glasses

Liquid corauge

The dim hum of chatter and the faint scent of spilled beer filled the air as Nicolás scanned the crowded drinking spot. His teammates were crammed into one corner of the room, laughing and shouting over the music, their energy infectious. Nicolás had joined in at first, but his attention kept drifting. 

And then he saw him. 

Román was sitting at a small table near the back, alone, a half-empty glass in front of him. He was scrolling idly on his phone, looking like he didn't entirely belong there—or maybe like he didn't want to be. 

Without thinking, Nicolás pushed away from his group and headed toward him. 

"Román," he called out when he got closer. 

Román looked up, startled. His glasses caught the low light, and for a second, Nicolás forgot what he was going to say. 

"What are you doing here?" Nicolás asked, pulling out a chair before Román could answer. 

Román frowned. "What does it look like? Drinking." 

"Alone?" 

"Not everyone needs a crowd," Román said, but his tone was softer than usual. 

"Come sit with us," Nicolás offered, motioning back to his table. 

Román shook his head almost immediately. "I'm good here." 

"Come on," Nicolás pressed. "You can't just sit here all night by yourself." 

"I can, and I will." 

"Or," Nicolás said, leaning in closer, a grin playing on his lips, "you could come have fun with me." 

Román sighed, clearly weighing his options. He looked at Nicolás's hopeful expression, then at his nearly empty glass. "Fine," he muttered, standing up. 

Nicolás beamed. "That's the spirit." 

---

An hour later, the world had grown hazier, louder, and far more entertaining. 

Román, who had initially sat stiffly among Nicolás's friends, was now leaning against the table, his face flushed from the drinks. Nicolás, just as tipsy, had taken it upon himself to keep the conversation flowing, throwing in exaggerated stories about volleyball games and cracking jokes that made Román laugh in spite of himself. 

At some point, Román leaned in close enough to Nicolás to murmur, "You're so... annoying." 

"And you're so fun when you're drunk," Nicolás shot back, grinning. 

Román scoffed but didn't move away. 

By the end of the night, Nicolás was slouched in his chair, his head bobbing slightly as he fought to stay awake. Román stood and poked his arm. "Come on, you're done." 

"Huh?" Nicolás mumbled, blinking up at him. 

"You can't even sit up straight. Let's go. I'll take you home." 

"Your place," Nicolás murmured, half-conscious. 

Román hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. But don't throw up on me." 

---

The walk to Román's house was an unsteady one, with Nicolás leaning heavily on Román for support. By the time they stumbled into the small, quiet living room, Román was out of patience and out of breath. 

"You're lucky I'm nice," Román grumbled, guiding Nicolás to the couch. 

"You're the nicest," Nicolás slurred, collapsing onto the cushions. 

Román grabbed a blanket and tossed it over him. "There. Sleep." 

But as he turned to leave, Nicolás's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist. 

"Wait," Nicolás said, his voice softer now. 

Román froze. "What?" 

Nicolás sat up slightly, his eyes heavy-lidded but focused. Before Román could react, Nicolás reached out and cupped his cheeks, his hands warm and steady despite the alcohol. 

"You're really pretty," Nicolás murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Román's breath caught. "You're drunk." 

"Maybe," Nicolás said, leaning closer. "But I mean it." 

And then, before Román could think of a response, Nicolás kissed him. 

It was soft, hesitant, and fleeting, but it left Román's mind reeling. 

When Nicolás pulled back, his face was inches away, his gaze searching Román's. "Don't leave me," he whispered, his voice raw and vulnerable. 

Román's face burned, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure Nicolás could hear it. "I-I'm not going anywhere," he stammered. 

Nicolás smiled faintly, his hands dropping as he slumped back onto the couch, finally succumbing to sleep. 

Román stood there for a moment, still frozen in place, his fingers brushing his lips as if to confirm what had just happened. 

And for the first time in a long time, he didn't know what to do next.