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“…I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go on a third date tomorrow,” Graf said, a soft smile on his lips, as if he was satisfied with the date — as if it had gone well.
As if, for the past hour, Juan and Abueloier weren't trying to do everything in their power to discourage Graf from his endeavours, saying things that were more than just nonsensical and presenting red flags that should never be accepted by a sane mind.
And yet Graf didn’t even budge, easily agreeing to every single ridiculous ask Juan threw at him. Like there was nothing in the universe that he wouldn’t do just for the sake of having a chance with Juan.
“I can’t tomorrow,” Juan answered almost immediately. He was so close to finally saying something along the lines of ‘we shouldn't go on another date,' so close to ending the whole awkward situation, the words already set on his tongue— when he unnecessarily hesitated.
Because a memory from an hour or so ago flashed through his mind, the feeling that he could only describe as something real making itself known at the back of his skull again.
(He had given a promise to Graf yesterday.
It was he who had asked for the second date — even if that was a fucking completely idiotic idea, and he still wasn’t sure why he had blurted it out (because really, there was no sensible thought behind that. Not an insensible thought, either. A downright brainless decision, it was).
The small, simple issue was that the date had already been delayed for an hour. It wouldn't have been if Foolish wasn't off doing some bullshit since the morning, not bothered enough to respond to a singular text that Juan had sent his way (not to mention the fact that he was meant to somehow convince Graf that a 3-meter totem-shark hybrid was Juan, just so the Colombian didn’t have to be the one to reject Graf’s feelings.
It really sounded pathetic when he put it like that, but truly, he had no other choice if he wanted Graf to have an easier time. Not an easy time, because that chance washed away yesterday with his inability to simply say ‘no’).
Perhaps the worst part was that Graf had been coming over every dozen minutes or so, asking whether he was ready for the date — always looking at him with eyes that belonged to a kicked puppy whenever he offered a half-hearted excuse.
And God, was Juan done with seeing Graf’s joyous expression turn into an upset frown just because of his words. He might not love the guy, but damnit, they were still friends (and he still cared about him, possibly more than he should’ve).
So maybe that’s why he, almost hopefully (as if he wanted the date to happen in the first place), asked Graf, “Would it be a problem for you if my grandpa joined us on our date?”
“It's no problem, verdad? I promise, hijo, I’m not going to bother you,” Abueloier added from his side, nodding. “I’ve been to my sister’s and aunt’s dates before because I’m too old to be left alone.”
“Yes, and that’s why I couldn’t have left him at the mansion. Imagine if a fire broke out, he wouldn’t be able to escape,” he explained, nodding too, as if that were the sole reason.
Graf’s eyes shifted between them in silence, gathering his thoughts before he spoke — something that Juan had accepted as a part of Graf’s existence, and so he stayed quiet, well aware that Graf needed the momentary peace to mull it over.
“I’m a little surprised,” he commented at last, yet not upset.
“And I understand that you might be surprised—” Juan started, but Graf almost instantly started shaking his head.
"No, no, it's not that," he stopped Juan, turning towards Abueloier instead. "Grandpa—"
"Graf, listen, listen to me—"
Abueloier had tried to say something, too, but Graf promptly interrupted him with shushing noises. Before he could start getting upset ‘at the disrespect’ (and was Juan sure that he would, the aggravation already visible on his face), Graf’s arms wrapped around him, out of nowhere hugging him.
He stayed like that for a moment, his face just barely hidden from Juan’s view, a barely hearable, “Thank you,” whispered towards the other side of the room.
Visibly confused, Abueloier awkwardly patted Graf’s back, “Ah, okay.”
A second later the Pole took a step back, his hand scratching the back of his neck as he looked to the side.
“I just didn’t think that an older person would support the fact that…” he clarified, pausing for a second, as if the muteness was meant to finish the sentence for him. Slowly, his eyes moved, meeting Juan's eyes as he said, “You know.”
And Juan did know.
That was precisely the moment he felt something new; a sudden understanding of so many things coming to him at once — why Graf never seemed like he liked him (as if he was hiding it) before, why he was so weird and anonymous about asking him out, and why it looked like it was his first time being in this situation.
Because it probably was.
As Abueloier bashed Graf for even thinking that ‘in the big 2026 he could be homophobic,' a real and conscious feeling set itself at the back of Juan's skull, staying there for the whole date, even if silent.)
And now, as it washed through his memory, he could truly understand why Graf was so ready to accept any pretend red flag that Juan threw at him.
Juan had been there before. He knew how it felt to see a man in a different light for the first time; how difficult it was to accept that he had felt something he was taught to view as wrong throughout his life and yet still have the courage to pursue a relationship. To shoot his shot, even when too aware that no matter what he did, it was going to be a miss.
The scar on his heart still shone in the middle of some nights, not letting him forget the mistake of trusting somebody with his feelings. The last thing he wanted was for Graf to have to experience the same pain, especially coming from him.
Which made the whole rejection-thing at least tenfold harder, because not only did he have to break his heart, but he would also be the first to do that — especially with the vulnerability of it being something that many regarded as ungodly and sinful.
And he really, really didn't want to be the one to hurt Graf so much.
Perhaps the worst of all was that he cared about Graf to an incomprehensible level. He thought of him as one of his closest friends, and the idea of causing him pain — when he could just see that the Pole would do literally anything for him — was too much. He could not bring himself to do it.
So before he could stop himself, he stupidly blurted out, “Maybe Sunday?"
And the shine that appeared in Graf’s eyes, the enormous exalted grin that spread across his face, maybe made it worth it.
Or maybe it made it so much worse, because he was slowly starting to think that he would never be able to reject Graf — which he knew was going to cause much greater pain in the long run than a simple rejection now.
Alas, it was too late to do it now.
“Sunday works.”
“Okay, yeah I will— I will see you on Sunday,” he tried, hoping that he didn’t seem as awkward as he felt.
But Graf just continued to stare at him as if he hung the moon and stars, seemingly unaware of the enormous mess that were his thoughts.
Juan tried to smile as sincerely as he could, pretending to himself that it looked natural.
“It was good to see you,” Graf smiled back, some kind of stress that was apparent under his expression throughout the last hour suddenly gone.
And then his arms wrapped around Juan’s middle this time around, his hands gently resting on the small of his back, pulling him in like they were created just to do that.
The warmth surrounded him, the smell of redwood entering his nostrils — stealing half a breath out of his lungs and causing his heart to skip a silent beat.
To his own surprise, he didn’t stiffen (the hugs were something that Graf usually did, so even if he didn’t expect it right now, it didn't really startle him), but before he could do anything along the lines of hugging Graf back, the man had already pulled away.
And before he could truly realize what was going on, he was already jumping out of the window with a water bucket in his hand, giving Juan a small look over his shoulder before he disappeared.
And just like that, he was left alone at the top of the casino with Abueloier.
“Congratulations, mijo. With how quick you are to reject him, you will soon be married," the Mexican huffed from behind him, his steps echoing against the quartz floor.
“Shut up, Grandpa," Juan groaned, knowing damn well that Abueloier was too correct to try and argue further.
“But you do like Graf, don’t you?” he asked, his hand on Juan’s shoulder — and wasn’t that a question he didn’t think he still had an answer to.
“I— don’t be ridiculous, he’s my friend,” he said, chuckled, looking towards the window rather than at Abueloier. He knew that if his grandpa looked in his eyes, he would know the whole truth that Juan himself wasn’t sure of.
“I think you should give yourself a chance at love again,” he stated in his old, wise-man voice that he barely ever used. “You can’t live through the past. Don’t let it dictate your decisions.”
“I just don’t know how to say no,” Juan tried to defend himself, aware that it was absolutely fruitless.
“Graf’s a good man, you know. He is too good in the heart to do anything you are scared he will do,” he said, as if he did not hear a single thing Juan had said.
When Juan didn’t answer him, chewing on his lip instead, he sighed and teleported out.
Left with nothing but his thoughts, Juan tried to be honest, just with himself.
He wasn't so sure about his feelings anymore.