.

Ferran stared at him longer than he should have. His heart was pounding.

Pedri finally looked up and recognized him. There was no smile or exaggerated surprise. Just a long look, one of those that said so much without needing to speak.

Later, Ferran met with him alone.

He didn't start by apologizing or talking about PSG. He simply stayed by his side for a few seconds, as if he were trying to get used to having him near again.

"It looks good on you," she finally said, pointing to her hair.

Pedri ran a hand over it.

—I didn't know if you were going to tell me that or that I looked like a grandpa.

Ferran smiled.

—I thought about the second thing too.

Pedri let out a laugh and, for a moment, the tension disappeared.

But it didn't last long.

Ferran looked towards the corridor through which Anthony had left.

—Are you okay with him?

Pedri understood perfectly what he meant.

—I'm fine, yes.

He said nothing more.

And Ferran didn't insist either.

That answer was much harder to bear than a simple "yes, we're together".

Because it meant that Pedri was fine without him.