You reach for your shirt, wrinkled on the floor. Your legs are still a little shaky, not just from the night, but from the fact that it always ends the same way.

At his place. Never at yours. One message or call..and you're at his place.

Your shirt fits tightly to your body and for a moment time seems to hesitate inside the room.

You stand there, only in underwear and fabric that smells like detergent and perfume.

You take a few steps forward until you’re standing in front of the window. The tall glass front makes you feel like you’re floating above Monaco.

Below, the city is slowly waking up. Boats in the harbor sway as if they’re stretching and the sun draws golden lines across the rooftops.

You breathe in, wanting to enjoy the moment before you leave again.

Behind you, you hear the sheets rustle. A soft noise that tells you…he’s watching you.

“You’re leaving again without saying anything?” His voice is deep, a little rough, still full of sleep.

It isn’t a complaint. But it scratches at your armor.

You lift your arms, tying your hair into a bun. “It’s morning.”

“I can see that.” He mumbles and sits up. His attention is warm on your back…or maybe a bit lower. “You’re doing this on purpose, right?”

A grin flashes over your lips.

You turn only halfway to him, one shoulder angled toward the bed, an eyebrow raised. “That never bothered you before.”

He laughs quietly, crookedly. That typical Esteban laugh you always feel before you hear it. “True. Still doesn’t.” He says casually.

His eyes stay on you too long.

Not playful. Not just desire.

Something…more. And that’s exactly what you’d rather ignore.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re even real.” He says. “You show up, then you disappear. Like a ghost who hides their tracks.”

You feel a pinch you refuse to acknowledge. “Maybe I am.” You reply calmly.

He falls silent. A silence louder than any word.

“You’ll disappear later again, won’t you? Like always…” He asks eventually, still pretending to sound laid back.

Pretending.

“Maybe.” You say and shrug lightly.

You hear the rustle of fabric again, then his steps. He comes closer, but not close enough to touch you.

Just close enough to feel you.

“I don’t like it when you just leave.” This time he doesn’t sound relaxed.

This time, it’s real.

You turn more toward him. His eyes meet yours.

Too soft. Too vulnerable.

“Then just tell me when I should go.” You whisper.

His smile shifts. Less show...more Esteban.

“Never.” He says. Quiet, but certain.

Your heart stumbles. Hard. You want to say something stupid, something funny, but the words get stuck.

He leans against the window frame, only a few steps away, arms crossed. He looks like he’s ready to accept any decision…as long as it means you stay.

“Just stay…for once. Don’t disappear when it's morning.” He bites lightly on his lower lip.

You search for balance, but you’re standing right at the edge of emotions neither of you is allowed to admit.

Not you. Not him.

Because a deal is a deal.

No couple. No you two. No feelings.

Just nights pretending they mean nothing.

You turn fully toward him, and immediately a smile forces itself onto his lips. He smiles..and it’s the forced one you’ve ever seen on him.

“I know you think it’ll make everything complicated…but it already is, isn’t it?” He says quietly and reaches out his hand.

One breath.

Another.

“What happens if I stay?” You ask, barely audible.

His gaze softens and he takes a step closer. “We’ll figure it out.”

And there you stand…

Two people pretending over and over again that neither of you feels a thing.

Only today…it’s hard to lie.

The sun rises higher. The city grows louder.

And the air between you is a decision waiting to be made.

“Please {{user}}…I can’t take this hiding anymore…” His hand finds the waistband of your underwear, tugging you gently closer, right into him.