Narrator's P.O.V.
The weeks that followed the breakup with Samuel brought Kael a sort of numbness. The pain of the first few days hadn't vanished. In fact, the pain he had felt since the day he decided to leave the younger boy was still latent, but it stopped occupying all the space at once. Slowly, it was pushed into the corners by routine: the alarm before sunrise, the restaurant uniform, the smell of grease embedded in his clothes, the hours on his feet, the fatigue that made him fall asleep on the bus ride home before he could even gather his thoughts.
Before he knew it, it was night again, and the next day, everything restarted.
And in this new setting, Íkaro fit into his routine with an almost frightening ease. There were no grand declarations between them. No conversations about a future together, no promises or demands regarding their "relationship." Nor did they try to turn it into a formal courtship. What they shared was simpler: companionship, sex, and a few hours of rest at the end of the day.
It was a practical dynamic. An adult one.
Kael told himself that this was exactly what he needed.
The man's phone vibrated inside his pants pocket as he hung his keys on a small hook next to the door. He had just arrived from the restaurant and still felt the weight of the shift on his shoulders. As soon as he pulled out the device, the screen lit up, revealing a text from Íkaro.
Íkaro: Are you home yet?
Kael unlocked the phone while walking toward the bedroom.
Kael: Just walked in. Why?
The reply appeared less than thirty seconds later.
Íkaro: Awesome. I get off work in half an hour. Heading your way.
Kael gave a faint side smile.
Kael: Cool. Ring the intercom and I'll buzz you in, but the apartment door will be unlocked.
Íkaro: Lazy ass! Won't even open the door for me...
Kael: You practically live here, Íkaro. You don't need all that! lololol
The man locked the screen and set his phone on the bed. Then he let out a slow breath, feeling his shoulders relax for the first time since leaving the restaurant. He sat down and looked around, smiling as he saw his cats standing before him, staring in silence, waiting for his slightest movement to unleash their symphony of meows.
"You're hungry, I know," he said, standing up to feed the little creatures. The usual chaos ensued, with cats sprinting like crazy to their food bowls.
While organizing the small details of his daily routine, Kael caught himself thinking about how, with Íkaro, he didn't need to calculate schedules to know how much time they would have together. He didn't need to ask if he could stay out late, nor if anyone would be waiting for him at home. There was no mother to convince, no excuses to invent, and no permission to seek.
Íkaro would simply show up.
It was easy.
And Kael clung to that ease like someone finding a solid surface after spending far too long trying not to drown.
(...)
About fifty minutes later, the intercom buzzed. Kael was already lying down, one leg crossed over the other and his gaze lost in the ceiling, but upon hearing the sound, he stood up quickly and jogged to answer it. A playful smirk settled on his lips. He really liked it when Íkaro came over, and the younger guy usually sought him out when he was stressed, which meant they were in for a very... intense night...
"Come up," he said, without even waiting for a reply.
It didn't take long before Kael heard noises outside. The door had been left unlocked, as promised, so he didn't have to worry. Íkaro's footsteps crossed the hallway. They were firm, familiar. When he appeared in the bedroom doorway, he was still wearing his work clothes and carrying a backpack slung over one shoulder. His face bore the same confident smirk as always, though fatigue was also evident in his posture. Íkaro dropped the backpack on the floor beside the bed, turning to the man watching him intently.
"Hi to you too," Íkaro commented, making Kael laugh.
"Hi..." The younger guy said nothing more. He simply climbed onto the mattress and threw himself on top of him, making the bed sink beneath their weight.
Kael let out a surprised laugh, but it was cut short when Íkaro claimed his mouth. The kiss came in intense, without the hesitation that used to exist before, in those moments of tenderness the older man had grown accustomed to. Both moved ravenously, the atmosphere heating up with every passing second.
There was desire, urgency, and a physical familiarity that required no explanation. Íkaro knew where to touch, how to lean in, when to tease. Kael responded without having to think. He simply felt and let himself be carried away by the pleasure that contact caused him.
When they pulled back far enough to breathe, Íkaro rested his forehead against his. Both were smiling, both breathless. Both loved it.
"I spent the whole day wanting to do that," the guy murmured.
"Just that?" Kael raised an eyebrow.
"You want me to lie? I'm horny as hell, I needed to come here," he complained.
Kael laughed, running his fingers through the back of his neck.
"You're so predictable, Íkaro."
"And you keep leaving the door unlocked, so you must love it," he teased.
"I actually love it when you come over," the answer came naturally.
That statement from Kael wasn't a declaration. It didn't carry the weight of a promise. It was just a simple, comfortable observation, given that was how he felt when he was with the younger guy. Íkaro smiled and kissed him again.
"Mm... I'm thinking of taking a shower. What do you think?" Kael asked, breaking the kiss.
"I think it's a great idea. Especially since I'm sure you're gonna try to—"
"Íkaro!" Kael cut him off, bursting into laughter. He loved the younger guy's bluntness.
"Am I lying? I know you're gonna try," Íkaro shrugged, standing up, taking off his glasses, and then his shirt.
Kael stood up as well, following Íkaro to the bathroom. The rest of the night dissolved into kisses, low laughter, and the intimacy of two men who didn't need to turn desire into anything else. There was no difficult conversation waiting at the end. No fear of disappointing anyone. No need to ask what it all meant.
They just...
They just enjoyed each other.
(...)
The shower had washed away the sweat and tension accumulated in both their bodies, though the day's exhaustion lingered. Kael was starving when they finally sat at the table for dinner; only then did he realize he hadn't even stopped for lunch. Utensils scraped against plates, accompanied by the occasional clink of glasses set on the table. For a few minutes, neither spoke. They simply ate, enjoying that moment of tranquility after a day that felt like it had lasted longer than it should have.
The silence between them wasn't awkward. Quite the opposite. There was something comfortable about that absence of words. Kael didn't need to conjure up a topic to keep Íkaro entertained, and Íkaro didn't seem to expect him to. Sometimes they exchanged a glance or a faint smile, but nothing beyond that was needed. Just being there, sharing a meal after a exhausting day, felt like enough. Until Íkaro pushed his empty plate forward and leaned back in his chair.
"If my boss comes at me with another 'urgent' spreadsheet ten minutes before my shift ends, I swear I'll throw the monitor out the window," he complained suddenly.
Kael laughed, resting his chin on his hand.
"Was the day that bad?"
"It was complete shit. College is killing me too. Deadlines for everything, professors acting like we don't work, and I still have to listen to that man talk like his salary pays for my Shein cart," the way Íkaro spoke always made the older man laugh. He was naturally hilarious.
"Did you send your resume to that company you mentioned?" Kael asked, setting his plate aside as well.
"Not yet, but it's pretty much my dream to work there. I'd work fewer hours, have a great salary... I'd finally be able to execute my plans to buy an apartment in the woods and disappear." The way he spoke demonstrated his longing for it.
"You'll get it, I'm sure. But didn't you say you might have to relocate to another state, depending?"
"If they call me, I'm moving the same day," he shrugged.
Kael smiled.
"Brave."
"No. Just exhausted," Íkaro took a sip of juice and pointed at him. "And you? Survive the kitchen?"
"Barely. Today felt like everyone decided to order at the exact same time," Kael sighed, remembering how drained he felt throughout the day.
"You should get another job too."
"I know."
"I'm serious, Kael," Íkaro emphasized.
"So am I."
Íkaro watched him for a moment. The playful expression softened into something more caring. As much as his connection with Kael wasn't deeply romantic, it wasn't devoid of feelings. He cared, and Kael was the type of person who was strong, but even the hardest stone can crack.
"You're killing yourself in that place," he said, his voice softening unconsciously.
Kael looked down at his plate. He knew that, but saw nothing that could be done at the moment.
"It's just a phase," he murmured.
"Kael, you've been saying that for months."
"Because it's still a phase," and there was Kael being stubborn again.
Íkaro didn't push. He simply nodded and went back to his juice. After a few seconds of silence, he added:
"But you're fucking good at what you do."
Kael looked up.
"I am?"
"Yeah. Even when you're complaining, you know exactly what you're doing. I find it kind of funny how you always know what you're doing, but I won't compliment you too much so you don't get full of yourself," he joked.
That sentence hit him in an unexpected way. It wasn't a grand display of affection. Íkaro didn't hold his hand, didn't make promises, didn't try to convince him that everything would be okay. He simply recognized the effort Kael made every single day. And that brought a kind of comfort.
At that table, the two talked about work, college, money, and plans. They talked about things that belonged to the same world. Kael didn't need to explain why he was tired. He didn't need to downplay the weight of his responsibilities so as not to seem distant or overly busy. Íkaro understood.
Or, at least, understood enough.
When Kael stood up to clear the plates, he asked:
"Are you coming back tomorrow?"
Íkaro looked up.
"If you wanna put up with me again."
Kael smiled.
"You know I can handle you. I like it when you come over."
The response came too quickly to be rehearsed. Íkaro smiled too, satisfied, and stood up to help him with the dishes.
For a few minutes, Kael believed it might be possible to keep going this way. No promises. No complications.
Without needing to miss anyone so much...
(...)
Later, when the apartment plunged into the silence of the late night hours, Íkaro slept beside Kael. His breathing was peaceful. His head rested on the older man's arm, using it as his personal pillow. His body occupied the bed with the natural ease of someone who didn't need to ask for space to be there, already accustomed to that spot.
Kael, however, remained awake.
The lightness of dinner had vanished. The comfort of the previous hours had dissolved without warning, leaving behind a weight he already knew all too well.
He turned his head to the side and observed Íkaro for a few seconds.
It was good to have him there.
It was good not to be alone.
But it wasn't enough.
Kael closed his eyes. The memory of Samuel came effortlessly: his voice, his way of laughing, his hand reaching for his during a walk, his head resting on his shoulder. There was no specific image. It was worse than that. It was the complete presence of someone who was no longer there.
Kael brought his hand to his chest.
He felt as though he had accumulated something heavy inside himself. Layer upon layer of guilt, longing, anger, and regret. Work occupied his body. Íkaro occupied his bed. But nothing reached the place where Samuel kept existing; that was a space reserved solely for him.
The material world couldn't handle that pain. The bills, the exhaustion, the job, the presence of another man—everything felt small against it. Kael sat up slowly. He knew other ways to try and soothe what he couldn't name.
Kael had grown up forced to attend a Protestant Christian church. It had been an exhausting routine, especially because he always felt different from the rest. Besides, even as a child, he possessed a sharp critical sense and didn't believe that in such a vast universe, there was only one path. When he grew up, he discovered witchcraft, and during a failed attempt at a spell, he met Aphrodite, the goddess of love. It was an immediate connection. Kael knew she was his mother goddess, the deity ruling his life, which was why that feeling was so... complicated...
Love.
Green magic had been a familiar practice of his for a few years. When reality became unbearable, he turned to the elements in an attempt to shift the course of his life. He turned to nature.
To herbs.
To intentions.
To magic.
Kael slipped out of bed carefully so as not to wake Íkaro and walked to the kitchen. He turned on only the light above the sink and began gathering what he needed. In a pot, he boiled water and added a handful of coarse salt. The crystals dissolved gradually into the liquid.
Then, in another smaller pot, he prepared an infusion of cloves, cinnamon sticks, boldo, and bay leaves. The earthy, ritualistic aroma filled the kitchen as the water began to boil. Kael stood before the pot, watching the steam rise.
He needed to believe that this would work.
He needed something to work.
When it was ready, he carried the containers to the bathroom and locked the door. Inside, he undressed before the mirror. His clothes fell to the floor, but an oppressive feeling lingered on his skin, making the anguish even worse. Kael looked at his own reflection. He looked exhausted. Not just from work or sleepless nights. There was something beaten down in his expression, an exhaustion that seemed to come from a deeper place, almost impossible to reach.
He averted his eyes. He stepped into the shower cabin and turned on the hot water, letting it stream over his body. He would begin the ritual. First, he poured the salt water from the neck down, preserving the top of his head. The liquid ran down his chest, arms, and legs, carrying away small crystals that clung to his skin. Kael rubbed his body with his hands. Not violently enough to hurt himself, but with a desperate persistence. He ran his fingers over his arms, chest, and back, as if the anguish were deposited upon his skin and could be scrubbed off by force.
The water washed the salt down the drain. Kael stood motionless under the shower for a few seconds. He felt lighter. But also empty. As if he had removed something from within himself along with the dirt he imagined carrying.
Next, he picked up the herbal infusion. He closed his eyes and breathed in the warm aroma of cinnamon and cloves. Then he poured the liquid over his head, letting it run through his hair, down his face, and across the rest of his body. The bath was warm. Comforting. He felt almost invigorated.
For a few moments, Kael tried to imagine the energy of the herbs filling the spaces left by the salt. That the boldo was washing away the bitterness. That the bay leaves were restoring strength. That the cinnamon was warming what had frozen inside him.
But when he rested his forehead against the cold tiles, he realized he was still crying.
His tears mixed with the water.
Kael was a witch. He knew how to manipulate energies, knew herbs, spells, and forms of protection.
Yet no magic seemed capable of tearing Samuel's name out from inside his flesh.
(...)
When he returned to the bedroom, his body still carried the scent of the herbs. Íkaro was still sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the older man's absence. Kael stood by the bed, watching him. For a brief moment, he felt relief. Maybe having someone there was enough. Maybe sleeping beside Íkaro, waking up with him, repeating that routine, could fill the spaces Samuel had left behind.
Maybe...
He finally lay down, the mattress sinking under his weight. Kael leaned into Íkaro and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead—a gesture almost of gratitude for his being there. Kael took a deep breath, closing his eyes in hopes of falling asleep quickly...
But the peace was short-lived. The phone vibrated on the nightstand. The sound cut through the room and made Kael open his eyes immediately. He stretched out his arm, still groggy, but discomfort had already settled in his stomach. The screen displayed a text from Pedro in the group chat.
Pedro: Guys, did you see this? I can't believe it...
Below it was a link.
Kael remained motionless for a few seconds.
He didn't want to open it.
But he felt he already knew what he would find.
He unlocked the device.
Samuel's post appeared on the screen.
It was a recent photo. Samuel was smiling beside another boy, the two close enough that there was no doubt about what they were announcing. The caption confirmed the relationship.
A relationship.
Kael read it once.
Then again.
Samuel looked happy beside him. The boy seemed young; maybe they were the same age. Kael thought about how that image contrasted with his own photos with Samuel. They seemed to belong to the same world; there wasn't that gulf that had inevitably formed between him and the younger boy when they tried to be together. Indeed, he seemed like someone who could be with Samuel in a way Kael no longer could.
His heart felt like it plummeted, shattering into millions of tiny pieces.
He gripped the phone tighter, his fingers beginning to tremble. The image remained before his eyes, but his attention was no longer on it. It was on the feeling of having lost something before even understanding he had lost it.
Samuel had moved on.
While Kael was still trying to figure out how to survive his own days, Samuel was smiling beside someone else.
Resentment came before tears. A bitter, almost childish resentment that he hated feeling the moment he became aware of it. Kael had been the one to end things. He had been the one who chose to leave. He had no right to act as if Samuel were committing an injustice.
Still, it hurt.
It hurt so much.
It hurt to see that Samuel's life was moving forward.
It hurt to imagine another person occupying the places that used to be his. Who would listen to Samuel's stories, receive his texts, hold his hand, know his silences.
Kael locked the screen and tossed the phone back onto the nightstand with enough force to regret the noise it made. He turned his face to Íkaro, hoping he hadn't woken him. He was right there. A man who desired him. Who showed up when he said he would. Who shared the exhaustion of work, the plans, and the bed with him. Someone who didn't need to be hidden behind excuses or impossible schedules.
But in that moment, Íkaro's presence felt fragile. Almost thin. As if a single thought were enough to cut right through it. Kael closed his eyes and buried his face in the pillow. He tried not to make a sound. Tried to control his breathing, hold back the sobs, stay still so as not to wake Íkaro.
He couldn't.
Tears fell silently, soaking the fabric beneath his face.
He had company.
Yet he had never felt so alone.
And as he cried, a certainty took shape inside him—cruel, premature, and impossible to push away:
Samuel was living as if Kael had never existed...