"Who is it?? Who did your hair like that?!" Isabella's voice boomed across the parking lot, each word sharper than the last. She was fuming, her hands gripping her hips as she stomped slightly, ready to march straight inside and report and scold whoever had dared do this to her son. "I'm going inside to report—why would someone do that? It's rubbish!" she shouted, her fury practically visible in waves around her.
Mateo's own voice rose, panicked but firm: "Mom! I've told you it's nothing! Why don't you just leave it alone?"
Oriol, trying to be the voice of reason but mostly sounding awkward, interjected: "Isabella, don't be rash… you know how boys get."
Isabella whipped her glare at him, eyes practically shooting daggers. "How do boys get?!" she snapped, her tone full of incredulity, as Oriol could only laugh nervously and shuffle back, realizing he had no ground to stand on.
Nora, sensing the tension but always the calmer presence, stepped in. "I mean… it kinda looks cute," she said carefully, almost too cheerfully.
Isabella's glare instantly pivoted toward her, sharp enough to slice the air. Nora immediately raised her hands in surrender, smiling sheepishly. "What? It does look good! He just needs a little trim here, some shaping here…" she continued, motioning lightly around Mateo's head. "And honestly, it would look really good."
"Nora… not now," Isabella muttered, still glaring but starting to slow her breathing, the edge in her voice softening slightly. Nora wisely stayed quiet.
Isabella turned her focus to Mateo. He felt her gaze and immediately tried to reason, his voice slightly shaky but earnest: "Mom… I'm serious. It's nothing. You don't need to make a commotion. I'm not a child anymore… it's just…"
Isabella blinked, her lips pressing together as she exhaled slowly, letting her eyes flicker toward him, studying the earnest concern in his gaze as her mind flashed to an image of him that for the past few days had not left her mind. She pursed her lips, sighing again, but this time it was quieter, almost hesitant, as if weighing her reaction.
Mateo stepped a fraction closer, his hands hanging nervously at his sides, voice softening further. "I really mean it, Mom. I can handle this. It's just hair—it doesn't matter i know what I'm doing."
Isabella sighed, finally walking toward him, the storm in her eyes dimming to a gentle calm. She placed her hands carefully on his head. Mateo froze, his voice barely audible: "Mom…?"
She let out another long sigh, and her voice softened as she said, "You're right."
The words hit like a sudden sunbeam through a cloudy sky. Nora and Oriol widened their eyes in surprise. Mateo's jaw dropped, his words stammering out in disbelief: "W-what… uh… yeah… I'm right… really…?"
Isabella began gently rubbing his head, her hands lingering thoughtfully. Her mind wandered as she looked at him, thinking: He's already taller than me… how did he grow up so fast?
Each visit home had been brief, and she hadn't noticed the subtle changes before. But now, standing before him fully, watching the way he held himself, she realized just how much her little boy had become a man. Her heart swelled with a mixture of pride, awe, and a hint of melancholy at how quickly time had flown, and she couldn't help but smile, shaking her head gently as she continued to smooth his hair, feeling the weight of love and worry mingling in that quiet moment.
While rubbing his head, Isabella let out a small sigh and said softly, "I'm… sorry for reacting that way, Mateo. I didn't mean to startle you like that."
Mateo, still stunned, simply muttered, "It's okay," his voice barely above a whisper, unsure how to respond to the sudden warmth from his mom after the chaos of the day.
Isabella continued, her hands lingering gently on his hair, her tone tender but filled with pride. "I know you've grown up, Mateo. I can see it. You're handling your matters so well, and I know you can take care of things for yourself now."
Mateo's lips curved into a small smile, feeling a wave of relief that his mother wasn't treating him like a child anymore. "Thank you, Ma," he said softly, the words sincere and pleased.
"Yes," she said, her voice gentle but firm, "but I want you to know something. You don't have to handle all of this on your own. I'm your mom. To me, you'll always be my child, and you can always talk to me—about anything, anytime." Her words carried a weight of maturity and love, full of the reassurance only a mother could give.
Mateo smiled, still feeling her hands resting on his head, warmth spreading through him as he said, "Of course, Mom."
The mood around them became sweet, almost magical. Nora and Oriol exchanged glances, smiling quietly as they watched the mother-son pair. The atmosphere was tender, filled with love and calm… until Mateo, ever the boy with a flair for breaking perfect moments, opened his mouth again.
"But… damn, all this just cause of my hair," he said, the words tumbling out with a mixture of exasperation and humor.
Oriol burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking as he doubled over. Isabella's serene, motherly expression vanished instantly. She grabbed Mateo's head with both hands again, her voice sharp but tinged with humor and disbelief. "Of course! Do you know how beautiful your hair was?!"
As she held his head, she muttered to herself, still inspecting the damage, frustration and affection blending together. "I spent so much on hair lotion… and all that care… so you could have flowing locks… and now all gone just for you to look like your father!"
Everyone around them, from Nora to Oriol, erupted into laughter at the sight, the space alive with the chaos, humor, and warmth of family.
"Are you all done?"
A voice called from the back, firm yet gentle, and everyone instinctively turned their heads to see Nuria carefully trying to climb down from the truck. The sudden appearance was unexpected—Isabella had stormed out earlier, shouting about reporting everyone, and in the momentary chaos, most had followed her, leaving Nuria momentarily alone in the car.
"Abuela!" "Mother!"
The respective cries rang out as everyone rushed toward the elderly woman, concern etched across their faces. Nuria, trying to descend with careful steps, was clearly determined to manage it herself.
"Mother, what are you doing?" Oriol, being the closest, dashed toward her, hands outstretched to help steady her. She waved him off with a small but firm shake of her head. "I'm fine, really. Don't fuss."
Mateo, quick as ever, was already at her side. "Abuela, let me help you!" he said, his voice full of worry and care. Nuria gave him her arm with a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, darling," she said softly.
Oriol's eyes twitched slightly at the scene, a mixture of exasperation and awe. Meanwhile, Nora and Isabella had also arrived. Isabella's voice was a mix of concern and relief as she asked, "Mother, why did you come down from there by yourself?"
Nora, moving swiftly, took Nuria's other arm to steady her, but Nuria waved both of them off. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she insisted, gently brushing them away. With that, she began walking toward the back of the truck, Mateo still supporting her, unsure exactly where she was leading them but trusting her entirely.
Finally reaching the rear, Nuria paused, looking down at the boot of the truck, her eyes thoughtful. Then she turned to Oriol. "Come, open it."
Confused but obedient, Oriol crouched and lifted the boot. "Mom… what do you want?" he asked, still uncertain.
"There," Nuria said, pointing to a small, unassuming box tucked to the side.
Oriol reached for it, muttering, "When did this get here?" as he carefully lifted it out. Nuria's gaze softened as she watched him. "I asked Aina's friend she helped me pack it… a very good child, that one," she said simply.
As Oriol handed the box to her, she collected it with gentle hands, turning then toward Mateo. Her aged face, lined with time and love, softened into an expression so tender it could melt hearts.
"This," she said, her voice low and reverent, "is your late grandfather's items."
The words hung in the air, and shock rippled through the group. Oriol and Isabella's eyes widened. "Father?" he murmured. "Dad," she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. Nora, standing beside them, added, "Mr. Cerdà."
Mateo took the box, his fingers unknowingly trembling slightly as he opened it. "Grandpa?" he whispered, awe and emotion filling his voice. His eyes roamed over the items, each one carrying the weight of history and memory.
Nuria smiled, her eyes glistening but steady. "I'm sure he would have wanted you to have this," she said, her tone full of quiet pride and love.
Mateo, still staring at the box, felt a gentle hand lift to his cheek. Looking up, he saw his grandmother's kind, caring eyes, brimming with warmth. Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke, but her words were full of love: "He would have been so proud of you, El meu príncep."
Her hand caressed his cheek softly, a gesture filled with devotion and tenderness, as Mateo's heart swelled with love and reverence, the weight of the moment settling beautifully around him.
...
"Bye, late!"
Mateo waved energetically, a grin tugging at his lips, as he called out to the departing figures of his family. Each one waved back, shouting reminders, warnings, and playful jabs over their shoulders.
"Mateo, don't forget about the match! Remember to ask the club liaison!"
"Football, football… you, this man!" Nuria chided lightly as Oriol just laughed loudly, slapping the side of the truck as it rolled forward.
"Mateo, don't mind him," his aunt called after him, her tone soft but teasing. "Also, don't forget the matter I mentioned about Aina—when you're ready, just text me."
"My baby's hair… gone! The tragedy!" Isabella's voice rang out, half amused, half exasperated.
Mateo chuckled, shaking his head and laughing along with them. "Bye, everyone!" he called again, his hoodie pulled up over his head, the box from his grandfather cradled carefully in his arms. He watched as the truck slowly drove off, the last glimpse of his family disappearing past the gates of La Masia.
For a moment, Mateo just stood there, the morning sunlight falling over him, shadows stretching across the pavement. His eyes drifted down to the box and the cooler he still held, feeling the warmth of both items and the weight of the love and memories they carried. A quiet smile crept onto his face as he adjusted the hoodie and began walking toward the dorms.
Before heading straight to his room, he paused at one familiar spot: the La Masia barber shop. The dormitory, bustling as always, housed countless facilities for the players: a gym fully equipped with cardio machines, weights, and recovery tools; a physiotherapy and treatment room; a music room for those who liked to unwind with instruments; a study lounge with computers and quiet reading areas; a small kitchen and dining area for those late-night cravings; and for the West Wing, which had started housing female players since 2015, a section complete with personal lockers, training gear, and even a mini hair salon for the girls.
Mateo spent the next fifteen minutes in the barber shop, surrounded by laughter, teasing, and playful mockery from the barbers who had already heard his protests about never wanting to cut his hair. "Never, Me? never!" he had insisted numerous times before now sitting in the chair. Now, however, as he looked into the mirror, he was starting to appreciate what they had done.
The barbers had worked on him carefully, smoothing out Piqué's previously crude cut and giving it shape. They had sculpted it to frame his jawline perfectly, accentuating the angles of his face and giving it a sharper, more striking appearance. The low cut opened up his features, making his cheekbones more prominent and highlighting the natural structure of his face. Mateo couldn't help but feel a small thrill of pride at how good it looked.
Of course, he still preferred his long, flowing locks—the hair he had been so attached to—but with that gone, this new look had a certain charm. It was clean, sharp, and presentable; for the first time in hours, he could look in the mirror and genuinely like what he saw. Mateo allowed himself a small, approving nod, deciding that if this was the new reality, he might as well enjoy it for a while.
...
"Here goes nothing."
All the courage Mateo had built up in the barbershop seemed to vanish the instant he stood in front of his dorm room door. After everything he had gone through that day—the haircut, the teasing and mockery from his teammates, his mother's furious scolding, the laughter in the barber shop—it all suddenly felt different. What had been playful banter and teasing before now loomed over him as something heavier, almost merciless. Standing here, he knew the teasing he had endured today was about to multiply at least tenfold once he stepped inside. A deep sigh escaped him as he raised his hand and performed the secret knock, the one only his closest friends knew.
By now, Gavi and the boys should have been back, and Mateo wasn't wrong. Almost immediately after the knock, he could hear murmurs from inside the room, some laughter, and a few lighthearted groans. The door began to open, and Mateo quickly tugged his hoodie tighter over his head, trying to hide as much of his hair as he could.
"Hey, Mateo! What's up?"
Fermín's cheerful voice greeted him as he opened the door just wide enough to let Mateo slip in. Mateo's heart skipped a beat, and he stammered slightly, "O-Oh… I'm good… what's up with you?"
Fermín just shrugged, grinning as he stepped back inside. "Just playing FIFA," he said, moving over to join Gavi and Casado, who were already deeply engrossed in a match on the console. Mateo muttered a small "Okay" in response, his eyes scanning the room as he entered.
The dorm looked more crowded than usual. Boxes were stacked here and there, some clearly his, filled with the little by little he had started packing, but most of them were deliveries from the club: neatly arranged clothes, boots, kits, speakers, pouches, sneakers, slides, headphones… even a phone and a laptop he hadn't opened yet. The sheer number of packages overtook the already small dorm space, leaving Mateo with an uneasy reminder: he really needed to move out soon.
He walked over to his bed, carefully setting down the box his grandmother had left for him. The cooler containing the food she had made earlier was still in his arms. He made his way toward the fridge, intending to store it safely, when Balde, who had been sitting off to the side observing him, perked up.
"What's that?" Balde asked, curiosity lighting up his face.
Mateo opened the small fridge, carefully sliding the cooler inside. "It's some escudella i carn d'olla. My abuela made it."
Balde's eyes went wide, practically sparkling. "Really?" he exclaimed, reaching toward Mateo's cooler. "Your grandmother came?"
Mateo simply nodded, a quiet smile tugging at his lips.
Balde's excitement spiked. "Why are you locking this away then? I'm starving!" Without waiting, he grabbed a plate and started helping himself, clearly overjoyed at the idea of tasting the meal Mateo's abuela had made.
Mateo didn't take any offense to it. They had all been friends for years, sharing food, teasing each other, and making a little chaos together a daily norm. Taking each other's things, especially homemade food from family members, had become part of the unspoken code of their friendship. Mateo himself had raided everyone's meals countless times over the years, so he wasn't about to get upset when they did the same to him.
Even while Gavi was still focused on the game, he glanced over and called out, "Dude, don't finish it, pour for me!"
Casado shouted from opposite him, "Get in, man!"
Gavi, not missing a beat turned his head back to face then game and, yelled back, "Guy, I was fucking looking back! You only know how to score like this!"
Casado fired back immediately, smirking, "Excuses. Nothing you could have done would stop that. You brought out your keeper already—you basically begged for this!"
Fermin leaned over the cooler, grinning, "Pour for me too, I'm so tired of the café food."
Gavi, still focused on the console, called over, "Just make sure you win the game after all this mouth."
Mateo waved his hand casually, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It's plenty. Just make sure to leave the remaining inside the fridge so it doesn't spoil."
He stood up, stretching a bit, and moved to sit on the side. As he lowered himself onto the edge of the couch, he watched his friends closely. Balde was dishing out the food, pouring some for Gavi and Casado, while Fermín went to take his plate himself. Mateo wasn't worried—his grandmother had cooked enough for all of them, and even if they ate it again tonight, there would still be more for tomorrow.
What baffled him, though, was how normal everything felt. the moment he entered the room, they should have swarmed him—pulled off his hoodie, laughed, snapped pictures, teased him endlessly. 'I mean… it's literally what I would have done,' he thought with a small grin. But now, everything was calm. No teasing, no loud laughter at first.
He tilted his head slightly and thought, Maybe Pedri didn't send the video yet. A tiny spark of relief danced in his chest. For now, he could at least postpone his shame.
But Mateo was gravely mistaken. The four of them had not only seen the video—they had laughed at it, shared it, and even shown it to others. They had already started planning how to make him pay for it, slowly, carefully, and painfully. They knew Mateo too well; if this had happened to any one of them, the reactions would have been dramatic and immediate. So, They were going to Savor every second.
As they continued eating, each of the four boys exchanged quick, deliberate side-eyes, their grins spreading wider and wider. The calmness Mateo felt was a fragile illusion, one that was about to be shattered by the very friends he trusted most. They were already scheming, silently, in perfect synchronization, their laughter waiting just under the surface, ready to explode at the perfect moment.
Mateo, still oblivious to what was quietly brewing around him, had joined the rest of the boys near the TV. He plopped down on the couch, trying to shake off the tension of the day, and said with a grin, "I'm playing next." Already, his mind had conveniently forgotten that it was the same game that had caused him so much embarrassment earlier—the one that got him into the hair disaster in the first place.
He barely had time to settle before the chaos began.
"Dammnn!" Mateo shouted as he moved to grab the controller.
"Fuck!" Fermín erupted at the same time, slamming his hands on his knees, his frustration spilling into the room.
Gavi laughed uncontrollably, pointing at Fermín, "Yeah, yeah! I fucking told you! I fucking told you!"
Mateo blinked, still half-smiling, but before he could breathe, Gavi was hooting, "Today is my day! Told you all—get out, man! Who is next?"
Fermín groaned, "Dude, it was fucking luck! If my last ball had gone in, we'd have gone to penalties. You're just lucky!"
Gavi rolled his eyes and shot back, "Excuses!"
Balde, ever the instigator, joined the chant with a laugh, "Excuses!" His grin stretched wide as he reached for the controller. "Pass the pad, bro."
Mateo protested, "Hey! I said I was next!"
Balde didn't answer him. He just plopped into the space Fermín had vacated, taking the pad with a smug look. "You met me here," he said, tossing a sideways glance at Mateo.
Mateo groaned, leaning back, "Dude, you're just going to lose. What's the point? Let me play after I remove Gavi, then you can enter."
Balde smirked lazily, "So what if I lose? It's not like I'm losing a bet or something."
Mateo froze mid-breath, the words hanging in the air. A few snickers rippled through the room; others struggled to stifle laughs, pressing "pft" noises through their teeth. Mateo's mind raced: What was that? But before he could even process it, Fermín hooked an arm over his shoulder, grinning devilishly, "Fuck, if I could've scored that last goal, none of this would have happened."
Casado, shaking his head, chimed in, "Guy, you missed—it's over."
Fermín put on a pained, theatrical look, voice thick with mock tragedy. "But did you see that shot? A hair's breath away from the goal!"
Snickers, giggles, and suppressed laughter started bubbling uncontrollably through the room. Fermín leaned closer to Mateo, eyes gleaming. "You saw it, right?"
Before Mateo could respond, Balde waved him off, smirking, "Dude, it's a game. Don't overthink it. Anyone can lose."
Gavi, selecting his team, couldn't resist adding fuel to the fire. "Yeah, I mean… you don't want to lose hair over a game, do you?"
It hit Mateo like a lightning bolt. His eyes widened, the color draining slightly as his stomach lurched. His hands shot out, shoving Fermín's arm away, and he screamed, "You bastards!"
And just like that, the dam burst.
The laughter erupted, loud, unrestrained, and endless. Jokes flew from every corner of the room, mockery ricocheted off the walls, and Mateo's protests barely made a dent. Phones rose, flashes lit up the space, and the hoodie that had shielded him moments ago was ripped off.
Then, with a flourish worthy of any dramatic finale, the video was forced in front of him. Mateo's eyes locked on the screen as the room erupted again, laughter cascading around him like a tidal wave. Every snicker, every shout, every teasing grin from his friends filled the space, and for the first time, Mateo realized just how much he loved being part of this chaotic, ruthless, endearing pack.
The Club, the locker room, his dorm. This was home.
Even if it meant losing his hair over it.
807 meters from each other
A/N
If you want to read 20 chapters ahead with daily uploads and to support me subscribe to my Patreon below There is also a picture of how mateo looks like posted and later there would be votes and all on the site some you wont need to pay to vote but you can if you want to support me thanks
patreon.com/David_Adetola
Thank You your support is greatly appreciated thank you all
I've also created a Discord channel to make communication easier, where I'll post updates, cover/character pictures for all my books, and more. Here's the link:
https://discord.gg/DsHC8g2A (New discord link )