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He sensed gentle hands touching him in the hazy warmth of sleep but was it real life or was it just a dream?
Suddenly Martín woke up, for a moment lost and scared, to an unknown occupier of the other side of his small single bed.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Finding Andrés in his bed in the middle of the night was not exactly something he would have expected to happen. Ever. Not that he hadn’t dreamt of it, at least twice a day, upon waking up and going to bed alone, wondering what it could feel like to finally break that insurmountable barrier. To be able to be loved back exactly the way he loved Andrés, without reserve or seconds thoughts. But that couldn’t happen, he knew it, rationally. He would’ve sold his soul to the devil in exchange for that love if given the chance but unfortunately he was no Dorian Gray.
“Martín I…” but Andrés was indeed there in his bed. He was larger than life, so warm, so close that Martín could feel his breath on his own lips. Dark eyes and lopsided smile, his aesthete, his best friend, looking at Martín like a predator looks at his prey, a hungry look in the eyes.
Andrés inched even closer, merging their essences together, bumping their noses and resting his hand possessively on Martín’s side.
“You know, I stabbed that man in the balls repeatedly with a dessert fork”- Andrés’ whispered words enthralled Martín and rendered him speechless, unable even to breathe -“not because he was laughing at my bowtie. No. I did it because he was laughing at us, at you.”
How could he inhale and exhale normally when Andrés was so close?
“That had me thinking. For days, actually. What could it mean? Was I just over-protective of my best friend or was I feeling more than I thought I was?”
“Andrés, please don’t…” so much of his thoughts remained unsaid, lost in that infinitely small space between them. ‘There’s no going back from here, Andrés, you and I both know it. If we break the barrier, if you allow me to feel this kind of pleasure, I will never be the same man, there is no turning back time, I will never be whole again.’ But he hadn’t been whole since meeting Him, hadn’t he? He had devoted his entire existence to this eccentric, extravagant man, he had offered him the whole National Gold Reserve of Spain, humouring him in the planning of the craziest, most dangerous robbery anyone could have ever imagined. Martín didn’t care so much about the gold, he wanted to do it for Andrés, no matter how much it would’ve cost him. Hell, he would’ve tried the massive undertaking alone just to make the other man fall for him.
“Martín. You think I don’t love you?” his hand moved slowly from Martín’s side to his face - “Nobody makes me feel the way you do.”
It was Martín’s turn to grab Andrés’ face gently.
“Yeah?” finally closing the distance, kissing the man he loved with passion, tenderness and devotion. Slowly, softly, fervently, eyes open and fingers trembling.
He couldn’t believe they were doing this, Martín had always thought of the scenario of their coming together as a fantasy. A painfully wonderful, surreal dream that kept him awake at night and made him shed small tears of frustration and resignation as he jerked off with the image of his friend printed in front of his eyes.
But his world now seemed to have turned upside down. Martín was a bit of an egomaniac, Sergio was right, he was also attached to the idea of holding power, yes. He was not a good person in the widely acknowledged interpretation of the concept, but with Andrés he was different. He was compliant, even tender and caring. Anything to impress the great mind he had the pleasure of calling his best friend.
Yet, Andrés didn’t feel the same, he was sure, a small part of him was already tasting the sour taste of the pain that would come. It had to come, Andrés couldn’t love him back, not as much. Or could he?
They kept kissing, and kissing, Andrés becoming more feral with every brush of their tongues, until he moved on top and started stroking Martín's cock with intent.
Everything could have lasted just one minute or it could’ve been forever, it wouldn’t have made a difference. ‘I can offer enough love for the both of us, mi amor.’
Nothing else would’ve mattered in that moment, as long as Martín could keep his eyes open, the image of the beloved on top of him impressed by fire on his retinas, forever. A small teardrop escaping from the side of his left eye as Martín made treasure of every second, carving these images, these sensations in his brain, on his tactile memory, already prepared for the moment in which those were the only thing he had left.
They came quietly, a single word exhaled almost painfully from Martín’s lips, the name he had whispered so many times, alone, the name of the man he loved. But Andrés was quiet, he kissed Martín one last time on the forehead, softly, before resting his head on the pillow and whispering: “Goodnight, mi amor.”
He knew Andrés wouldn’t be there when he woke up, he simply knew he could never fully have the man for himself. But for those minutes before falling asleep, he could pretend, right? Yeah, he could hold on tight to those newly made memories, wishing they could be together, souls and bodies, forever. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, Andrés and Martín.
‘Por siempre mi amor.’
When he woke up, Andres’ wasn’t there anymore, as in a bad movie cliche Martín pushed his face into the pillow to try and smell the faint remainders of the other man’s expensive cologne, which made everything even worse. Memories of the night before, of the feral yet sweet lovemaking came back to haunt him and he sighed heavily as he left the bed.
Andrés, the motherfucker, was nowhere to be seen for the whole day. ‘Why have I allowed that, why am I so fucking stupid?’ Martín’s inner turmoil did not give him any peace, he kept thinking and thinking as scenes from the night before followed every other thought that occupied his mind like hungry predators.
Moments of sorrow and darkness gave also light to tiny droplets of hope, ‘Maybe he isn’t gone because of me. Maybe something has happened and Andrés had to leave…’
‘For how long are you going to deceive your own mind?’
Suddenly, as the light outside gently transformed into darkness, Andrés was back, well dressed, as beautiful and majestic as ever. He looked Martín straight in the eye, his lopsided smile once again making the man’s heart jump in his throat.
“I’m going out for dinner. With Tatiana.”
Martin’s heart sunk. ‘Told you, you fucking idiot.’
“She came back to me after all.” - as Andrés adjusted his cufflinks, he kept looking intently at Martín.
“You will be thinking about me but…” - for a moment he sounded almost hesitant, almost as if he wanted to stay and Martín hoped.
“I will not think of you. But Martín don’t think I don’t love you.”
and once again he hoped, and hoped as his castle made of diamonds and gold came crushing down with Andrés’ words, but he kept fighting to keep up the façade.
“So what happened last night was just fun for you?”
“I meant what I said, Martín, you and I are soulmates but only ninety-nine percent, last night wasn’t a mistake, but you like me too much…” - with a little smirk he insinuated himself even closer and now Martín was bold, he moved just inches from Andrés’ face and whispered.
“What is ninety-nine against one, Andrés? You’re just chickening out.” - he left the sentence at that, grabbing the other man’s face with both hands and kissing him as he had never kissed anyone, trying to let his lips speak for him, trying to replicate the sentiment of the past night.
“Are you a coward?” When he stopped to look in Andrés’ eyes, the man smiled again, then pushed him against the wall and kissed and kissed and kissed again fervently, Martín’s knees turning to jelly as he allowed himself once more the luxury of hope. Andrés firmly planted his hands on Martín’s face, possessive as always, forever enforcing his mark on the man, rendering him forever his.
“You see? Martín, you don’t know what I would give to feel the same way you do.”
As tears started streaming down his face, Martín kissed him once again.
“But I don’t.”
and again, with his teary eyes open, he kissed the man he loved more than life itself.
“It’s impossible.”
One last, chaste kiss and Martín was suddenly at loss for contact as Andrés left his face and stepped back, watery eyes and red lips.
“I love you, Martín but we must part ways now.”
Nothing but pain surrounded him, his blood rushing through his veins, his head light as a feather, he was unable to move from where Andrés had left him, unable to think, unable to do anything except feel, feel the powerful force of rejection.
“So now you’ll go off with Sergio, to make fucking stupid copies at the National Mint, when I offered you to melt gold together.” - it sounded painfully pathetic to his ears, how could Andrés choose Sergio and his goofy, raw-edged plan when Martín could offer so much more. Melting the State’s Gold had been his romantic gesture towards Andrés, his way to reach his heart, knowing full well he was attracted only to the most exquisite objects.
“You’re holding onto something that doesn’t exist and will never do!”
Andrés almost shouted, his back to the other man, as he wore his coat and Martín couldn’t help but feel yet one more dagger stabbing him right in the centre of his heart.
‘Oh but it exists for me, cause I feel it, I feel it so fucking much.’
He could only cry and nod, looking at the man who was his whole world as he spoke his final words to him.
“Now I have to leave. I’m doing this for love, for the commitment I have to you. Now go, heal your wounds. Sometimes distance is the only thing that can give us peace.”
He wore his hat and turned his face to Martín one more time, a little grin on his lips: “Farewell my friend, I’m sure that somehow, somewhere, we’ll meet again.”
Andrés turned on his heels, his lopsided grin a shadow in the darkness of the candlelit room, as Martín took a couple steps further and almost spoke.
Almost begged him to stay with him, to not abandon their plan, to not leave him. But he didn’t. He couldn’t push his voice to come out as the pain completely hugged him as an old friend while he gazed at the love of his life walk away from him.
‘Oh what I would give to be able to tell you I love you.’