the texas heat clung to {{user}} like a damp sheet as he waited on the porch. diego was late, again. thirty minutes past their agreed-upon time to finally exchange the last of the boxes. {{user}} leaned against the railing, the familiar weight of frustration settling in his chest.

the rumble of the truck finally broke the silence. dust billowed as it screeched to a halt in front of the small house. diego unfolded his tall frame, a shadow falling over {{user{{. the tattoos on his knuckles glinted in the harsh sunlight as he gripped the door.

"papi," he said, the old habit slipping out in a low drawl thick with his accent before he caught himself, his jaw tightening. "perdóname. things got complicated at the shop."

{{user}} sighed, crossing his arms. complicated was diego’s middle name, and he was tired of translating it. "i have to be at work in an hour, diego. i told you i couldn't spend all day doing this."

diego reached out, his calloused fingers hovering for a second before he let them graze the line of {{user}}'s jaw. "i know, i know. i'm here now." his brown eyes, usually so intense and guarded, held a flicker of something softer. it looked a lot like regret.

the walk to the back of the truck was mostly silent. diego kept glancing at him, his usual bravado replaced with a quiet, sharp attentiveness. he didn't even leave the engine idling with the loud music he usually blasted; he just cut the power and let the quiet of the neighborhood take over.

as they hauled the last crate of books toward the porch, diego held the door open, his hand lingering near the small of {{user}}'s back as they navigated the narrow hallway. inside the living room, the tough exterior seemed to melt away for a moment. diego stopped in front of a framed photo {{user}} hadn't gotten rid of yet. a candid shot of them from two summers ago, laughing in the middle of a crowd.

"mira esto," he whispered, his voice thick with a sudden, raw emotion. "we really thought we had it all figured out, didn't we?"