Chapter Text
Pau Cubarsi is 11 years old when he meets him for the first time.
He’s sitting in the shared leisure room, the television playing in front of him. One of the other boys sits on the floor on the other side of the couch, his eyes also trained on the screen. Two other kids sit side by side on the couch, arguing almost as loudly as the TV. The 2010 World Cup final plays on the screen, the announcer shouting into the speakers as the Spanish national team gets the ball down towards the Netherland’s goal. It calms back down when David Villa misses. The camera cuts to disappointed Spanish fans hugging one another, the Spanish flag wrapped around the shorter woman’s shoulders.
It cuts to Gerard Piqué and Pau sits up straighter, sitting forward so he can see the screen better. Piqué’s the whole reason he’s been rewatching the 2010 World Cup anyway. It’s stupid to say it’s his dream to be just like him one day - every kid here shares that exact same dream - but Piqué has been his idol for a few years now.
Back before Pau even joined the junior squad, before he went to the trials and was evaluated on the way he played and his parents signed all those papers giving him over to Barca, Piqué was always his idol. He’d watch countless videos, trying to master all of Piqué’s techniques. The way he’d move the ball around the strikers and get the ball down the field to his wingers in one kick.
He always played like Piqué. It just matters more now. Now he’s being watched every time he’s on the field and if he were to act like it wasn’t stressing him out just a little bit, he’d be lying to himself.
Pau thinks he’s a good player. He thinks he looks like he knows what he’s doing when he’s on the field. He’s the first one they throw in the center-back position every time, so that must count for something. Maybe he isn’t the best player on the field, but he’s okay with that. As long as he isn’t the worst and simply embarrassing himself.
He’s only 11. He can’t move his family to a new country and pick up a completely different sport because he made a fool of himself just yet.
Pau wraps his arms around himself and looks up. His eye catches on a couple of the boys in the far corner of the leisure room near the foosball tables. There’s a couple of kids still playing, but most of them are laughing at the boy in the center of their makeshift circle as he balances a water bottle on his forehead. He’s completely still, but two of the boys to either side of him are moving back and forth to keep theirs up. The boys on the edge of the circle are shouting and pointing, grabbing one another’s shoulders and refereeing this made up game. The boy on the left’s water bottle drops, hitting him in the nose on the way down. He grabs it and complains so loudly Pau swears he can hear him over the noise. One of his friends grabs his shoulder and pulls him away.
It’s down to the other two. The boy in the middle still hasn’t moved. His arms are down at his side and the water bottle sits tall on his forehead. The one on the right is struggling. He almost bumps into the kid behind him trying to keep it upright.
It drops and the kid groans, putting his face in his hands and shaking his head.
The boy in the middle grins and grabs the bottle off his face, throwing it up in the air and catching it again. He does a fancy twirl and bows as a couple of the other boys clap and tap him on the head. He’s smiling so wide even Pau’s lip quirks.
That’s the reason Pau will never be the best on the field. He knows it. The coaches know it. The other kids know it too even if they all try to ignore it.
Lamine Yamal plays like a kid in the park and that’s his super power. While everyone here is trying to play like they’re already pro, he has a language only he shares with the ball. A way of dribbling that makes it look like the most complicated dance and the easiest conversation all at once.
Pau has never personally spoken to him given that he just transferred to the team, but he knows of Lamine Yamal. It’s hard not to know about him around here. He’s something of a legend in the club.
He doesn’t realize he’s staring until Lamine catches his eye and grins. When Pau feels his cheeks heat - no doubt getting pinker by the second - Lamine winks at him.
Pau’s head snaps back to the television. He ignores the noise of all the boys behind him as they disperse. It’s nearly 10pm and the monitors will be in at any minute to bring the boys upstairs. If they catch all of them huddled, the boys would have to explain their stupid game to a bunch of tired adults who only want these kids to focus on football.
Nothing else.
Not even the cute boy with a strange knack for balancing water bottles on his forehead.
Spain finally scores their only goal on the screen and Pau hears a couple of the boys cheer behind him. The guys next to him on the couch scoff and begin talking quietly between themselves again, but the boy on the floor is grinning, his arms wrapped tight around his knees.
Pau thinks his name is Hugo, a pretty powerful midfielder, but he hasn’t gotten the chance to speak with anyone yet. Not off the field at least.
“Good goal, no?” Pau asks, leaning forward so he can catch Hugo’s eye. Hugo perks up and turns towards him, blinking once before his face breaks into a blinding grin.
“My favorite goal. Iniesta is a hell of a player.” he says, pushing his hair back and out of his face. Pau smiles and glances back up at the TV, watching the Spanish national team jump all over one another, screaming at the camera and running off the bench.
He feels eyes on the back of his head, but he figures a lot of the boys must be watching the screen now.
He lets it go.
The monitors walk in when the game ends and shut off the tv. The man on the left has a basket in his hands.
“Alright, boys,” the other one says. “Let’s get you all upstairs. We’ve got buses arriving nice and early tomorrow so you all need to rest up. Practice is at 3:30 sharp. That means phones in the basket if you haven’t already.”
It’s silent for a long moment, but a couple of guys eventually step forward and drop their devices in.
“Bed.” the man with the basket says. “Now.”
There’s commotion as the room springs to life. Some boys start chatting as they head out the door and up the stairs. Three of them take off running before the monitors can even stop them. Pau watches the one not holding the basket pinch the bridge of his nose hard.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around,” Hugo says to Pau as he lifts himself off the ground. He pushes his hair out of his face again. Pau shrugs and stands, fixing the way his shirt falls.
“I just transferred here,” he admits quietly. As if everyone doesn’t already know. But Hugo nods understandingly. He and Pau head towards the doors together.
“It’s hard being the new kid,” he says honestly. “All you have to do is hope someone will take pity on you and become your best friend.” Pau almost laughs in his face.
“Like you’re doing?” he asks. Hugo’s cheeks turn bright red and he shakes his head furiously. This time Pau does laugh.
“What?” he shrieks. “No! I’m not pitying you! I swear I’m really not! I’m not in a position to be pitying anyone,” Pau shakes his head, but he can’t stop smiling. As Hugo is babbling out nonsense, Pau hears loud footsteps on the stairs behind them that make him turn even before he’s tapped on the shoulder.
Lamine.
“Hey!” he says, ignoring a still stuttering Hugo next to Pau. He keeps his eyes locked on the latter. They’re big and brown and full of nothing but pure trouble. “You’re Pau, right? Cubarsi?”
Pau blinks. He glances over his shoulder at Hugo who is staring at Lamine, starstruck, like he’s the second coming of Christ. Maybe he is. Pau has yet to form an opinion, so he shrugs.
“Yes. Why?” he asks. He’s not going to feed Lamine’s ego anymore than he has to. He knows everyone knows who he is.
Lamine’s grin widens and he pushes a curl out of his eyes.
“You’re the new kid. The center-back. The coaches haven’t stopped talking about you yet.” Lamine tells him. Pau feels his cheeks heat up again. A group of rather rowdy boys pushes past them on the stairs. A couple of them pat Lamine on the back as they go.
“In a good way I hope,” Pau says honestly. Hugo scoffs next to him.
“Of course it’s good. I didn’t know you were the Pau Cubarsi. I would have bowed or something!” he teases. That makes Pau laugh and then Hugo is laughing with him.
Lamine gives Hugo a dirty look. A look one might give a mosquito buzzing too close to their ear. Pau wonders if they know one another. If this club has any rivalries already written into its fabric.
“Right,” Lamine says, his eyes lingering on Hugo for a moment longer before they snap back over to Pau. His expression softens again. “Anyway, I can’t wait to see you play. “I’m desperate to see if you live up to the hype.”
Pau blinks.
“Is there a reason you think I won’t?” he asks in a sudden burst of courage. Being in Lamine’s presence is doing it to him. Like his natural confidence is rubbing off on Pau by just standing near him.
Lamine grins like Pau swam right into his trap. He shrugs his shoulders.
“I guess we’ll have to see, yeah?” he asks. Pau’s cheeks heat up again. Lamine throws his head back and laughs. “I swear you have a blushing problem.”
“We just met!” Pau argues. “How could you possibly know that?”
He feels Hugo shift uncomfortably next to him, but Pau can’t tear his eyes from Lamine long enough to ask if he’s alright. He’s probably just nervous being in the presence of professional football’s next Lionel Messi.
“Because I,” Lamine says, stepping onto the same step Pau is on and wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “Am taking pity on you, Cuba.” Pau purposefully ignores the nickname. Lamine gives Hugo a quick wink over his shoulder. That makes the other boy go bright red and start blubbering again as he tries to keep up with Lamine and Pau as they head up the stairs.
“Pity?”
“Pity.”
“I don’t need pity,” Pau argues. He definitely does. He has no idea how to make new friends. Especially not at a club this established. If La Masia’s golden boy is offering him a step up…
Well. Pau would be positively stupid not to take it.
“I’ll let you know my thoughts once I see you play.” Lamine tells him honestly. His grip on Pau’s shoulders tightens slightly. “Maybe you’ll be the next Piqué.”
Pau’s mouth opens, but no words come out. Was he that obvious? Could everyone else see him watching Piqué’s every move on the television tonight, studying the way he defends even in his off time?
Pau doubts it. Lamine seems sharper than he lets on. More perceptive. Like he sees things other people never could.
“That’s a lot of pressure.” Pau admits. Lamine grins and lets him go, coming to a stop outside of room 108. This must be where he stays. Pau is a little further down the hall in room 132.
“None at all.” Lamine says. He twists the handle of his door without looking and backs into it to open it. “Just prove me right, Cuba.”
Pau opens his mouth. Again, no words find their way out. Lamine’s smile widens.
“Goodnight gentleman. See you at breakfast.” He slips into his room and the door shuts behind him. Pau stands there motionless, staring at the door embarrassingly until Hugo touches his shoulder.
“Oh my God.” he says. Pau blinks at him, tilting his head.
“What?” he asks. He knows what. If he admits that he knows what, he’ll never be able to sleep. So he keeps his mouth shut and lets Hugo start to ramble again.
“What the hell did you do to capture the attention of Lamine Yamal?” he asks. Pau shrugs, he glances back at the door and shakes his head. What has he done? He hasn’t really played much in front of any of these boys. How he captured the attention of the star of this club is beyond him.
“I have no idea,” Pau mutters. He glances back at Hugo who is already smiling.
“You must be good. Like really good. Like… okay sure. Everyone here is good at football of course. We’re all here right? But you? You must be sent from God or something.” Hugo rambles. He begins to walk again and Pau slowly follows him.
“I think I’m average compared to the boys here,” Pau admits with a small shrug. Hugo stops him. He puts both hands on Pau’s shoulders and looks him right in the eye. Pau shifts uncomfortably.
“Average does not capture the attention of Lamine Yamal,” he says. Pau hums and glances down the hall again. A couple of the boys are still filing into their rooms, joking with one another as they find their way.
“We’ll see.” Pau shrugs. He glances back at Hugo. “What room are you in?”
“135. You?”
“Oh. I’m 132.”
“Awesome!” Hugo says so loud it makes Pau jump. “We can walk down to breakfast together tomorrow!” He’s grinning so widely and looks so hopeful Pau can’t help but agree.
“Goodnight. See you tomorrow.”
“Night!” Hugo calls, heading towards his room. Pau disappears into his. It’s a single. Thank God. He couldn’t face another awkward conversation right now.
He keeps thinking about what Hugo had said to him. Trying to remember what he could have done to have Lamine’s eyes on him. Everyone here is obsessed with Lamine. That much Pau can figure out on his own. They all watch him like he’s God and follow his lead in everything. Even if his ideas will get them all into trouble later on, none of the boys here question it.
Lamine is, without a doubt, a leader to these boys. Pau would be surprised if he isn’t signed by the time he’s 16.
But the eyes on Lamine are normal. It’s Lamine’s eyes on Pau that are confusing. He’s seen Lamine give boys a smile. Give them a pat on the back or a nod at a new skill they’re trying. But in the three days Pau has been here watching this team operate, he hasn’t seen this. Hasn’t seen Lamine purposefully take someone under his wing.
Pau must be magical. He certainly feels very important right now.
As he gets into his bed and slips under the covers, he tries not to let his brain run too rampant with the thought of befriending the boy everyone is begging to be friends with. It puts a pit in his stomach. Will the other guys target him? Will Lamine immediately drop him if Pau isn’t as good as the coaches made him seem?
He shuts his eyes tight and forces himself to fall asleep.
Pau dreams of Lamine Yamal and football.
~~~
Pau wakes up with the sun the next morning. It’s streaming through his half open blinds, hitting him right in the face. The warmth is nice. Being blinded isn’t.
He groans and rolls onto his stomach, keeping his eyes shut tight and his face in the pillow. Pau stretches his arms over his head and bends to stretch his back. He has to be up and downstairs for breakfast in about twenty minutes and he can’t even find it in himself to stand up.
But he gets there eventually, no matter how slowly he moves. His feet hit the floor and he lazily pulls on a shirt and a pair of pants, shoving both his feet into socks and shoes. Pau stands in front of his mirror and fixes his hair, rubbing at his eyes hard so he looks less tired.
He doesn’t need everyone here thinking he’s a lazy bum already.
By the time the monitors knock on his door, Pau is already ready to head downstairs to the dining hall. He opens his door, greets the monitor with a smile, and immediately runs into Hugo.
“Hi!” he says cheerfully. He runs a hand through his hair and pulls awkwardly on his shirt. Pau gives him a small smile.
“Good morning,” he says. He can’t quite match Hugo’s energy yet.
It is far too early in the morning.
“Did you sleep well?” Hugo asks as they head down the stairs. There’s a couple of boys behind them sleepily making their way as well, but they aren’t nearly as talkative as Hugo is. One of them nearly trips over the first step and his friend on the right has to grab him before he faceplants into the wall.
“I think so.” Pau shrugs. “Always weird sleeping in a new place for a little while.” Hugo is nodding before Pau can even get his words out. He runs a hand anxiously through his hair again.
“It took me three months to get used to sleeping in those beds. If you tell yourself they’re comfortable enough times, you can convince your brain.” he says. They get down to the dining hall and grab their trays, joining the line of other boys waiting for their food. Some of them are already engaged in conversations, their hands flying around and their voices loud. Others look like they’re two minutes away from passing out again.
There’s a boy sitting at one of the tables who is currently falling asleep into his bowl of oatmeal.
“Good to know,” Pau says when he realizes he never answered Hugo. He’s been nice and that would be incredibly rude of Pau to act like anything else was the truth. “Thank you for the tip.”
“Of course!” Hugo grins. He holds out his tray as the woman behind the counter carefully places a bowl of oatmeal on it. She does the same to Pau’s.
“Apples or bananas today boys?” she asks, her hand hovering over the spoon to scoop the fruit. Hugo and Pau take a bit of apples each.
“Are you excited to start school?” Hugo pushes, stepping further down the line. A slice of toast is thrown onto his plate. Pau gets one too and they keep moving. “It’s so strange. We go to school with normal kids and then come back here and play football for hours.”
Hugo keeps talking, but Pau’s eyes slowly drift over towards the drink station. There’s a crowd of boys all talking and laughing with one another. At the center stands none other than Lamine Yamal.
He really is a crowd favorite, Pau thinks to himself. He’s aware of Hugo still droning on in the background and he thinks he’s saying thank you as each bit of food is piled onto his tray, but his eyes stay locked on Lamine. He’s grinning, obviously telling a very animated story as the boys around him lean in. There’s only one who doesn’t look as interested as the rest. He’s leaning against the counter next to the drink station and although he’s watching Lamine carefully, he’s not leaning in and hanging off of every word like the other boys.
He takes a sip of his drink and his eyes slowly scan the room until they land on Pau. Pau feels his cheeks heat up, embarrassed to have been caught staring, but he can’t force himself to look away. The other boy squints at him for a long moment before something seems to click and he smiles, returning to his drink.
His left foot, however, slowly moves to knock into Lamine’s.
That gets Lamine to look up, but he doesn’t stop his story. His eyes lock onto the other boy’s, who nods his head towards Pau.
Pau’s eyes quickly snap back to his plate as panic shoots up his spine. He thanks the woman who hands him a cup and follows Hugo to an empty table.
“I think you’ll really love the maths teacher. I’m not a fan of maths, but she makes it so easy to understand. And she’s really kind, so even if you don’t understand, she’ll explain it again.” Hugo is saying as he places his tray down on the table and pulls out the chair. Pau sits across from him, his cheeks and neck still burning, but he tries to stay present in the conversation.
Not on the fact that one of Lamine’s friends not only saw him staring, but told Lamine he was.
Snitch, Pau thinks.
“Yeah,” Pau mutters, shoving his spoon into his oatmeal. “Maths isn’t that easy for me either.” He glances up at Hugo who is already grinning back at him. Then Pau shoves a bite of oatmeal into his mouth and Hugo frowns.
“Don’t you want to get a drink?” he asks, pointing over his shoulder towards the drink machine. Pau straightens.
“No?” he says, but it comes out as more of a question than anything else. Hugo’s frown deepens and he opens his mouth, but then his eyes lock onto something behind Pau and he shrinks in on himself a little bit. His eyes, though, go wider and get this weird sparkle in them.
Pau forces himself to turn too. Behind him stands Lamine Yamal, grinning like he knows something Pau very much doesn’t. On his right is the boy with the drink, his dark hair falling into his eyes. With the hand not holding his cup, he effortlessly moves them out of the way. On Lamine’s left is a much shorter boy, his arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t look like he fits with Lamine and Drink Boy, but who is Pau to judge?
“Good morning, Cuba.” Lamine says, tilting his head just a little. His smile widens when Pau purses his lips together, chewing on his cheek.
“Morning,” he mumbles. His eyes trail back towards Drink Boy who slowly takes another sip. Lamine’s eyes follow his and he laughs.
“Mad at Marc for being a snitch?” he teases. Pau’s eyebrows furrow. Marc.
I hate you Marc, he wants to say.
“I wasn’t hiding,” Pau says instead. He hears Hugo breathing heavily behind him, but his eyes stay locked on Lamine’s.
“Did you sleep well?” he asks, not bothering to introduce the other boy who frowns and crosses his arms tighter over his chest. Pau watches Marc look at him out of the corner of his eyes. Then he rolls them, taking another sip. Pau really can’t figure out the politics of this place.
“Yeah. Thank you,” Pau says with a small shrug. He reaches back to grab his cup, holding it tightly in his hand.
“Great. I’m glad you’re rested. This way you don’t have an excuse on the pitch later.” Lamine smiles.
He smiles a lot.
Pau opens his mouth, but no words find their way out of his throat. Lamine throws his head back and laughs, like he dragged Pau directly into his trap. It worked. Pau can only blame himself for not realizing it was set.
Marc meets Pau’s eyes and his lips tug into a small smile.
“You’re a center-back, right?” he asks. Pau finds himself nodding, his voice still broken.
“Cool,” he says with a nod, raising his glass to his lips again. “We need another one.” His eyes flit over to the boy on the other side of Lamine again.
“But I’m a center-back, Marc.” he complains, his arms finally dropping to his sides. His hands clench into tight fists, but he doesn’t do much else. Marc shrugs, turning on his heel.
“I said another,” he says, waving off the other boy as he heads back towards the table filled with boys rough housing with one another. Lamine looks down and scoffs, rubbing at his upper lip like it’s going to hide his smile. Like his smile doesn’t take over his entire face.
The boy on the other side pushes his lips together hard. He glances at Pau and angrily turns away from him, marching after Marc. Lamine watches him go and then his eyes slowly trail back towards Pau. He still hasn’t acknowledged Hugo, Pau notes, but Lamine shrugs.
“That’s Leo,” he tells Pau. “He’s a little sore over the idea of losing his spot.” Pau shakes his head. His eyes snap to Hugo who isn’t any help at all, still staring at Lamine with an open mouth. Lamine glances at him too and frowns, shifting uncomfortably.
So maybe the golden boy doesn’t like the attention as much as he pretends to. Interesting.
“I’m not trying to take anyone’s spot,” Pau says honestly, because he isn’t. He just wants to play the game. He’d be willing to start a few games and give Leo a couple of starts, but of course it isn’t up to him. It’s up to the coaches and all Pau has heard is that they haven’t stopped talking about him. Hopefully not in front of many of the other boys, although that hope went out the window when Hugo immediately knew who he was by his name alone. The coaches are going to start him out with a foot tied behind him.
If he doesn’t live up to the expectations, these boys will never let him hear the end of it. If he does, he’ll already be stepping on some toes.
Pau can’t win.
But Lamine is still smiling at him, so maybe, just maybe, they can figure something out.
“Doesn’t really matter what you’re trying to do. It’s what’s happening.” Lamine shrugs. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. “And whether you’re actually as good as the coaches claim or stand there like a lump, you’ll be better than Leo. He needs the motivation to get better.”
Pau blinks and forces his mouth not to quirk. Lamine notices though. Of course he does.
“Have a good day at school, Pau.” Lamine says with a mock bow and a wink, turning on his heels and marching towards the table of boys. They all perk up when he gets there, immediately turning their conversations to him.
“Huh,” Hugo says. Pau jumps and turns towards him, tilting his head.
“What?”
“I don’t know. I figured after the initial introduction happened he’d leave you alone. You really must strike a fancy in him.”
Pau’s cheeks go hot and he rubs at one of them hard. Even if it doesn’t get rid of the blush, it gives him an excuse for being so red.
“Let’s go get drinks.” Pau mutters, walking off towards the drink station. Hugo happily follows. Pau keeps his eyes trained on the ground the whole walk, purposely ignoring the holes Lamine’s eyes are burning into his back. He tries to keep the panic in his chest down and quiet, but his eyes flit to the clock hanging on the wall.
8 hours and then a practice that makes or breaks his social life.
He’s screwed.