The library carried a faint scent of new books mixed with older ones, but it was pleasant. Not dusty. Not stale. Just paper and ink and quiet ambition. The air conditioning kept the room gently cool, brushing against skin like a restrained reminder to stay awake. Outside, somewhere far down the campus path, laughter echoed. A whistle blew. Concentrated voices rose and fell like distant waves
Lucien was writing.
His hair rested lightly over his forehead, slightly unruly but intentional. His glasses sat delicately aligned on his nose, and his hands moved in slow, measured rhythm. Each word seemed selected, examined, approved before it touched the page. No rush. No wasted motion.
Across from him, Adrián looked like he belonged to a different season entirely.
His hair was disorganized in a way that didn't care to be fixed. Headphones at full volume. Notebook open, untouched. He wasn't writing.
He was staring out the window.
—What are you doing? —Lucien asked without looking up.
Adrián didn't answer immediately.
His eyes were fixed on something near the edge of the garden outside.
—There's a cat —he said finally, sliding one headphone down around his neck.
Lucien paused mid-sentence.
—We're supposed to be working.
—I know.
—This is due today.
—I know.
Lucien lifted his eyes slowly.
—Then write.
Adrián rested his chin in his palm, still watching.
—It's limping.
Lucien's pen stopped.
—Limping?
—Yeah. Left paw. But it's still walking like it owns the place.
Lucien hesitated, then glanced toward the window.
The cat moved carefully across the grass. One uneven step. Then another. It paused to sniff at something invisible, tail raised with quiet confidence.
—Maybe someone hurt it —Lucien said quietly.
—Or maybe it was born that way —Adrián replied— And just figured it out.
Lucien looked at him now.
—You don't care about your grades, do you?
Adrián shrugged lightly.
—Not as much as I care about that cat being okay.
Lucien studied him for a moment.
—You're going to fail this assignment.
—Probably.
—And you're fine with that?
Adrián finally turned his head, meeting Lucien's gaze.
—I'm fine with noticing things.
The distant laughter outside grew louder for a second before fading again.
Lucien adjusted his glasses.
—You can notice things and still pass your classes.
Adrián smiled faintly.
—You can pass your classes and still miss everything happening outside the window.
Lucien didn't respond right away.
Instead, he looked back at the cat.
It had reached the shade of a tree now, curling slightly into itself, as if the world had agreed to pause for it.
Lucien tapped his pen once against the page.
—You're distracting.
Adrián's expression softened.
—You're too focused.
A small silence settled between them.
Not tense.
Just balanced.
Lucien exhaled quietly.
—Describe it.
Adrián blinked.
—The cat.
Adrián glanced back outside.
—White. A little gray around the ears. Skinny, but not starving. Brave, I think.
Lucien wrote.
—Why are you writing that?
Lucien didn't look up.
—Because you're not going to write your part.
Adrián watched him for a second longer than usual.
—You always fix things, don't you?
Lucien's pen slowed.
—Only the things I decide are worth fixing.
Adrián's eyes shifted briefly back to the cat.
Then back to Lucien.
And for the first time that afternoon, he reached for his pen.
Lucien was writing.
The tip of his pen moved steadily across the page, neat handwriting, precise margins, everything in order. Adrián sat across from him, quietly reading, occasionally turning a page with that same unhurried rhythm.
For a few minutes, nothing but paper and breathing.
Lucien underlined a sentence.
Paused.
Stared at the next line.
His pen hovered mid-air.
He wasn't reading anymore.
He was thinking.
Outside, a distant burst of laughter echoed through the hallway. Someone shouted instructions. A whistle followed.
Lucien blinked slowly, then let his pen fall lightly against the paper.
—Do you have siblings? —he asked suddenly, without looking up.
Adrián lifted his eyes from his book.
—Yes —he replied calmly— An older sister.
Lucien finally looked at him.
—Older sister… —he murmured, leaning back slightly in his chair— That explains it.
—Explains what? —Adrián asked, closing his book halfway.
—You're patient —Lucien said, gesturing lightly with his pen— You don't interrupt. You let people finish. That's trained behavior.
Adrián's mouth curved faintly.
—Or maybe I just don't like unnecessary noise.
Lucien tilted his head.
—That's exactly what someone raised by an older sister would say.
Adrián let out a soft breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
—She talks a lot —he admitted— And she's very direct.
Lucien nodded slowly, studying him.
—And you're not.
—Not as much.
A small pause settled between them again, comfortable and unforced.
Adrián tilted his head slightly.
—What about you? —he asked— Brothers? Sisters?
Lucien tapped his pen once against the edge of the notebook.
—No. I'm an only child —he said simply.
Adrián nodded.
—I thought so.
Lucien narrowed his eyes.
—Why does everyone say that like it's obvious? —he asked, pushing his glasses up slightly.
—You're comfortable being alone —Adrián replied— And you think before you speak.
Lucien held his gaze for a second longer than usual.
—Being an only child means silence isn't awkward —he said quietly— You grow up with it. You get used to filling it yourself.
Outside, another cheer echoed. Louder this time.
Lucien didn't even glance toward the door.
—We keep ending up in the same places —he said after a moment, lowering his voice slightly— Locked in that room. Same bus. Same building. Same escape route.
Adrián leaned back a little.
—Coincidence.
Lucien shook his head faintly.
—I don't think so.
Adrián watched him carefully.
—Then what?
Lucien twirled his pen between his fingers absentmindedly.
—Maybe the universe is insisting —he said, almost casually— Maybe we're supposed to at least try being friends.
The words hung in the air, quieter than the whistles outside.
Adrián didn't look away.
—You're serious —he said.
Lucien met his eyes directly.
—Yes —he replied— My circle is small. I don't add people randomly. If I'm asking, it's intentional.
A beat of silence passed.
Then Adrián nodded once.
—Alright.
Lucien blinked.
—Alright?
—We can try —Adrián said, closing his book completely.
Lucien's lips curved just slightly.
—Coffee after class —he said, slipping his notebook into his bag— Neutral territory.
Adrián stood as well, calm as ever.
—Starbucks? —he suggested.
Lucien adjusted his glasses.
—Starbucks works.
Outside, the games continued loudly.
But as they walked out of the library side by side, it didn't feel like they were escaping anymore.
It felt like something had quietly begun.
They were supposed to get coffee.
That had been the civilized plan. Structured. Predictable. Sensible.
Lucien walked with that quiet, curated composure of someone who schedules his own breathing. Adrián walked beside him, slightly slouched, headphones resting around his neck now, observing everything like the world was a documentary made specifically for him.
Starbucks was two blocks ahead.
Lucien saw it.
The boutique window.
And inside, illuminated like it had signed a contract with destiny, was the jacket.
He slowed.
Stopped.
Adrián took three more steps before noticing the silence beside him.
—Did you disconnect from reality, or—
Lucien grabbed his sleeve.
Not violently.
But decisively.
—We're going in.
—No, we're not —Adrián replied calmly— We are going for coffee. Remember? Hot beverages. Caffeine. Social development.
Lucien didn't even look at him.
—Plans evolve.
—No, they don't. They either happen or they don't.
Lucien finally turned his head slightly.
—Do you always argue with opportunity?
Adrián glanced at the window.
—It's a jacket.
Lucien's eyes narrowed faintly.
—It's architecture in fabric form.
—It's black.
—Charcoal.
—That's just black with ambition.
Lucien stepped closer to the glass, studying the cut, the shoulders, the collar. His reflection stared back at him like it was judging the decision before it happened.
—You're staring at it like it insulted you personally —Adrián said.
Lucien exhaled softly.
—It's structured. Clean lines. Understated authority.
—You're describing a dictator.
Lucien turned fully toward him now.
—You said I was too focused earlier.
—Yes.
Lucien's hand tightened slightly on his sleeve.
—Then consider this growth.
And before Adrián could protest again, Lucien pulled him inside.
The bell chimed overhead.
Adrián looked around slowly.
—You physically dragged me into a boutique.
Lucien released him and walked straight to the jacket.
—You'll survive.
Adrián crossed his arms.
—If I get judged by a sales associate because I look like I just left a football field, I'm blaming you.
Lucien lifted the jacket from the rack, fingers smoothing over the fabric.
—Stand still.
—Why?
—Perspective.
Lucien held the jacket up against himself, examining the fit in the mirror.
Adrián stepped beside him reluctantly.
—You know we were supposed to be bonding over coffee.
—We still can.
—After you elope with outerwear?
Lucien ignored him.
He adjusted the collar slightly.
—It's sharp.
—You're already sharp.
Lucien glanced sideways.
—That sounded like a compliment.
—It wasn't. It was an observation.
Lucien studied his reflection again.
—If I buy this, it changes the silhouette.
Adrián blinked.
—The silhouette of what?
—Me.
Adrián stared at him for a second.
—You cannot be serious.
Lucien turned to face him fully now, jacket still in hand.
—Image is communication.
—We're students.
—Exactly.
Adrián let out a short breath that was almost a laugh.
—You abandoned caffeine for couture.
Lucien tilted his head slightly.
—And yet you're still here.
—You dragged me.
Lucien's lips curved faintly.
—You could have resisted.
Adrián looked down at his own sleeve, still slightly wrinkled from being pulled.
—I chose not to escalate the situation.
Lucien stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly.
—Admit it.
—Admit what?
—You're curious.
Adrián held his gaze for a second too long.
—About the jacket?
—About what I'll look like in it.
Adrián rolled his eyes, but he didn't look away.
—Fine. Try it on.
Lucien blinked once.
—You're encouraging this.
—If we're going to derail the coffee plan, at least make it entertaining.
Lucien studied him, then handed the jacket to the employee with calm authority.
—I'll try it.
Adrián shook his head lightly.
—You are impossible.
Lucien walked toward the fitting rooms.
—And you're still following me.
Adrián muttered under his breath as he trailed behind.
—I should've just gotten the coffee alone.
Lucien glanced back over his shoulder, a faint smile touching his expression.
—You wouldn't have enjoyed it as much.
In the end, Lucien bought the jacket.
Of course he did.
There was no dramatic internal battle. No hesitation at the register. He simply handed over the card with the serene confidence of someone who has never had to split allowances with siblings. Only child. Generous parents. A bank account that never quite learned the word restraint.
Adrián watched the transaction like it was a documentary about luxury behavior.
—You didn't even blink —he said.
—I evaluated beforehand.
—You stared at it for twelve seconds.
—That's sufficient.
They should have left.
They did not.
Lucien drifted deeper into the store, fingers grazing fabrics with absent curiosity. More shirts. More jackets. More sweaters.
And then he saw it.
A soft blue sweater.
Pale, almost sky-colored. And in the center, stitched neatly, was a small bear. Not ironic. Not edgy. Just… there.
Adrián walked up beside him.
—No.
Lucien tilted his head.
—No?
—You are not buying that.
Lucien held it up slightly.
—It's absurd.
—Exactly.
Lucien looked at it again.
The bear stared back with quiet innocence.
He didn't need it.
He absolutely did not need it.
But that wasn't the point.
—It's unnecessary —Lucien murmured.
—For once, we agree.
Lucien set it over his arm anyway.
—You're impossible.
—I've heard.
They finally stepped outside, Lucien carrying the boutique bag like it contained state secrets.
The afternoon light had softened. The air felt warmer now.
They started walking again.
Starbucks was still waiting somewhere in the distance.
Lucien's gaze drifted.
And then he saw something else in another display window.
A shirt.
Clean white, slightly oversized, the kind of effortless piece that would hang perfectly off someone who didn't try too hard.
He stopped walking.
Adrián did not immediately notice this time.
Lucien turned his head slowly toward him.
Studied him.
The unruly hair. The relaxed posture. The careless way he existed in his clothes.
That shirt would look good on him.
Lucien stepped into the shop without announcement.
—We just left a store —Adrián said, following him anyway.
Lucien grabbed the shirt from the rack.
Held it up in front of Adrián.
Measured it against his shoulders.
Adrián froze.
—What are you doing?
Lucien's eyes narrowed slightly in assessment.
—Evaluating proportions.
—On me?
—Yes.
Adrián looked down at the shirt, then back at him.
—Why?
Lucien hesitated for half a second. That was rare.
Then he met his eyes directly.
—Can I buy you something?
Adrián blinked.
—What?
Lucien's expression stayed composed, but there was something slightly less calculated in his tone now.
—Consider it a peace offering.
—Peace from what?
—From dragging you into retail detours.
Adrián stared at him.
Lucien lifted the shirt slightly again, softer this time.
—And… a first friendship gift.
The words lingered between them.
Adrián's eyebrows lifted slowly.
—You're serious.
—I don't joke about aesthetics.
—That wasn't what I meant.
Lucien's grip on the hanger tightened just a little.
—You don't have to accept.
Adrián studied him for a moment.
There it was.
Not control.
Not precision.
Something almost uncertain.
—You're rich-rich, aren't you? —Adrián asked quietly.
Lucien exhaled faintly.
—I'm comfortable.
Adrián glanced at the shirt again.
Then back at Lucien.
—You don't have to buy me things.
Lucien's voice lowered slightly.
—I know.
—Then why?
Lucien searched for a clean answer.
Found none.
—Because I wanted to.
Adrián held his gaze.
For once, neither of them had a sarcastic comment ready.
The store lighting hummed softly above them.
The shirt still hovered between them.
Adrián reached up slowly, touching the fabric.
—It would look better on you —he said quietly.
Lucien didn't move.
—I disagree.
Adrián gave him a faint, almost shy smile.
—You're bad at this.
—At what?
—At pretending it's just about clothes.
Lucien's composure flickered.
Just slightly.
—So?
Adrián took the hanger gently from his hands.
—If this is a peace treaty… I'll accept the negotiation.
Lucien's lips curved faintly.
—Good.
Adrián tilted his head.
—But coffee's on you too.
Lucien adjusted the boutique bag in his other hand.
—Obviously.
They walked out together.
This time, in the right direction.
Starbucks finally awaited them.
And neither of them mentioned that the air between them felt different now.
They finally made it to Starbucks.
Lucien pushed the door open first, the warm scent of coffee wrapping around them like a soft curtain. The place hummed with low conversations and the steady hiss of milk being steamed.
He stepped aside slightly, letting Adrián walk in.
—Hello —he said quietly, brushing a hand through his perfectly arranged hair as if the wind outside had dared to challenge it.
Adrián looked at him.
—That's your greeting?
Lucien raised an eyebrow.
—It's concise.
—It's robotic.— Adrián replied
Lucien walked toward the counter.
—I don't perform enthusiasm on command.
Adrián followed, hands in his pockets.
—You literally bought me a shirt five minutes ago.
Lucien glanced at him sideways.
—That was strategic generosity.
Adrián let out a small laugh.
—Strategic.
They ordered. Lucien, something precise and unnecessarily customized. Adrián, something simple.
They moved to the side to wait.
There was a small pause between them, not tense, just settling.
Lucien adjusted the boutique bag on his wrist.
—You didn't have to accept it —he said, eyes fixed on the counter ahead.
Adrián looked at him.
—I know.
Lucien nodded once.
—Good.
Adrián tilted his head slightly.
—You looked nervous.
Lucien turned slowly.
—I did not.
—You did.
Lucien held his gaze.
—You're projecting.
Adrián leaned back slightly against the wall.
—You asked if you could buy me something like you were requesting diplomatic clearance.
Lucien's jaw shifted faintly.
—I prefer clarity.
Adrián smiled.
—You prefer control.
Lucien stepped closer, just slightly.
—And you prefer pretending you don't notice things.
Adrián's expression softened for a second before he covered it with humor.
—Careful. That sounded deep.
Lucien's lips twitched.
—Don't get used to it.
The barista called their names.
Lucien picked up his cup.
—After this —he said, adjusting the lid carefully— no more detours.
Adrián grabbed his drink.
—You promise?
Lucien took a sip, calm and composed.
—I promise nothing.
Adrián shook his head with a small smile.
—Unbelievable.
Lucien walked toward an empty table near the window.
—And yet —he said, setting his cup down with quiet precision— you're still here.
Adrián sat across from him, resting his elbows lightly on the table.
—Yeah.
Lucien looked at him over the rim of his cup.
—Yeah?
Adrián held his gaze this time.
—Yeah.