Chapter: Exit to Park.
Within that framework of calm, Miguel proposed an exit for the next day that was not a big plan or a big surprise, but something simple that would continue to build trust without hurry. "We can go to a flea market that I'm going to sometimes."There are people who sell things like old cameras, or scores, or those objects that sometimes tell a story without saying anything. What do you think?
"It seems perfect," Alex replied, accepting without hesitation. "And then we can go to a place with good light and a good conversation, such as this record store today, but with a girl who sells cups that say beautiful things, or a coffee where the barista explains the origin of each grain. I like the idea that routine can be beautiful when life takes the time to make it special.
The plan was in that simple agreement, and the night closed with the promise of a new meeting that was not a definitive commitment, but a continuity of what they were already building: a relationship that grew with the naturalness of two people who have left a margin to make mistakes andlearn.
Before sleeping, Miguel asked for the last time:
"Do you feel comfortable staying here tonight?" I don't want you to feel that everything we say forces you to stay forever, but I don't want you to feel that you are escaping something.
Alex gave him the answer he needed to hear without pressure: "I'm comfortable." I feel that this is a place where I can be without masks. If tomorrow you tell me that you want to take distance, I will understand; If you want us to continue like this, I will also understand it. For now, I would like to stay and see what happens.
They settled in the living room, each at one end of the couch, leaving a space between them that, at the right distance, seemed more a gesture of respect than a barrier. The TV was off, as if the room itself preferred not to interfere with the conversation that was already happening in another plane of reality: the plane of the possibility, of trust, of the shared desire to explore without fear.
The conversation continued quietly, almost a murmur, with anecdotes that were acquiring an intimate ritual form. Miguel spoke of a summer in which he discovered that the night had his own language, and that music was his best translator. He talked about how he learned to laugh at himself and his doubts, of the times that he had felt little before the greatness of simple things, and how, in spite of everything, he had found the strength to move forward thanks to the people who were next to him.
Alex, on the other hand, opened a little more his own interior book. He shared a story of a trip that took him away from home when he was a teenager, how the experience of being in a foreign place taught him to trust strangers who, without knowing it, became his security network. He also talked about his love for the photograph of everyday objects: a broken cup that still retains its shape, a window that no longer closes completely and that, however, showed a moon beam. Talking about these issues was not emotional exhibitionism, but a natural flow that allowed them to understand a little more who they were in the present.
The morning he showed his quieter face, and, on the edge of dawn, they decided that it was time to try to sleep, at least for a few hours, to recharge energies for the next day. They approached Miguel's bunk, each occupying one side of the double bed, with the tacit promise to respect the dream of the other. The shadows played with their contours and, finally, the silence settled, dense but not heavy, such as the pause between two musical notes that, together, form a melody.
When the sun appeared among the curtains, a lightning light of light found the two still asleep men, with a calm breathing that seemed to have left behind the excitement of the night to enter a state of rest. They awakened at the same time, as if they had agreed to wake up in the same way so as not to break the balance of what they had built. They looked at each other and smiled without the need for long words, without the need to make great promises.
They had breakfast in silence, but that silence had a pleasant tone, as if each one had decided that, for the moment, it was enough to know that the other was there. Miguel prepared coffee and toast, and Alex helped put the table, taking care of every detail so that the encounter, in its simplicity, will be comfortable and familiar.
"Today we have a day ahead, but without pressure," Miguel said, with the routine of who knows that he will face a day, but wants that day to have a special flavor.
-Yeah. We are going to let things flow and, if there is something worthwhile, we will see it. If not, it will also be fine, "Alex replied, with a tone that denoted clarity.
They left home with the idea that the day would be an essay of coexistence without emergencies: a walk through the near park, a stop to eat something light, and the return to the house to see a film that was not too dramatic, as if the goal were to keep the calm and joy of thecompany without turning it into an emotional healing mission.
The park was a perfect setting for the conversation to continue without forcing. The leaves of the trees, which could already insinuate the first signs of autumn, fell into a slow cadence that seemed to synchronize with their steps. They sat in a bank next to a source that, because of their sound, reminded them that the city was a machine to maintain the rhythm of life, but that at the same time allowed a respite for two people who were discovering that they could trust each other without losing the feeling offreedom.
"What would you like to happen in the coming months?" Asked Miguel, looking for a question that was wide enough to cover possibilities, but concrete enough not to sow anxieties.
Alex, who had been looking at the children who played near a swing, turned to him and responded with a gentle seriousness:
"I would like to continue knowing each other without fear of being wrong." That time allows us to understand if we share a path, and if not, that we can continue to be friends who take care of themselves. I do not want to turn this into a deadline, but a promise of patience: that we do not hurry, that we do not impose an impossible goal, and that, although the world pushes us to the speed, we learn to stop to observe what we already have.
Miguel nodded, taking into account the clarity of the answer. -I agree. And I would add that I would like, even if the months go by, we are still surprised with the small things: a new tea we discover, a song that makes us laugh, a movie that we see without commenting every detail but that makes us feel that the shared time has a meaning.
The conversation, as seen, did not become a monologue of sentimental promises, but a conversation to two voices that were balanced. They were not grandiloquent ideas, but a soft constancy that said: here there are two people who understand each other and who want to continue being together whenever possible.
Upon returning to Miguel's house, they decided to prepare dinner together. The kitchen, which initially seemed like a functional space, was gradually acquiring a touch of intimacy: the table was illuminated by a warm lamp, and the conversation was again the protagonist, now with the presence of a laugh that had acquired the tone of complicity.
While they cooked, Alex commented on an observation that came to the story of the little things that make the difference in an incipient relationship:
—You still, the way each one of us orders the kitchen in its own way: you leave the covered in the drawer in a way, and I have a different way of stacking things in the fridge. It is not that there is a definitive code, but it is a sign that we can live without losing our identity. That is, for me, a good indication.
"Exact," said Miguel, laughing softly. Coexistence does not have to be an imposition; It can be a dance of two styles that alternate naturally.
The dinner was simple and tasty: salad, a paste with homemade tomato sauce, and a lemon cake that Miguel had prepared with a touch of childhood memory. At the end, they sat in the dining room and continued talking, but already with a serenity that suggested that the night could end without great shocks and that, however, it could bring a small spark of novelty.
"Would you like to watch a movie tonight?" Something light and with a beautiful ending, not to break the peace we already feel, "Miguel asked.
"I would love it," Alex replied.
They chose a friendly comedy, of those that leave a smile at the end, without the need to solve internal dramas of the main characters. They settled on the couch, and the film began. In the midst of shared laughter, a moment of silence reappeared with each other, not because of discomfort, but because of the beauty of being in the presence of the other without asking for anything more than the present. When the movie ended, Miguel looked at Alex and said:
"Thank you for today." Not for the movie, but for being here. You give me the feeling that, perhaps, the world is not as complicated as it seems when there is someone willing to walk with you a stretch.
Alex, with a serious but relaxed look, replied:
—Thanks you for opening and for making this day one day to remember without the need for a great climax. I feel lucky to have met someone to talk without fear.
The conversation that followed was shorter, more contained, and at the same time deeper due to its simplicity. They talked about family, how each one had dealt with other people's expectations and the importance of building a support network that respects their identity. It was not a conflict of identities, but a reflection on the way in which each one wanted to live their life and how, through that decision, they could respect each other.
"What would you like people to know about you?" Asked Miguel, returning the question with curiosity.
Alex responded without hesitation:
"That I don't need to be shown as a tolerance poster to be true." I am someone who wants to be seen by what it is, with my virtues and my limitations, and who seeks in turn a person who sees me in that way too. And that, above all, I want to be able to love with the freedom to be who I am and let love develop patiently.
"And that's enough for me," Miguel said.
The conversation, although mature and aware of its limits, still did not lose the lightness that had characterized its encounter from the terrace. They had not turned their relationship into a proof of courage versus fear, but into a shared experience of discovery: of themselves, of themselves, of the city that still had corners to explore, and the possibility that love does not always need great gestures to exist.
When the night became deeper, they decided to take a short walk in the neighborhood to close the day. The city, in its night rhythm, had a softer cadence: stores closing, the night breeze slightly moving the leaves, and the distant murmur of a music that escaped an open window. They walked slowly, speaking between pauses, allowing the presence of the other to become more and more natural.
They arrived at a small viewpoint from which you could see part of the illuminated city. They sat on a wrought iron bank that had the brand of years of use, and for the first time that night, they looked at themselves with the full clarity of those who have understood that the relationship they are building is not defined by a single moment, but by the joint day to day.
"If you tell you tomorrow you don't want to continue, I'll understand." If tomorrow you want to continue, I will be here, "said Miguel, with the honesty of who knows that promises should not be forced, but must emerge from the shared experience.
"I'm with you." I don't know where we will go, but I want that path to allow us to continue choosing ourselves every day, "Alex replied, with a short voice, almost like a secret that shares in the moonlight.
They returned to Miguel's house, already tired but satisfied. They said goodbye with a hug that lasted a few more than usual, a sample of affection that did not seem to need explanation but said much about the trust that had already been established between them. Each one returned to their own room, not with the idea of getting carried away by a necessity, but with the intention of assessing what they already had.
In the still early morning, Miguel remained awake a while, to the expectation that, the next day, they could find themselves again without plans, only with the certainty that they were there for each other if it was needed. He thought about the way he could bring small signs that they were on the right path, without impositions, without great fantasies, but with the reality of a link that is making it clearer as you have inhabits it.
Alex, on the other hand, fell asleep with the feeling of having found a soft shelter in a city that sometimes seemed too big for him. He dreamed of street lanterns that seemed to guide them to a place where people knew how to see beyond labels, where each gesture was a language that they could learn to speak together.