glasses

Unreal

That night, Román sat in his own bed while Nicolás was knocked out on the couch. He kept thinking about what happened. He couldn't believe it. He didnt get any sleep at all.

The next morning, he was still in bed, on his phone. He heard some noises come from the living room, and then realized what it was. Nico was just waking up, but confused as to where he was. Román hesitated to go over to him, but did it anyway. He walked over to the living room, and saw him, completely hungover from the night before.

"God...last night was hazy-" Nico stood up from the couch, stretching.

"You..dont remember anything?" Roman asked, his face slightly flushed from the memory of yesterday.

"Not alot really, just the last beers y'know?" He shrugged, as he didnt remember the kiss.

Román felt a slight relief flow through him, and nodded.

"Right. You good now?"

"Still kinda hungover, but yeah no problems-"

Román nodded, as he watched Nico enter the kitchen for some water. He thought to himself, did he really forget?

Román stood frozen in the doorway, watching Nicolás rummage through the cabinets in search of a glass. His movements were sluggish, his hair messy from sleep, and he looked entirely oblivious to the storm of emotions swirling inside Román. 

*He doesn't remember.* The thought was both a relief and a strange sting. 

"You have... a headache or something?" Román asked, leaning against the doorframe. He needed to say *something* to break the silence. 

"Yeah, it's killer," Nicolás muttered, filling a glass with water. He took a long sip, then turned to Román with a crooked grin. "Man, how drunk was I last night? Did I do anything dumb?" 

Román's heart skipped. He forced himself to keep a neutral expression. "Define 'dumb.'" 

"I don't know, like... singing bad karaoke or making a fool of myself in front of your neighbors?" Nicolás laughed softly, but his gaze lingered on Román for a moment too long. 

"No. Nothing like that," Román said quickly, looking away. 

"Good. Don't need *more* embarrassing stories circulating." Nicolás chuckled and set the glass down on the counter, leaning back against it. "But seriously, thanks for bringing me here. You didn't have to." 

"It was either that or leave you to pass out in a gutter," Román said, his voice dry. "You should be thanking me." 

"I *am* thanking you!" Nicolás said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Look at me, full of gratitude. Eternally in your debt." 

Román rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the faint smile tugging at his lips. Despite everything, Nicolás had this infuriating way of making him feel... lighter. 

There was a brief pause, the kind that would've been awkward if Nicolás didn't fill it. 

"So... do you live here alone?" he asked, glancing around the small apartment. 

Román nodded. "Yeah. It's just me." 

"Pretty cozy," Nicolás said, moving toward the living room. He flopped back onto the couch like he belonged there, his long legs stretching out lazily. 

Román followed slowly, his mind racing. The way Nicolás was so at ease in his space—it unsettled him. It felt too natural, too intimate, after what had happened the night before. 

As Nicolás sprawled out on the couch, he tilted his head back to look at Román. "You're quiet today." 

"I'm always quiet," Román shot back, crossing his arms. 

"No, like *extra* quiet." Nicolás squinted at him. "Are you mad at me or something?" 

Román tensed. "Why would I be mad?" 

"I don't know. Just feels like I did something to piss you off," Nicolás said, frowning slightly. "If I said something stupid last night—" 

"You didn't," Román interrupted, sharper than he meant to. He regretted it instantly when Nicolás looked at him in surprise. He softened his tone. "You didn't do anything." 

"Okay," Nicolás said slowly, still watching him like he was trying to piece something together. 

Román turned away under the weight of that gaze, busying himself with tidying up the coffee table even though it didn't need it. 

"So what's the plan for today?" Nicolás asked after a beat. 

"You're hungover. Maybe drink more water and sleep it off," Román said. 

"You're no fun," Nicolás teased, grinning. "But fine, doctor's orders. I'll just annoy you from this couch instead." 

Román didn't reply, but he glanced at Nicolás out of the corner of his eye. He looked so relaxed, so unbothered, like last night had been nothing more than a blur of drinks and laughter. 

But for Román, it was everything. 

---

Later that day, Nicolás was dozing on the couch, the sunlight from the window casting soft shadows across his face. Román sat in the armchair nearby, pretending to read a book but really just stealing glances. 

*Did he really forget?* The question looped in his mind, over and over. 

His hand unconsciously brushed against his lips, the memory of the kiss vivid and overwhelming. He wasn't sure what was worse—the fact that it had happened or the fact that Nicolás seemed to have no memory of it. 

Part of him wanted to bring it up, to ask outright. But what would he even say? What if Nicolás laughed it off, or worse—regretted it? 

Román shut his book with a quiet sigh, standing up and heading toward his room. He needed space, time to think. 

Behind him, Nicolás stirred, murmuring something in his sleep. 

Román paused in the doorway, glancing back. He wondered if Nicolás would remember eventually, if the hazy details of that kiss would resurface. 

And, if they did, what then?