I Find It Funny How Vinicius Is Saying How He Just Wants To Play Football, But Is Constantly Picking

i find it funny how vinicius is saying how he just wants to play football, but is constantly picking fights with anything that breaths lmfao

🥰los bebés🥰

así es como debe ser!! VAMOSS

these are my bfs but they js don’t know it yet 🤗

what goes through a coach’s head when they decide to sub on a player who’s been extremely publicly struggling with confidence issues, hasn’t played much all tournament & clearly isn’t trusted by the manager

he was, quite literally, shaking on his walk up to the penalty spot.

it’s a ridiculous decision to put him on that late— if you want to put him on, put him on earlier so he can get his feet settled. don’t put him on that late, and don’t put him that high on the list.

it’s just terrible man management.

I’AM- Pablo Gavi

Notices: angst! (Are we surprised?) Song starts at 0:56 for lyrics to line up! Please remember that English is not my first language and I’m still trying to gain my confidence in writing back. Thank you!

You’re sitting in your apartment, staring at your phone. It’s late, and the silence of the night feels suffocating. Pablo’s last message still haunts you, the words replaying in your mind like a broken record. "Ya no sentía lo mismo que antes." He couldn’t even say it to your face, couldn’t even give you that courtesy.

He had been distant for months, his focus shifting entirely to football, to his career. You tried to be supportive, to understand, but every ignored call, every unanswered text chipped away at your patience. And when he finally admitted it, admitted that he didn’t feel the same way anymore, it shattered you.

"Me alejé porque vos no te fuiste. Quería estar tranqui, no lo entendiste."

You didn’t understand because he never explained. You wanted to be there for him, but he saw your presence as a burden, a distraction from his goals. He thought you were trying to control him, manipulate him. But all you ever wanted was to love him, to be loved in return. The nights are the worst. The bed feels emptier, colder. You curl up, trying to find comfort in the silence, but it only amplifies your sadness. "Ni la luna vino a verme. Perra, duermo en paz, pero estoy más triste." You want to hate him for calling you that, but the pain is too raw, too consuming to allow room for anger.

You scroll through your playlist, each song a painful reminder of what you had, what you lost. "Me identifiqué con letras antiguas que antes no me hacían tan mal." Songs you once listened to together now sting with every note. You turn them off, unable to bear the memories they bring.

You remember the arguments, his cold indifference, and your desperate attempts to make things work. He never wanted to change, never wanted to compromise. "No quería cambiar para gustarte. ¿Soluciones? Manipularme." You realize now that he never truly loved you, not in the way you loved him. You wanted to believe in him, in what you had, but it was all an illusion.

"¿Quién podría seguir? Vos querías la razón. Yo amarte, qué corazón cobarde." He called you cowardly, but he’s the one who couldn’t face the truth, who couldn’t admit his own failings. You wanted to believe there was still hope, that things could be fixed. But he was already gone, long before he ever said the words.

Your friends tell you to move on, to find someone who will appreciate you. But it’s not that simple. You’re filled with songs that now carry his name, each one a painful reminder of what you lost. "‘Toy lleno de temas que ahora sí tienen tu nombre, menos el que dice 'M.A.i'."

You lie there, the silence heavy and oppressive. You know you need to let go, but the pain is too fresh, the wounds too deep. The love you had, or thought you had, is now just a series of painful memories. You close your eyes, trying to find some semblance of peace, but all you find is the aching void he left behind.

And so you lie there, tears staining your pillow, wishing things had been different, wishing he had stayed. But he didn’t, and now you’re left to pick up the pieces of a shattered heart, alone in the darkness.