Work Text:
Sergio woke up with the banging of his door in the middle of the night. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, took his glasses, glared at the door before he finally stood up to open it.
"Andrés?"
Andrés pushed past him and entered his room. He paced around the room, panic evident in his face, and then he stopped and looked at his brother grimly.
"He doesn't love me." Andrés breathed, defeatedly. "I tried showing him, Sergio. I tried. He just brushed me off."
Sergio rubbed his temples. His brother's complaints about his unsuccessful advances were not new to him. But he swears every time he does; it gets worse.
He sighed, "tell me what happened?"
Andrés went on about how he planned this surprise dinner for Martín, how he carefully prepared the food and the table only for martín to doze off in front of him. All his efforts were unappreciated.
"I told myself I’d get over him, but brother, I cannot. I'm doomed, and I get to see my love wither," Andrés whined.
Sergio stared at the floor; that can't be possible. As far as he knows, Martín is as crazy in love with his brother as Andrés was with Martín. He shook his head. It might be the sleep still in his system, or maybe he was missing something, but what Andrés told him didn't connect with the facts he knew.
"And he dozed off intentionally?" He asked to make sure.
Andrés shrugged. "I don't know, but he did it anyway. I was so hurt, so I came running straight here to you."
"You came running straight here?" He asked again. He was squinting his eyes at his brother.
"Yes! Sergio, I know you're still asleep, but I need you right now."
Sergio lifted a finger as if to ask for permission to speak and calmly asked, "Andrés, you are aware of the time, right? It's 4 in the morning."
They both stared at each other—a sheepish smile forming on Andrés' mouth.
"To be fair, I had a hard time picking out the right tablecloth that will go with the plate. You see, for the presentation, it has to look exquisite. You cannot just serve an important guess with whatever you pull out first-"
That's when Sergio lost it and shoved his brother out, "next time, instead of picking out the tablecloth, just go and tell him you like him."
"Are you insane?" Andrés slammed his hand on the door to prevent Sergio from shutting it on his face. "We don't do that. You know that the other has to be the first one to say that. Where is your pride, brother?"
And with that, Sergio forced his door closed and went back to bed. Ah! The joys of being woke up by your idiotic brother.
A few days have passed after the dinner incident, and Sergio sees Andrés was avoiding Martín. And Martìn looked like an abandoned puppy whenever Andrés dismissed him off. Internally, Sergio just wants to keep on rubbing his temples. He watched them circle the whole house until Martìn made eye contact with him.
Here we go.
"He's mad at me!" Martín complained. "I knew it. I should have stayed awake. I'm the worst. He prepared all those foods for me, and all I did was fall asleep."
"Dinner?" Sergio tried to act like he didn't know the situation. "When was that?"
"The other night," Martín groaned, remembering the incident.
"Really? How come I didn't saw." They live in one house, and much to his dismay, he gets to witness all of this house's activities (mainly of his brother.)
"You're asleep. He woke me up at 2:30 in the morning, and he set this table and food for me. He thought of everything. The contrast between the plate and the tablecloth was spectacular. But all I did was doze off on him while he was telling me about his day," Martín ranted.
"Isn't that the day you have troubles at work too?"
"Yeah."
"Probably why you were tired. Just let him be for a while. He'll come around."
Martín sighed, "but that was so stupid of me." He left Sergio and locked himself up in his room.
Sergio sighed. At least Martín's rants aren't as dramatic and problematic as his brother’s.
He went back to his work, checking test papers of his students who couldn't get that arithmetic right for the love of God.
An hour or so passed when a door burst open. He stared at Martín from a distance.
"No! I have to do something!" He shouted.
"Okay?" Sergio blindly agreed. "Have you ever thought of just telling him about how you feel?"
Martín looked at him like he told him some taboo stuff. "Tell him? I can't believe you're so stupid, Sergio." And stormed off to do precisely what Sergio suggested to him to do.
He barged into Andrés' room and summed up his courage. "I have something to tell you."
Andrés just nodded his head.
"It's tough for me to say this, but here it goes, I like you, Andrés. I always have. I like that you carry an air of self-confidence wherever you go. I like that you put so much thought into everything. I like that you love art. I like your paintings. I, basically, just like you. So much"
Martín heaved for breath as he poured his feelings to Andrés. It felt like a dam broke loose, and everything was now out. He waited for Andrés to say anything.
Andrés squinted his eyes and pulled the AirPods from his ears. "I thought I would try reading lips today, but I'm so bad at it. What did you say again?"
Martín's face heated up. He stood up, his hands fidgeting. He summed up all those courage, and now there was nothing left. All he could say was "nothing of importance, I just like using a pencil when working rather than a pen" before he fled to his room.
Sergio, who was watching the event, faced palm himself. It was already there. They were already there. But his dumbass brother always has to ruin everything.
The two of them didn't change that much a few days after that. Martín would still interact with Andrés the same way he did before but with less smiling and puppy eyes. The disappointment was still with him. While Andrés, the culprit, has no idea of what he'd done.
It was a slow and lazy Saturday for them, and it meant no work for Martín, no art gallery for Andrés, and many test papers for Sergio.
He was in the living room finishing all of the papers and moving on to making his lesson plan for the week when the other two decided to join him. Andrés set his canvas up and continued his painting while Martín picked up on his book.
Sergio savored the peace in their house. After all, he didn't get much of it. He almost started to hum in his mind when Andrés spoke.
"What do you think, Martín?" He showed the painting to both of them.
"It's beautiful." Nothing was out of the ordinary on Martín's answer, but Andrés scowled on it.
"Beautiful? Don't you see its flaws?"
Martín looked at the painting again and back at Andrés’, "I do, but I like to look at the work as a whole. And as a whole, it's beautiful." He closed his book and grabbed his coffee. "Like how I see the person I like."
"The person you like? Do you like someone? Who??" Andrés asked; his full attention now was on Martín. He tried to run all the names of people he knew were close to Martín that he could like and came up with nothing. Martín, his Martín, has too much of a sophisticated taste for all of them.
"If I told you, you wouldn't even believe it." He said. And as if on cue, his phone rang. He picked it up and went outside.
The shock plastered on Andrés' face. "He likes someone," he whispered defeatedly.
Sergio internally groaned.
"He likes someone, Sergio. Someone." Andrés breathed. "And I'm gonna find that someone and break them."
"Has it ever occurred to you that that someone might be you?" Sergio asked.
"Me??” Andrés huffed, as if insulted, “brother, I don't have flaws."
And that is one of your many flaws, brother.
Sergio sighed. He wants to give up. It might be impossible at this point, but he has to at least do something about those two idiots someday for his peace. Someday.
"Why don't you just ask hi-"
Andrés shushed him. "Not now, brother. I'm thinking. Who could it be? It could be that Dave from accounting. No, no, no. He can't be. It could be that bartender," he muttered as he walked away.
"JUST ASK HIM," Sergio shouted to his brother.
Ugh. Those oblivious bastards.
The students usually spend Fridays going to the mall or hanging out with friends. It’s a magical time where no one has to think about school for a bit of time. And for the teachers, it means rest on the couch with a beer in hand, sports channel on telly, or maybe more time to spend with family or so. But for Sergio, it’s his brother’s art gallery.
As his way of supporting him, he would attend his brother’s gallery and maybe help with whatever it is needed helping. It’s okay. This is the one time his brother can put his annoying talkative habits to use and because he can spend some time with his girlfriend, Raquel.
“Anything interesting lately?” She asked.
“Aside from me knowing that my brother is plotting something and is too lazy to act on it, no, nothing is.”
“We should put them on a blind date,” Raquel suggested.
“And have my brother ruin everything without him knowing that he is ruining everything?”
Raquel giggled at his retort. She was refilling glasses of champagne when her eyes drifted to the door where Martín came in with a guest. She nudged Sergio and pointed. “Who’s that?”
Sergio looked at the two and sighed, “that is trouble.”
It was Friday; typically for Martín, it is a drinking day with colleagues. But tonight, his boss needed to be home for family dinner, his other co-worker had a date, the other was on sick leave, and the other was just having the worst day that she decided to go home. So it was just him and this one colleague, Juancho, with whom he barely share a word. Martín would have called it a day after a beer bottle, but he remembered Andrés and his gallery, so he invited his Juancho. And everybody knows that Martín love showing Andrés to everyone in his workplace, so now that he has the opportunity, he might as well grab it.
“This is one of my favorites,” Martín showed off.
“You said that too about the last one,” Juancho said.
“Well, that’s just how talented he is. I love all his works,” Martín said.
“Where is this guy? You should introduce me so I can see if he was as great as you said.”
Martín’s eye twitched at that. He faced Juancho, ran a hand on his arm, gripped it hard, and smiled. “No need for you to see that because people like you don’t even deserve to see it,” Martín whispered.
On the other side of the floor, Andrés just came off talking with buyers. His eyes caught Martín on the other side and were about to greet him when he witnesses their little interaction.
The glass shattered at his feet, a lot of guests gasped and turned to Andrés when he dropped the champagne he was holding. So it was that guy. Andrés fixed himself, apologized to everybody with his Cheshire cat smile, and strolled to the both of them.
“Martín!” he greeted. He took hold of Martín’s hand from the Juancho’s arm, snaked his hand over Martín’s waist possessively. “Who do you have here? You mind introducing me?”
“No,” Martín said, “in fact, he was leaving.”
Both men stare at the Juancho, Martín with his head low and menacing gaze, and Andrés with his head held high and scrutinizing gaze. Juancho left the gallery unaware of what he did wrong to deserve that treatment.
“Ah! It seems like I caught you in some predicament. I hope it was nothing serious, my friend.” Andrés hoped precisely the opposite of that. He hoped that everything was crashing and burning down between them. He swears he wishes that, but at the very moment, a tear roll down Martín’s face then it’s murder time.
“Oh no, nothing at all,” Martín dismissed. “The truth is I’m too tired. I might just head home.”
“Come on, don’t be like that, my friend. Just for one man, you waste all your energy.” Andrés said, searching his friend’s eyes.
“Yeah, for one man,” Martín answered defeatedly. He will fight anyone who will belittle Andrés anytime. He is ready to go to prison for this man in front of him. He was prepared to ruin himself.
“Andrés, have you ever love someone so passionately, you feel suffocated whenever they’re not around?” Martín asked.
Andrés’ heart dropped. He was to raise his hand and caress Martín’s face but stopped himself. He took a few breaths before he answered. “Yes.”
Martín huffed a laugh. “Yeah, me too.”
The silence was unbearable between them, both too afraid to make a move and shatter this precious thing between them. Andrés swear time moved around them fast, and they both just stood there in place for a very long time.
It was Martín who broke the silence, “I’m gonna go home, see you there.”
Before Andrés could even react, Martín already slips past his hold and left. He was frozen on the floor. Andrés wanted badly to chase after Martín and just kiss him right there and there, tell him to leave the other guy and be with him, with him who loves Martín more than he loves the baroque period or renaissance period, with him who will drop everything at his feet at his call, with him who’s heart was only beating and bleeding for Martín.
“Why can’t he love me?” Andrés asked himself. He shook his head and went back to entertaining buyers with a fake smile.
Sergio and Raquel, who were watching the whole thing, just grunted together. They’ve been there the entire time, cleaning after Andrés’ mess, standing too close, listening.
“Idiots, they are both idiots,” Raquel said.
“You see what I mean now?” Sergio asked.
“To be fair with your brother, Martín was partly responsible for that misunderstanding.”
Sergio agreed.
“We should help them, you know,” Raquel said, “maybe lock them up together until they talk about their feelings.”
“That’s not gonna work,” Sergio said,” they’re both too stubborn.”
“Your brother is, but Martín seems like easy to break,” Raquel said.
“Just leave it,” Sergio said. He watched his brother talk and charm his buyers, noticing the uneasy smile he gives off. He pities him, then regretted pitying him; after all, all of this resulted from him being prideful.
After dropping Raquel back at her home, Sergio droved home with Andrés. The traffic light was blinking in front of them, the car too cold for the winter night, his brother’s silence much colder. Sergio can almost feel the thick ice Andrés placed between them; whatever was bothering him, he didn’t want to share it. So to fill the void of silence, he opened the radio.
“That was rude,” Andrés muttered.
“What?” Sergio asked.
“I was having a moment here, brother,” Andrés answered. “ If you can’t see,” he muttered, then continued as if he was talking to himself, “of course you can’t, you were off gallivanting with your woman while me, I was. . .” Andrés pinched the bridge of his nose. A sniffle didn’t go unnoticed by his brother. “I just want him.”
“Brother, maybe wanting him isn’t the answer,” Sergio fixed his glasses, glancing at his brother, “maybe you need to start needing him.”
Sergio was right; the answer to his problem was simple. All he needs to do is to lower his pride. To be the one who will love the other more. It was all Martín deserves. And all he has to be was to be the man Martín deserves.
After that incident, things changed a little back at home; Andrés was calmer and more collected. He was more attentive, too, when it comes to Martín. On the other hand, Martín, who just came home that night was very tired and just slept the whole night off, was confused to wake up at the sudden change. He can’t rub off the feeling that something happened after he left and regrets leaving early that night. Now and then, his eyes would peak up from his blueprints and would follow Andrés all around the house.
“Would you like to sit down?” He asked.
“I would but not until I’m done with my latest project,” Andrés answered, still pacing around, looking for something. “It should be here,” he muttered.
Sergio, who heard his brother’s response, peaked from his room, “what are you doing?”
“Nothing for you to worry about, brother,” Andrés answered.
Martín slammed his blueprints on the table way too hard than he wanted to cause both of his companions to whip their heads to him. “I- ‘ll help you,” he offered.
Andrés turned to him and chuckled, “my friend, no need to help me, I got this.”
“Seriously, Andrés, I can help you,” Martín pleaded.
I took Andrés his everything to stop himself and pin this man in front of him down. How can he say no to those sweet puppy eyes? But alas, he can’t show him yet. So instead, Andrés said, “how about you help me with another thing.”
Andrés instructed Martín to stand still; he guided his arms, straightening them sideways, making sure he feels every slope and dip of his arm. Finishing that, he went straight to Martín’s neck, cradling it in his palms and sliding down towards his chest and down to his stomach, around his waist, and into the small of his back, doing all this without breaking eye contact.
Martín held his gaze alongside his breath. He was so captivated by the other man’s eyes that when Andrés started chuckling, he jumps from where he was standing. The only thing keeping him in place was Andrés’ arm around him.
Andrés leaned down and ghosted his lips on Martín’s ear. “Breath, my friend,” he whispered.
Martín gasped as cold shivers ran down his body.
And just like that, Andrés stepped back and left the wide-eyed, barely breathing Martín in the middle of the room. “Thank you,” he said as he left.
Sergio, from his door, didn’t understand what was happening. His brother went from guiding the other to completely feeling him. His eyes followed his brother with complete curiosity. He had his chance to confess there then stupidly let it go entirely. What the fuck?
Martín, who was equally baffled, stayed in his spot, arms still in the air. The only thing that snapped him out of his trance was Sergio throwing him a pen. The cluttering of it made him jump.
“End this, now,” Sergio said as he closed his door on Martín.
Martín sighed. He’s right; he can’t live like this.
Martín thoroughly planned his confession. He spends most of his time staring in an open space imagining all the possible outcomes. Disregarding work, sitting through meetings, and not listening in any of the words his co-worker said, signing a document he hasn’t read yet, he even got to a point where he would just constantly bump into a wall or door frame.
Meanwhile, Andrés was doing his best to create his most incredible creation yet. It’s a type of art he hasn’t tapped into yet, so he was very, very careful. His plan was simple; unlike everybody thinks, he’ll confess to Martín in the best way possible. In front of a lot of people. With a priest. Then maybe some fireworks and champagne after. It’s simple.
On the other hand, Sergio was bombarded with calls from friends asking questions and giving their best wishes. He took the day off, turned his phone off, and refused to get out of bed. Raquel was there beside him, playing on her phone.
“This is great, don’t you think?” She said.
“It is, except the fact that he told everybody he was going to get married,” Sergio sighed.
“So?”
“What if Martín rejected him?”
“Do you think he can?”
“No, but he is stupid enough to do so accidentally,” Sergio groaned. There’s nothing to do anymore. The handcrafted invitations are already out there. “Everything has to go right.”
“Uh-huh,” Raquel answered, still playing on her phone.
Sergio looked at her then snatched her phone, “focus on me.”
“No! I’ll die!” She went and reached for it while Sergio was keeping it away from her.
“I am in a perilous situation right now,” Sergio exclaimed.
“I know, my game too!” Raquel squealed. They both wrestled on the bed until they both fell off of it, Sergio first, catching Raquel.
“Oof.”
“Are you okay?” Raquel asked.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Sergio answered.
Raquel dip down to kiss him; Sergio’s hand was crawling from her hips up at her back, caging her close to him.
“Let’s finish this,” Raquel whispered, catching her breath.
“Yes, for my peace of mind,” Sergio whispered back.
Raquel giggled, “no, I mean this.” She kissed him again. “On the bed, now.”
The special day on the invitation came, Andrés was busy making the whole house special. He hired professional help to clean the house thoroughly; when he was unsatisfied, he cleaned it again. The garden was mowed, the bushed was trimmed, the whole area turned from just a garden to a unique hall. Champagne roses lined the entire surroundings of the garden.
The subject of the event, Martín, was woken up early by Andrés to ‘accompany’ his brother on buying his favorite brand of paint. The one that they can only buy two towns away, in five in the morning. Sergio protested at his brother’s plan, but Raquel pushed him out of bed and winked at him.
“Just go,” she said.
Raquel went and helped with the setting. She fixed the flower arch by the guest list and check and re-checked over the list of people coming over. Her instinct taking over, making the safety of everybody her priority.
Andrés came out of the house looking exquisite as ever with his white three-piece suit. He walked towards Raquel and gave her a spin.
“How was it?” Andrés Asked.
“Like a prince,” she answered. “Is this a wedding?” She asked the obvious question.
“Wedding? Ah! No,” Andrés said.
“Then what is the priest for?”
“For the blessing!”
Raquel tilted her head in question.
“Of my new art!”
“WHAT?”
“Yes, you see, come over here,” Andrés walked back towards the house with Raquel behind her. He led her to his studio and revealed what he was doing for the last few weeks.
“What do you think?” Andrés asked.
“Too much,” Raquel answered.
In which Andrés laughed, “I know! Like you, Martín will be speechless too!”
Raquel just pinched the bridge of her nose, and there was no getting in this man’s thick skull.
People have started coming in, all of them being ushered to their seats by Raquel while Andrés was busy placing his art in front of the seats with its cover hiding it from people’s eyes. The priest was ushered in front, while Martín’s co-workers, who were notified just a day before, were ushered at the back. A good handful of shared friends was placed at the center while people Andrés knew were at the front.
The appetizer was served alongside the sparkling water. The band was playing at the side, the sun shining brightly, making everyone’s mood lighter—everyone on their fancy well-fitted button shirts and fancy Sunday dresses.
Sergio and Martín just got back in time for Andrés' fourth speech.
"Who are— Why are you all here?" Martín asked when he saw his co-workers sitting at the back of what seems like a reception or something.
Martín's eyes wandered around, trying to make sense of all the commotion when the piano started. Everyone started looking at him and paved a way; at the end of it, he saw Andrés looking at him fondly, a tear in his eyes.
Martín walked towards his friend, confusion in his eyes. "Did you plan something today? I'm so sorry. I think I forgot about today."
Andrés chuckled. "No, no. All of this is meant to be hidden from you," he said.
"Oh!" Martín glanced at their audience, then leaned in and whispered, "I'll just go back to the house. Don't mind me."
"But I like minding you," Andrés whispered back, wiggling his eyebrows.
Martín, who missed all the signals, said, "don't worry, I won’t cause a scene."
"Darling, you are the scene," Andrés said. He gestured to the pianist, and the music stopped. As if rehearsed, all the guests sat down, and the priest walked in front of them.
Andrés dropped down on one knee and took Martín's hand. "Martín, you have been one of the most amazing person I have ever met—"
"Yes!!" Martín shouted, tears streaming down his face.
Andrés stood up and looked at his friend's face. "You are supposed to let me finish."
Martìn sobbingly replied, "I do!"
"You do what?" Andrés asked.
There was a moment of silence. The audience looked back and forth at both of them. Unsure of what is happening or what they should be doing. This scenario wasn't part of the emergency pamphlet. Are they supposed to cry? Laugh? Clap their hands. In the end, they settled with causing some low murmur.
"You’re supposed to let me finish! Now how will I do the grand reveal of your bust?!" Andrés said, pointing at the figure hidden by some cloth beside them.
"Oh. It’s not.." Martín sniffled. The realization dawned into him, and embarrassment sunk in. He stepped back, and he felt light-headed. "Andrés, I—"
"Just kiss already!!" Sergio, from the crowd, shouted. And as if in cue, the place roared with encouragement and cheers.
There go all his plans. Andrés just threw his long speech away and placed his hands lovingly on Martín's face, "I was going to confess my undying love for you, but you always have another way of doing things."
Martín sobbed again.
"Shh, stop crying." Andrés cooed, wiping the tears from his lover’s cheeks, "my love, you deserve all the best in this world— and I know I’m not one of them, but if you would give me a chance, I'll spend my whole life trying to be the bestest version of myself for you."
Martín was unrelentingly crying, "that is so stupid. This is so stupid. You know you are already the bestest person out there."
With that, Andrés grinned and pulled his lover into a deep kiss. Everyone cheered, some for them but mainly because the commotion is over and they can go and live in peace after this.
Sergio exhaled. He slacked his body on the chair he was sitting on. Finally, it's over.
Raquel, who was sitting beside him, said, "you know you're nights are fucked, right?"
"Already way ahead of you," Sergio showed her two tickets for an out-of-town vacation for two weeks, "I don't want them wrecking my furniture."
"Maybe you should extend that," she grinned.