(no subject)
“Will you be here when I wake up?”
Álvaro is dreading the answer; fearing the rejection (which seems to be the only constancy in their relationship).
Fernando merely looks at him (or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he is looking at his own blurred reflection in the other Spaniard’s eyes). Then he smirks, teeth shining brightly in the strands of moonlight creeping through the curtains.
With his soft features and uncountable freckles hidden under the duvet of night, his face doesn’t seem like a picture of boyish heartiness anymore.
Instead, it’s a pale mask of mild indifference.
(Maybe, Álvaro thinks, it’s only darkness that illuminates people’s true faces.)
And once again he wonders what brought him here, a cheap hotel room, booked for one night only, no breakfast, thank you, just for the night.
Tonight it started when the striker called a cab after a night out with the lads, effortlessly convincing Álvaro that it made sense for them to share a ride (but it started long before tonight.
It started long before Fernando whispered in his ear, the soft sound drowning out the pub’s noises of laughter and shouts and clinking bottles, long before a hand came to rest on his thigh and long before a raised brow and a smile tucking at seducing lips dared him to get into the car.)
“I don’t love you.” Fernando says matter-of-factly and reaches for the shirt he tossed to the floor only hours ago.
Álvaro longs for the soft skin, glistening with a coat of sweat, the sticky air in a poorly airconditioned room never allowing them to cool down.
Then, fabric covers the skin, the tattoos, the freckles, all the tiny places Álvaro has tasted and savoured.
Fernando gets up, opens a window, opens the door.
“Good night, Álvaro.”
He doesn’t look back as he walks out of the room.
Álvaro stares at the ceiling, observes the cobweb in a corner and a fly struggling to break free (but once you’re caught, it’s a futile fight, Álvaro knows, it won’t let you go, even if you wanted it to - which you don’t).
The fresh breeze of night strokes his skin, making him shiver.
But he doesn’t move, stays still until dawn (as he always does).
He stays right where Fernando left him.
Naked.