Work Text:
Déjà vu's a game that the mind plays when it wants us to believe that an event has already happened or that something or someone has already passed before our eyes. In reality it deceives us: it's never like this, or at least not always.
5.12.2022
Andrés follows the nervous movements of a woman with his gaze: he seems uncomfortable, he looks at him from time to time, while haphazardly he puts clothes and other things in the suitcase.
"It was a mistake"
"Mh..."
"We had a good time together, but it's not the case with..."
"Keep going the relationship, sure"
Andrés's voice's calm, but he feels the tension in every word. The woman closes the suitcase and places it near the door: keeping her gaze down, she slowly approaches Andrés.
"I go…"
Andrés' answer is slow in coming.
"Andr..."
"Go away! What are you still doing here?!"
Andrés' shot makes the woman step back: the two look into each other's eyes.
"I know the only reason you've stayed all this time's for the money!
"You're wrong, I..."
"So what for, tell me?"
Silence falls. Andrés remains motionless, waiting for an answer, his face red with anger. A tear lines the face of the woman in front of him: she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
"Anna, if you didn't stay for the money" Andrés' voice's calm, "tell me why you want to leave now"
“You're…” the words catch in her throat. Although Andrés' tone has dropped, Anna is unable to speak. She stops looking into his eyes: "Andrés, I can't..."
"Being with a terminally ill person? Is that what you mean?"
The silence that follows that question gives Andrés the answer.
"Fucking hell, Anna! You knew from the start that I...oh, wait": suddenly, a doubt creeps into Andrés' mind. He slowly shortens the distance between him and Anna: the woman looks at him with her eyes wide open, terrified.
“Fucking bitch…” without giving her time to respond, he pushes her towards the door. Anna stumbles a couple of times on the hall carpet before she manages to open the door and is chased away.
Andrés angrily closes the door. He shouldn't get upset in his condition: only a month earlier he had been hospitalized after having had a particularly violent crisis.
"Unfortunately, the disease's getting the better of you, sir. Try not to tire yourself and take your medicines. Anything can be fatal, even a strong emotion"
"Such as...committing a robbery, doctor?"
After an initial moment of astonishment, the doctor laughed, followed by Andrés.
If that doctor had known about the robbery of the mint: how much effort it takes to hold still a firing machine gun, how much fear one can have of dying in certain situations and how much your heart leaps out of your chest in front of the 984 million euros. He would have laughed a lot less. Or maybe not.
-----
Distraught, Andrés sits down on the kitchen chair: his hands are stiff and trembling. From the pocket of his robe he takes out a blister pack of pills: he swallows one with the help of a little water left in a glass. He feels his throat close up and the water suffocates him. With no small effort he fills the glass: between tremors and spasms of coughing, he swallows the water as quickly as possible.
From the nearby window, he notices the first Christmas decorations. He approaches and pulls back the curtains to take a better look: the lights make Madrid look like one of those cities in children's books, it seems almost unreal with all those colors, all those people running through the streets. He smiles, even him hands have stopped shaking, but him legs feel a little soft. Suddenly a strange sadness grips the pit of his stomach: nausea rises. He closes the curtains and makes for the bedroom. He feels the sides of his eyes tingle. He's almost near the armchair when he hears the doorbell ring: he fights back the tears and goes to open it, trying to calm down.
"Hi Andrés, can I come in?"
"Oh, sure, come"
There are few people in the world for whom Andrés would be willing to give his life: one of them is definitely his brother.
"Do you need anything, hermanito?"
"Paula saw Anna leave the home, to the window, is everything ok?"
"Yeah" Andrés defiantly rests his back against the table, "Everything within the norm, I'd say"
Notice Sergio advance a few steps, looking around in search of knows not what. He stops suddenly in front of him, hands in his pockets, "Within the norm?" he repeats, looking at him questioningly.
Andrés takes his brother's shoulders affectionately, trying to keep calm: "Exactly, nothing new: there are those who ruin everything by giving me a son, those who fuck this son, and those who don't want to be with me, because I can't fuck more".
In the ironic tone of Andrés, Sergio perceives that vein of desperation that his brother has every time something gets out of his control. He decides not to investigate further: he embraces Andrés, who reciprocates warmly.
"Andrés, would you prefer that..."
"No, no, hermanito" Andrés interrupts Sergio: he already knows what he wants to tell him.
"You've got your family"
"But you may feel bad, you can't be alone"
"Sergio, I..."
"Then come and stay with us! You will see that..."
"Sergio!" Andrés raises his voice sensibly, then lowers it again as soon as his brother stops talking: "We live two apartments away, so if I ever feel bad I'll have time to warn you, don't worry"
Sergio's face remains worried: Andrés will have to insist a little longer before being able to convince his brother that he has no intention either of dying suddenly, or of doing so without warning him.
"If ever death knocks on my door, I'll tell her to come first to you for warn, ok?"
He manages to get a laugh out of Sergio, before the latter goes away.
---
The apartment falls back into silence. Dropping his dressing gown on the floor, Andrés lies down on the bed: he thinks back to what happened just before with Anna, and a vague nervousness begins to creep into him. He weakly caresses his penis through the fabric of his boxers: he doesn't let much time pass before putting an end to that absurd limit and slipping his hand inside it. As soon as he grabs the penis, he starts to move, first weakly, then faster and faster. He feels his cock slowly waking up and pressing against his boxers. With his other hand he pushes his boxers aside and watches it emerge as he continues to masturbate. He begins to sweat, his tiredness becomes more and more intense, but he's satisfied: he isn't the defect. With a moan he cums, completely relaxing and falling into a restful sleep.
7.12.2022
The plastic of the airport chairs is the most uncomfortable thing Martín has ever sat on. He keeps his eyes fixed on the clock on the wall, he moves nervously: he would like to smoke a cigarette to calm his nervousness, but he can't smoke indoors. He distractedly observes the huge number of people running back and forth, who are about to leave, who have just returned, who wander around confused in search of the right flight. His attention's captured by a couple not far away: they embrace and kiss, between tears. Notice how she holds the other's hands to keep him still close, and how the latter reluctantly forces her to leave him. The last thing Martín can see is the girl kneeling on the ground, following her boyfriend with her gaze: he sees her put her hands on her face, at the moment in which the boy disappears from her sight. Martín feels his stomach upset and, without realizing it, his eyes fill with tears. He looks away, hastily drying himself with the sleeve of his jacket: his mind goes back to the past, and Martín seems to see himself again. He can't help but think back to that kiss, to Andrés' words, to how with his heart on the verge of death he had to accept that he was leaving...the announcement of his flight, quickly brings Martín back to the present: he hastily gets up and grabs bags, headed for check-in.
---
From the plane, Martín watches the gigantic white clouds pass by him: he looks at them more carefully than necessary, to try to think of something else so as not to bring his mind back to that day five years ago, but despite his efforts to concentrate, flashes of that memory flashes before him like scenes from a movie. He sighs, resting his head on the seat, exasperated: seeing two lovers saying goodbye was enough to bring back to Martín the most painful memory of his life. He closes his eyes: instinct tells him to go back. The heart, to continue. He falls asleep not understanding what to follow.
---
"We are about to land at Madrid-Barajas airport. We invite our kind passengers to..."
Martín opens his eyes reluctantly: his temples throb convulsively, his head feels heavy. The landing, however gentle, feels like agony, as every movement makes his temples throb faster.
Very slowly he gets out and collects his luggage, trying to get used to the sunlight. He looks around dragging his suitcases, while with the other hand he takes his cell phone.
"Where are you?" his voice comes out hoarse: "I'm...mh, yes, I see you." Martín waves his arm towards a car that's slowly approaching him: he opens the trunk and loads the suitcases, then gets into the car.
"Hello, Martín..."
A few seconds pass, in which Martín fastens his seat belt and, continuing to keep his gaze down, replies: "Hi, Sergio"
---
The rays of the winter sun forcefully enter through the window, aiming at the sheets thrown at the foot of the bed. Andrés is sitting in an armchair: he's wearing only boxers and a red velvet dressing gown. He boringly scrolls through the TV channels, they all look the same to him and nothing really interests him. He's about to switch off when, as if the television had wanted to fulfill his wish for him, a service in particular forces him to stop.
"We have here with us Governor Urbaneja, director of the bank..."
"Good morning"
"...of Spain. As already mentioned, the safe containing the gold reserve has recently been modified: tell us, what led to this innovation?"
Andrés lights a cigarette, inhaling nervously: he follows every word of the governor with extraordinary attention, and every time gold is mentioned his stomach churns.
"...can we therefore say with certainty that the gold reserve's absolutely safe in his bank?"
Andrés' mind begins to wander into the past: he remembers the nights spent devising the "gold plan", how much effort he and Martín had put into making everything go smoothly and how easily he had given up on that project. And to Martín. He can't forget how his heart was ripped out when he had to say goodbye, how much he suffered when after the umpteenth betrayal of a woman, Martín, he wasn't there with him.
"We thank the governor for the hospitality..."
"Thanks to you"
"...and for answering all our questions"
He would be willing to sell his soul to turn time back: to go back to see him, to talk to him, to touch him, to kiss him, to...someone knocks on the door and Andrés is seized by a strange emotion. Hastily, he puts out his cigarette in the ashtray and fastens his dressing gown. He goes to the door and opens it wide: in front of him, nothingness. For a moment he thinks he's imagined it all, then he looks down: Paula's there in front of him, intimidated. She hands him a bag of biscuits and she remains in that position for a few seconds: Andrés looks at her without moving, then gently takes the bag from her hands, hinting at a smile
"Thanks"
Without answering, Paula leaves and Andrés closes the door.
"What an idiot you are, Andrés…" he says to himself, his back against the door.
---
"Do you know what it's like to wait six years for someone to come back?! Do you know what it's like to be treated like a broken toy that no one needs anymore?!"
Martín's tone of voice borders on a scream. After spending a long time in silence, he couldn't bear Sergio's continued indifference, and started to vomit all the pain, despair and anger he felt on him.
"Martín, I'm sorry" Sergio continues to drive, without looking at him, maintaining a calm tone of voice, "I...don't know what else..."
"If only you... fuck! It's your fault that I reached the edge of despair! Only yours! Andrés and I were..." Martín's so nervous that he can't finish his sentences. In anger he hits the dashboard, making Sergio jump.
"You said that the "gold plan" was suicide..." he continues then, after a long moment of pause, keeping a decidedly lower tone of voice and looking out the car window, "...but even in the mint Andrés risked his life". Martín turns to Sergio, waiting for an answer that's slow in coming, "Sergio" he continues resolutely, "he could have die..."
"But it didn't happen." Sergio's voice comes like a bolt from the blue to interrupt Martín's words, "and maybe it's the case that you put hatred aside and seize this opportunity, Martín"
This time it's Martín who doesn't answer: he looks at him in silence.
"I don't know how much he still has left," he hears him add. At those words, his heart skips a beat.
---
Andrés comes out of the bathroom wearing only trousers: he takes the sweater placed on the bed and puts it on while sitting in front of the mirror. He's determined to go out even if he feels weak, but he's tired of sitting at home doing nothing: it's Christmas soon, perhaps the last one, and it would be nice of him to buy something for his brother, Raquel and Paula. He takes his heaviest coat out of the closet and puts it on, along with a black scarf. He makes sure to turn off all the lights and putting the keys in his pocket, he goes out.
---
Martín and Sergio spend the rest of the journey in silence. Martín looks at the lights arranged neatly along the city: he missed Madrid, but it hurt too much to stay.
"We've arrived"
Sergio parks and gets out of the car, opening the trunk to unload Martín's suitcases. Martín stays in the car for a few seconds with his stomach in turmoil: too many conflicting emotions strike him. Sergio knocks on the glass of the car, making him jump.
"Let's go"
The cold hits his face, Martín raises his eyes and looks at the building, Sergio walks towards the external stairs and Martín, still looking up, follows him slowly.
"It's on the second floor, come"
Turning around, Sergio couldn't fail to notice Martín's gaze, who quickens his pace at these words.
---
The lift is busy. Andrés waits a few seconds, then decides to use the stairs: he should avoid tiring himself, but wasting time makes him more nervous than having to go down two flights. He descends slowly and leaves the building. A gust of wind forces him to wrap his scarf around him before walking towards the nearby shop. Along the way, he thinks back to what happened to him a few hours earlier: did he really expect to see Martín just because they talked about gold on TV? He hates to admit it, but as much as he could seek in women a feeling as close to love as possible, this is impossible: none of them is Martín. He arrives at the doors of the shop, the bright lights of the windows almost annoy him. His hands are shaking, so he stuffs them back into his pocket.
---
Sergio rings the bell of Andrés' apartment several times, but no one comes to open the door on the other side.
"Maybe he's gone out," hints Martín, neatly dragging the suitcases near the door.
"In this weather? And yet he knows that..."
"I'll wait here, don't worry"
After an initial moment of uncertainty, Sergio puts his hand on Martín's arm: "If you want, you can wait for him at my house... I'll introduce you to Raquel... and Paula"
Martín notices Sergio's embarrassment: despite his anger and resentment, he cannot deny that he loves him little bit. Maybe he exaggerated earlier in the car, he shouldn't have attacked him like that, after all Andrés is his brother and he suffers just as much as he does at the thought of having to lose him one day.
Martín reciprocates the gesture of affection, smiling in Sergio's direction: "I see you've been busy in my absence, huh?"
"No...I mean yes, but it's not what you think"
Martín wants to laugh: even years later Sergio hasn't lost his marked sense of modesty and his embarrassment with respect to certain topics.
"Come on, I'm kidding...let's go in, I really want to kno..."
The door of Sergio's apartment opens: Raquel peeps out, followed not far away by Paula.
"You must be Martín...nice to meet you, I'm Raquel"
"But she's..." Martín mechanically shakes Raquel's hand, "I saw her on television, she's Inspector Murillo!"
"So, Martín" Sergio tries to relieve Martín of embarrassment, inviting him to enter the house, "it's a bit complicated: Raquel and I met outside the mint...we didn't expect us to fall in love...but that's how it went! That's why she was forced to leave the police force...and now..."
"Here we are!"
Martín follows Sergio's twisted story, alternately watching him and Raquel. "And...she?" he finally says, pointing to Paula. The little girl decides to explain the situation to Martín herself, while Sergio takes the opportunity to call Andrés on the phone.
---
"How much...oh, excuse me for a moment, they're calling me" Andrés puts his wallet down on the cash desk in the shop, then rummages in his pockets looking for his cell phone, "It only takes me a second... Sergio? Oh, don't worry: I went out and...yes, I'm going back, don't worry"
Andrés tries to cut it short: since he got sick, Sergio treats him like a child unable to do things.
"A little cold never killed anyone, come on...I already told you I'll be back soon..."
He rolls his eyes: Sergio's insistence is making him nervous, but suddenly he makes him ring an alarm bell: "Sergio, but...has something happened? Are you sure? You don't seem very convinced..."
Even the tone of his voice doesn't seem the usual: he's short and he speaks with a slowness that doesn't belong to him: "Okay...I'm coming, see you soon." As soon as he ends the call, he quickly pays for the gifts and thanks the saleswoman for already wrapping them. He leaves the shop and walks as fast as he can towards the house.
"God, let the elevator be free" tiredness begins to make itself felt more than necessary and with the bags full, he doesn't think he can make it up the stairs again. He enters the external door, pushing it with the strength of his whole body and with enormous pleasure, he sees the lift light off.
From a distance, he notices suitcases in front of her door. As he approaches, his first thought is that Anna has gone back for some reason: a grimace of disgust appears on his face.
"It doesn't look like the luggage of...who left..." he decides to read the tag attached to the handle: for a second his strength leaves him and he drops the bags.
---
Sergio, Raquel and Martín hear a thud coming from outside: Sergio rushes to the door, followed by Martín. He goes out and finds his brother still standing in front of him staring at the suitcases. He says nothing, while Martín joins him too. Martín is short of breath: years have passed, but Andrés is still the same, of a disarming beauty. Maybe banged, but still him.
"Andrés..."
Andrés turns around, still incredulous: Martín's in front of him, he's not dreaming, nor's the illness making him delirious. They look at each other intensely for a few seconds, then Andrés replies.
"Why...are you here?"
Martín feels his heart become small and small: does he really not want his presence?
"I called him, Andrés" interrupts Sergio "I thought maybe this Christmas we could..."
Andrés motions Sergio to stop talking, gently raising his hand. Martín holds his breath: he should never have come, he understands it from Andrés' look, from how shocked he is. By now he had let him out of his life, he should have understood that evening that he had left the monastery, without worrying about having left him shattered. He's about to speak when Andrés unexpectedly embraces him: it's a warm embrace, full of tenderness and desperation. For a moment Martín's confused, then he wraps his arms around Andrés, without squeezing too much for fear of hurting him.
Sergio's joined by Raquel, who collects the packages that have fallen from his envelopes, trying not to interrupt that moment. She places them on the floor, against the wall so they don't fall, then she invites Sergio, who has remained motionless, to come in and leave Martín and Andrés alone.
14.12.2022
Since Martín came to stay with Andrés, the disease seems to have become a small unpleasant detail in the midst of the serenity found by Andrés. Despite the unresolved issues, neither of them mention the past. The reason why Martín passed there from one day to the next also remains uncertain: saying it aloud would only hurt.
Martín gets up before Andrés. Sitting on the bed, he turns to look at him: for him it's almost torture to sleep next to him and he often finds himself observing him before falling asleep, since Andrés falls asleep very quickly due to his medicines. He goes into the kitchen and drinks straight from the milk bottle, then silently gets dressed and goes out. He wants to buy breakfast to take to Andrés before he wakes up.
---
Andrés opens his eyes in a daze. That morning he feels particularly tired and weak. The medicines will help him with the tremors, but on the other hand they leave him with less and less strength. He gets up on his elbows, his head spins. Slowly he sits up and gets off the bed. He can't find Martín anywhere, he senses that his friend has gone out. He takes the opportunity to take a shower, hoping to recover a bit. He turns on the water while undressing: in some parts of the body, there are still the slightest bruises from the drip from the last hospitalization. His hands hurt. How much retroxil did he inject without getting caught? He gets into the shower and relaxes under the hot spray, trying not to think.
---
Martín returns. He places the croissants on the table and takes off his coat. He enters the bedroom and notices that the bed is empty.
"I'm back!" he exclaims without receiving an answer. Although he has avoided Andrés every opportunity to get tired, he's always afraid that for some reason it isn't enough and that Andrés will still feel bad. He knows this could happen with him in the house too, and even if he's sitting around all the time, but if it happens right when he's not there, he still won't be able to forgive himself.
"Andrés...?" He tries again, but again he gets no response. His concern begins to build up in the pit of her stomach, he feels his ears buzzing and his head empty. He's in total panic. Sergio's words about the last time Andrés felt ill come to mind: "I walked away for a moment and a moment later he was passed out on the floor." The rest of the story spoke of a "short time" and a "terminal phase", but he had pretended not to understand, so as not to fall into despair. But this time he hadn't gone away for a moment, he wasn't really there. Martín starts wandering around the house nervously, continuing to call Andrés. His heart's about to explode from his chest, he feels the muscles of his whole body stiffen, his breath becomes shallow. He feels that he is about to lose his mind when he notices a light coming from a crack in the bathroom door, which is absentmindedly closed. He approaches and gently pushes the door: Andrés's there taking a shower, he's fine. He slowly returns to breathing regularly, while in silence he continues to look at him. He almost seems to dream, after being so frightened. His heart continues to beat strongly in his chest, but this time it's not from fear: even if obscured by the fogged glass of the shower, Martín manages to admire Andrés' sculptural body. He outlines its contours with his gaze, starting from the shoulders, then descending on the chest and quickly on the buttocks and immediately after on the genitals, which, although at rest, don't leave much room for the imagination. He feels something as he presses between his legs, as stubbornly as he continues to stare at every inch of skin. He remains in that position until Andrés turns off the water, then reluctantly steps back and returns to the kitchen. The erection between his legs doesn't give up and Martín starts to hurt. The image of Andrés naked does not leave Martín's mind, who in the end can do nothing but unbutton his trousers to give himself some relief.
---
Andrés comes out of the bathroom and still wearing his bathrobe sits on the bed: the numbness has almost left him, but his hands have started to shake more than they should. He opens the drawer of the bedside table and, with no small difficulty, fills a syringe with Retroxil: like one of the worst drug addicts, he ties the tourniquet around his still wet arm, holding it tight with his teeth. As soon as the contents of the syringe enter his body, a burning sensation invades him. He closes his eyes as he pushes the plunger all the way down, then exhales the air and sets the syringe down on the nightstand. His hands aren't shaking anymore, but he knows that soon the tiredness will return to his body.
"Hey.."
He turns his head towards the bedroom door, and looks at Martín who approaches, to then sit down next to him.
"Did you sleep well?" he just tells him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Martín always did this, with a kindness that didn't belong to him, he pretended not to see when Andrés injected himself with Retroxil, when his hands started shaking or when he swallowed pills at any hour of the day. He almost ignored even the times when he fell asleep, perhaps in the middle of a speech, or when some days he found it hard even to get out of bed to go to the bathroom. He kept smiling and pretending nothing happened. Sometimes Andrés thought that Martín didn't quite understand the seriousness of his illness: he stood looking at him, without answering. He feels the Retroxil taking effect, he no longer feels his hands shaking, but on the other hand the numbness begins to make its way into his body. And perhaps also in his mind: without thinking too much about it, he takes Martín's hand and brings it between her legs, undoing his bathrobe just a little.
He doesn't know if it's the right thing to do, if Martín wants it, if he really wants it, but he doesn't care: in that moment of healthy selfishness, he shakes hands with Martín's, forcing him to grab his member and with the same delicacy start moving it.
---
Martín is incredulous, he's been waiting for that moment for a long time, but he never would have imagined it happening that way. He lowers his gaze and places it between Andrés' legs, practically intent on jerking off with the help of his hand. He follows him, starting to move with him, and giving more energy to the act. He watches Andrés throw his head back and gasp weakly, which turns him on in a totally unexpected way. He increases the pace, forcing Andrés to let go of his grip, to support himself with both arms: he raises and lowers his pelvis, accompanying the pressing rhythm that Martín had taken. Andrés's erection begins to stand out as high as ever, and the more Martín moves, the harder he feels his penis. He can feel the veins pulsing between his hands. Andrés is at the height of enjoyment, drops of sweat begin to bead his forehead, he keeps his eyes closed and bites his lip. When he realizes that he's about to cum, Martín stops.
"Please, go on" Andrés is almost a plea, "please".
"Sssh" Martín doesn't want to stop, but he needs both hands to take off his trousers. When he pulls his boxers down, his boner releases too, and a drop of spunk comes out of his tip. He quickly straddles Andrés: with one hand he pushes him to make him lie down, while with the other he grabs Andrés' erection. He allows himself to be penetrated with a decisive blow, then starts moving with an immediate rhythm, keeping his eyes fixed on Andrés.
---
No one before had managed to make him pleasure so much: Martín's hand seemed made especially for masturbating him. Despite his tiredness, Andrés can't help but accompany Martín's rhythm with his body, so fast that he is forced to resist, gripping the sheets tightly. He's at his most aroused when he stops: it's such a terrible feeling, he can't help but beg him to continue. He opens his eyes and watches him as he towers over him, his hard-on ready to explode. When he feels his cock enter his body, a moan escapes from his throat. He grabs him by the hips, supporting Martín's determined movements: he would like to give a more lively contribution, but he's too weak and the fucked of that moment also robs him of the last remaining strength. They gaze intently into his eyes. Martín's hair is wet with sweat, her face is purple. With an almost instinctive gesture, Andrés grabs his erection and Martín's movements do the rest, without him having to make any effort to move. They come almost simultaneously, violently and with an animal moan. Martín gets down from him and lies down next to him.
"Sorry" he hears him say, still gasping, "I've been too..."
"No," he interrupts him, turning away, "I asked for it." He sits down, followed by Martín, "Now I've confirmation" he then adds, standing up and leaving Martín confused, waiting for some explanation. He lets his bathrobe slide onto the hardwood floor and feels his gaze on him.
"We really are soul mates" he wanted to say and interrupt that useless situation of embarrassment, instead he keeps silent.
He stops turning his back to him and finds him still there, sitting: no one had ever looked at him like Martín and he knew deep down that no one would ever have looked at him.
---
When the weight of Andrés' body leaves the bed, Martín has the feeling that something is still attached to Andrés. Those words then, what did he mean? "That I love you"? or "That we are soul mates"?, or maybe... Andrés doesn't add anything else, and he doesn't have the courage to ask. He can't take his eyes off him: the curves of her backside, now naked, make him blush. Then, unexpectedly, Andrés looks at him: neither of them had noticed the silence that existed in that room, at that moment. Martín gets up shortening the distance between the two and without hesitation he prints a kiss on his lips, continuing to stare into his eyes. Almost without breaking away, he begins to kneel down: slowly, he takes his member in his hands and begins to savor its tip. He notices Andrés stiffen, she closes his eyes and throws his head back slightly. To keep his balance, he grabs his hair, forcing him to take his cock into his mouth. His tongue gently strokes his length, while his hand grabs his butt and squeezes it. He hears Andrés moaning softly, his eyes still closed. He decides to put an end to that limbo by starting to suck: he feels the tip of Andrés' cock hitting his throat. He feels him squeezing and pulling his hair harder and harder: he feels that he's about to make him come again, he accelerates his movements, he continues to torture his buttocks. It's hot, very hot. Then suddenly Andrés, he pulls his head back, in such a violent way that he detaches him and falls to the ground sitting up.
"What the..." his words stop in his throat when he sees Andrés collapse on the ground: he's shaking very badly, he's pale and out of breath.
"Andrés! What's wrong with you, Andrés!" he knows he's screaming, but is so panicked that his ears are plugged. He sees Andrés still shaking, so much so that he hits his head on the floor numerous times. He points to something near the bed without being able to speak and Martín moves his gaze from him to the bedside table. He leaps to his feet to grab a pillow to place under his head. He notices on the bedside table the syringe that Andrés had used earlier to inject himself with Retroxil: he's never done it to her in his life, but Andrés is too ill and can't do it on his own.
"Okay, wait, now... now I'll take care of it" with trembling hands, he opens the drawer of the bedside table, takes out a vial and fills the syringe, being careful to let the air out, then kneels again next to Andrés. He raises his head to fix the pillow: it's a bath of sweat, despite being frozen. With no small effort, due to the tremors, he stretches out his arm and inserts the needle, slowly pushing on the plunger: the tremors begin to decrease after the first half of the vial, and then cease once finished.
He's short of breath and this time he's the one shaking. Andrés instead lies helpless on the ground: his eyes are wide open and he is panting.
“It's all over,” he tells him, stroking his wet hair. He looks at him turning towards him, and gives him a hint of a smile.
"Come, I'll help you lay down on the bed" gently, he slips his arm behind Andrés' neck, and helps him to stand up. He calmly walks him to the bed and sits him down, "Wait, I'll be right back." He quickly walks into the bathroom and grabs a towel, "This will make you feel better." He dries him from the sweat and body fluids stuck to his chest: when he cleans it from the sperm, he almost feels a sense of shame for having come on him like this and just before...
"Martín"
He almost hears him whisper as he stops his wrist with her hand.
"Thank you"
"Oh, I would never have left you like this" he replies, stroking it again gently, "And besides, nobody dies here as long as I'm here!" he adds, feigning a tranquility that at that moment really doesn't belong to him. He had been really scared of losing him. He places the towel at the foot of the bed to help Andrés slide one leg and then the other under the sheets.
"Come on, now lie down, I'll go get you some wa..."
"You're always here, Martín" he feels a hand being grabbed with incredible energy, considering Andrés' weakness, "no matter how many times I send you away, you always come back to stay here"
Martín's heart aches.
"I don't deserve it, Martín"
"Andrés" Martín tries to stop him, sitting down on the bed, "trying to sle..."
"I don't deserve you!"
---
Those last words come out scratching his throat: he almost screams, so much decision. After all, he feels that he really thinks this: Martín's is not pity, he doesn't care about his illness, he would be close to him even if he had to remind him of his name every day. Martín loves him above all things, above all people and this hurts him more than if he felt pity. That conversation shouldn't have existed, he sees it from how Martín's eyes become watery. He watches him get up and quickly wipe his face with his sleeve.
"Since when did you start talking like a lady from a soap opera?" he tells him to put an end to that tension, as he slips back into his boxers, "these injections aren't so good for you, then." He watches him laugh in a forced way, to force himself not to cry. It makes him tender the way he has the ability to overturn even the saddest situations.
"No, in my opinion it's the pills' fault" he adds, also laughing with difficulty, "I've decided: I'll stop taking them and keep the tremors!". They both burst out laughing, despite the sadness: of the moment, of the illness, of the unsaid words, of those that had better not have been spoken. With tears still in his eyes, Andrés weakly invites Martín to lie down with him: he's cold, even if he doesn't tell him.
He falls asleep quickly, lulled by the warmth of Martín's body: he wants to remain like this forever, in his arms, in his life.
22.12.2022
Ever since Andrés had that crisis, Martín lives in fear of it happening again: every time he sees Andrés even just shivering from the cold, a shiver runs down his back and he runs towards him, to make sure everything is going well.
Even having sex with him has become a reason to be afraid: despite Andrés' numerous reassurances that it was a coincidence that time, that it wasn't his fault, but rather his fault for taking the medicine late, Martín he's convinced that if he hadn't continued to excite him, he wouldn't have felt bad.
"Martín, I'm sick, it's nobody's fault" he hears him repeat that morning too, as they are lying on the bed. Andrés strokes his hair, speaks calmly, while he holds him close.
"I know, but..." the doorbell interrupts that intimate moment. Martín gets up reluctantly, putting on his dressing gown.
"Martín, good morning…"
"Good morning to you, Sergio" he replies, piqued. Lately he hasn't been sleeping much, everything makes him nervous. All except Andrés.
"Oh, hermanito, come in, what's going on?" the latter appears behind him, and cheerfully invites his brother to sit down. Sergio passes Martín, giving him the opportunity to close the door.
"So" Martín urges him now, approaching and placing a hand on his shoulder, "will you stop and have breakfast with us?". Martín's tone sounds vaguely sarcastic, but in reality he's just very tired. The nervousness of before has already passed: seeing Andrés beaming made him forget even Sergio's intrusiveness.
"Oh, no no, thanks, I've already had breakfast. I just came to ask you if you wanted to come with us this afternoon to get some Christmas presents. Sergio pauses, to put up his glasses, "Raquel insisted so much and I..."
"Have I ever said no to my little brother?" Andrés interrupts him, taking him by the shoulders, "Consider us already ready!"
Martín can't have a say: Andrés had chosen what to do for both of them, without even asking him if he agreed or not. He would like to say something, but it would only be the usual expression of the extreme apprehension and concern he feels towards Andrés. He decides to remain silent, while Andrés comes towards him and unexpectedly gives him a kiss.
---
Outside it has started to rain: a thin rain that dyes the winter sky of Madrid indigo. Andrés tries to button up the last few buttons on his shirt, but his hands are shaking a little. He feels someone around his waist: he looks up and from the mirror in front of him he notices Martín trying to peer over her shoulder, trying to help him.
“I almost made it,” he says, smiling as he turns to face him.
"Mh, in fact that almost was missing" he replies, winking at him.
The skinny jeans he's wearing show off his rounded bottom. He continues to stare at him as he walks over to the coat rack to get their coats.
Looking away, reluctantly, Martín grabs his jacket and puts it on, then he lets Martín put on coat to him.
"You spoil me too much" he says, standing still while Martín wraps the scarf around his neck, "I can do something even by mysel..."
"Shut up" Martín stops him, giving him a kiss on the lips, "Let's go, your brother and Raquel are waiting for us"
---
There are many people on the street, but luckily it has stopped raining. Martín walks holding Andrés by the hand: it's the first time they've gone out together with someone else, he feels a bit embarrassed. Raquel turns to them and smiles, then walks back in front of them, with Paula in one hand and Sergio in the other. The two reciprocate, then look at each other
"Are you cold?" he asks Andrés, making sure the scarf is still on.
Andrés shakes his head weakly, still looking at him. After a few meters, Paula beckons everyone into a toy store, and then physically drags Sergio inside.
"Your niece is pretty, isn't she?" Martín begins, looking at Paula who is jumping.
"Yes...a lot"
Martín senses the lack of conviction in Andrés' words: he stops and looks at him questioningly: "Everything okay? Did I say something wrong?"
“Oh, no, of course not” Andrés continues walking, slowly, now a few steps away from the shop doors, “it's just that the last time...well, she was there too when I felt bad...she got very scared, and from that day on she looks at me as if she's scared of me"
Martín feels a pang in the pit of his stomach: had he given him that impression too when he avoided touching him too much while they were having sex? Or when he watched from afar as he injected Retroxil?
"Hey, come!" Raquel's voice interrupts that stream of thoughts. The two enter and immediately the heat and a scent of ginger invests them. Christmas is almost upon us.
---
Andrés walks around the shop, absentmindedly looking at the shelves: endless rows of puppets, stuffed animals and toy soldiers cover every inch of the surface. He takes a nutcracker and turns it in his hands: immediately his mind goes back to when he had brought a similar one to the hospital, to his brother. He looks up and sees him laughing and joking with what's now his family.
"If you like it, I can buy it for you" Martín's voice reaches him, before sadness drags him into an abyss, "I like most that ostrich-shaped stuffed animal better, but de gustibus non disputandum, right?" he continues to joke, finally eliciting a smile from him.
When they leave the shop, the icy wind sends shivers down their entire body. Immediately Martín approaches and hugs him, rubbing his arm. They continue walking, this time leaving Sergio and his family behind. He feels tiredness clinging to his legs, but decides to continue walking: he had rarely in his life been happy, especially after the diagnosis: having sent Martín away for so long and having so little available, now, is a worry that he cannot get off.
"Are you tired? Shall we go back?"
Martín stops softly, noticing Andrés' suffering face, "Where are the tablets…" he looks at him rummaging in the pockets of his coat, "and yet I'm sure that…"
"Martín, I don't need anything" with extreme kindness, Andrés grabs Martín's wrists, forcing him to stop, "I'm fine, let's go".
"Sure?"
"Yes, come, let's go into that shop" he takes his hand, squeezing it more than necessary to prevent the slight trembling from worrying him unnecessarily and he is preparing to enter a small antique shop.
---
Martín looks here and there among the various shelves, without ever letting go of Andrés' hand. From time to time she turns to look at him and she always finds him looking at paintings with baroque frames.
"They're beautiful, mh?" he tells him, resting his head on his shoulder. He gets no answer: out of the corner of his eye he sees him completely in ecstasy. He knows that art has always been one of Andrés' weaknesses.
"I can help?"
Martín feels Andrés jump slightly, when a saleswoman with her high-pitched voice interrupts that moment of profound admiration.
"Those are reproductions of eighteenth-century works" she continues, ignoring Andrés' annoyed face, "and further on you can find the most famous sculptures of…"
"Michelangelo, we know."
"Right..."
Andrés brusquely interrupts the saleswoman who, intimidated, gives a hint of a smile to Martín, before taking her leave.
"Perhaps you exaggerated..." he whispers to him, while he seeks her gaze, and notices that Andrés' eyes suddenly darken, "he just want..."
"Wasting our time, and I don't have much time!" Andrés' tone is almost a whisper, but so decided that Martín can't say anything else.
He looks at each other for a few seconds, then he sees Andrés lower his shoulders and look at the ground: he makes him very tender, he knows how much desperation he keeps hidden from everyone and how difficult it's to keep it secret. Without speaking, he embraces him, making Andrés' head fit into the crook of his neck.
"Anyway," he whispers very close to his ear, "my favorite's the one with the two lovers near the stairs."
"That's Hayez's kiss" he hears him reply, as he stands up to look into his eyes, "Sorry Martín, I've been..."
"It doesn't matter, let's go, I saw Sergio and Raquel waiting for us outside."
He gently takes him by the arm and they go out: it has started to rain again and he notices how the raindrops fall on Andrés' face, wetting him. Further.
---
Along the way home, Andrés feels a numbness rising in his shoulders and his hands begin to tremble more frequently: there are only a few meters to go, but for his legs it's like walking another kilometer. Plus the rain makes everything even slower.
"Can we... can we stop?" he says with pain.
"What happens?" Sergio approaches, helps Martín to make Andrés sit down on a bench: "Are you feeling bad?"
Andrés raises his eyes and meets those of Paula, wide open, who looks at him from a distance.
"Andrés, what's it? You're going to..."
"I'm tired, I'm just tired" he replies to Martín and his brother, who are particularly anxious. He takes in the air and stretches his legs: he's a little better, apart from the tremors.
"Here, take this..."
Martín puts a pill between his lips, which Andrés swallows without water. It scratches his throat a little, but he feels the trembling subside.
He gets up slowly, "Come on, I can do it." Helped by Martín and Sergio, he walks the last meters that separate him from home.
---
The warmth of the apartment gives him more relief, if possible. He takes off his coat and sits in the chair. He closes his eyes: he hears Martín take off his shoes and socks and rub his wet head with a towel, then he no longer feels anything and falls asleep.
When he opens his eyes, he's completely in the dark. He realizes that someone has put him to bed after stripping him. He tries to get up, but his legs don't seem to respond: he feels heavy, as if he were tied to the bed.
"Martín…?" with an inhuman effort, he moves his hand to touch the side of the bed where Martín sleeps, finding it empty, "Martín, where are you?". He hears no response.
He tries to get up again, he feels an electric shock run through his whole body and his legs continue to remain nailed to the bed. He begins to feel short of breath: for the first time in his life, he is seriously afraid, that's a feeling that the disease had never made him feel before. He keeps calling Martín, louder and louder, while with all the strength he has, he tries to drag his body to his side. He's soaked in sweat from the effort, despite having only managed to move a few centimeters, but he doesn't give up he keeps pushing and pushing and...suddenly the emptiness: he falls disastrously off the bed, but the floor never seems to arrive, it seems like a infinite descent and he can't do anything, he can't move, so he screams, calls Martín, begs to be helped, but only silence answers him. Desperation begins to work its way into his bones.
"Martín! Why don't you answer! Martín!"
"Andrés! Wake up, Andrés!"
He opens his eyes: in front of him Martín holds a hand on his forehead. He's lying on the bed and the sheets are entwined around his legs.
"You were dreaming, I couldn't wake you up, but you were screaming so loud yo…"
Instinctively Andrés takes his head in his hands and brings him closer, embracing him: he still doesn't believe he can move freely. He's short of breath and bathed in sweat. Slowly he lets go of Martín, who looks at him shocked and sits up. A cold shiver runs up his spine.
"Wait" Martín takes off his robe and puts it on his shoulders, "That should be better."
Clutching his dressing gown, he staggers to his feet and walks towards the kitchen. Martín accompanies him, putting his arm around his waist.
Watch the clock: 11.40pm
"Are you hungry? Can I make you a sandwich?"
"How long did I sleep?"
"Well" he sees Martín rummaging in the fridge, "I think at least four or five hours...you collapsed on the armchair as soon as we got back. Undressing and getting into bed was quite a feat, cariño!" Martín's heroic tone makes him smile. Who knows how many other times they could have laughed together if only he hadn't abandoned him. The thought suddenly makes him sad.
"Hey, what's wrong with you now? Don't tell me you're upset? I was jok…"
"Martín…"
"Yup?"
"I love you"
---
The knife slips from Martín's hands: had he heard correctly? He looks at Andrés with his mouth just open, he didn't expect such a thing at that moment.
"Yeah...me..." his throat's dry, "me too...I love you too, Andrés". He slowly recovers and smiles at Andrés: he watches him get up and come near him, to give him an intense kiss. He feels Andrés' tongue searching spasmodically for his, in an inhuman hunger for love. Unexpectedly he's lifted and made to sit on the kitchen counter, while Andrés continues to torture his lips, sucking and biting them. The erection begins to push against Andrés' belly: a hand creeps into his boxers and grabs his cock, starting to masturbate it with a slow but cadence rhythm. He moans into Andrés's mouth and instinctively grabs his buttocks to bring him closer and keep kissing him, this time moving his tongue up his neck. His dressing gown falls to the floor, exposing Andrés' back. He's at the peak of pleasure, he scratches the skin of his shoulders and cums.
Everything stops. They remain in that position, panting for a few seconds.
"Are you ok?" he asks him, hearing him gasp for breath.
"Never been better"
Martín relaxes definitively: he raises his head up, until the moment before rested upon Andrés' shoulder, and looks at him, gently. Andrés helps him down from the shelf and picks up the dressing gown, "I'm going to take a shower, cover yourself up", prints a kiss on his lips, putting the dressing gown around his shoulders. He follows him with his eyes, until he sees him disappear into the bathroom.
---
As a child Martín never celebrated Christmas: there was no money, no presents, the closest thing to a family was a stray cat who came to visit him every evening to eat. Then Andrés arrived and every day became a party.
As a child Andrés rarely celebrated Christmas: money was used to eat, gifts weren't contemplated, something that really meant "family" he met when he discovered he had a brother. Then Martín arrived and every day he felt like he was in the family.
24.12.2022
"Andrés, come over there, some of your friends have arrived" Martín helps him to get up from the armchair: he's spent the whole afternoon getting ready, he may be ill, but he wouldn't give up being elegant for anything in the world. As he enters the living room of his brother's apartment, the suffocating heat of the fireplace invades him. He's a little dizzy.
"Hey, that took your time!"
"Guys!" Agata approaches Andrés, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder, "remember that it's an honor to have Sir Berlin among us!"
Andrés slowly shakes his head: despite his reserved nature, he had missed the company of Agata and the others. He watches them laugh and joins them. Among the laughter of the people, Jacov invites him to sit down. Martín takes a seat next to Andrés, "Berlin?", he asks him, getting close to his ear, "I missed this one"
"Sergio preferred it this way: during the robbery, no one knew the other's identity", he pauses, to swallow a tablet with a little water, "So we chose the names of the cities, that's all"
"I'm Nairobi!" Agata breaks in, forcing Martín to turn his head towards her, "While he's Helsinki, that one over there's Denver, and those two lovebirds Tokyo and Rio"
Slightly embarrassed by Agata's vehemence, Martín shakes everyone's hands. He finds them nice, but the fact that they, unlike him, have spent time near Andrés slightly annoys him.
"Are you ok?" Andrés notes how Martín suddenly plunged into a world of his, "Is something wrong?"
"Oh, no, no" Martín takes Andrés' hand on the table, "I'm happy"
"Are you sure? It doesn't look lik…"
With a sudden kiss, Martín silences Andrés: for a few seconds everything's silent, it seems that even the world has left them alone. Then someone starts clapping, followed by another, and then another, until the silence is covered in confusion.
He feels his face burn, he squeezes Martín's thigh from under the table, who lets him go, smiling mischievously.
"Hey, you look like the protagonists of that painting where the two lovers kiss near the..."
"Hayez's kiss, Silene" interrupts Martín, continuing to look at Andrés, "did I say right, cariño?"
Andrés would like to frame that moment, so as to make it stay there forever.
"Oh, yeh, you said well"
Like in a painting.