Narrator's P.O.V.
The sound of the key turning in the lock seemed to echo louder than usual through the empty hallway of the building. When Kael pushed open the apartment door, the exhaustion from a ten-hour shift in the restaurant kitchen collapsed onto his shoulders all at once. His legs ached, his back was stiff, his shoulders tense, and the smell of grease and smoke seemed embedded in every pore of his skin.
Before he could even shut the door with his foot, a chorus of meows greeted him. Eight little fur balls emerged from different corners of the living room, rubbing against his legs and demanding attention, food, or simply confirmation that he had returned.
"Hey, little troublemakers..." Kael murmured, his voice raspy and drawn out. "I missed my babies..."
He bent down to pick one of them up, practically squishing the animal against his face while trying not to trip over the other seven to reach his bedroom. They stretched up on the tips of their paws trying to reach him, making his steps difficult. The house full of cats was his sanctuary, but on that Wednesday night, even feline affection seemed to demand an energy he simply didn't have left.
Kael walked into his room and pulled the door to, leaving the symphony of meows outside. He dropped his backpack on the floor and began undressing mechanically, tossing the clothes that smelled of fried food straight into the hamper. He took a few deep breaths, trying to ease some of the tension he felt.
Before long, the man stood up; he urgently needed a shower. Showers were his personal moments of comfort. He opened the door and, without turning on the hallway light, walked to the bathroom and turned on the tap. The water was almost too hot, but he didn't care.
Gently, he rested his forehead against the cold tile and let the water hit the back of his neck, running slowly down his back. He stood there for long minutes, eyes closed, breathing in the steam and trying to convince his own body that the day was over. He was finally home, so he could relax.
The fatigue, however, wasn't just physical.
His mind was in complete chaos. Adult life seemed to be chewing away at his sanity bit by bit. Work demanded more than he could offer, money never seemed like enough, and responsibilities piled up without leaving any room to breathe. Kael felt worn down, as if he had been running for weeks on fumes.
Nothing seemed to recharge him.
Well... almost nothing...
When he finally turned off the shower, his skin was flushed red from the heat. He wrapped a towel around his waist and ran another through his damp hair as he headed to the kitchen to feed his babies. Chaos ensued when Kael picked up the bag of kibble, which made him let out a genuine laugh. He always laughed at his cats' desperation whenever they realized they were about to be fed.
After filling each of the eight food bowls, he returned to his bedroom. That was when his phone screen lit up on the bed. Kael picked up the device, squinting against the sudden brightness. There was a text from Samuel. The boy said he had finally managed to get ahead on some subjects and would have some free time to talk calmly.
The corners of Kael's lips turned up immediately. A gentle warmth spread through his chest, easing, if only for a few seconds, the weight he had been carrying since the start of the day. It felt good to know that amidst all that chaos, Samuel had finally found an opening for him. Kael began typing a reply, but before he could send it, a flood of notifications appeared at the top of the screen. The group chat had just sprung to life.
"What the..." he murmured, not understanding what everyone was talking about.
He opened the chat and discovered Íkaro was the reason for the commotion. The guy had sent an excited voice note talking about an important grade—or some other recent college achievement—and calling everyone out to drink and celebrate. The last text read: "I'm already at the bar near my place. Whoever doesn't come tonight is an enemy of success."
It was Wednesday. A cold, exhausting Wednesday, entirely unsuitable for leaving the house. Still, replies began flooding in almost immediately. Pabllyo, Verônica, Dani... one by one, everyone confirmed, excited by the perfect excuse to break the weekday routine. Kael stared at the screen for a few seconds.
A twinge of doubt hit him.
The bed looked absurdly inviting. He wanted to shower, lie down, and keep talking to Samuel until sleep came. He wanted to make the most of that tiny window of time the boy had managed to offer, given that having contact with him hadn't been easy. But he hadn't seen his friends in days, and the apartment's solitude, which usually brought him comfort, felt suffocating that night. The idea of being surrounded by people, hearing laughter, and letting his fatigue dissolve in a few drinks sounded like the immediate relief he needed.
Kael let out a heavy sigh and locked the screen.
Then, he walked to the closet and pulled out a clean pair of pants.
He was going.
(...)
The sidewalk bar was noisy for a Wednesday night. The yellowish light from the lamps reflected off the bottles of vodka and soda scattered across the large table, where the group laughed and celebrated Íkaro's news. As usual, the group was lively and loud, drawing attention to themselves, though not caring in the least about the stares.
Kael, however, seemed to be elsewhere. He held his cup between his hands, his eyes fixed on the slowly dissolving foam. The fatigue from exhausting hours at work still weighed heavily on his eyelids, and his slouched posture betrayed that his mind was far away. Indeed, it was, and that didn't go unnoticed by the most attentive eyes around him.
"Kael?" Verônica called, touching his shoulder lightly. "Hey, earth to Kael."
He looked up.
Dani, sitting beside her, leaned forward a bit, watching him closely.
"You've been quiet since you got here. Did something happen?"
"Yeah, Ka. You look terrible," Dani added. "Did work crush you today or is it something else?"
The man forced a side smile and straightened his posture in the chair.
"I'm just tired, guys. The restaurant was total chaos today. I barely had time to breathe."
"Oh, stop lying, Kael!" Pabllyo's voice cut through the conversation.
He had just returned from the bar counter alongside Íkaro, carrying two more bottles of chilled energy drink. Pabllyo set the drinks on the table and crossed his arms.
"I've known you way too long to believe that's just work fatigue."
"That's exactly what it is," he emphasized.
"No, it isn't." Pabllyo laughed, tilting his head. "That has a first name, last name, and an age."
Kael felt his chest take a sudden leap. Irritation rose hot in his throat. He huffed and dragged his chair back a few inches.
"You know what? Whatever. We came here to celebrate with Íkaro, not to talk about me," he said rather sharply.
His words paused the table's movement for a few seconds. Íkaro, who until then had only been following the conversation while pouring his own drink, looked up.
The two stared at each other.
It was a brief instant, but it seemed to last longer than it should have. There was no mockery in Íkaro's eyes. There was attention. A quiet curiosity, almost a full presence directed solely at him.
And something ignited inside Kael.
He couldn't quite explain what, but there was a feeling that boy in front of him brought that, in moments like this, warmed his chest. It wasn't love. It wasn't even the beginning of a crush. Nor did it have the delicacy of the feelings he harbored for Samuel. It was something more... immediate.
More physical...
Kael had always found Íkaro handsome. There was something in his gaze—which Kael found gorgeous and penetrating—in his unbothered posture, and in the effortless way he commanded any space that drew attention. The man loved the way Íkaro dressed, which somehow always highlighted his physique. The history between the two, however, had never gone beyond occasional kisses on random, non-committal nights with no promises of anything more.
Except tonight, Íkaro's presence seemed to make an undeniable truth impossible to ignore. He was right there. Close. Accessible. Sharing the same table, the same drink, and the same Wednesday night.
There were no complicated schedules, exam weeks, or the need to wait for a gap in someone's routine. Íkaro was simply present. The realization hit Kael with uncomfortable force. Íkaro's presence stood in brutal contrast to Samuel's constant absence.
And Kael, tired, frustrated, and emotionally vulnerable, couldn't help but notice every single detail of that glaring difference...
(...)
The click of the front door shutting felt like the crash of a breaking dam. The apartment was plunged into thick darkness and an almost absolute silence that, after the bar, seemed to crush Kael's ears.
He rested his back against the cold wood and closed his eyes.
The walk back had been a blur. The alcohol ran warm through his veins, but it didn't numb a thing. On the contrary: it made everything sharper, harder to ignore. Every thought felt like a different storm brewing inside his mind. His body was restless. The longing, accumulated over the past few days, mixed with fatigue and the need to feel something that wasn't frustration. But that wasn't what was tearing him apart.
As he walked down the narrow hallway, stumbling slightly, the image that kept returning to his mind wasn't Samuel's smile, nor the memory of his voice...
It was Íkaro.
His face. His scent. The way he had sat at the table, so close and, at the same time, so simple to reach. Íkaro didn't come with so many limitations. He didn't have to leave early because of family. He didn't depend on permissions, exams, or tight schedules. He didn't demand that Kael settle for tiny slivers of time.
Íkaro was simply there.
Tangible.
Immediate.
The realization brought a bitter wave of nausea.
Kael felt terrible for wanting the easier path. For allowing his own longing to be distracted by another man's presence while Samuel remained distant, trapped in a routine neither of them could control. He entered the bedroom without turning on the light. He lacked the energy to change clothes or organize what he had left scattered along the way. He simply fell face down onto the bed. The impact made the mattress sink under his weight. Kael gripped the sheets and buried his face in the pillow, feeling the room slowly spin around him.
His body felt made of lead.
But it was his chest that hurt the most.
A rough knot rose in his throat, making it hard to breathe. He tried to swallow, tried to compose himself, tried to convince himself he was just drunk and tired. But he couldn't. The defenses he had maintained for months collapsed all at once. The first tear rolled down, hot and silent. Soon after, others followed, opening the floodgates to everything Kael had been trying to keep under control.
He sobbed.
The cry came out ugly, deep, almost raw, making his shoulders shake violently in the dark. He dug his fingers into the mattress and cried out of anger at his own confusion, at the longing that never faded, and at the feeling of always trying to resolve a situation that didn't depend solely on him. He missed Samuel in an almost physical way. It felt like deliberate torture. He missed talking to him, having him nearby, sharing small and seemingly insignificant things. He missed the feeling that, for a few moments, the world felt lighter when they were together.
But above all, Kael cried because he was exhausted.
Exhausted from trying to reconcile adult life, demanding work, and the weight of bills with a relationship that existed within the confines of Samuel's adolescence. He was tired of waiting. Tired of depending on small openings. Tired of feeling like every moment by his side had to be fought for against something else. There, alone, as his crying slowly dissolved the drunkenness, a cold clarity began to take shape at the back of his mind. Kael closed his eyes tight and shook his head against the pillow, as if he could push the thought away.
But the truth had already found its space.
Love, as great as it was, wasn't being enough to sustain the weight of reality. His heart felt like it was sinking into a frozen abyss. He didn't want to let Samuel go. The simple thought caused him almost unbearable pain. He didn't want to give up what he felt, nor turn a story that still felt so alive inside him into a goodbye.
But he also couldn't keep pretending he wasn't destroying himself bit by bit.
The rope was frayed. It was going to snap.
Sooner or later, to avoid ending up destroying himself—and to avoid hurting Samuel even further—Kael would need to make a decision.
And he knew very well which one...