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Carlos wakes up alone in the bed. The other side of the bed is rumpled, and the duvet is messily lying in the other end of the bed.
Lazy drowsiness still lingers in his body and he feels so content that his heart almost swells with happiness. He knows he is not alone. He can hear the soft hum of coffee maker and that TK keeps opening and closing the kitchen cupboards. The tender clinking sound of dishes hitting each other, and the table is faint but audible.
He lies there for a moment. The sheets feel almost cool against his bare skin. He takes the short moment to appreciate the space he currently has in his own bed. He loves TK, and he is overjoyed that TK has spent more and more nights curled up next to him, but TK is like damn octopus, clinging on to him with each limb in his sleep.
It’s actually endearing, as Carlos thinks about it. As if the time they spend together and the closeness they share awake wouldn’t be enough. That they have almost instinctive need to feel the warmth of each other’s skin against their own. To be connected somehow even during sleep, even if it is just a touch of a hand or entangled legs.
Carlos has always found the habit of sleeping together oddly romantic and beautiful. The idea of sharing a bed is so inherently based on trust and feeling of comfortableness. That one is able to let their guard down and be in a state of vulnerability. There is very little room for pretence when falling asleep in each other’s arms.
It is almost like in the half-sleepy state, between being awake and asleep, there is something raw and unfiltered. Maybe it is the truest form of oneself. When the sleepiness is so heavy that one has no energy to care about anything. It is the moment to slip truths that would be more challenging to say aloud when completely awake. It’s the moment to laugh about anything and everything and not to care if it is actually funny or not.
It is like saying that one loves enough to get repeatedly elbowed in the ribs and suffer countless kicks in the shins and waking up to incomprehensible mumbling and to face full of other’s hair, and despite all of that disturbance to prefer sleeping next to each other, just because the feeling of waking up next to the person they love is better than anything else.
But for him, ultimately, it all comes down to the feeling of safety. Carlos knows he is safe with him. Generally and always, but especially in their little private universe that consists only of them and is the size of his king size bed. The moment he gets to crawl to bed under the duvets and next to TK is the moment his day truly unravels, and he gets just to be.
It is like rest of the world and its problems cease to exist for a moment when he is wrapped in his duvet and TK’s arms. When the only sounds Carlos can hear are the soft huffs he keeps making when deep in his sleep or his soft whispering and chuckling while falling asleep. Wandering fingertips up and down arms and spines. Gentle nothings and sometimes the most important profounds.
It’s no secret that he sleeps the best with him. There is something incredibly comforting and grounding about the weight and warmth of him being pressed against him. It is the type of serenity that blends through his subconscious and results in calmer sleep and fewer nightmares.
So, Carlos likes it. But he likes the waking up part of it almost as much.
He drags himself out of the bed, without even bothering to find a t-shirt to wear, and heads down the stairs. The sounds of coming from the kitchen are becoming less muffled when he leaves the bedroom, and he has to stop in the bottom of the stairs just to admire the view.
Sun is already up and sunlight floods in from the windows. TK is leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee and looking out of the window. He has his back towards Carlos, and he isn’t quite sure if he has noticed his presence or not.
TK looks content there, holding his steaming hot coffee in a red coffee mug, and the bright beams of sunlight give his face and hair a soft golden glow. He is only wearing black boxer briefs and an old t-shirt that is most definitely Carlos’.
Carlos walks up to him and places his fingers on top of TK’s hipbones and slowly lets his hands travel along his stomach before intertwining his fingers with his own just above his bellybutton. Carlos hugs him from behind, properly leaning into him and presses his lips against his shoulder.
”Morning,” Carlos whispers, his voice still slightly hoarse from the sleep.
”Hey.”
TK turns his head slightly to glance at him. He brushes Carlos’ forearm with his fingers and places the coffee mug back on the countertop.
”You could’ve woken me up,” Carlos continues, lightly.
By the looks of it, TK hasn’t been awake for long. The first thing he ever wants to do after waking up is to drink his coffee, and the coffee pot is still full, so he must be making through his way of the first cup of the morning.
“You looked so peaceful,” he remarks, voice full of gentleness, “I didn’t have the heart to disturb you.”
Carlos gets it. Their sleeping schedules are irregular and inconsistent at best, and any chance of getting some sleep after a shift is a good chance. Besides, he likes that TK is comfortable enough to go on with his day in his apartment, even if he is still asleep.
It makes it feel like he is at home at his place, and that is a thought that makes his heart flutter with happiness.
“Mhm,” he hums, against his shoulder. Carlos pinches some of the loose fabric of the t-shirt in between his fingers. It feels soft against his skin. “This is my shirt.”
It is old and worn-out grey t-shirt. He is certain it is the one he got from the academy and he probably hasn’t worn it himself in years. It is slightly too big for TK. It hangs on his shoulders, but still fits him well.
TK chuckles. “Yeah. I didn’t find anything that would have been mine and clean.”
Now that Carlos thinks about it, he can hear the whir and thumping of the washing machine in the background.
“I didn’t think you’d miss it,” TK continues, and there is a question laced within his remark.
It is hardly the first time TK has worn his clothes. He almost has a chronic tendency to steal and wear anything that is his. TK doesn’t usually ask for permission and most of the time he returns his clothes, but there are at least few t-shirts and a hoodie that have mysteriously disappeared since they started dating.
Carlos doesn’t mind. It is a street that goes both ways, even though he doesn’t wear TK’s clothes as often and when he does, it is usually his hoodies. He likes the intimacy of it, and it is a nice reminder of the other, especially when their shifts don’t line up and they sometimes go a couple of days without really having time for each other.
There is also the inexplicable feel of warmth and affection that flares in the pit of his stomach every time he sees TK wearing his clothes.
“I don’t,” he reassures, “it looks nice on you.”
“Yeah,” TK laughs, and his voice is coloured by amusement and mischief, “and that probably has nothing to do with the fact that I’ve your last name sprawled across my back.”
It was the strongest indication he had that the t-shirt is actually his. There are bulky and black letters on the shirt, approximately between his shoulder blades, and the print of the letters has slightly faded and crumbled during the years and due the times it has been washed. Yet it unmistakably says Reyes.
“Why would it?” Carlos murmurs, hiding his own growing smile against the nape of his neck.
“You can be just a bit territorial sometimes,” TK points out, casually, without any traces of accusation in his voice.
Still, it feels like someone would have punched him in the stomach. Carlos knows there is the seed of truth in there. He is completely aware that he has his jealous side, it’s something that has always been there. While he is not an insecure person per se, there are still doubts and fears that run somewhere underneath, so deep that they are almost irrational.
He loathes it. The feeling of jealousy makes his stomach turn and leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, just because the feeling is always followed by guilt. It is an ugly feeling, and it never brings anything good to a relationship and it is always immediately followed by guilt. He isn’t even sure if it is pure jealousy, but more the fear of being replaced and not being good enough.
Carlos has gotten better at hiding it and burying it somewhere deep. He learned very young that if he felt a pang of jealousy when his friends told about the plans and the fun they had without him, it was not something that his friends wanted to hear. It was better to pretend that everything was fine and carry on like it didn’t faze him.
Of course, as an adult that feeling of jealousy has changed and developed into something more complex and nuanced, but he still hates it. He doesn’t want to be the jealous asshole who cannot handle his boyfriend living his own life, and it is not even close to that, but still he would just rather ignore it and not let it affect TK’s life.
It is more of heavy sense of dread and regret, and it most definitely isn’t out of lack of trust.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes out. “I’ve never meant to make you feel bad or uncomfortable.”
TK turns around to face him and his hands end up resting on the small of his back. His whole expression screams softens as he searches something from his eyes.
“You haven’t,” TK reassures, “I’d have said something if that was the case.”
It is a small relief to hear it, but he still feels uneasy and borderline ashamed.
“Besides, all you have done is passive aggressively introduce yourself as my boyfriend. That doesn’t feel—suffocating or like you’d actually mind what I do and with whom,” TK says, wrapping his arms around him.
He can still remember the night at the roller derby bar, and couple of other times at different bars, and once in a supermarket that he has unabashedly crashed a situation where someone has been flirting with TK and he has less than subtly let the other person know that he is taken.
Every time Carlos has been driven by that doubt and fear that has resulted in jealousy, and TK has never seem too bothered about it. It’s not his fault that people flirt with him. He is beautiful and his dazzling smile would make anyone in their right mind go little weak in the knees. Every time he has disturbed someone’s less than successful flirting attempts, TK has never complained. Usually, he has just smiled just as disarmingly and teased him a little.
Still, now shame is creeping up on his heart, making him feel bad for each and every time. Especially because the contrast between those times and the unfortunate meeting of his parents at the farmers’ market is so stark.
“I’d understand if you were annoyed that I still couldn’t say it when it mattered,” he murmurs, ducking his head to avoid his gaze.
He meant it when he told him that he likes people to know he is his, but somehow it had felt completely different thing when it was his parents in front of him. It is entirely because of the sore spots he has in the relationship with his parents, and nothing to do with TK.
Now that he contemplates it, his fear of people leaving him might actually stem from that. He loves his parents and he had good childhood, but he has always felt like he cannot quite live up to the expectations they have for him. Especially when they used to tease him about a girl he would marry and the grandkids he would give to them, and even more when it came evident that his dad disapproved his career choice.
He might have come out to them as seventeen years old, but that was years of built-up leading to it, and there were countless times he almost said something, but he always backed down when the words died on his tongue and he swallowed the disappointment of not being able to do it. Still, Carlos guesses, that growing up with the fear that parents’ love for him might be conditional, leaves it scars behind.
It is challenging to truly and fully believe that anyone would stay when he feared for majority of his teenage years that even his own family would leave him just because the way he is. It wasn’t exactly hard to jump to the conclusion that TK could have wanted to break up with him post their visit to the farmers’ market, which in retrospect seems quite a leap to make based on one fight.
Carlos knows his parents love him. They have said as much to him, but it still hurts because it is always implied that they love him despite him being gay. As if his sexuality would be something that would make him unlovable, and he should be just grateful that his parents didn’t turn their back on him.
Carlos is thankful he has his family in his life and that in turn, they want him in their lives, but there are so many countless moments and remarks that they probably have meant as signs of their acceptance, but in reality, they have felt more like digs and almost back-handed insults.
He still remembers the bitterness and plain upset he felt when his dad had offhandedly mentioned to his uncle that they had no choice expect accept him. His dad probably didn’t mean anything bad with it, but it still stung because it revealed how they really saw his coming out.
Not as something that was incredibly difficult for him and as a proof that he does trust them with the deepest and intimate parts of him, the essence really, but as something inconvenient that Carlos presented to them and gave them and forced to deal with it.
“Hey, none of that,” TK says, kissing his forehead. The lingering touch finally pulls him out of his thoughts. “It’s different with different people. I get it. You’ll tell them when you feel ready.”
“Yeah,” he agrees breathlessly.
It feels still wrong that decade the fears and doubts still shadow his life, especially the parts that are supposed to be good in his life, like TK. He doesn’t want those to corrupt their relationship or cause any sort of pain to TK, but he guesses it was naïve to think he could completely shield him from it.
TK cups his face with both of his hands. He just holds his head gently and strokes his cheeks with his thumbs.
“Do you actually get jealous?” TK asks, sounding genuinely curious, with the tilt of his head.
“No,” he lies, almost automatically, but it feels wrong, “maybe a bit.”
It feels impossible to look anywhere else expect deep into his eyes, because TK stubbornly keeps his gaze on him, despite tilting his head to the other side. No annoyance or exasperation lingers in his green eyes, but instead Carlos can distinguish the love that shines there.
“There’s no reason for you to worry, you know. You’re the only one for me.”
The thing is that Carlos knows it. He fully believes it. TK has never made him feel like he’d be thinking about anyone else, and he has never shown even slightest interest in the people who flirt with him or otherwise, either. Besides, Carlos trusts him. It is simple as that, but that doesn’t make the persistent doubt in his head to go anywhere.
It feels awful to realise that TK thinks that the doubt is directed towards him. If anything, the doubt is about himself.
“I know,” he replies effortlessly, looking at him, because he needs TK to know that once again, his doubt and fears have very little to do with him.
“So, what is it then?” TK asks. His voice is still full of kindness and patience as if understanding what goes in his head would be the most important thing to do in the morning.
Carlos loves him for it, he really does. But at the same time, the guilt and uneasiness are growing stronger. He wants to keep their relationship the way it is. Easy, full of love and trust. Some doubt that stems from ages old wounds and the reoccurring instance that Carlos almost always has poured more love onto people than they have in return on him, but TK has never done that to him.
It shouldn’t be his responsibility to fix and deal with something he didn’t cause.
“It’s—not important,” Carlos huffs, taking a step back.
TK allows him to put distance between them. He keeps leaning against the kitchen counter, but he crosses his arms. “Okay, but if it bothers you even a little bit, then it’s important.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” Carlos tries to explain, “it’s just this small and irrational doubt in the back of my head. Nothing to do with you specifically.”
TK seems to contemplate it for a moment, but he ends up nodding. “Okay.”
He knows he owes him a better explanation. It is not like Carlos wouldn’t want to talk to him, but he cannot shake of the feeling that jealousy is an ugly and terrible feeling and talking about it will just ruin TK’s morning. The last thing he wants to do is to upset him or burden him with something completely unnecessary.
Carlos hops on the opposite kitchen island, sitting there quietly for a moment. TK stays just as quiet, but he can feel his gaze travelling along his body.
“I know I was the first person you met after your break-up,” Carlos starts eventually, but he keeps looking down on his own hands. He traces one of the lines that crosses his palm.
From the corner of his eye, he sees that TK uncrosses his arms. Suddenly TK is right in front of him, placing his hand on his knee. He runs his fingers against his kneecap.
“First and only,” TK points out.
“Oh,” he breathes out, almost involuntarily.
It is true that TK has never made him feel like he would want someone else or even implied that there would have been anyone else, but in the beginning, there were the few months where the whatever thing between them was new, messy and undefined. It was clear to Carlos what TK looked for in the beginning and there was the short period of time when it seemed that they were drifting more towards friendship than anything else, and he had wondered if TK ever sought what he wanted from someone else.
It would have been completely fine if he had, which is why he has never asked about it, because they weren’t really together back then, and it was none of his business what TK did with others.
“You were hard to get out of my head already back then,” TK chuckles, running his fingers up his thigh to the hem of his boxer briefs.
It is almost comforting to hear that they were as enchanted with each other from the beginning, even if he initially came on stronger than TK was ready for.
“That little fear makes me think, sometimes, that maybe you’ll realise that you’ve other options than me,” Carlos continues. He bumps his toes against his calf gently.
“I know I’ve options,” TK says, and Carlos eyes flash back up at him. “But even if I had met every man in Texas, I’d still choose you. The fact that you were the first doesn’t change anything.”
TK traces some sort of pattern on his thigh with his index finger. It seems random, but Carlos quickly realises he is drawing invisible lines between his moles, as if they were constellations. He cannot help but smile meekly at it.
“You sound convinced,” Carlos remarks, more quietly than he intended to.
“ ‘cause I am,” TK retorts, gently poking his thigh muscle. “I mean we choose each other every day, right? No one forces us to be together, but we still want that. That’s a choice.”
There is truth in his words. Obviously, that is how all relationships work, Carlos is aware of that, but somehow it makes everything feel more meaningful and profound. That it isn’t just some whim of the universe that they ended up together. That their love is something active and something that they work for and decide to cherish and keep it alive.
“It is,” he admits, with a tiny smile dancing on his lips, “it’s an easy choice, too.”
TK mirrors his smile, but he sighs lightly. “I know what it is like to live with insecurities and fears. I’m pretty sure that growing up that was almost all that this was,” he says, tapping his own head with his other hand, “and if anyone has better options outside of this relationship, it’s you, but you still have never made me feel like you would want anyone else.”
“Neither have you,” he hurries to point out, brushing his wrist slightly. The touch is so light he almost thinks he imagines it.
“Good, but I just want—you to have similar amount of reassurance back,” TK says slowly and tentatively, with a lazy shrug.
“I have,” he confirms, hopping off from the kitchen island. He kisses his cheek before he beelines towards the coffee maker. “Is there any coffee left?”
TK purses his lips and glares at him pointedly. It leaves very little room for doubt in Carlos mind that TK wouldn’t notice his deflecting and avoidance techniques. It is unfair, but he busies himself by finding a mug and pouring the coffee into it.
It is still warm, and he walks past him into the living room. He sits down at the armchair and sips his coffee carefully. He sort of hopes TK would just leave it and continue with his morning routines normally, but he has no such luck. It is not really a surprise. TK can be stubborn and relentless when he puts his mind into something.
Still, it takes a bit longer than Carlos would have expected for TK to appear next to his seat. He waves his hand vaguely and Carlos spreads his legs with a soft sigh. The armchair should be, according to every logic, way too small for two adults, but still TK sits as if backwards on the armchair, astride on his lap, settling himself into space between his thighs. The lack of armrests allows him to put his own legs on top of Carlos’s thighs, leaving them dangling just above the floor.
Their faces are inches away and Carlos can feel his warm breath on his face. An edge of seriousness has made its way through to TK’s expression, and Carlos resist the urge to groan.
“You don’t have to do this,” he mumbles, focusing his gaze on TK’s collarbone that peaks out of the t-shirt’s collar. “It’s dumb and you can just forget the whole thing. I promise it’s okay.”
TK is still shooting him the same unimpressed glare, but it is still lot softer than before. TK curls his fingers around his coffee mug and carefully reaches to place it on the floor.
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty,” he says, raising his hand to his hair. TK keeps running his fingers through his hair, trying to untangle his curls from each other. It’s an impossible task and they both know it, but it feels nice. “It’s a feeling and we can rarely control what we feel. It happens. I get jealous, too, but it’s fleeting feeling.”
Carlos closes his eyes for a moment. “I’m not actually dwelling on jealousy, either.”
It is not like it would consume his thoughts or anything like that. It happens occasionally and most of the time he is able to shrug it off easily. Sometimes his doubts just raise their ugly head momentarily, but it is nothing he couldn’t deal with on his own. He doesn’t actually need the reassuring. He is perfectly aware that it stems from irrational sources.
“I know,” he replies, under his breath, without missing a beat.
The movement of TK’s fingers slows down, and he looks almost thoughtful as he studies Carlos’ face with his gaze.
TK’s hair is messy, and he hasn’t shaved in a couple of days, which means a slight stubble has grown on his jawline, and the sunlight still gives his skin almost a golden glow.
“What?”
“I’m figuring out what I want to say,” he explains.
Carlos chuckles weakly, but he wraps his arms around him, resting his palms to rest against his waist. “I assumed you’ve something to say since you sat on me,” he deadpans.
“I’m not gonna force you talk about it, but I want to say a couple of things before you decide we’re done with the conversation we probably should’ve had ages ago. This,” he says gesturing their pressed-together bodies, “is just to prevent you from bolting away, and I knew you’d not mind.”
TK’s voice grows softer as he speaks, and he winks at him before shutting up.
“I don’t.”
It’s the truth. His mind might be a whirlwind and the way they are sitting is no way practical, but he likes the closeness of it. His skin is soft and warm against his and they probably could not be any closer to each other even if they tried. In reality, he could easily get away from the chair if he wanted to, but he has no desire to move.
The physical closeness helps him to soothe his mind and reassure himself that there is no emotional drift between them, no matter what.
TK reaches for his coffee cup again. Carlos accepts it, but he leaves his other hand on his waist. TK watches him as he drinks his coffee. He almost finishes it, but TK curls his fingers around it again, and he lets him to take it. TK drinks the remaining of his coffee and grins brightly at him. Carlos rolls his eyes fondly at him.
TK’s stealing tendencies have always included food and beverages, too. He places the mug back to the floor with a soft thud.
“This is going to be real sappy,” he laughs, lightly.
“What else is new?” Carlos teases back.
It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that TK is a hopeless romantic and he always lets him to know that he loves him. With words or actions. Carlos not-so-secretly loves it, and he is aware that he is exactly same. They have entire drawer reserved just for small and short post-it notes that they have written for each other and wanted to keep.
“But I mean every word,” TK says, sincerely, and suddenly he is cupping Carlos’ face with his right hand. “I’m not entirely sure if I believe in soulmates, but I think if anyone would be mine, it’d be you. Your love has settled so deep in me. So deep that I don’t even know where it ends, and I begin. I don’t mean that we’d have become one person, but that you’re part of me. Irreversibly. A part that makes me be more me.”
Carlos heart clenches, but it is purely out of love and affection. He doesn’t dare to interrupt him and there is beauty in his words, and it is almost unbelievable to think that he is able to make him feel that way, but on the other hand it is easy to believe it, because it mirrors so accurately his own feelings.
“It’s like your love has intertwined itself into essence of me and that means I’ve that and my love for you always with me. It’s not something I consciously think about, but it’s there and it’s near impossible to forget,” TK continues, slowly, as if he had nothing else to do expect confess his love for him.
TK’s hand is on his shoulder now, gently rubbing his tense muscle. Some of the tension leaves it and Carlos is convinced his uneasiness is evaporating as quickly.
“You’re amazing, okay? And I know I cannot make that doubt go away immediately, but it’s not exactly challenging to keep proving to you that no one else compares to you. Not in my mind at least. I’m not going to just one day wake up and decided that I want someone else.”
As he speaks, he runs his fingers along his arm and forearm, until his fingertips reach the back of Carlos’ hand. He puts his own palm against his hand, and they lie on top of each other against TK’s own hip. They are already close, but he leans in closer, and kisses his neck just below his ear.
“No one else would stand even half a chance for my heart,” TK whispers near his ear, almost impossibly softly. He sounds so goddamn sincere, and Carlos can hear the faint smile in his voice, and it sends shivers through his body.
TK leans back and his smile is disarming and warm, and it makes his stomach flip, because the look he is giving him is so dosed with love.
“I don’t want anyone else simply because they aren’t you. Simple as that. Because you’re so much more than good enough. And if you think I’d let you, this kind of happiness or love just to slip away from my grasp, you’re so wrong. You’ll have trouble getting rid of me.”
It feels like his heart would be raw and open from the strength of emotions his words stir up in him, but mostly he is able to only focus on the softness and adoration that seems to surround him.
TK’s quiet laughter fills his heart, and words keep failing Carlos, so he just rests his forehead against TK’s. “I love you.”
It sounds almost ineloquent compared to his words, but it is the essence of what they have been saying ever since seeing each other in the kitchen. It is the only thing that matters, and he tries to put as much meaning as those three words can harbour.
Based on the way TK’s grin gets wider, he gets the message across. “I love you, too.”
“You’re wrong, though,” Carlos points casually, when TK pulls away slightly.
Confusion settles in his bright eyes and his eyebrows knit together. “About what?”
“That I’d have better options,” Carlos tenderly clarifies as he plants a kiss on his shoulder, “you’re the best there is.”
It had immediately bothered him when he said it, but the conversation flowed on and he didn’t get a chance to correct him before. It still nagged in the corner of his mind. Carlos could repeat all the things TK just said to him and they would be the honest truth, and he wants him to know it, too.
TK sputters out a surprised and delighted chuckle, but he looks pleased as he tries to bite down his smile.
“Thank you,” Carlos whispers.
He doesn’t feel the need to thank him for telling him that he loves him, but it warms his heart that he took the time and made the effort to carter to a tiny doubt he has. He knows he was reluctant to let him do it, but it was only because he didn’t want to be a burden to him or make him upset. Instead, TK seems little lighter and any of those confessions didn’t seem to a burden for him.
“Any time,” he says, effortlessly, “so we are good?”
“I feel like good is too bland word.”
TK’s eyes glimmer with amusement. “That’s true.”
His heart is bursting with happiness and he cannot help but kiss him. His face is already so close to his that he only needs to tilt his head to left and his lips are crashing against TK’s. He faintly tastes like coffee and his lips are just a bit chapped, but Carlos cannot help but smile into the kiss.
TK leans more into him and Carlos grabs a handful of his t-shirt. It’s a slow kiss and it is an outlet for all the love the words cannot even describe and the sweetness of it makes his heart skip a beat. TK laughs into kiss and it is making it more challenging, but stubbornly either one of them are willing to depart.
“Breakfast?” Carlos murmurs against his lips.
They both have the day-off so there is no rush for getting anything done, but it has been hours since either one of them ate anything and he is pretty sure the morning is already blending into day and the cup of coffee isn’t exactly filling his stomach. Besides, this time it feels like their conversation has reached sort of closure for the time being.
“Sure, if I can get up.”
“It’d not be the worst thing to get stuck here,” Carlos tells him, smiling against the crook of his neck.
“Oh, look at that. Sappiness is contagious,” TK tries to deadpan, but he fails miserably because his mouth persistently curls into an affectionate smile.
“Maybe.”
Carlos knows he needs to do more work to deal with his own insecurities and fears, but in that moment, the idea of that doesn’t feel that daunting.