Chapter Text
Ferran met Pedri when they were both doing their bachelor's degrees at the University of Barcelona. By the first date, Ferran was completely infatuated. By the third, he knew he'd go wherever that boy would end up wanting to take him.
Because he would end up taking him somewhere. The little genius that he was, the darling of most of his professors in the physics department, whilst Ferran was fighting for his life in his psychology degree. It was obvious that, as good as the physics program there was, Pedri had bigger plans - he was very open about them as well. And Ferran was fine going along for the ride.
Still, he never made him feel any less for it. “The human mind is way more complex than some particles, Ferri.” He mumbled at 3 am, in the middle of exam season.
Ferran snorted. He highly doubted that.
“I'm serious. Took you actually kissing me for me to understand you were into me.” And Ferran couldn't dispute that one. So he leaned across the table of their hidden corner of the library to kiss his boyfriend. Only slightly. Softy. Just to make sure he still knew he was into him.
Pedri did end up taking him somewhere else. First, he went to Munich for his master's. And Ferran stayed back. Mostly because Germany wasn't that far away, and his sister stared him down when he first floated the idea by her. He still had his own master's to finish so he could practice psychology. Dropping everything so he could follow his boyfriend to his dream university was ridiculous, especially when it was only for a couple of years, especially when they weren’t that far apart, and still-
“I could finish it there. Maybe it could be a good experience for my resume.” He reasoned over lunch.
“Yeah, I'm sure that's why you want to go.” Ara scoffed.
He lasted one semester before applying to the University of Munich's Psychology master's programme. A weekend every other month wasn't remotely enough. He got accepted. The variety of experiences - of different ways of living between the German and the Spanish mindset - pitch did help him in the end.
If he spent most of his research time perched in a corner of the physics department, that was neither here nor there.
And then came the heavy hitter. Ferran knew Pedri wanted a PhD. And he knew where he wanted it from. He even delayed applications to European universities to prioritize that one as Ferran also finished his master's. And sure, moving to Munich in your early 20s was a bit of a whirlwind, especially for Ferran, who made the decision after a semester of pinning from a couple of countries away. But this was moving to the other side of the Atlantic - at least this one he had been planning for for more than a couple of months.
“Got a response from MIT,” Pedri mumbled, sounding out of breath. First time Ferran had ever heard him even slightly nervous about his academic career.
“And?” Ferran walked from their tiny kitchen in their tiny apartment to face him.
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“Haven't opened it.” He was just staring at his laptop, hands on his legs, eyes wide.
“Okay, let's open it together.” Ferran crouched beside him.
“Okay.” He started moving the mouse very slowly, like he was afraid of it.
“I'd say I love you no matter what, and this doesn't define you, but I have no doubt you'll get in.” He turned to the side to plant a kiss on his cheek.
“You have no idea how competitive this is.” Pedri breathed out but finally let out a small smile.
He opened the letter attached to the email.
He was in.
He was in, and suddenly Ferran was getting engulfed by his boyfriend, falling back flat on the floor, giggling with Pedri on top of him.
“What did I say?” He said against his boyfriend’s mouth before kissing him.
“We're gonna have to move to Boston,” Pedri said, like it finally dawned on him.
“That's fine.” Ferran kissed his forehead. He'd been looking at what he needed to do to practice psychology in the US for the past few months. He knew this was happening.
“Do you even know how to pronounce Massassu- Machach–” He furrowed his brow.
“Do you?” Ferran giggled at him.
“Have a month to practice, I guess.” He smiled so big that Ferran was sure his cheeks were hurting. Ferran took a soft bite of them for good measure.
-
Boston was nice. Even if they both hated the winters there. They thought they had gotten used to the cold in Germany - they were wrong. But Ferran was also finally practicing his degree, finally working with people, finally helping patients. He also loved breaking into the physics department to force Pedri out of there when it got way too late, and he wasn't coming back home.
They lived in a cramped apartment, it was already bad enough that Ferran had to work on his cases there - god forbid Pedri brought any work home, especially with how many hours he spent working at the university already.
“Hey, baby.” He hugged him from the back, feeling him jump slightly in his arms. He was the only one there. It was past midnight.
“I don't know why security keeps letting you in.” He mumbled, but rested his head against Ferran's shoulders, letting it loll. He was exhausted. As usual.
“I think they also want you out of here.” Ferran dropped a kiss on his hair.
Pedri looked at some paper he was reviewing on his PC, Ferran had no idea how that made sense, in general, but especially in the middle of the night. Pedri took a second to consider it before he sighed and closed it, getting up and immediately falling into Ferran's arms.
Ferran hugged him tightly, his own heart constricting just as hard. He knew he had signed up for his boyfriend putting his career somehow ahead of him, definitely ahead of building a family, at least until he was done with his PhD - thankfully, that seemed to be coming to an end according to the other man. He hadn't realized it'd come at the cost of his own boyfriend, didn't realize the eye bags he used to think were adorable would get so deep that now they just worried him, didn't realize at some point he'd be cuddling him and wonder how much weight he had lost. His research for his thesis was going well. Pedri told him as much, and Pedri wasn't the type to lie about these things, and in his excursions to the physics department, he had overheard his advisors say as much, telling him to take a break even - that he deserved it. Pedri just happened to be engulfed by his work, by how he could always do more, by something that crossed his mind at 11 pm, and he had to go back to work on it, and it just kept getting worse. And all Ferran could do was try his best to make him breathe, to pull him out of it.
He pulled him into his chest again the moment they fell into bed after Ferran washed his hair in the tiny shower they insisted on making work for both of them. It was almost 2 am. Ferran couldn't sleep. But neither could the man in his arms.
“Wish I could shut off your brain sometimes,” Ferran mumbled into his hair.
Pedri pushed himself against him. “You can… sometimes.” He giggled softly, like it was taking all of his energy to do so.
Ferran snorted. “Not what I meant.”
“No?” Pedri turned around to pout at him, but all Ferran could see were the hollow cheeks, the thinning hair he kept convincing himself was just due to genetics, the darker circles under his eyes.
Ferran leaned down to take his face in his hands, carefully, and kiss him anyway. His lips were chapped, but as soothing as ever. And if they helped Ferran when he was stressing over his own exams and his own master's, while Pedri looked like he was cruising through those, he hoped he could bring half of the comfort to the other man now.
Pedri moaned softly into the kiss, but didn't try to take it anywhere else.
It was the high hours of a Saturday morning. Ferran would do anything to keep him in that bed as long as he could. To not let him set foot in that fucking department for at least two days.
Pedri woke up before he did, Ferran pulling him towards himself the moment he felt him trying to move away.
“I have to pee.” He complained.
“But then you come back, okay?” Ferran mumbled, still half asleep, not bothering to open his eyes.
Pedri didn't answer, and he knew what that meant. Pedri didn't lie, but he often just avoided answering questions. So Ferran pushed himself out of bed with all the strength he had and stood in front of the bathroom door, leaning against the wall, trying not to fall asleep again.
Pedri jumped slightly when he opened the door. “Do you need to-” He opened the door for Ferran.
Ferran just leaned down to pick him up bridal style, pulling a little scream out of the other man. “What are you doing?” He laughed.
“Making sure you come back to bed.”
“Who said I wouldn't?”
Ferran threw him onto the ruffled sheets and stared him down. “I've known you for eight years, baby.”
Pedri groaned, letting his head fall back, but moving to get under the sheets again. Ferran followed suit with a smile on his face, immediately putting his arms around him.
“I really shouldn't go back to review those papers,” Pedri complained.
“They'll be there on Monday,” Ferran answered.
“Am I a prisoner?” Pedri pouted. Ferran kissed the pout off his face, because he could, because he couldn't not do it. Not when he was still the cutest thing he'd ever seen, even when they were pushing 30. Even when his work was eating him alive.
“If that's what you call spending a weekend with your boyfriend.” Ferran shrugged.
Pedri stared at him for a second. “I'm sorry.” He mumbled. “I've been terrible, haven't I?” He pulled Ferran closer to him.
“Of course not,” Ferran assured him. “I just want you to have some time off.” He kissed his forehead.
“Are you sure?” Pedri asked.
“I've always told you when I've had an issue with something,” Ferran stated. It was true. He was very open about it, he was very open about how much he worried about Pedri as well. But he also knew how important this was to the other man.
“I know,” Pedri murmured against the skin on Ferran's chest. Where he always ended up when he was feeling vulnerable. Ferran hoped he'd always find a home there.
Silence stretched between them, but Ferran could feel the other man's uneasiness through every single stretch of skin that touched him.
“You know, some of the papers I'm reviewing go over the concept of quantum immortality.” He finally mumbled, like he was afraid to speak.
Ferran would usually tell him this was a no-work environment, but he had a feeling this was going somewhere else, so he just pulled him closer into his chest, leaving a reassuring kiss on his temple.
“It’s an interpretation of quantum mechanics, of the many-worlds theory, in which every quantum event produces a new parallel universe, and a new slightly different version of yourself, everything, really. And because you’re only able to experience the events you’re alive for, if you die in one of those events, your consciousness will just follow the path you survived, over and over again - you'll always continue on a path you survive.” He took a shaky breath. “Hence, immortality.” He stopped for a second. “Well, it's a bit more complicated than that.” Ferran felt him smile against his skin.
“So you'd never die?” Ferran asked.
“It depends. Some argue you'd still die of old age.” Pedri shrugged. “But—” He cut himself off, and Ferran could just feel him taking breaths against his skin.
“But?” Ferran urged him on when he didn't continue.
“It's not a very popular theory, it's more of a philosophical supposition. I don't know why it's eating at my brain.” He grumbled.
“Well, it definitely has some interesting consequences.” Ferran tried to reason.
“Yeah,” Pedri breathed and stayed silent for a moment. “It means nothing would ever happen to me, not from my point of view, I'd just keep living. But something could happen to you. I'd always lose you. Eventually.” His voice broke.
“Hey, hey,” Ferran pulled him up so he could face him. “Baby, look at me.” The teary big brown eyes looking back at him completely destroyed him. He looked as innocent as the day he first met him. Maybe even more so. “It's okay, I'm not going anywhere.” He hugged him tightly. “You're just tired, this is your tired brain speaking. You need to rest more.”
Another sob broke from the other man. “See? What am I gonna do without you? I'm a mess. I dragged you here with me, and I'm a mess. I'm sorry.”
Ferran hugged him tighter, feeling tears roll down his own face. He should have never let things get this bad. Yes, Pedri was following his dreams. Yes, Pedri always spent way too much time inside physics departments, with professors rather than friends, and that was always fine. But Ferran knew better, he should know better, he was a psychologist, for fuck's sake, and there was no one he knew better than the man in his arms.
“You didn't drag me anywhere, even if you didn't want me here, I'd be here.” He tried to sound as calm as possible. “Remember Munich? I lasted not even six months.” He laughed - it came out more like a sob. “I need you as much as you need me, okay? That's also why you need to take care of yourself, okay?” Pedri just kept clinging to him like he was gonna disappear from his hands. “Okay, baby?” Ferran urged him on.
“Okay.” He sobbed out.
They stayed tangled together in silence as the spring sun came up. The winter was awful for both of them, not only for the cold but for the lack of sun. Maybe they should go sunbathe for a bit in the park. Maybe that day. Maybe the following. Maybe on a weekday when Ferran managed to leave work earlier and drag Pedri out of that godforsaken building.
They spent the weekend between the apartment and the park, with a small trip to a farmer's market. Ferran pushed all the work he had to Monday morning as well. They lazed in bed watching a romcom before Ferran slowly kissed all the way down Pedri's body, making sure none of it was left untouched. Pedri felt like putty in his hands, the small noises out of his mouth driving him insane as he let Ferran do whatever he wanted with him. Completely trusting that Ferran knew what Pedri himself wanted. And he did. Eight years would do that. Eight years of almost only living for each other would teach him when Pedri just wanted to lay back and let him lead in everything, complete control without having so much as say a word or hold his hips down, his body just gave itself to him.
Ferran treated these times like it was their first time, like this was the same Pedri nervous in his dorm because he didn't know what to expect, he ran his hands all over his body like he was afraid he’d forget what he felt like in some distant afterlife, he kissed all over his face as he thrusted into him, he came inside him because he knew that's what he wanted and softly kissed into his smile as he did so, slowly bringing him to completion between them.
The dried cum always bothered Ferran more than Pedri, so they stayed there, entangled, in silence, Ferran dropping kisses on every bit of skin he could reach until Pedri finally asked if they could shower. Together. In that terribly cramped shower cabin.
Ferran almost didn't want to let him go to work on Monday. His cheeks were still hollow, his hair was still thin, he could still feel his bones when he hugged him. But his eye bags were better. His eyes shined brighter. And he sounded excited about whatever he was doing with Professor Menon that afternoon. Ferran let him leave with a kiss on his head, before he went back to the work he had that morning, reviewing his appointments from the previous week.
-
Pedri spent the rest of spring and summer working on finishing his dissertation, publishing a couple more papers, and preparing for his defense. He promised Ferran it was the home stretch, and Ferran just had to believe him as he picked him up from the physics department after midnight for the third night in a row.
His PhD defence was at the beginning of November. And then Ferran forced him to take a two-week break back home - with the entire physics department's blessings. Ferran wondered if they also cared about him, were even scared about him sometimes. Ferran wasn't sure how anyone could be around Pedri and not coddle him, worry about him, fall in love with him in some way, even. He wasn't jealous - he hoped they would, he hoped Pedri was loved everywhere he went. He deserved to be.
Ferran had also randomly come across a ring. He didn’t know when he wanted to propose. The plan was always settling down after Pedri was done with his PhD, but Pedri didn’t look okay, so Ferran wasn’t planning on popping the question any time soon. Still, the ring called to him, it was simple, silver, discreet, it fit Pedri, and it had a lining of volcanic rock on the inside. He spotted it randomly and was immediately reminded of Pedri, because how could he not be. He bought it, mostly because he didn’t know when he was going to come across something that fit him so well. He bought it with the hope that having it with him at all times would maybe manifest some stability into their life.
-
Pedri pulled his knees up to his chest the second the belt lights were out on the plane. He looked terrified. That was weird. He was usually fine with flying.
“Are you okay?” Ferran leaned into him.
“Yeah.” It wasn't convincing. Pedri never lied to him. Why would he start now?
“Pepi-” he begged.
“I’m scared.” He mumbled.
“About what?” They were just going back home to visit Pedri's family, take advantage of the perpetual Canarian warm weather to relax.
“Don't know. Feel like it's going to be overwhelming.” His voice broke, and Ferran slowly moved the hair out of his eyes so he could look at him properly.
“You haven't been back in a while. They'll want to congratulate you. Make a fuss about it.” Ferran reasoned.
“Yeah.” Pedri nodded.
“We can always just run back to the hotel I booked.” He booked one for this exact reason. Pedri's parents were very insistent on them staying with them, but they had become so accustomed to their little world in their little apartments, in their cramped kitchens and uncomfortably small shower cabins. Ferran would say he booked it because he knew Pedri needed it. But he needed it as well.
And that's exactly how it played out, between getting pulled around between all the dinners his parents wanted to have, the party they wanted to throw, the dinner Pedri actually wanted to have at his brother's house. They always ended up back at the hotel. Ferran washing away the day's stress with the shampoo suds before they ended up cuddling to sleep. Until their last full day.
“Are you okay on your own? I need to go do something with my parents. Just us. If that's okay?” Pedri asked while they were still in bed, sun barely out, legs and fingers intertwined.
Ferran had no idea what that could possibly be, out of nowhere. And Pedri didn't want to divulge any more information.
They decided early on that they were fine with keeping some things to themselves - especially family matters - and the other would be open to listening any time they were prepared to talk. Ferran sensed it was that type of situation.
“Yeah, I'm fine on my own, I'll just go to the beach.” In truth, it'd be a great excuse to shop around for some of Pedri's favourite food that they just couldn't find in Boston (could barely even find in Barcelona back in the day) and mail it back, just so he'd have some treats when he'd get back. He was still too skinny. His mom said the same, and Ferran could almost feel the judgment pierce through his skull when she said it as her eyes flickered to him.
They always liked Ferran. He wondered if she started reconsidering that when she hugged her son and could feel every bone in his body.
Pedri came back late at night, after Ferran was mostly done packing their stuff. He didn't question it, he expected him to have dinner at his parents'. He didn't expect him to come back with wide, teary eyes.
“Are you-” he began to ask before he was shut up by a kiss.
Pedri clung to him like he was afraid he'd disappear, his fingernails scratching against Ferran's neck in a way he was sure would leave a mark.
Ferran pulled him closer by the hips, rubbing a thumb against his back, trying to soothe him, as his lips left Pedri's mouth to leave little kisses all over the rest of his face. That usually worked in calming him down.
“Don't want to talk.” He finally said, raspy voice, but not the one of someone who was about to fall apart on him. Maybe of someone who had already done that. Maybe Ferran shouldn't have left him alone.
“That's okay,” He kissed his hair. “What do you want to do? Shower and sleep?”
“I love you.”
-
Life back in Boston was back to normal. Too much so. Pedri was still working too much. Ferran still had to force him out during the few hours of sun they did get in the winter.
Ferran often thought about the ring he kept on the last drawer of his desk, about family they had talked about starting when they were still back in Germany. They loved kids. They wanted kids. And it wasn't like time was running out on them. But something would have to change - obviously, the apartment, but they were saving for that. But Pedri. Not only the hours he spent working, but the way he kept obsessing over his work, the way some new minor breakthrough had him locked up for a week, the way a new promising paper had him focusing on nothing but that.
Ferran knew him to be a bit like that, he was always a bit like that, Ferran loved that part of him, Ferran even enjoyed listening to him go on about things he could lose track of midway through, just because Pedri liked to think out loud. He didn't enjoy how it was taking everything else from Pedri.
He found himself thinking he didn't even care about possible kids anymore. If Pedri told him tomorrow: no marriage, no kids, but I'll stop falling apart in front of you, Ferran wouldn't think twice.
“Have you considered seeing a therapist?” Ferran proposed.
Pedri eyed him for a second. “You think I need to.” It wasn't a question.
“I'm worried about you.”
“You've been worried about me for years.” Pedri smiled cheekily.
“I'm serious.”
“What do you think a therapist could help me with?” Pedri asked, sincerely.
“Work-life balance. Mostly not letting it completely eat you alive.”
Pedri pursed his lips. “Have you been feeling neglected?”
“It's not that. You spent all your time outside of work with me, which is also not good.”
“But are you mad at me?” Pedri asked again.
“I don't think I can be mad at you.”
“I think my work-life balance is fine then.” He shrugged.
“Baby– You barely see the sun in the winter, sometimes you get so overwhelmed you start crying in my arms, and spending all your time between work and me is also not healthy,” Ferran explained.
Pedri eyed him for a second.
“I want to spend all my free time with you.” It should be a joke, he laughed. But it sounded a bit too serious. Ferran didn't know what to make of that. “I'll consider it?” He completed after a moment of silence.
“Thank you.” Ferran kissed his forehead. He couldn't ask for much more. But his heart wasn't any less heavy after that conversation.
-
Pedri never went to a therapist.
On a surprisingly sunny Wednesday morning by the beginning of March, Pedri woke him up by kissing him down his torso. They both had work, but it was early enough for Pedri to slowly ride him until he came inside him, early enough for them to cuddle like that afterwards, without moving a muscle for a while, Ferran caressing his naked back as he made him giggle by leaving kisses all over his face, his jaw, his neck.
Pedri left for work a bit later than usual. Ferran's appointments also started a bit later than usual. One time wouldn't hurt.
Ferran got back home in time for dinner. Pedri wasn't there. But that wasn't abnormal. By midnight, he also wasn't there. That also wasn't totally abnormal, but it was get-up-and-go-pull-him-put-off-that-fucking-department time.
He was putting his pants on when someone knocked on the door. Weird.
He looked through the peephole. Police. And nothing good could come from that. Immediately, his heart sank to his stomach with worry.
“Good evening. Is this the residence of Pedro Lopez?” Ferran's vision was already blurry, his head pounding.
“Yeah.”
“Can we come in?”
“Sure.”
Ferran sat on the couch. He wasn't sure if he closed the door. One of the police officers probably did.
“Are you family? A friend?”
“Boyfriend.”
“Okay. We came here to inform you that he died this evening.”
Ferran's head was ringing before he even finished talking, his throat closed up as he let his head fall into his hands. The pressure on his chest was so heavy he felt like he was about to throw up all his organs. He wasn’t sure he was in that room anymore, he couldn’t be, he couldn’t feel his legs, he couldn’t feel his fingertips, he couldn’t feel his skin, he could only feel his blood pumping through his veins. Loud. Painful. The visceral pain on his lungs as his ribcage kept pressing against them. And his heart. He was sure he could feel it everywhere. His stomach turned, contracted, he was sure if he opened his mouth he would throw up his entire dinner.
He could tell they kept talking, probably important stuff, but he couldn't hear anything. His brain just kept pounding in his head, his chest compressing to the point he couldn't breathe, his ears ringing.
“How?” He finally let out. Almost begging for it to be a bad joke.
“Gunshot. Everything indicates suicide.”
He knew it. He fucking knew it, and he should have done better. He got up to take the five steps to the kitchen sink and threw up all he had in his stomach here. And then kept going, his body wanting to pull everything out. He was sure he was crying and had snot covering his face but his brain just kept going to Pedri. Alone. Without him. And how he failed him. He realized he was pulling on his own hair when one of the police officers grabbed his arms, trying to pull it away, he could make out something about him needing to calm down. All he could feel was his body shaking. He stabbed his nails into his sweaty palms instead, scrunching his eyes shut, his mind suddenly going to the ring on the bottom drawer of his desk, the one that was perfect for him boy, the one he never gave to him. Because he was waiting, for what? He wasn’t sure now. He just suddenly felt like he had thrown his entire life away, because he couldn’t protect his Pedri, because he couldn’t be there for him, because he let him work too late, because he didn’t show up to pick him up early as he should, because he kept letting him fall into bad habits even when he knew better.
The pain of the nails against his palms felt too blunt in comparison to the way his chest felt like it was about to collapse, a thought of following Pedri to wherever he went crossed his mind. He threw up again, only whatever acid bile he had left in his stomach.
“Just let me see him,” Ferran muttered through dry heaves.
It took them all night to let him. He was splattered on one of the chairs of the waiting room of the morgue when it dawned on him that he needed to call Pedri's family. He needed to call his mom and tell her she was right to judge him the last time she saw him. That he wasn't able to take care of her son. That even as a psychologist, even when he was able to see him falling apart in front of him, he wasn't able to do anything.
He stared at the phone. It was already well into the morning in Tenerife. Still, he didn't have it in him to call her.
He walked out of the building to call his sister instead.
“Ara.” His voice cracked immediately.
“Hey, what happened?”
“Pedri-” he couldn't even finish the sentence.
“What happened? Did he get into an accident? Is he okay?” Hearing her voice only made him start crying again. He wished she was there in front of him, he wished he had someone to hug.
“He’s gone.”
“Oh, sweety.” He could hear her cry on the other side of the line. “I'll catch the first flight there, okay?”
He wanted to tell her it was okay, that he could handle it. But he couldn't. He needed her.
“I can't even call his family, Ara.” He finally broke down.
“Do you want me to?” She offered. And Ferran knew she would.
“No. They need to hear it from me.”
“Call Fer.”
“Okay.”
Ferran wasn't sure that would be any easier.
It wasn't.
Fer just stayed silent on the line to the point Ferran wasn't sure he was there anymore.
Ferran apologized and he just hung up. They'd come the following day. Ferran wasn't sure how he'd face any of them.
Seeing Pedri's body, the same body he had held only hours ago, made him break down again. He knelt down next to him, pulling the hair out of his face. There was a bandage on his forehead, probably for the gunshot wound, that they put there for Ferran's sake.
“I'm so sorry, baby.” He muttered. Stroking his skin, still soft, like it had been that morning. He took his hand into his, stroking his ring finger, the regret hitting him again. Maybe that could have made a different, maybe that could have made him hold on a bit longer. Maybe that would have meant he would have been in a different place that evening, next to Ferran, where Ferran could have prevented this.
He stayed there, kneeling on the cold floor, kissing and caressing the cold skin of the love of his life until they politely asked him to leave.
He couldn't bear to go back to the apartment - their apartment. It was already daytime. So he went for a walk. He didn't know what he looked like, but people rarely cared how you looked in the middle of the city.
After two hours of wandering around aimlessly, his brain constantly racking all the ways he could have not let this happen, he got a call from an unknown number. He almost didn't answer, only because it could be something important.
“Ferran?” They asked. Ferran knew that voice, but he couldn't pinpoint it.
“Yes?” He pushed out.
“It's Professor Johnson.” He introduced himself wearily. “Can you talk? Are you busy?”
“Sure. I'm- I'm just walking around.” Ferran breathed out, hoping his voice was loud enough for the other man to hear.
“I'm really sorry.” He said, his voice breaking. And when he said nothing else, Ferran realized he had to say something back. And that this was an interaction he was about to have a lot. But, truly, he didn't know what to say. His go-to was it's okay. But this was anything but okay.
He settled for “Thank you,” he hoped that was right. He also mostly didn't care.
“I'm calling because Pedro left something at my desk and it has your name on it.” He breathed out. “I'm guessing he didn't want the police to take it. I can give it to you whenever you want it.”
Ferran's heart skipped a beat, he didn't know what to make of it. He wanted it so bad. But he was also terrified of having it. What would it even say? That Ferran was terrible for not helping him? That Pedri was going through something way worse, and Ferran had no idea?
-
His sister arrived before Pedri's family, and he was oh so thankful for that, falling into her arms and crying tears he didn't even know he had left, crying until his head was pounding, until he was heaving. She kept repeating it was not his fault, but if she was saying that, it had to be - his brain kept telling him.
Ferran finally fell asleep on a bed that still smelled like Pedri when the sun was already threatening to set on the horizon, due to sheer exhaustion.
Pedri's family was already at the apartment once Ferran finally woke up. He heard them before he saw them. He was terrified of facing them, mostly Pedri’s mother. But nothing could be worse than the last 48 hours anyway.
He had 4 pairs of eyes on him when he opened the door to the bedroom. To his surprise, Rosy immediately ran to hug him, falling apart in his arms, like she was waiting all this time to do it. Ferran always thought they liked him because they realized how much he loved Pedri, maybe they still did, maybe even after Ferran lost them their son.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled.
“I’m sorry, as well, sweetheart.” She cried back, clinging to the back of his shirt.
Ferran wondered if he still smelled like him. Ferran wondered if she could tell.
-
Pedri’s family were very adamant about one thing. Taking him back to Tenerife.
And Ferran couldn’t oppose. Ferran wasn’t even sure where he wanted to go after this. He was in Boston because of Pedri. Staying there on his own made no sense. And returning his beautiful boy to his beautiful sunny island almost brought him some solace - or at least he was sure it would someday.
Whilst they dealt with the legal nightmare of taking Pedri back to Tenerife, Ferran finally gained the courage to go back to the physics department. It didn’t remind him any less of Pedri than their apartment did, which only broke his heart even more.
There were some flowers to the side of the entrance of the building that he chose to ignore for the sake of actually being able to meet with Professor Johnson.
He sat on a tiny chair in a cramped office, way less organized than Pedri’s. And was handed a white envelope with his name on it in Pedri’s writing. He stared at it for maybe too long. His fingers tingling. The little breakfast he had managed to down that morning threatening to come up.
“We all loved and cherished him very much.” The man in front of him said.
“Thank you,” Ferran said. And hoped it was true. Whatever led Pedri to this, he’d at least hope it wasn’t lack of love.
“There’s-” He started, but cut himself off.
“What?” Ferran asked.
“I don’t know what’s in the letter, of course.” He breathed out. “Maybe he explains it. But I- We don’t believe this was a normal case of suicide.” He mumbled like he was keeping a secret.
“But the police?” Ferran leaned forward.
“The police would destroy the research.” He mumbled.
“What?” Ferran shook his head.
“Are you familiar with the concept of quantum immortality?” He asked.
And yes.
Ferran was.
Ferran had had his boyfriend crying about it in his arms months ago.
And after that, talking about it in more light-hearted manners.
And now he was hearing it from his dead boyfriend’s colleague. About how he was researching it. And how he built a mechanism to test it. One that would most likely kill him in his universe. Not only that, he left research behind. And video footage.
He told Professor Johnson he believed him, that they might as well use any research Pedri left behind, but that he’d rather get skinned alive than ever get the footage publicized anywhere.
He had a panic attack in the nearest bathroom, thinking about the footage of Pedri getting shot that was somewhere in that department. He thought about how many times Pedri had casually been in that space, maybe even had his own little mental breakdowns in there, whilst he washed his face as he tried to look presentable to leave.
-
They held a funeral for Pedri in Tenerife.
Ferran stayed at the same hotel they had stayed at when they were visiting his family for a month, so he could go to his grave every day.
He didn’t tell anyone about the research.
He still hadn’t opened the letter.
He still couldn’t let go of the apartment back in Boston.
The ring was still in the bottom drawer of his desk.
He didn’t know how to feel about any of it. He felt abandoned. He left everything for Pedri over and over again, he put him first over and over again. A part of him hated the other man for leaving him like this. For an experiment, no less.
But Ferran knew better. Ferran knew no one in their right mind would risk their life like this. And he knew Pedri knew he would die in some capacity, he knew there was even a big chance Pedri was gone for good, and the theory he was testing wasn’t real - he had said so himself. Ferran knew Pedri wasn’t okay, and that’s what led him to this in the end. And he still couldn’t not blame himself.
Even if he couldn’t also not hate the other man a little bit for leaving him alone like this.
-
He finally went back to Boston to pack their things and send them back. Maybe he sent way too many of Pedri’s things back to Valencia with him. He couldn't find it in himself to care.
There was a month left on his (their) lease. He spent it there. Spending the money they had saved. Walking around the places he wished he could have taken Pedri to more often. Crying himself to sleep in their bed, in their cramped shower. Clinging to everything that still smelled like him.
Taking his ring out of the box, wearing it on his own pinky finger. It felt like a constant reminder of the life he never got to live. But he felt he deserved it.
Ara insisted he moved in with her when he went back. Mostly because he was a mess. Ferran couldn’t deny having his nephew around didn’t help, even if it sometimes felt like a burden to put on a front for him. He started seeing a therapist because it’s already bad enough that he let his boyfriend fall down his path. He was depressed. Of course, he was, he almost wanted to laugh. Who wouldn’t be? He never imagined a life without Pedri, not after that third date, not after he followed him to Munich because he couldn’t bear to be apart from him.
Ferran stopped working as a psychiatrist. No one could convince him he could do his job right when he couldn’t even help the love of his life. He started working at a library. Which was probably way too quiet a job, leaving him thinking way too much. He couldn't find it in himself to care.
-
On the first anniversary of Pedri’s death, he took a plane to Tenerife and sat next to his grave. The sun was setting already. There were beautiful flowers adorning it from his family visiting early.
Ferran layed next to it and finally took the letter out of his bag.
It had been everything but forgotten. Ferran had thought about it every day. Multiple times a day. He was curious, yes. He had even accepted any and everything that it may contain. But he hated the finality of it. As long as it stayed closed and he didn’t read them, Pedri’s last words to him would remain unspoken. But once he read them, that was it, there was no more. Pedri was gone. For good.
“Should we finally read this, Pepi?” he sighed, speaking into the night sky, playing with Pedri’s ring on his pinky finger.
Ferri,
Ideally, you’re not reading this.
If you are. I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I was always so selfish and always put my work ahead of you, and did so even in my final moments. And I’m sorry you felt the need to always deny that was the truth.
I’m sorry I wasn’t a better boyfriend, I’m sorry we didn’t build a family together, I’m sorry we didn’t take our baby girl to her ballet recitals or to her football practices, or both - I’m sure she’d be great at both.
I’m sorry and I can only hope you can find that with someone better than me. You have so much love to give, I’m sure someone way more worthy will be able to do it way more justice than I did.
And in the end. Even if there’s no afterlife. Even if there’s no parallel universe, I’m sure the particles that form our bodies, our brains, our hearts, will find each other somehow, somewhere, after you live a long and happy life.
But you have to promise me you do like a long and happy life.
I’ve already taken enough for you.
And you’ve given me so much, Ferri. I could give you this world and the next and the next, and it wouldn’t be enough.
I love you. More than you can imagine.
Let’s meet somewhere,
Pepi.
Ferran could barely make out the words through the tears in his eyes. Hugging the letter to his chest. “This isn’t fair, Pepi.” He sobbed out. “Why?” He mumbled through tears, turning to his side, his hand caressing the marble on top of the grave. “Hm? Why would you leave me alone like this?”
He wasn’t sure at what point he fell asleep in there, waking up with the sun rising and beaming on his face, his head hurting. He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to leave. But he had a flight by midday.
He got up, his entire body aching, left a kiss on the marble headstone, and wobbled out of the cemetery.
The entrance was next to a cliff, facing the sunrise. Ferran couldn’t take his eyes off it. He looked down, to the way the sea hit the dark volcanic rock, much like the one on the ring on his finger. His heart felt light for the first time in a year as he looked down at the repetitive motion, hypnotized by it, like it was calling to him. He wondered if he jumped, he’d just be transported to a reality where he’d somehow survive that fall, but everything would be the same, or to a reality where he’d never be there in the first place - where Pedri was still with him and he’d have no reason to be in a cemetery in Tenerife -, or if everything would just simply turn off.
The blue sea kept hitting the black rocks - things couldn’t get much worse, could they?