Chapter Text
Gavi made the most out of his remaining free time. He went to a tennis match. He posted about it on Instagram. He caught up with Pedri. He filmed a Lies game with Álvaro for Real Madrid’s YouTube channel. He spent time with Jude after training. Three days later, Gavi was back at the Bernabéu. Technically speaking, he wasn’t fully healed. Unlike Trent, who returned to the starting eleven against Rayo Vallecano, Gavi watched most of the game from the bench. He came on the pitch in place of Aurel around the 85th minute. It wasn’t enough time for him to actually do anything notable. The substitution was mostly symbolic. He still celebrated Real Madrid winning 2-0. Gavi returned to his regular training and workout schedule. Sometimes, he stayed with Jude after hours to practice on Valdebebas. Other times, Gavi would have Jude over. They kept their relationship a secret.
Pedri noticed Gavi was starting to enjoy his time in Madrid. Not just him going out to that tennis match. Not just him seeming more relaxed. But the fact that Gavi’s demeanor began to shift. He cracked a smile more easily. He made a couple of jokes during their banter. He talked less about Ana, and more about football. Gavi also learned that Pedri got a couple of days of quality sleep. Almost seven hours. He was happy for his friend. That happiness was short-lived though.
On September 27th, Real Madrid finished 2-2 on Estadi Montilivi against Girona. On September 30th, the team finished 1-1 on San Siro against Inter Milan. The mood in the locker room soured. Madridistas were fuming, and the outpour of online insults, threats, and hate comments became impossible to escape. Every time Gavi opened Instagram, he was recommended a post that found a scapegoat amid Real Madrid players users could target and harass. Every time he opened TikTok, he was recommended a new pundit that would present increasingly preposterous conspiracy theories about Real Madrid’s play.
It was different when he was in Barcelona. The Catalan team dealt with a lot of pressure too, but Gavi couldn’t remember feeling so overwhelmed with the sheer amount of online abuse. Was it because he was too focused on Ana to notice? Were the filters he customized on Instagram so effective? Were Barça captains just less upfront about the struggles they faced? Fede was always open with the team. It was a decision that didn’t fly well with a lot of the Madrid staff.
But Gavi appreciated the honesty and knowing what to expect. In the San Siro locker room, Gavi awaited that hollow look in Fede’s eyes. But this time, they looked less like eyes and more like raw, open wounds that were painful to even blink with. Jude tried in vain to comfort his captain. Fede was in a state of terminal weariness where even a kind word felt like another burden he didn’t have the strength to carry. Aurel’s efforts to sugarcoat matters with the press didn’t make a dent in the public’s opinion. Even Carva facetiming the Uruguayan for an hour didn’t help matters. The next day came the verdict. The board wasn’t at all pleased with their performances. There were already talks. Of Carva wasting the club’s money. Of Franco being replaced by Nico Paz. Of Alonso not being the right manager for them. Of ticket and merchandise sales going down.
As a mere loan, Gavi was pretty much spared the scrutiny. But wasn’t a heartless bastard. Seeing his Real Madrid teammates’ spirits crushed weighed him down. Especially Jude. Beside restricting his food to bland, boring, protein-rich meals, he began disassociating during their training sessions. Gavi recognized that vacant stare, not unlike his own when Ana’s obsession managed to break him. Jude became unable to wind down. Even when he would visit Gavi, Gavi felt the tense muscles when they cuddled. He felt the stiffness in Jude’s jaw when they kissed. And it broke his heart. Just like it broke his heart when Jude admitted he worried how Gavi’s dwindling market value might be impacted by their poor play.
‘I don’t think you came here for this,’ he chuckled sadly as he held Gavi tightly in his arms. They were sprawled on the living room couch trying to watch a movie. Keyword there being trying. Jude’s attention reverted to football with every chance.
‘What do you mean?’ Gavi inquired, confused. He absentmindedly stroked the arm Jude held around Gavi’s waist in soft, soothing motions.
‘You didn’t want to come to Madrid, no?’ There was a hint of sorrow at the words. ‘And now your pay suffers.’
Gavi’s brow furrowed. ‘My pay stays the same as what I had in Barcelona. Oh…’ he realized where Jude was hinting at. ‘You mean my market value. Let me guess, you saw that stupid article.’ Journalists were more than happy to stir shit up.
‘Yes,’ Jude didn’t bother denying. ‘But I’m thinking. You suffer, and you don’t even want to be here. I don’t even know how you are here.’
Gavi scoffed, amused. ‘I think I’m here specifically because I hate Real Madrid. You know your own fans voted for me to be here, no? Well, kinda…’ he thought better of it.
‘What do you mean?’ Jude was puzzled.
‘It was a tie,’ Gavi admitted, the memory still painful. ‘Between me and Pedri. No one wanted to waste time with another round of fans voting, so we voted amongst ourselves who should leave Barcelona.’ He sighed. ‘Pedri and I agreed we’d each vote for ourselves. Basically to let our teammates decide, you know? But he had a change of heart last minute, and voted me off. It was the point that decided I needed to be here.’ He smiled bitterly.
‘What?’ Jude’s voice sounded brittle with disbelief. ‘Why?’
‘He said he wanted me to get a fresh start in Madrid.’ He hesitated briefly. ‘I told you the guys had enough of me and my problem with Ana. They’re not bad people,’ he immediately came to Barcelona’s defence. ‘But after two years of this shit, they were sick and tired. At least I made up with Pedri in the end.’ In the refuge of Jude’s embrace, he could no longer feel hurt at Pedri’s betrayal.
Jude sighed and briefly squeezed Gavi harder against his chest. ‘I’m sorry for you. I like you here, but you don’t deserve bad treatment. And not… uhm… small market value.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Gavi bemoaned. ‘My market value started going down since my surgery.’
‘Like Carva? Injury-prone?’ There was no malicious intent behind the words. No sniggering. Just profound sadness.
But they made Gavi’s spine straighten in an instant, snapping away from Jude’s comforting embrace. A cold shiver ran down his entire body. ‘What the fuck?! You know? Did Fede tell you?’ he blurted, alarmed.
Jude was clearly confused at the outburst, but remained calm. ‘No. Not know.’ He hesitated. ‘I think? I guess? I…’
‘You assume,’ Gavi answered the unspoken question, pulse ringing in his ears.
‘I assume,’ Jude repeated, trying to hide the concern in his voice. ‘Your injuries are very painful. And then Fede fights the board not to force you to play.’
Gavi’s heart sank. So, Fede betrayed him. Not like he wouldn’t have expected it from a Madridista. But it still hurt. He thought the Uruguayan was a man of his word. That he… But if Fede tattled, why hadn’t Barça paid the fine? Why hadn’t Tebas sent men to investigate him? Had Fede kept his promise?
‘What did he say?’ Gavi asked, his voice small.
Jude hummed lost in thought. ‘That you don’t love? No! That you don’t have heart for Madrid? No! Your heart is outside on the pitch,’ he grimaced as he struggled to find the right idiom.
‘My heart’s not in it?’ Gavi tried guessing.
‘Yes!’ Jude exclaimed victoriously. ‘They shouldn’t force you when it comes to Real Madrid.’
Gavi’s mouth flew open while he processed the information. That was possibly the single dumbest thing Fede could have done. ‘Why the fuck would he do that?’ Incredulity gave his voice a distinct airy quality.
Jude shrugged. ‘He wants to be a good leader.’
‘Jude, that was reckless,’ Gavi snapped at the bullshit excuse. ‘Angering the board for me? I’m not even really part of the squad…’
‘You saw the comments, no?’ Jude insisted. ‘They upset Fede very much. He thinks all the time about them. He doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t go out with us. He just tries to be better.’
The words haunted Gavi that night. He dreamt of the Bernabéu. Of angry mobs, dressed in white, aggressively trying to invade the pitch and score. Gavi knew he had to defend the goal. But Thibaut wasn’t there to make his usual saves. And neither was the goal. There was only Fede. Standing there. Completely unresponsive. Catatonic.
Gavi didn’t need another reason to push himself. He wanted things to go back to normal with Jude. For Jude to stop punishing himself. But the revelation that Fede tried to protect him emboldened him further. He hated himself that he grew to care for the Madridistas. But he found with them something he had lost with the Barça squad. He was aware his new teammates would discard him just as easily if they ever found out about Ana. But until then, Gavi enjoyed his time in Madrid. And he would fight for it.
On the Bernabéu, Gavi learned to accept he had Madridistas cheering for him not unlike Culers did. But a particularly well-timed pass to Jude who opened the score against Sevilla caused the fans to roar deafeningly loud. When Jude hugged him in celebration, Gavi finally felt the knot between Jude’s shoulder blades melt away. It was a victory sweeter than the goal. Kylian scored again before the first half-time ended. Romero slotting the ball past Thibaut in the second half-time didn’t discourage them. On the contrary, a great assist from Vini saw Kylian bury the ball into the back of the net again.
The locker room was finally cheery, with everyone happy and relieved at the 3-1 win. Seeing Fede finally give a genuine smile as he hugged Jude was something Gavi never knew he needed to see. Seeing Jude finally pick up a small piece of chocolate Brahim offered made every pain on the pitch worth it. Seeing Alonso relax was nice. After showering, Gavi found Jude chatting with Rodry in the hallway. Jude leaned against the wall, shoulder pressing into the pristine white material. He looked tense again, and it immediately rang alarm bells for Gavi. He tried to act nonchalant.
‘Hey, guys! Either of you need a ride home?’ He hoped his voice didn’t betray his fraying nerves.
‘I’m good, thanks,’ Rodry replied with a smile.
‘I would appreciate it,’ Jude chimed. There was something in his eyes. A subtle warning.
Gavi swallowed hard. As soon as they were both in the privacy of his car, Jude didn’t waste a second.
‘Ana is here,’ he lowered his voice. ‘I’m sorry. I not know before game. She just post picture.’
Gavi already knew what the bad grammar meant. ‘It’s okay,’ he assured Jude, even as his heart began racing and his hands suddenly felt clammy. ‘She posted on Instagram?’ his voice was shaky.
‘Yes. Now.’ Jude pulled out his phone to show him.
It was a selfie of her. And three pictures of Gavi mid-match. One of him focused before he passed to Jude. One of him angry as he fought with Suazo over a tackle. One of him elated as he celebrated their win. The caption was fairly innocuous to the outside world.
anapelayozz Missed @pablogavi’s play… #TooManyAwayMatches
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Was she hinting at the fact that she came to the Bernabéu more often than she posted about it? Did she stop travelling to Barcelona, and came to Madrid instead? He felt a familiar crawling sensation move slowly down his spine, sending a searing chill over each vertebrae. He couldn’t shed away the feeling of being dissected, every blink and exhale monitored and observed.
‘What do you want to do?’ Jude asked softly, clearly reluctant to touch and comfort Gavi.
‘I don’t want to be alone,’ Gavi blurted without thinking. It was a stupid decision. He shouldn’t risk Jude’s privacy. Ana should never, ever find out about his relationship with Jude. But before he could say anything else, he saw Jude fastening his seatbelt.
‘Then, let’s go.’
Gavi should not take advantage of Jude’s benevolence. But he felt just a bit safer driving around aimlessly in Madrid with Jude by his side. They talked about the game. About Fede. About the board. About Alonso. The weather. The stupid music on the radio. Anything but Ana. But time was working against them. They were both tired and it was getting late. Gavi mentally prepared himself to call it a night when Jude surprised him.
‘Do you… would you feel safe if you come to my place? To sleep?’
Gavi felt a prickly sensation behind his eyes at the proposal. It was so thoughtful of him. He felt safer around Jude. But those large windows. The lights Jude had everywhere. The lack of proper curtains. He knew he couldn’t. Not now, with Ana on his trail.
Gavi blinked rapidly and gulped. ‘That’s really sweet of you.’ He took Jude’s hand and brought it to his lips to plant a quick kiss on the knuckles. ‘Thank you. But I can’t…’
‘You don’t feel safe with me?’ He seemed hurt.
‘I do!’ Gavi yelped. ‘You have no idea how much you mean to me. It’s just… I need to be at that house. Where I can tell if she tampered with anything.’
‘Okay,’ Jude nodded.
‘I’m sorry, I swear it’s not because of you. If you’d want to spend the night there, it’d be a different story,’ Gavi desperately tried explaining things to Jude.
‘You want me to sleep at your place?’ Jude asked slowly in a low voice.
Was this an issue with Spanish, or was Jude just dumbfounded at the prospect? ‘I’d love having you there,’ Gavi confirmed immediately. ‘But I don’t want to make you feel awkward. I know it’s not an inviting place.’
‘I don’t like the darkness,’ Jude admitted serenely. ‘But I want you to feel safe.’
‘Jude… you don’t have to,’ he wailed.
‘I come to sleep, no? I don’t need light for that,’ he tried to stifle a yawn.
A sweet ache made Gavi want to smile and sob at the same time. He couldn’t find the words to convey how overwhelmed he felt by Jude’s kindness. He drove to Jude’s home, and waited for him to pack a few personal items. Then he brought Jude to the house. Jude already knew the drill. As soon as they entered inside, he firmly clasped Gavi’s hand, allowing himself to be led through pitch-black darkness. Gavi moved slower, giving Jude time to find the floor beneath his feet. But Jude hesitated once they reached the staircase.
‘Not the living room?’ he asked, voice strained with disbelief.
‘I didn’t invite you here to sleep on the couch. The bed is bigger and more comfortable,’ Gavi explained patiently.
Jude exhaled shakily, but otherwise kept quiet. The ascent was a scary ordeal for him. He prodded every stair with his foot before shifting his weight up. Still clasping his hand, Gavi moved his free arm to support Jude’s back.
‘Only eight stairs left.’
Jude hummed, unable to find his words as he concentrated fully on the task at hand. He let out a long, relieved sigh after he had conquered that obstacle. Gavi led him to the bedroom. They took turns using the bathroom to prepare themselves for bedtime. Jude insisted Gavi be the first one to get ready. As soon as Jude exited the bathroom, Gavi darted to guide Jude to the bed.
But the sudden transition from the bright lights in the bathroom to the pitch dark in the bedroom was disorienting for Jude. In his attempt to grab Gavi for support, Jude’s hand found Gavi’s crotch.
Gavi stiffened, all blood immediately rushing to his groin. ‘That’s my dick,’ he announced awkwardly.
Jude retracted his hand immediately as if he had been burned. ‘Sorry,’ his voice was small with embarrassment.
But the clumsy move ignited a fire within Gavi. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone since Ana ruined his life. But he missed it. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Jude. The tenting in his pajama pants would prove that.
‘Don’t be,’ Gavi said softly and moved to gently wrap his arms around Jude’s waist. Then he timidly reached out to press his lips against Jude’s.
Jude didn’t back away, but he also didn’t deepen the kiss. He pulled Gavi closer, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Gavi was almost beginning to believe Jude was hesitating until he felt Jude’s hard-on poke against his abdomen.
‘Does the dark bother you?’ Gavi asked breathlessly when they pulled away.
‘No, uhm… Do you feel safe?’
‘Yes,’ Gavi answered firmly. ‘With you. And the obscured windows. Yes.’
Jude relaxed. Still firmly clasping Jude’s waist, Gavi began moving backwards, wordlessly inviting the man to the bed. Every time his heels clipped the rug, he pulled Jude closer, their mouths never losing contact. Gavi didn’t need to see where they were going. He had already mentally mapped the house. But Jude fumbled with the hem of Gavi’s pajama shirt. He meekly slid a hand down Gavi’s pants, humming appreciatively when his fingers felt the sticky precum leaking out.
‘I make you like this?’ Jude gasped.
‘Yes,’ Gavi hissed, overwhelmed by the way Jude teasingly trailed a finger over the slit.
Jude’s breath hitched at the sound, curling the fingers of his free hand to pull the pants down. Gavi helped him, casting both sets of fabrics aside with practiced dexterity. Their hands mapped each others’ newly exposed skin hungrily. When the back of Gavi’s knees finally hit the edge of the bed, they sank down together. The mattress dipped under the weight of their butts.
Jude pushed Gavi only briefly. Just enough for him to spit in his palm. He found Gavi’s lips again while his hand slowly worked to coat Gavi’s dick with the saliva. Gavi couldn’t suppress a whine that slipped into Jude’s mouth. The kiss was restless, moving from the curve of a lip to the sharp line of a jaw, then back again with renewed energy. Like they were trying to memorize each other through touch alone in the darkness. But further down, Jude moved his hand up and down, quietly massaging the throbbing cock.
The whole world went quiet as Gavi focused solely on the pleasure. His arms clenched around Jude’s shoulders with a force he wasn’t aware he possessed. He squeezed tightly, like he was desperately trying to merge their bodies together. Jude grunted in discomfort, but his movements didn’t falter.
Gavi forgot about Ana. About Barcelona. Real Madrid. The season. The online abuse. Nothing else mattered at that moment. Only the alluring scent of Jude’s skin. The salt of their sweat. The intoxicating pressure of Jude’s body against his. At that moment, the house felt more like a sanctuary, and less like a trap. In the safety of the pitch-black bedroom, Gavi found something he thought he would never be able to enjoy again.
When Jude picked up the pace, Gavi’s soft moans filled the silence of the room. His senses were on fire to the point that his lips became unresponsive to his commands. So, he pulled away from Jude’s lips and chose to bury his face in the crook of Jude’s shoulder.
‘Jude… Jude…’ he wanted to let Jude know he was close, but the man reduced Gavi to a blabbering mess, unable to form any coherent sentences. His breath caused Jude’s skin to prickle. Gavi felt the goosebumps against his cheek, and somehow that was the thing that brought him over the edge. He came in Jude’s warm fist with a broken gasp.
Jude was still uncomfortable being squeezed so tightly, but he didn’t complain as he let Gavi steady his breathing. As soon as Gavi came about, he eased his death grip. He kept one arm around Jude’s shoulders, while the other found Jude’s hard-on. Gavi languidly ran his finger up and down Jude’s length savoring the little whimpers Jude produced. Jude’s fingers knotted in Gavi’s hair as soon as Gavi began stroking. Their lips met again, movements increasingly frantic as Jude surrendered to the pleasure. He came with a whine that Gavi greedily swallowed.
That night changed something in Gavi. It marked a fear he conquered. Surrendering to another person after Ana instilled paranoia in him. Making love to someone after Ana blurred the lines between intimacy and obsession. He felt safe with Jude. He felt safe inviting the man to his bed. He felt safe the next morning, awakening next to his teammate who moaned after a strong coffee. To the outside world, nothing was different. No one needed to know how Jude made Gavi’s heart swell with adoration.
Three days later, they gathered to celebrate Trent’s birthday. Gavi no longer felt like an outsider to Real Madrid’s parties. He was confident in the designer jacket he brought as a gift. And Trent’s wide smile was enough confirmation he chose right. He drank with Fede. Played foosball with Cama. Played darts with Valde. Argued with Rodry about music. Talked with Gonzalo about movies. But most importantly, he watched Jude savor pizza and cake. He observed Jude’s comfort when he conversed in English with Trent. He wanted to see Jude content and at peace. Even if he knew the fragile happiness wouldn’t last.
And he was proven right as soon as they traveled to Barcelona a week later. Looking back, the signs were there. If Gavi had known that this season’s El Clásico would end up like this, he would have never let Jude step foot on Camp Nou.
From the moment they arrived at the airport, they were met by Culers booing and jeering them. Particularly Gavi. They held signs with words like traitor and son of a bitch written on them. Gavi wanted nothing more than to scream at them that he never wanted to be in that fucking white shirt. He never wanted to be in Madrid. He never wanted to play for that stupid badge. But the echoes of Jude’s tender, loving touches still lingered on his skin. This made it harder for Gavi to convince himself he still hated Real Madrid.
Jude kept his cool during the hostile welcome. But as soon as they entered the safety of the bus, he subtly reached out.
Jude
i’m so sorry that happened 😞
Jude
are you okay? 😥
Gavi
it sucks, but there is nothing i can do about it
Gavi
at least ana wasn’t there
Jude
i didn’t see her either
Jude
i still open instagram
Jude
no post
Gavi
thank u 🥺
But she did end up posting.
anapelayozz Back on Camp Nou. First time here not wearing blaugrana. 🤭
My mind is confused, but my soul is in the right place. Always rooting for @pablogavi. 💖
❤️32,3 K 💬 1.452 🔁 286 📨 526
An El Clásico was always a nerve-wrecking affair. But this one pushed Gavi to his limits. He took the rising terror and forced into a small, secluded corner of his mind. He cataloged every member of the security staff. Most of them were already familiar from last season. And just like last season, they were way too calm and aloof. Ana could easily slip past them and leave him another fucking teddy bear. He wasn’t safe.
But if he crumbled now, he would risk their defeat. He would risk Jude punishing himself again. And in the tunnel, he looked into Jude’s eyes. He was a man trapped. Trapped between keeping their relationship a secret and wrapping his arms around Gavi. Between the professional nerves of an athlete and the loving concern for someone he cared about.
Gavi’s mind reeled as he hugged and greeted the Barcelona squad. Maybe he came across as distant. Or still angry. But he couldn’t get his facial muscles to relax. His jaw was painfully tight as he was greeted with boos on the pitch. How would Culers react when this experiment would be over? Would he be welcomed back? Or would this affair permanently affect his standing with the fans? Would he always be a traitor in their eyes?
Gavi’s heart was heavy when the whistle shrieked. Meeting Pedri as opponents in the midfield was agonizing. Pedri avoided looking at him. Every breath Gavi took felt he was inhaling ash. Pressing against Lamine. Getting tackled by Eric. Dueling Frenkie. It all felt so fundamentally wrong. The passion Gavi was known for during matches like these just wasn’t there. While was internally howling for a way out, his actions remained cold and compliant. He became the villain in a story he never wanted to write.
Ferran scored half an hour in. Gavi’s heart initially jumped for joy until he remembered who he was playing for. Would Jude be upset with him if he knew? Gavi felt dirty. Not from the sweat and grass. But from the film of guilt that coated his skin.
A duel between Álvaro and Lamine saw the right winger stumble down. The game halted as Lamine signaled for a foul, and the medical team were checking up on him. Fede darted to the referee trying to make the case for his team. Gavi stood, hands on hips, away from all the commotion. A profound sense of self-loathing overwhelmed him. The lines between loyalty and betrayal were blurring. Who were his teammates anymore? Who treated him as a teammate anymore? It all collided. Pedri’s care. Jude’s care. Lewy’s friendship. Fede’s friendship. Raphinha’s indifference. Toni’s indifference. His racing thoughts overshadowed his instincts. It was already too late when he noticed the singular figure approaching him in a confident sprint.
Not wearing a white kit. Not wearing a blaugrana kit. Not wearing the referee’s uniform. A figure dressed casually in jeans and a dark blue hoodie. And in his hand, the unmistakable reflection of a knife’s blade.