Mir moved onto the soft couch, while Theo settled on the floor beside him with a glass of wine, leaning his back against the sofa, assuring him it was more comfortable that way.

  They watched about a dozen trailers before finally choosing one. The film told the story of a young man who, giving up everything, hitchhiked alone to Alaska.

  Theo followed the plot, completely captivated. Only Miroslav remained utterly indifferent to what was happening on screen. His gaze — and all his thoughts — were directed somewhere entirely different.

  The flickering reflections from the movie slid over Theo’s focused face, illuminating his features in the dark. His eyes shimmered, his lips slightly parted. Mir was almost glad Theo hadn’t sat next to him — otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to stare at him so openly.

  And at the same time, it was nearly torture. Watching the way he tilted his head slightly, exposing the line of his long neck — the one Mir had kissed so many times in his dreams. Watching his lips brush against the rim of the wine glass, when they could have been brushing against him instead.

  Mir closed his eyes, trying to think about something else — work, the film, anything at all — and soon the mix of alcohol, darkness, and accumulated fatigue did its job. His thoughts blurred, the tension receded, and without noticing it himself, he drifted off to sleep.

  At some point, Theo turned, about to say something, but remained silent. Mir, his head resting on a small decorative pillow, was sleeping peacefully.

  Theo lowered the volume, and soon turned the TV off completely. It became truly dark, with only faint streetlight filtering into the spacious room and softly outlining the sleeping figure. Theo sat beside him for a while in silence, finishing his wine and replaying the evening in his head.

  Then he stood, brought a soft knitted blanket, and draped it over Miroslav, letting his gaze linger on the person who not long ago had been just an acquaintance — and now was sleeping in his home, wearing his clothes, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “So you want to spend your whole life alone…” Theo thought, studying the peaceful face of his sleeping guest.

  In sleep, Mir looked completely different. His features appeared much softer, his posture almost defenseless. And again Theo caught himself feeling that strange, unfamiliar calm whenever he was near this person — as if, for a little while, everything in the world fell into place.

  Somewhere here, in his steady breathing and relaxed face stripped of its usual composure, lay the answers to all his questions.

  “Why do you look at me that way? Why do you avoid my questions and flinch at my touch… I feel like you’re not telling me something…” Theo whispered, barely audibly.

  The words dissolved into the quiet of the room.

  He sat there a little longer, then quietly stood up. Sleep still wouldn’t come. His mind kept turning over thoughts — too clear for the night.

  Some time passed.

  Mir’s sleepy eyes fluttered open, and in the faint streetlight he saw Theo. He was sitting by the window, wearing headphones, perched on a bar stool, gently swaying to the music. Mir glanced at the clock — nearly three in the morning.

  “You’re not sleeping…” he mumbled.

  Theo froze. The faint music leaking from his headphones went silent. He approached quietly and crouched beside him. Mir felt his warm breath very close.

  “I’m going to bed now. You should sleep too.”

  Mir closed his eyes, and sleep took him back again — weaving dreams that blurred desire and reality. A dream where Theo didn’t leave, didn’t quietly close the bedroom door behind him. Where he slipped under the warm blanket, his breath hot against Mir’s neck. Where Mir could wrap his arms around him, slide his hands beneath the rumpled T-shirt, allow himself something more.

  When he opened his eyes again, the clock showed nearly eight in the morning. Still half-asleep, he couldn’t immediately understand where he was or how he ended up on the couch in someone else’s living room, tightly clutching a soft blanket.

  Morning sunlight flooded the room, casting playful shadows across the walls. In the serene silence, only the distant sound of running water could be heard. Mir closed his eyes again, trying to hold onto the fading image of Theo in the darkness.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  The water shut off. Soon Theo appeared — fresh out of the shower, drying his hair with a towel. The room filled with the clean scent of shower gel, giving Mir’s imagination far too much freedom. Theo wore a dark gray T-shirt damp with water drops running from his hair, and loose athletic shorts that seemed as though they could be pulled off with a single movement.

  “Hope you managed to sleep on that uncomfortable couch?” Theo asked, noticing he was awake. “I felt bad waking you.”

  “Yeah… I don’t even remember falling asleep,” Mir said, rubbing his eyes. “Are you heading somewhere?”

  “No, I don’t need to be anywhere today,” Theo replied. “So you can take a shower if you want. I’ll make breakfast.”

  Mir nodded, slowly sitting up.

  “Right now, a shower sounds perfect…” he said — though his thoughts were drifting elsewhere.

  “I left a clean towel for you on the washing machine,” Theo interrupted his wandering fantasies.

  The warm water quickly washed away the last traces of sleep and tangled thoughts. After putting on his slightly wrinkled but dry clothes, Mir returned to the living room — only to find it empty. No coffee smell. No breakfast. No host.

  “Theo?” he called quietly.

  No answer.

  He walked around the room, his eyes catching on the blanket near the couch. He picked it up and folded it neatly.

  Then he stopped in front of Theo’s slightly open bedroom door. No sound from inside. Mir hesitated, unsure whether to cross that thin boundary of someone else’s private space.

  Curiosity won.

  Inside, dimness ruled. Heavy dark curtains blocked most of the daylight, creating a strangely nocturnal atmosphere. Perhaps intentionally — to conceal the chaos within. The bed was unmade, the blanket tossed aside, pillows on the floor. Clothes lay scattered everywhere — on the wardrobe door, the back of a chair, even the floor.

  “So this is where you live…” Mir thought.

  Aside from the gloom, it didn’t particularly surprise him. It fit the image he had of the person who lived here.

  He almost opened the door wider — but at that very moment he heard the apartment’s front door open.

  Instinctively, he stepped away from the bedroom as if he’d done something forbidden.

  Theo appeared in the hallway, holding a cardboard tray with two coffees in one hand and a paper bag of fresh croissants in the other.

  “So this is what you call ‘making breakfast,’” Mir smirked.

  “I honestly meant to cook, but the fridge was completely empty,” Theo shrugged innocently.

  “You do have theories about how food actually appears in there?”

  Theo set everything on the table and turned toward the living embodiment of irony.

  “You even went out with wet hair,” Mir added, frowning slightly.

  “It’s just downstairs,” Theo defended himself — then smiled mysteriously. “It’s kind of sweet that you care.”

  “I’m trying to be a good friend too, as you can see,” Mir replied smoothly.

  “You’re doing a very good job,” Theo said, as if implying something more.

  Mir was about to respond when Theo’s phone vibrated sharply across the table.

  “My agent,” he explained briefly before answering.

  Fragments of conversation drifted over:

  “Today? … I told you I can’t…”

  “…”

  “No one else can replace him?”

  “…”

  “Fine. Send the details.”

  He ended the call with a dissatisfied expression.

  “Plans changed?” Mir asked.

  “Yeah,” Theo sighed. “One of the guys came down with the flu. The company’s paid, the team’s assembled… can’t reschedule.”

  Mir almost joked about temporarily inheriting the title of workaholic — since Theo loved teasing him about that — but he held back.

  “Listen, I should probably get going anyway…” Mir hesitated.

  “There’s still time,” Theo replied, as if reluctant to let him leave so soon. “At least for coffee.”

  They talked lightly over breakfast, avoiding serious topics, though a faint awkwardness lingered — or maybe Mir only imagined it.

  Afterward, he hurried home, not wanting to overstay his welcome.

  Outside, only a few puddles and his slightly wrinkled clothes hinted at yesterday’s rain. The sun was bright, trees beginning to bloom, long weekend days ahead.

  Later that evening, lying in bed, Mir checked his calendar, updated his task list, set his alarm. Everything in order. Monday tomorrow. Early office. Don’t forget to request missing data from the client…

  But his thoughts stubbornly wandered elsewhere.

  Is he home already… or did the shoot run late again?

  Mir picked up his phone, opened their chat — hesitated — then locked it.

  Too much.

  But then the screen lit up on its own.

  A new message.

  Theo:

  I see you’re not asleep yet.

  Mir:

  Not yet. Did you make it home?

  Theo:

  On the metro. Waiting for a transfer. Trains barely run at this hour.

  Theo:

  If I disappear, it’s bad signal — not me ignoring you.

  Don’t disappear, please, Mir thought.

  Mir:

  How was your “workday”? Doesn’t sound short.

  Theo:

  Pretty strange. But overall good.

  Theo:

  They covered me in glitter. Problem is — it won’t wash off!

  A second later, a photo appeared.

  Theo in the subway car. Cold fluorescent light dulls everything around him, yet his face seems to glow. He’s smiling — wide and sincere. Golden glitter dusts the corners of his eyes and the palm he holds up to the camera.

  Mir froze, looking at the picture. Something warm and anxious spread through his chest. He wanted to write the first thing that came to mind. That it was insanely beautiful. That it was too much.

  But of course, he didn’t.

  His fingers hovered above the keyboard, then slowly lowered. Instead of replying, he tapped the photo and chose “save.”

  Typing…

  Stopped.

  Typing again.

  Mir:

  I’d say… there’s something to it.

  Long minutes passed before a reply came.

  Theo:

  Signal cut out after all. Actually, I just wanted to wish you a good week. And good night.

  Mir:

  Get home safe. And… good night, Theo.

  He locked the phone and lay back down, honestly trying to sleep.

  But now it was much harder.

  His hand reached for the phone again — and seconds later he was staring at the last photo in his gallery.