The weeks before had been exhausting.
Not in a dramatic way. Just constant.
Classes, notes, long hours in the library, the quiet pressure of exams sitting on their shoulders like something that refused to move. Every day felt the same, blending into the next without asking for permission.
Lucien handled it the way he handled everything. Organized. Focused. Precise.
Adrián… survived it.
Somehow.
They studied together almost every day anyway. Not because they had to, but because it had become normal.
Sitting across from each other, books open, silence comfortable.
—You've been on that page for ten minutes —Lucien said without looking up.
—I'm thinking —Adrián replied, eyes still on the book.
—You blinked three times and sighed. That's not thinking.
—It's advanced thinking. You wouldn't get it.
Lucien rolled his eyes slightly but didn't argue further.
That was just how it worked.
—
Somewhere between all that, Lucien stopped going back to his apartment.
At first, it made sense.
Too tired. Too late. Too much to do.
Then it stopped being a reason.
It just… happened.
A hoodie left behind. Then another. His charger. A notebook. A pair of shoes near the door that no one questioned anymore.
Adrián noticed.
Of course he did.
He just didn't say anything.
—
When exams finally ended, everything slowed down.
The silence felt different now.
Lighter.
That afternoon, Adrián stood at the sink, sleeves slightly rolled, washing dishes with no real rush. The sound of water filled the apartment, steady and calm.
Behind him, Lucien sat on the counter.
Watching him.
Not even pretending to hide it.
Adrián lasted a full minute before turning his head slightly.
—Are you going to keep staring or should I start charging you for the view —he said, drying a plate.
—I'm not staring —Lucien replied calmly.
Adrián turned a little more, raising an eyebrow.
—You've been looking at me like I'm part of your homework.
—I'm observing.
—That's worse.
Lucien shrugged slightly, one leg swinging lazily.
—You're just washing dishes. It's not that interesting.
Adrián let out a quiet laugh and turned back to the sink.
—Then stop analyzing it like it is.
A small pause settled between them.
Water running. Plate against plate.
Then—
—Let me ask you something —Adrián said, more casually.
Lucien didn't move.
—Go ahead.
Adrián rinsed another dish, then spoke again.
—You come here almost every day, you eat here, you stay here, sometimes you sleep here —he paused briefly —and somehow half your stuff is already in my apartment.
Lucien tilted his head slightly.
—That's not a question.
—I'm getting there.
Adrián turned off the water and finally looked at him fully.
—When did that turn into you basically living here?
Lucien didn't hesitate.
—I don't live here.
Adrián blinked once.
—You have clothes in my closet.
—Temporary.
—Your charger is next to my bed.
—Convenience.
—You haven't gone back to your apartment in days.
Lucien thought for a second.
—Efficiency.
Adrián stared at him, completely unimpressed.
—That doesn't even make sense.
Lucien gave a small shrug.
—It works.
Adrián exhaled slowly, leaning back against the counter.
—Alright, fine. Let's say I believe you.
He crossed his arms slightly.
—Then explain why I'm the only one doing everything here.
Lucien blinked.
—Everything?
—Cleaning. Organizing. Dishes. All of it.
Lucien glanced at the sink, then back at him.
—You're already doing it.
Adrián let out a short laugh.
—That's your defense?
—I didn't ask you to.
—That doesn't mean you don't help.
Lucien tilted his head, studying him calmly.
—You would've said something earlier if it actually bothered you.
Adrián paused.
That hit a little too accurately.
He ran a hand through his hair.
—You're so annoying to argue with.
Lucien allowed a small, quiet smile.
—I'm just being logical.
—You're being convenient.
—That too.
A small silence followed.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… real.
Lucien slid off the counter and walked past him toward the fridge, opening it like it belonged to him.
—You like having me here —he said casually, grabbing a drink.
Adrián didn't turn immediately.
—That's not the point.
—It is a little.
—No, it isn't.
Lucien closed the fridge and leaned against the counter.
—Then why didn't you tell me to leave?
Adrián grabbed a towel, drying his hands slower now.
—I didn't think I had to.
—You didn't want to.
That made him look.
A small pause settled between them again.
Then—
—You're still helping with the dishes —Adrián said, pointing slightly toward the sink.
Lucien took a sip of his drink.
—No.
Adrián stared at him.
—You're unbelievable.
Lucien met his gaze, completely calm.
—And still you don't kick me out—he said teasing
Adrián narrowed his eyes slightly.
—I swear one day I'm actually going to kick you out.
Lucien didn't even flinch.
—No, you're not.
A beat.
Adrián looked away first, shaking his head with a faint smile.
—At least hand me the plates —he muttered.
Lucien paused.
Looked at the sink.
Then at him.
—Fine —he said, stepping closer and grabbing one.
Not because he had to.
Just because he chose to.
_________________________________________
Hours passed without either of them really noticing.
The apartment had fallen into that quiet that only comes after a long day. Not empty, just… settled. The kind of silence that didn't ask questions.
Adrián was on his bed, one arm under his head, phone resting loosely on his chest. He wasn't really using it anymore. The screen had gone dark a while ago.
Lucien was on the couch.
Or, more like… half on it.
One leg hanging slightly off the edge, back against the armrest, his iPad resting on his lap. He had been drawing at first. Then scrolling. Then doing nothing at all.
The apartment had no real separation.
No walls dividing the spaces, just an open layout that let everything exist together. The living room, the bed, the kitchen… all connected.
Which meant—
Lucien could see Adrián.
And Adrián could see him.
Without even trying.
—You're not doing anything —Adrián said after a while, voice lazy, not even turning his head.
Lucien didn't look up.
—I am.
—No, you're not.
—I'm thinking.
Adrián let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh.
—That's worse. Every time you say that, you end up overanalyzing something unnecessary.
Lucien shifted slightly on the couch.
—I don't overanalyze.
—You literally turned a doodle into a psychological thesis yesterday.
Lucien paused.
—That was different.
—It wasn't.
A small silence.
Then—
Lucien finally looked up, eyes moving toward him across the open space.
—Why are you still on your bed if you're not even using your phone?
Adrián didn't move.
—Because I can.
—That's not a reason.
—It is for me.
Lucien stared at him for a second longer.
Adrián's eyes were half-closed now, not asleep, just… resting. Comfortable. Like he didn't feel the need to move at all.
Lucien looked back down at his iPad.
Then back at him again.
—You're going to fall asleep like that.
—Probably.
—That's uncomfortable.
—Not really.
Lucien frowned slightly.
—Your arm is literally under your head at a weird angle.
Adrián finally turned his head a little, just enough to look at him.
—You've been sitting twisted on that couch for two hours.
Lucien glanced down at himself.
…That was true.
He adjusted slightly.
—That's different.
—It's not.
Another pause.
Soft. Easy.
Lucien rested his head back against the couch, eyes drifting again toward the bed.
—You could at least turn on the TV —he said.
—You have the remote.
—I don't feel like getting up.
Adrián let out a quiet sigh.
—You're closer.
—I'm comfortable.
—So am I.
They stayed like that.
Both stubborn.
Neither moving.
—
A few seconds passed.
Then a minute.
Then—
Adrián shifted slightly on the bed, reaching blindly to the side until his fingers found the remote. He pointed it toward the TV without even looking.
The screen lit up, soft light filling the apartment.
Lucien glanced at it, then back at him.
—You said you weren't moving.
—I didn't.
—You literally just did.
—Minimal effort.
Lucien huffed softly, but there was something almost amused in it.
He adjusted again, this time more comfortably, pulling one leg up onto the couch.
—Put something decent.
—You're the one watching.
—You turned it on.
—And you're complaining.
Lucien didn't answer.
Just watched the screen.
From the bed, Adrián looked at him again.
Quietly.
No comment this time.
Just… looking.
Lucien, without turning, spoke after a few seconds.
—If you keep staring, I'm turning it off.
Adrián smirked slightly.
—You didn't even look at me.
—I don't need to.
—That's creepy.
Lucien finally turned his head just enough to glance at him.
—Go to sleep.
Adrián closed his eyes again.
—Make me.
Lucien looked at him for a second longer.
Then back at the TV.
—You're impossible.
—easily you could go to your own apartment
Lucien didn't reply.
But he didn't leave either.
The TV kept playing quietly.
The room stayed warm.
And neither of them moved.
Not because they couldn't.
Just because… there was nowhere else they needed to be.
_________________________________________
Hours later, the apartment had settled into that quiet, comfortable silence that comes when neither of them has the energy to even change the channel.
The TV was still on, murmuring something irrelevant neither of them was really listening to.
Lucien, on the couch, had been fighting sleep for a while.
First it was closing his eyes "just for a second."
Then shifting to get more comfortable.
Then a quiet sigh, giving in.
And finally… accepting the obvious.
He was sleepy.
Really sleepy.
And the couch wasn't enough anymore.
So, without drama, without warning, without asking for permission because he didn't need to—
He got up.
Walked slowly, half-asleep, with that soft clumsiness of someone already drifting more into dreams than reality.
He didn't even look around much.
He already knew the place like it was his.
Because in a way… it was.
For weeks now, Lucien had been spending more time in Adrián's apartment than in his own.
He had clothes there.
Space in the bathroom.
In the kitchen.
In the bed.
In the routine.
It was like he had moved in little by little, without making a sound.
And no one had stopped him.
Least of all Adrián.
Lucien reached the bed and just dropped onto it, settling in with the same ease as if it were his own room.
He didn't think about it.
He never did.
Meanwhile, Adrián had already been asleep for a while.
Deep asleep.
The kind of sleep where your body doesn't react to anything.
So when he felt the mattress shift—
He didn't wake up.
Didn't move.
Didn't care.
Because somewhere in his tired mind, this was normal.
Lucien sleeping there wasn't unexpected.
It was routine.
It was… familiar.
Lucien settled in like always.
Head on the pillow, breathing slow and steady.
His hand ended up, again, resting on Adrián's chest, like it already knew exactly where to go.
No hesitation.
No permission.
One of his legs hung halfway off the bed, balanced in that strange way only he could find comfortable, while the other bent awkwardly.
Adrián barely reacted, just a small shift in his breathing.
Nothing more.
His body was already used to these quiet intrusions.
To sharing space.
To Lucien showing up without asking.
To staying.
His hand rested nearby, close enough to touch Lucien's… but not quite.
Like there was an invisible line neither of them felt the need to cross.
The window stayed open.
Cool air drifted in softly, moving the curtains, brushing against their faces, lightly stirring their hair.
Everything felt calm.
Natural.
Too natural.
Three months ago, this would've been strange.
Awkward.
Unexplainable.
Now—
It was just another night.
Another night where neither of them asked questions.
Or needed to.
Because without realizing it—
They had already become part of each other's space.
Lucien woke up a while later.
Not because of an alarm.
Not because of noise.
Because something was… different.
There was a shift in the air. Subtle. The kind your body notices before your mind does.
Adrián was already awake.
Lying still at first, staring at the ceiling like he was buffering into existence, letting the morning settle into his bones. The light coming through the window was soft, pale, stretching lazily across the bed and catching on the edges of everything.
Then he felt it.
Weight.
Warm.
Familiar.
He looked down.
Lucien.
Still asleep. Completely gone. Hair messy, lips slightly parted, breathing slow and even like the world didn't exist for him right now.
And his hand—
Right there.
Resting on Adrián's chest like it belonged.
Like it had always been there.
Adrián stared at it for a moment.
No panic. No surprise.
Just… processing.
It wasn't new.
Lucien had been staying over so often that the line between "his apartment" and "their space" had quietly dissolved somewhere along the way. Sleeping in the same bed, limbs crossing over each other in the middle of the night, waking up like this—
Normal.
Still.
Adrián exhaled softly and reached up, wrapping his fingers around Lucien's wrist.
Careful.
He lifted the hand off his chest, not abruptly, not gently either… just controlled. Like moving something that wasn't supposed to stay there too long.
He placed it to the side.
Lucien didn't wake up.
Didn't even flinch.
Adrián's eyes lingered on him for half a second longer than necessary.
Then he looked away.
Sat up.
Ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back as he got out of bed.
Morning mode.
Automatic.
He stretched slightly, shoulders rolling back, then walked toward the bathroom, grabbing a clean shirt on the way.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Water running.
Steam slowly filling the space.
A quick shower. Nothing too long, but enough to wake him up completely. Enough to reset.
By the time he stepped out, hair damp, a towel hanging loosely around his neck, the apartment still felt quiet.
Lucien hadn't moved.
Of course he hadn't.
Adrián walked back into the main space, stopping in front of the mirror.
He leaned in slightly.
Examined.
Hair first.
He grabbed the small container of gel, opening it with practiced ease, rubbing a bit between his fingers before running them through his hair, adjusting, fixing, shaping it into something intentional.
He tilted his head.
Not satisfied.
Ran his hand through it again.
Tried a slightly different angle.
Paused.
Adjusted again.
Better.
He stepped back a little, checking the full look now.
White shirt.
Black pants.
Clean.
Simple.
Effective.
He fixed the collar, smoothing it down, then rolled his sleeves just slightly, stopping when it felt right.
Not too much.
Not too little.
Then one last look.
Approval.
Behind him, on the bed—
Lucien shifted.
Barely.
The absence of warmth. The change in space. That's what pulled him back.
His eyes opened slowly, blinking at the ceiling, unfocused at first.
Then awareness crept in.
He moved his hand.
Paused.
…Yeah.
That wasn't where it had been.
He didn't overthink it.
Didn't even react.
Just pushed himself up, dragging a hand through his hair, still half asleep but already functioning.
He sat there for a second, staring into nothing.
Then turned his head slightly.
Adrián.
Of course.
Already dressed. Already done. Already existing like a responsible human being.
Lucien squinted slightly.
—You woke up early on purpose, didn't you.
Adrián didn't turn around.
—I always wake up early.
Lucien slid off the bed, grabbing his clothes from where he had left them like it was routine.
Because it was.
—That's suspicious.
—That's discipline.
Lucien walked toward the bathroom, passing by him without stopping.
—That's obsession.
The door closed behind him.
Adrián smirked faintly, adjusting his watch.
Inside, Lucien didn't rush.
He never did.
He turned on the sink first, splashing water on his face, blinking himself awake properly this time. Then brushed his teeth, moving slower, calmer, like the morning belonged to him, not the other way around.
Shower next.
Quick, but not rushed.
By the time he came out, his hair was still slightly damp, falling naturally into place without effort, shirt half tucked, sleeves uneven.
Adrián noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
—You look like you got dressed during an earthquake.
Lucien leaned against the wall, completely unbothered.
—I did. It's called waking up.
Adrián grabbed his bag.
—Fix your sleeve.
Lucien glanced at it.
Didn't move.
—I like it like this.
—It looks messy.
—It is messy.
A pause.
Adrián sighed, stepping closer, grabbing Lucien's wrist without asking and fixing the sleeve himself, adjusting it properly.
Lucien let him.
Didn't even react.
—There.
—You're controlling.
—You're careless.
Lucien shrugged.
—Balance.
Adrián shook his head, but there was the smallest hint of a smile there.
—We're going to be late.
Lucien pushed himself off the wall, grabbing his things.
—We're always on time.
—Because of me.
—Debatable.
They walked out together.
Like always.
No distance.
No hesitation.
Just routine.
Effortless.