The books were forgotten at that time.

Bowie slept on his stomach in the corner of the room, completely surrendered, while you and Julian were still sitting on the bed, side by side, sharing the same blanket carelessly thrown over your knees.

You laughed softly at some memory of college, the faces too close, the eyes diverted and coming back as if something was about to happen.

But it didn’t happen.

At least, not like that.

You yawned unintentionally, and he looked sideways, his eyes softening.

“You’re sleepy,” he said.

You nodded, hugging your knees.

“A little. But I don’t want to leave yet.”

Silence.

He kept looking at you for a while. You already knew that look - full of contained stuff. Full of everything he wanted to say, but didn’t know how.

And then, he let go.

“Do you sleep here today?”

It was so low that it almost got lost between the beats of your heart.

You turned your face to him.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, slowly.

“I like your presence,” he said. “Don’t... bother. On the contrary.”

You smiled. A small, intimate smile.

As if he knew the weight of what came from him.

“Just sleep, right?” You joked, half provoking, half wanting to confirm.

He smiled back, half tired, half in love.

“Just sleep,” he repeated. “For now.”

Minutes later

You wore one of his T-shirts - too wide, too soft. Julian turned off the main light and lay on his side, offering a space for you on the mattress.

You also lay down, both facing each other, separated by only a few centimeters and all the feelings that had not yet been said.