If anyone ever stopped Lucien on a random day and asked him what his life was like after becoming Adrián's boyfriend, he honestly wouldn't know where to start.
Not because there wasn't anything to say.
But because there was too much.
Adrián was… ridiculous.
In the most exhausting, overwhelming, impossible-to-ignore way.
He brought him things. All the time. Little things, big things, things Lucien didn't even know he wanted until they were already in his hands.
— I saw this and thought of you.
That was always his excuse.
A drink. A hoodie. Snacks. A random keychain. Once, a plant Lucien almost killed in three days.
He bought him things just because.
Took him out to eat without asking.
Showed up with breakfast like it was his full-time job.
And the kisses.
God.
The kisses.
Morning kisses. Goodbye kisses. Random kisses in the middle of a sentence. Kisses when Lucien was trying to study, which was honestly criminal.
— Adrián, stop—
— No.
And he didn't.
He never did.
He was always there. Too close. Too present. Like he had decided Lucien was his favorite place in the world and refused to leave.
Which made absolutely no sense.
Because if you asked anyone else about Adrián, they'd describe someone completely different.
Quiet. A little intimidating. Sharp around the edges. The kind of person who looked like he didn't have time for anyone.
And yet—
With Lucien?
He was clingy.
Annoyingly, unapologetically clingy.
A menace, honestly.
— You're obsessed with me.
— Obviously.
Lucien had rolled his eyes when he said it, but his lips had betrayed him, curving up anyway.
Because the truth was…
He liked it.
No.
He loved it.
If someone interviewed him, if they sat him down and asked—
What's it like, being Adrián's boyfriend?
He would probably sigh first.
Complain.
List every single thing Adrián did that got on his nerves.
— He doesn't leave me alone.
— He kisses me too much.
— He buys me things I don't even ask for.
— He's always there.
And maybe, just maybe, it would sound like he was annoyed.
Like he was tired.
Like he was overwhelmed.
But if they looked a little closer—
At the way his voice softened.
At the way his eyes betrayed him.
At the way his fingers absentmindedly played with the necklace Adrián had given him—
They would understand.
It wasn't complaining.
It was something softer.
Something warmer.
Something that sat quietly under every word.
Because Lucien wasn't tired of Adrián.
He wasn't overwhelmed.
He wasn't annoyed.
He was in love.
And maybe he wouldn't say it out loud.
Not yet.
But it was there.
In every sigh.
In every eye roll.
In every stolen smile he tried—and failed—to hide.
Saturday, 8:00 a.m.
The apartment was quiet in that soft, lazy way mornings sometimes had, where everything felt slower, warmer. The curtains were only half-drawn, letting in thin strips of sunlight that painted the room in pale gold.
The TV was on.
Something was playing.
A movie. Or a series. Maybe even an anime.
Lucien wasn't sure anymore.
He had been sitting on the couch for a while, legs slightly apart, one arm resting lazily against the backrest. Calm. Comfortable. Present.
Adrián, on the other hand, was stretched across the couch with his head resting on Lucien's lap like it was the most natural place in the world.
Like it belonged there.
He wasn't watching the TV.
Not even a little.
He didn't know what was playing. Didn't care.
The sounds blended into the background, meaningless noise compared to what actually held his attention.
Lucien.
From that angle, everything about him felt… softer.
His lashes cast faint shadows against his cheeks. His hair fell forward just enough to partially cover his face, messy in that effortless way Adrián had grown to love. His expression was relaxed, unaware, focused on the screen in a way Adrián couldn't relate to at all.
Because Adrián wasn't watching anything but him.
His gaze traced every small detail like he was memorizing it.
The curve of his lips.
The way his fingers occasionally shifted against the fabric of the couch.
The rise and fall of his breathing.
There was something unfair about how tender he looked without even trying.
Adrián's hand rested loosely against Lucien's leg, absentmindedly, like even that small contact grounded him.
He didn't say anything.
Didn't move much.
He just… looked.
Completely, hopelessly focused.
If someone had asked Adrián, right then, what he was doing, he probably wouldn't have had a proper answer.
But if they asked him something else—
What is your life like?
Or even more dangerous—
Who do you think is the love of your life?
He wouldn't hesitate.
Not even for a second.
—Him.
Simple as that.
No doubt. No confusion. No need to think twice.
And if they pushed further—
Are you obsessed with him?
Adrián would probably smile a little.
That quiet, knowing kind of smile.
The kind that already had an answer before the question even finished.
—Yeah.
He wouldn't even try to deny it.
Because how could he?
When he was lying there, not watching the screen, not paying attention to anything else in the world—
Just looking at Lucien like nothing else mattered.
Like nothing else ever could.
Adrián shifted slightly, his head still resting on Lucien's lap, but now leaning just a little closer.
Closer.
His fingers pressed gently against the couch as he lifted himself enough to bring his face nearer, his eyes never leaving Lucien's.
—Lucien… —he called softly, his voice low, almost melting into the quiet of the room.
There was something unusually tender in the way he said his name. Not teasing. Not playful.
Just… warm.
Slowly, he pushed himself up on his hands, hovering just inches away now. Close enough to feel Lucien's breath. Close enough to notice the smallest change in his expression.
—Can I get a kiss…? —he murmured, his tone softer than usual, almost careful.
But he didn't wait.
He didn't give Lucien the chance to answer.
Because before the words could even settle in the air, Adrián closed the distance.
Gently.
His lips brushed against Lucien's in a soft, fleeting kiss at first, like testing the waters… like asking again, but in a language he clearly preferred.
Then, just slightly firmer.
Still slow.
Still careful.
Like he was savoring it.
Like he had all the time in the world.
One of his hands moved instinctively, coming up to rest lightly against Lucien's cheek, his thumb barely grazing his skin as he deepened the kiss just enough to make it linger.
Not rushed.
Not messy.
Just… warm.
When he finally pulled back, it wasn't far.
Foreheads almost touching, breath still mingling, his lips curved into the smallest smile.
—Mm… I was gonna wait for permission… —he whispered, clearly not sorry at all.
Lucien blinked, still a little frozen from the kiss… and then—
smack.
—Hey! —Adrián flinched, bringing a hand up to the back of his head, eyes wide in pure offense—. What was that for?!
Lucien rolled his eyes, though there was a faint color on his cheeks that completely betrayed him.
—That was for not waiting.
Adrián stared at him for a second… and then, slowly, a grin began to spread across his face. Dangerous. Way too pleased with himself.
—So you're saying I should try again… but properly this time?
Lucien gave him a look. A very clear don't push it look.
—Try it and I hit you harder.
—Worth it —Adrián muttered under his breath, just loud enough to be heard.
Lucien immediately raised his hand again.
—Don't even—
Adrián caught his wrist this time, gently, still smiling, his thumb brushing lightly over Lucien's skin as he held it there.
Not tight. Not forcing.
Just enough to stop him.
—Okay, okay… I'll behave —he said, though the sparkle in his eyes said the exact opposite—. I'll ask this time.
He leaned in just a little, not closing the distance yet, giving Lucien space.
For once.
—Can I kiss you?
And this time… he actually waited.
Lucien looked at him, lips pressing into a thin line, his expression caught somewhere between I don't want to and I don't want to hurt you either.
He huffed softly, averting his gaze for a second before looking back at him with that slightly stubborn, almost sulky look.
—…No. Better not. You can't.
Adrián froze for half a second.
Not hurt… but definitely not what he expected.
His grip on Lucien's wrist loosened immediately, letting go without hesitation, hands lifting a little like okay, okay, I get it.
—Alright, alright… —he said, softer this time, scratching the back of his neck with a small, awkward laugh—. No kisses. Got it.
But then, of course, he tilted his head, studying Lucien's face more closely.
—You say it like that, but you're not even convincing yourself.
Lucien shot him a look.
—Adrián—
—What? —he grinned, shameless—. I'm just saying. That face? That's not a "no," that's a "convince me better."
Lucien narrowed his eyes, clearly unimpressed… but his ears were slightly red.
Adrián noticed.
Of course he did.
And instead of teasing more, he leaned back against the couch, lifting his hands in surrender.
—Relax. I won't do anything you don't want.
A pause.
Then, a little quieter, but still playful:
—Even if you're making it very hard for me.
Lucien rolled his eyes again, but this time there was a tiny, almost invisible smile pulling at the corner of his lips.
And Adrián caught that too.
Adrián looked at him like a kicked puppy that had just been told no treats today.
Who would've thought?
That quiet, distant, slightly intimidating guy Lucien had met that first day—the one who barely spoke, who kept everything locked behind that calm, unreadable expression—would turn into… this.
A year later, Adrián wasn't just his boyfriend.
He was this clingy, ridiculously affectionate, borderline unbearable human being who somehow always needed to be touching him. A hand on his arm, his head on his shoulder, fingers lazily playing with his sleeve like he'd forget Lucien existed if he let go.
It didn't make sense.
And yet… it did.
Because right now, Adrián was still staring at him, eyes soft, slightly dramatic, like he'd just been denied something tragic.
—You're so mean… —he muttered under his breath, though there was no real weight to it, just a quiet complaint wrapped in fondness.
Lucien scoffed.
—You'll survive.
Adrián sighed, flopping back against the couch like the world had personally wronged him, one arm thrown over his eyes.
—Barely.
A pause.
Then, not even five seconds later, he peeked at Lucien again.
—…Are you sure? Just one?
Lucien grabbed the nearest cushion and shoved it into his face.
—Adrián.
—Okay, okay! —his laugh came muffled through the pillow, hands coming up in surrender again, though he didn't move away this time, just stayed there, close, like always.
Like he belonged there.
And honestly…
Lucien didn't push him away.
-
The classroom was quiet in that heavy, almost suffocating way that came with early lectures. The professor's voice droned on at the front, chalk scratching occasionally against the board, but for once, Adrián wasn't being disruptive.
He was actually paying attention.
Well… trying to.
His notebook was open, pen moving every now and then, but his other hand—almost unconsciously—rested on Lucien's leg under the desk.
Not doing anything.
Just… there.
Warm. Steady. Like it had always belonged there.
Lucien noticed it immediately, of course.
He glanced sideways, raising an eyebrow slightly, but Adrián didn't even look at him. His eyes stayed forward, focused, expression calm like nothing unusual was happening.
But his fingers shifted just a little.
A small, absent-minded movement. Like he was reassuring himself.
Lucien exhaled softly, almost amused.
—You know that's weird, right? —he whispered without turning fully, keeping his voice low enough not to attract attention.
Adrián didn't answer right away.
He finished writing something first.
Then, without moving his gaze from the board, he murmured back—
—I concentrate better like this.
Lucien blinked.
—Like… this?
Adrián finally glanced at him for half a second, completely serious.
—Yeah.
A pause.
—So don't move.
Lucien stared at him like he had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.
—You're unbelievable.
Adrián's lips twitched slightly, almost a smile, but he looked forward again, fingers tightening just a little—not possessive, not forceful… just there. Grounding.
And somehow…
Lucien didn't move.
Didn't push his hand away.
Didn't complain again.
He just shook his head softly, turning back to his notebook, pretending to focus on the class while very aware of the warmth on his leg.
And a few minutes later—
Without thinking too much about it—
Lucien's hand shifted slightly on the desk… until his fingers brushed against Adrián's wrist.
Just for a second.
Just enough.
Adrián didn't look at him.
But this time, the small smile stayed.