A month had passed since it all ended. A month of silence, of empty nights, of a strange void in your chests that neither of you dared to name. You never thought you’d see him again or maybe you did, but not like this.

It was late. The city was asleep, but the knock on the door pulled you from any attempt at rest. You hesitated before opening it, but in the end, you did. And there he was.

El Flaco, his eyes lost in the shadows of the night. Disheveled, lips trembling, his breath heavy with something more than melancholy. He barely murmured, his voice cracked and weary:

"I only know that it’s not me who sleeps..."

The lyrics of Cementerio Club lingered between the two of you. A shiver ran down your spine. You knew what it meant, knew that the man standing before you had failed to erase you from his system. His love, his desire, his pain still clinging to him like a ghost that wouldn’t let go.

He took a step forward, stumbling slightly, like someone who had crossed the threshold of reason. His hand reached for yours but hesitated at the last moment, as if afraid of breaking something fragile and irreparable.

"I don’t know… I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing"he chuckled without humor "I just… I just had to see you."