Archive of Our Own

These days, Cristian spent more nights at Amaia’s bedside than he did in his own bed. 

That fact, convenient as it was for his sex life, worried Roque greatly. Although they weren’t as close, it worried Sebas, too. Before Núria, the concept of one of the HPC’s athletes going missing would have sounded utterly ridiculous. 

Before Núria, a lot of things were different. 

She wasn’t the last one to be mysteriously whisked away. Maybe not even the first. After her, there’d been Cristian. There’d been Roque. There’d almost been Zoe. The paranoia that one of them might be taken again— was it truly paranoia if the possibility was real?

Where Cristian’s time spent in the room had dwindled, Sebas’ had significantly increased. Charlie’s return to the HPC was inevitable. Sebas planned for it the best he could ahead of time, piling clean clothes in Roque’s closet and creating a mental map for what times of entering his and Charlie’s shared room would be the safest to avoid any overlap. 

It couldn’t go on like this forever. Charlie was back. Hopefully, soon, Cristian and Amaia would be too.Where they would all go from there, Sebas didn’t have a clue. 

-

“Do you think they’d give me a single if I asked for it?”

Roque glanced down at him with raised brows, setting the book he’d been reading to the side so he could get a better look at Sebas’ face, propped up by the chin on his stomach. “I don’t know of anyone who has a private room.”

“Renata used to.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be private,” he pointed out. “They just hadn’t given her a roommate yet. Cristian’s lucky they didn’t try and pair me with a new one while he was gone.”

“Maybe I can ask to have my room reassigned.”

“Yes, maybe you could.”

Sebas’ eyes slipped shut as Roque sank a hand into his hair and scratched gently at his scalp, still damp from the shower he’d taken after training. “It’ll be hard to find someone else willing to put up with him,” he mumbled. “Especially now that everyone knows… you know.”

Roque sighed, absentmindedly tracing his fingers along the shell of Sebas’ ear. “I know.”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to be a buzzkill. I just can’t stop wondering…” 

“Wondering what?” Roque pressed as he trailed off. 

It was Sebas’ turn to sigh. “What’s going to happen when Cristian gets tired of me being here so much? He didn’t sign up for two roommates.”

“Let me worry about Cristian.”

He lifted his head up just to shake it, giving Roque a pointed look. “You already worry about enough.”

Sometimes, Sebas pictured him as Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his back. It wasn’t the mess with Olympo that had caused it. As far as Sebas could tell, it was just who he was, on the field and off it. He’d noticed that even before they became involved, although now that they were, it was also proving to be a quality that made him very reluctant to accept help, even from Sebas. For a man still in the midst of recovery, it caused quite the dilemma. 

“I won’t be the one to come between you,” he added.

Roque made a face that suggested he found the very notion to be foolish. “And I won’t make you sleep beside a psychopath. We’ve all seen what he’s capable of.”

There was nothing Sebas could say to that, so he changed the subject. “Would it be okay if I joined you on your run tomorrow?” he asked, settling back onto Roque’s lap. “Javier had to cancel training. Something about them doing maintenance on the pitch lights and us being in the way.”

“A few weeks before the World Cup and they’re making you stop for lights?” Roque’s scoff wasn’t meant for Sebas. “And you know you’re always welcome to join me.”

Now that he was officially restricted from training, Roque was finding his own ways to maintain his fitness. The state of his hand meant the weight room was out. More mornings than not as of late, he made up for it by going on a run. He preferred doing so outdoors over one of the treadmills, making use of the same trail Sebas knew Zoe used herself when she was trying to clear her head. 

Secretly, Sebas thought that Roque’s motives were very much the same. Running up the mountain, while not an escape, was at least a reprieve from the HPC and everything going on inside it. 

Sebas slid a hand up Roque’s thigh, squeezing at the crease of his hip through the thin fabric of his briefs. So was this, even if the peace couldn’t extend past the four walls that surrounded them. “Have you heard from Cris?”

“He texted me late last night and said he’d be back in a few days.” Roque winced. “I think his parents are trying to get him and Iker to sit down together. He mentioned his mother calling.”

“After what Iker did, he’ll be lucky if Cristian ever speaks to him again.”

Roque sighed, but didn’t disagree. He couldn’t. “I’ll check on him again in the morning.”

A comfortable silence crept over them. Sebas half-expected Roque to pick up his book again. He closed his eyes, content to stay as he was. Minutes passed that way, and then—

Warm knuckles brushed over his cheekbone. Sebas blinked, parting his lips so the tip of Roque’s thumb could dip inside, dragging along the bottom one and smearing wet like gloss. He looked up at Roque, whose own eyes were dark and heavy-lidded. 

“Yes,” he said roughly before Roque could ask. 

Roque’s smile was wide, affection briefly overshadowing burgeoning arousal as Sebas turned to kiss his palm. “Get up here.”

Sebas was happy to obey. Tonight, they had the room to themselves. It only made sense to make use of it. 

-

Sebas woke, not to the sound of Roque’s alarm as he’d expected, but to a cold bed and irritable confusion. 

He rolled onto his side, scrubbing a hand over his face that did nothing to remove the frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. A slim line of golden light filtered through the curtains. Sebas stared at it as he sat up, rubbing away the last remnants of sleep from his eyes and using his newfound clarity to try and gauge the hour. 

His body’s internal clock wouldn’t allow him to sleep past ten. By his best estimate, it was around eight, or maybe nine. He reached for his phone on the nightstand, checking for confirmation as well as any word from Roque as to where the hell he’d gone. 

He found nothing of the latter. All that greeted him on his screen was the time— 8:37– and an e-mailed promotion for flavored protein powder he promptly deleted before opening Instagram. Sometimes, Roque liked to post photos of the sun rising over the mountains to his story. 

Today, there was nothing. Sebas swallowed down something shaped suspiciously like panic. He was being ridiculous. There was sure to be a reasonable explanation when Roque returned. 

If he comes back, an unhelpful voice in his head supplied, and Sebas closed his eyes again. 

They flew back open alongside the door. A quick jerk of his head showed Roque stepping through it, holding a bottle of water and an apple with a bite already taken out of it. 

The timing would’ve been comical if Sebas weren’t so damn relieved. He kept careful control over his tone when asking, “You went without me?”

It took Roque a moment to finish chewing. “Um,” he paused to shut the door behind him. “I woke up earlier than usual. You looked… peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You said I could come.” Sebas heard the petulance bleeding through in his voice. His lips pursed, moving towards a pout that he quickly evened out. He wasn’t a child. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I’m sorry, amor.” Roque approached the bed, setting his poor excuse of a breakfast on the nightstand so his hands were free to reach for Sebas. “Next time, I’ll wake you.”

It was hard to stay annoyed with Roque planting gentle kisses across his forehead and cheeks. Sebas tilted his head back to offer his mouth instead, sighing in contentment as Roque accepted it. His lips and tongue were still apple-sweet. It cut through the stale taste of Sebas’ breath, overpowering it until none was left. 

“Did you not sleep well?” 

Roque swung a leg up to straddle him, shifting so his weight was more evenly distributed on Sebas’ lap. “I slept,” was all that he said.

Sebas was distracted from pressing for a proper explanation by Roque’s teeth, scraping over his carotid artery and sinking into the tender skin at the junction where his neck met shoulder. 

“I should get in a workout at some point today,” he sighed, threading his fingers through Roque’s sweat-damp hair. 

Roque hummed into another kiss, sitting back and shrugging out of his shirt with a grace that was unfairly attractive. “I have an idea of how to help with that.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” he whispered and leaned back down to kiss him again. 

Sebas’ whole body felt like it was tingling. The sting of being left behind was buried beneath it; not forgotten, but tucked away for later examination. The filaments of want spooled tighter and tighter in his belly at the sight of Roque’s dark eyes and shining mouth, his broad shoulders backlit by the beaming sun. 

He was beautiful. Sebas hooked a leg around his waist, bending it at the knee to pull Roque closer. 

“Well,” he said with a sly smile playing on his face. “Let’s hear it, Captain.”

-

A sudden burst of pain startled Sebas awake. 

It took a moment for his brain to catch up with the rest of his body, taking in the dull ache radiating from his ribcage before turning towards its cause. 

Roque was sitting up beside him, a vague silhouette Sebas could barely make out in the dark. Sebas sat up as well, sleepy confusion slowly morphing into concern. 

“Roque?” he said softly. The mattress dipped slightly beneath the weight of him starting to move closer. He managed to make it nearly a centimeter before Roque’s knees jerked towards him in a frightened reflex. 

Sebas went very still. A strangled sound tore its way free from Roque’s throat. Something kindred to it clawed at the inside of Sebas’ chest. If he were capable of smelling such things, Sebas suspected the room would be rank with fear. 

“Roque,” he tried again, unable to disguise the worry in his tone. The only response he received was the twitch of Roque’s knee, moving away from him. “Roque, what is it? What’s wrong?”

No answer.

Roque’s face was but a shadowed outline. It was impossible to tell where Roque’s head was at with only the moonlight to guide him, but Sebas didn’t want to risk the shock that would come with turning on the lamp. Hearing the ragged catch of his breath gave him enough of a hint to know what he needed to ask next. 

He kept his voice careful. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” Roque finally got out amidst another heavy rush of air. “Please.”

Even with his choked affirmation, Sebas moved slowly. Roque was scared. Sebas knew it wasn’t of him, but fear had a way of warping the mind of even the most rational person. 

Roque’s skin was hot and wet to the touch with nervous sweat where Sebas set a hand on the curve of his neck. His trapezius muscle tensed beneath the touch, only relaxing after Sebas gave it a gentle squeeze with his fingers. 

He waited patiently for Roque’s breathing to settle before speaking back up. “Bad dream?”

Now that they were touching, he could feel Roque’s nod. “I thought they had finally stopped, but they keep coming back,” he said, his tone somewhere between bitter and resigned. 

Sebas winced. Suddenly, Roque’s restlessness from this morning made perfect sense. He understood the feeling all too well. Neither of them had made it through the ordeal with Olympo unscathed, and even before that—

He pressed his lips together in a thin line. No, he wouldn’t allow his mind to wander down that path. He focused on what was most important: Roque, needing him to remain strong.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

For a long moment, the question hung between them, suspended like dust in the air. Sebas had asked it before. He asked it every time they found themselves in this position, the last time being nearly a week ago. Roque never said yes, but Sebas thought they both found comfort in the gesture, so he never took it back. 

Roque’s shoulders had tensed back up. Sebas prepared himself for another no. 

Only that wasn't what came out. “I don’t think I know how.”

Sebas’ heart dropped to his stomach. He understood how that felt, too. Roque was far better with words than he was, but even for him, some topics were difficult to speak of.

There were a handful to choose from between them. Charlie. The documentary. Olympo’s injection. 

“Sometimes, I’m afraid that all of this is the dream.” Roque spoke so quietly that Sebas almost missed it. He leaned closer, squeezing again to show that he was listening. “I’m afraid that I’m going to wake up back in that place, with Hugo and his doctors, pumped full of their drugs, only this time he’ll make me stay.” With the last word, his voice finally broke. Another confession slipped through the cracks. “I’ll make the wrong choice. You’ll still hate me because I never got the chance to tell you how sorry I am.”

Sebas closed his eyes, remembering Roque on his knees in the cabin. Asking Sebas to listen. Begging for forgiveness. He’d been so angry, then, and underneath that, terrified to his core. He knew now that Roque had been feeling very much the same, even if for drastically different reasons. 

“You aren’t there anymore.” He brought his other hand up, fumbling in the dark for Roque’s cheek. “You made it out. I don’t hate you. I never did, Roque. That’s what’s real.”

Roque’s own hand rose to follow Sebas’ lead, thumb digging desperately into the pad of his chin. His tone contained a similar desperation. “You swear?”

“I swear.” Sebas finally kissed him then, a simple, sweet kiss meant to seal the promise in. “You don't have to do this alone. We’re in this together, you know.”

“I do know it,” Roque said, and Sebas could tell it was the truth, but even so— “I just wish I could make myself feel it, too.”

“You will.” Sebas slid his hand up into Roque’s hair, using it to guide his head down. He brushed his lips over the damp edge of his forehead. “It just takes time.”

Roque let out a slow breath, curling an arm around the back of Sebas’ neck and using the leverage to pull him closer. “I used to think I was a patient man.”

He was attempting to make a joke. Sebas met it with an indulgent huff and kiss pressed to his temple. 

“You were willing to wait for me,” he murmured. “That counts for something, hm?”

“Hm.” 

Sebas knew he wasn’t imagining the melancholy note contained in the soft sound. 

It was true, though. Roque had been willing to wait for him, even if the choice to go at their own pace had been stolen away from them both. There was no way to change it. All they could do was move forward. What that looked like was different depending on the day. Here, now, in the earliest hours of a new one, Sebas favored the option of going back to sleep. 

He knew Roque wouldn’t make the first move, so he took the burden from him by laying back, tugging on Roque’s wrist to signal he should follow his lead.  

“It’s okay,” he whispered with arms wrapped around his shoulders, dark hair tickling at his chin where Roque had his head tucked beneath it. “It’s okay. It’s over.” At Roque’s tremulous exhale, Sebas held him tighter. “It’s okay, amor.”

The endearment felt foreign, rolling off his tongue. He’d said it in his head a thousand times, but it was the first time he’d actually let it slip out. Although its shape was unfamiliar, the sentiment was real, so he didn’t take that back either. 

Roque let out another heavy breath, his body slumping like the line pulling him tight had been cut. He didn’t respond with anything past a nod so small Sebas almost mistook it for another tremor wracking his body. 

Silence settled over them like a second sheet. Sebas wondered if Roque believed him. Did it make him a hypocrite to reassure Roque of things he sometimes fought to remember himself?

He decided it didn’t matter. In the dark, with Roque’s heart beating only centimeters from his own, not much else did. 

-

Leaving for training was harder than it should’ve been the following morning. It had little to do with exhaustion and everything to do with the ache in Sebas’ chest as he stared down at Roque, still lying fast asleep amongst the rumpled sheets. 

He looked so… serene. If it weren’t for the dark marks smudged beneath his eyes, Sebas wouldn’t have been able to connect this version of Roque to the one he’d held through the night. 

The temptation to stroke his hair was too great for Sebas’ hands to remain at his sides. He raised one and at the last moment, pulled it back. He wouldn’t risk waking Roque. Not when he knew how tired he was. 

Nightmares were never easy. For Roque, the wounds that caused them were still fresh. 

Sebas lingered at his bedside for another moment before turning towards the door, hefting his bag higher up on his shoulder. He settled on texting him good morning instead, pulling his phone out to do so before he’d made down into the hall. 

Good morning. I’ll be back after training. He bit his lip, and after a moment of consideration, added a heart before he hit send. <3

It didn’t make sense for his face to feel so hot because of it. With everything they’d said to each other the night before, this was tame in comparison. 

Sebas sighed, then smiled to himself as he slid his phone back into his pocket. It didn’t make sense, but it was what he felt. 

-

Roque was wearing very little when Sebas reentered the room, which was, to say the least, a very welcome sight. For a moment, Sebas lingered in the doorway, bag slung over his shoulder, watching Roque stretch. 

“How was your day?” asked Roque without changing position. 

Sebas hummed, distracted, and drank in the sight of Roque’s back tattoo rippling with the flex of his muscles. “Good. Yours?”

“Boring.” Roque finally turned to face him directly. He smiled softly at whatever look he found on Sebas’ face. “Better, now.” 

Still smiling, he held his hand out, beckoning Sebas closer. Sebas happily followed, shucking off his shirt so that when Roque’s arms wrapped around him, it was their bare skin that pressed together. 

His hair was just beginning to dry from the shower he’d taken in the locker room. Roque twined a strand of it around his finger as he kissed him. 

“Did you clean up just for me?” he teased after, sliding his hand down to cup Sebas’ cheek. 

Sebas shivered at the sensation of Roque’s warm, calloused palm sliding over freshly shaven skin. “Not just for you.”

Roque’s snort told Sebas he’d done a poor job of convincing him, which was fair, given that it was a lie. He’d been thinking of Roque ever since he left him this morning. Contrary to what Roque’s smirk might suggest, not all of those thoughts were lewd. 

He couldn’t bring himself to ask Roque about the return of his nightmares outright. Doing so now would have required him to shadow Roque’s sunny disposition, which was the last thing on Earth he wanted to do. 

Later, he told himself as Roque leaned in to kiss him again. They’d talk about it later. 

-

It could’ve been karma that tore him from sleep that night, or maybe it was just his body’s way of reminding him that they had, in fact, not talked any further about Roque’s nightmares. As Sebas had discovered weeks ago, Roque’s hands and mouth were capable of scattering the attention of even the most steadfast of men.

And in any case, it wasn’t Roque’s nightmares that ended up waking him. It was his own. 

Sebas surged up, panic seizing his chest and squeezing so tight that he gasped, reaching for his throat as if his touch would make it any easier to breathe. It didn’t. 

Even in the dead of night, Roque’s reflexes were sharp as a tack. He was up and alert within seconds of Sebas waking.

“Sebas,” he said, low and coaxing. “Baby.”

Sebas still couldn’t manage to speak. He reached for Roque instead, a shaking hand landing on Roque’s knee through the sheet in a haphazard attempt to steady himself. 

“Sebas. Look at me.”

He blinked hard, trying to heed the request. Shame made it feel like a Herculean task. 

He’d spent his fair share of time staring at Roque Pérez over the past few years. It was a habit he didn’t plan on breaking now that Roque actually looked back. But looking at him like this— it was almost like an optical illusion. Two separate images, layered over each other so both were visible at once. Each version made his heart twist in his chest. 

He saw Roque as he was in the present, eyes soft and mouth pulled tight with worry. He saw him as he’d been that day in the gym, skin pale and his features gone completely slack as the blood spread out around him. There had been so much of it. 

Sebas closed his eyes. It didn’t help. His inside of eyelids were painted with the same red hue that continued to haunt him in his sleep. Tonight wasn’t the first time he’d dreamed of that day, but it was the first time it’d been bad enough to wake him. 

The warm press of Roque’s fingertips against his temple made the color retreat. He opened his eyes and kept them wide, matching the hold Roque had on his face with a hand of his own curled around his cheek. 

The scar that crossed the bridge of his nose wasn’t visible in such low light, but Sebas knew it was there, just as he knew about the scar slicing up his forearm. His breath hitched as blood began filling his vision once more. 

“Hey. Hey, don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” he said, and even that was stilted. His tongue felt like it was coated with cotton, sticking to his palate and teeth with every attempted apology. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Sebas.”

He shook his head. Who did he think he was, turning Roque’s pain and fear into his own? It was beyond selfish. “I’m sorry.”

“Sebas, stop.”

This time, he was much quicker to obey. He went completely still. The only movement came from his heart, pounding wildly in his chest, the outside of which was soaked with sweat. 

For a moment, they both stayed that way. Unblinking. Unmoving. It was Roque that broke the silence with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t mean to stop breathing.”

“Sorry,” Sebas said again. It seemed that it was the only word he had left. 

Roque’s fingers gave another firm press to his temple. “I meant that you should stop apologizing.”

Sebas’ next reflexive sorry dried up in his throat. He swallowed and thought very hard about what to say instead. 

Taking pity on him, Roque sighed again. The sound was more fond than truly exasperated. “Do you want to talk about it?”

It wasn’t a joke. Sebas almost laughed anyway. His own routine, turned around and used against him. Except that wasn’t fair, he corrected himself. Roque was simply using it for the same purpose Sebas always did: to help. 

You don’t have to do this alone, Sebas had told him before. We’re in this together.

Weeks ago, they’d both made a vow to tell each other the truth. Sebas couldn’t go back on it now. He didn’t want to. If anyone was deserving of his honesty, it was Roque. 

“I know you don’t remember it,” he finally whispered. I don’t want you to, he kept to himself. “But after Charlie, when you collapsed… There was so much blood. None of us could stop it.”

He’d tried his best, demanding Abad and Rikov throw him towels, applying them with so much pressure to Roque’s arm that he feared breaking another bone. There’d been as much fear as there was blood. It wasn’t until Roque was carted off by the medics that Sebas remembered he was supposed to be angry, too. 

It would do no good to dwell on that now, so he pushed past it to continue. “You stopped breathing for a minute. I thought— I was scared—” 

He couldn’t finish that sentence. Or maybe, that was all there was to it. He’d been so scared in that moment. For Roque. For himself. Even for Charlie, who surely didn’t deserve it. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Yet again, Sebas’ own words were thrown back at him. He looked at Roque again and found that his expression was pinched, his worry turned to guilt. 

He swept his thumb over Roque’s cheekbone in a clumsy gesture meant to comfort. “If I’m not allowed to apologize, neither are you.”

Roque huffed and brought his touch back, slipping his hand into Sebas’ hair and using it to pull him forward, until their foreheads met in the middle. “I’m okay. You’re okay.”

“I know,” whispered Sebas, but Roque seemed to know that the words weren’t enough. 

He brought his braced hand to rest between them, releasing his hold on Sebas’ hair in order to reach for his wrist instead, wrapping a loose grip around it and guiding it down. “Feel,” he said simply. 

Sebas did. As scars went, the one on Roque’s forearm was a neat one. With the stitches gone, all that was left behind was a smooth line, just barely raised from the rest of his skin. 

“You see?” Roque’s palm molded to the back of his hand, squeezing gently. “There’s no blood. I’m fine. Yes?”

Sebas kept his fingers pressed to it. Roque was okay now. They both were. Tucked away in Roque’s bed, that wouldn’t be changing anytime soon. They were safe here. Most importantly, they were together. 

He swallowed again to wet his mouth. “Yes,” he agreed in an exhale. Relief bloomed inside him, just as warm as Roque’s lips as he nudged them against’ Sebas’ in a chaste kiss. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, sealing the promise in with another kiss. Sebas let himself melt into it, parting his mouth for Roque’s tongue and folding an arm around his neck to pull him even closer. 

He was solid and alive. Everything Sebas needed. The reassurance made his shoulders slump and a trembling breath rattle free from his chest. Roque held him until it steadied, only pulling back when Sebas released his forearm. 

He took another long look at him once they’d separated, taking in the sight of his sleep-mussed hair and upturned lips, closing his eyes to make sure he’d committed it to memory. 

This wouldn’t be the last time he dreamt of that day. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe otherwise, but next time— he’d be ready. He would have this to remember. 

Roque laid back down and took Sebas with him, loosening his embrace without letting go so that Sebas could curl against his side, one arm draped over his waist. Roque tugged the blanket up to cover it. 

“Better?” he asked.

Sebas nodded, bringing his head to rest on Roque’s chest, one ear pressed flat against it so he could listen to the steady beat that came from within. 

“Do you think you’ll be able to go back to sleep?”

“I’m not sure,” was his honest answer. “But I can try.”

“It’s okay if you can’t.” Beneath the covers, Roque hooked his ankle around one of Sebas’ own. It left them intertwined from head to toe. 

Sebas squeezed his eyes shut. Emotion swelled in his chest, the excess gathering in a hot line between his lashes. “You don’t have to stay up. I know you’re tired.”

Roque hummed. The sound reverberated through what felt like Sebas’ entire body. “I’d hate for you to get lonely. Besides, you always stay up when it’s me.”

Loneliness was a feeling that Sebas was very well acquainted with— or, he had been in the past. He wasn’t alone anymore. Roque was here with him. Still healing, but here. 

A singular tear finally escaped him, followed not by shame, but relief. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” Soft lips brushed against his hairline. “Now relax. Get some rest.”

For the next few minutes, Sebas tried to do as Roque asked. His body was tired. So was his mind, but he couldn’t make the second slow down. 

He could tell by the cadence of his breathing that Roque hadn’t yet gone back to sleep. Knowing him, he was probably waiting for Sebas to fall asleep first. 

That made Sebas’ throat close up all over again. It took great effort to open it back up. When he spoke, his voice was rough. 

“Roque.”

Sure enough, Roque answered without missing a beat. “What is it?”

The three words that came to mind, Sebas couldn’t bring himself to say. Not yet. In time he would, but not like this. He opened his mouth, then closed it. 

“Nothing,” he settled on after a brief pause. “Just… I’m glad that you’re here.” 

“Me too.” Roque kissed his forehead, and then his lips where Sebas tilted his chin up in silent askance. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You swear?” 

“I swear.”

Sebas believed him. 

-

In the morning, Sebas was the first to wake. He was neither exhausted nor particularly well-rested; but somewhere in the middle. He was calm, and Roque was still slumbering peacefully beside him— really, halfway on top of him— so he didn’t mind it all that much. 

Roque’s hair was a tangled mess that glowed like amber where wayward strands caught the sun. The rest of him was just as golden. The sight made something unfurl in Sebas’ chest, just as warm as Roque’s arm was where it draped across his waist. 

Compared to the violence that had torn him from sleep only hours before, the contentment with which he watched Roque breathe was like a balm to the soul. Sebas allowed it to soothe him. He was unsure of how long he laid there for, but the sky outside had brightened considerably by the time Roque finally stirred, yawning wide enough for his jaw to audibly click. 

Sebas smiled and combed his fingers through the messy fringe of Roque’s bangs. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, pecas.” The click of Sebas’ tongue in response to the nickname made the corners of Roque’s mouth tick up. “Did you get any more sleep?”

“Yes. And you?” 

He nodded and scooted up to nudge his nose against Sebas’ cheek. “I wish we could stay here all day.” He relayed his wish in a whisper.

Sebas lowered his answer to match it. “We could.”

“We could,” Roque agreed. “But we shouldn’t. You still have training.”

“Not until this afternoon.” Sebas’ protest got him nothing but a bite to the neck. He wasn’t at all deterred by it. “I’ll say I’m sick.”

That earned him a flick to the nipple from Roque’s good hand. “You will not.”

He tried to squirm away from Roque’s pinching fingers in vain. “Is that an order, Captain?” he asked breathlessly, shifting against the mattress once again just to revel in how Roque’s weight kept him held in place. 

“It’s an observation. I know you.” A second bite was placed over the stubbled skin beneath his jaw. “You don’t skip. Remember last season, when you came to training with a fever?”

Sebas raised his brows. “I didn’t know you remembered that.” As far as he knew, Roque had barely been aware of his existence back then. 

“You almost passed out. Of course I remember.” Roque pulled back far enough for Sebas to be able to see the affection twinkling in his eyes. “Better than you, probably. Lobo had to carry your delirious ass back to the locker room.”

Sebas’ quiet groan was drowned out by Roque’s laughter. He made a second attempt at rolling away, but Roque didn’t let him; instead propping up on an elbow so he could look down on him with a wide smile. 

“You were red all over,” he teased. “Just like you are now.”

Although that hadn’t been his finest moment, Roque spoke of it with a fondness that left him more bashful than truly embarrassed. He sighed and stretched as best he could with Roque still pinning him down. “Fine. I’ll go to training.”

Roque patted him on the chest as he finally sat up, the blanket pooling at his waist. Sebas took a moment to admire the rippling muscle of his back before following his lead. 

“I think I’ll go for a run before breakfast.” A pause. “Care to join me?”

Sebas’ heart skipped a beat as if he’d already done a kilometer. “Of course.”

-

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up already. What happened to all that stamina?”

Sebas scoffed and seriously considered pushing Roque back down the mountain. “At least the pitch doesn’t have all of these fucking hills.”

Roque made a sound of faux pity that gave Sebas the second wind to chase after him. Infuriatingly, Roque had enough air himself to laugh while he kept moving. “That’s the spirit!” he called. “Keep moving, gatito!”

Suddenly, Sebas’ face was burning just as much as his legs. “Roque!”

“Come on!”

He let out a loud groan, pushing past the sharp cramp in his calf in order to catch back up to Roque’s side. Roque relented to a brisk jog that was only slightly more bearable. 

“What would Javier say?” 

Sebas swiped his sweat-soaked bangs back from his forehead and gave a pointed look towards the red mark that peeked out from under Roque’s shirt collar. “To us? I don’t think I want to know.”

It was a joke, though the sympathetic pull of Roque's mouth suggested that he could sense the tension that ran beneath the words. Sebas knew that he could. It was a burden they shared, like so many others. 

That thought stuck with him as they continued to move. They made it all the way to the edge of the forest before Sebas finally spoke back up, eyes fixed on the clear skyline that stretched out in front of them. 

“Sometimes I forget that all of this is here,” he said. “I know we see it every day, but I don’t really think about it, you know?”

Roque made an understanding sound, giving Sebas a sideways look from beneath the hand he had shading his eyes. “I know what you mean.”

Sebas knew that he did. The way they spent their days left little time to think about anything outside of the HPC’s facilities. Even the beauty that surrounded them. It was nice to take a step back and enjoy it.

Better, to enjoy it with someone that he cared for.

“Even if Hugo had made you stay in that place, I would have come to find you.” The comment came tumbling out before he could think to stop it. 

Even without the proper context, Roque didn’t seem to be confused. When Sebas turned towards him, there was a smile curling at his lips. 

“Yeah?”

There was no use in trying to take back something he meant so sincerely, so Sebas hummed his confirmation. He spoke it, too. “Yes. Of course,” 

For all of Amaia’s faults, he understood now more than ever why she’d been so relentless in her pursuit of the truth as to where Nuria had gone. He’d gotten only a small taste of her panic, but it’d been more than enough. 

A singular night of not knowing where Roque was or if he was okay— awful couldn’t even begin to describe it. It’d taken his head to a place he hoped it never went back. 

“My hero.” The remark was lighthearted.

Sebas exhaled, glad to hear it. He kept his own tone teasing. “Flatterer.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

Roque ducked in to kiss his cheek. “I know you know.” A well-muscled arm draped across Sebas’ shoulders, pulling Sebas closer so that he was nestled against Roque’s side. “You’re very bad at lying.”

“It’s not very smart to say such mean things while we’re standing beside a cliff,” Sebas pointed out. 

With a click of his tongue, Roque ruffled a hand through the already sweat-tangled strands of Sebas’ hair. “At least you’re handsome.”

Sebas huffed, but didn’t step out of Roque’s embrace. He felt him shift. A glance down showed him that it was to pull his phone free from his pocket. 

When Roque lifted it, the camera was pulled up. Roque angled the lens towards their faces and tipped his head so that their temples were pressed together.

“Smile,” he said brightly, and Sebas did. A second later, the shutter clicked. 

Sebas let himself be led back into the shade, joining Roque in examining their photo. Both of their faces were shining with sweat from their run, and thanks to Roque’s handiwork, Sebas’ hair was sticking up in about fifty different directions. Despite their disheveled appearances, Roque’s smile widened even further than in the photo. 

“See? Very handsome.” He turned to press another kiss to Sebas’ cheek. “I’ll send it to you, if you want.”

The sudden hesitation in his voice gave Sebas pause. Between the two of them, he was used to being the shy one. He didn’t have to wonder about the reason for Roque’s caution. 

“You can post it.”

Now, Roque was the one that paused. “Are you sure?”

I’m not him, Sebas didn’t say. What he did say was, “It’s a nice picture. I’m sure” 

This time when Roque kissed him, it was on the lips. As kisses went, it was chaste— for them, at least— but drawn out long enough for Sebas to be breathless once they finally broke apart. The spark it sent through him made him feel as if he could run another five kilometers without getting tired.

He’d never felt so wide awake as he did when Roque kissed him again, his good hand drifting down to squeeze at Sebas’ ass. 

“Really?” He laughed into Roque’s mouth. “It’s a little early in the day, don’t you think?”

“No such thing.”

“At least take me to breakfast first."

“I can do that,” he assured. Evan as he said it, his fingers were flexing again. “I can do whatever you want.”

Everything Sebas wanted, he currently had wrapped in his arms. “Careful,” he murmured anyway. “I might take advantage of that promise.”

“Mm. I’m not afraid of you.”

He didn’t have to be, Sebas thought happily, and pulled Roque impossibly closer. “I’m not afraid of you either,” he whispered.

Roque’s smile was as bright as the sunrise behind them. “Good.”