The night was quiet, but Gavon’s mind was not.
He tossed in bed, the sheets twisted around his legs, Effie curled at his feet, undisturbed by his restlessness. The sushi dinner, Izzy’s easy banter, Bruno’s warm presence… it should’ve lulled him into sleep. Instead, his thoughts were thick with shadows and heat.
He drifted.
And in the dream, he was back on the train. But it wasn’t just a rerun—this time, the bearded man was closer. His eyes didn’t just meet Gavon’s; they pierced through him.
Gavon stood still. The man approached slowly, deliberately. He reached out, cupping Gavon’s face with both hands.
“I’ve been waiting,” the man said, voice rich, low, and painfully familiar.
Their lips touched. Deep. Slow. Gavon’s knees almost gave out from the intensity.
The stranger—no, not a stranger anymore—slid his hands down Gavon’s back, pressing their bodies together. Gavon could feel every inch, every breath. His own hands wandered. The man groaned.
Heat. Friction. A sharp gasp.
Then nothing.
He woke up panting, heart thudding wildly, body flushed. His underwear clung damply to his skin.
But the dream… it faded fast. Like mist. The details slipped away as the morning light crept in.
Knock knock.
A soft tap on the door. Gavon sat up, disoriented. Effie stretched and jumped off the bed without a care.
Bruno’s voice followed. “Hey, I made coffee. Thought you might want some.”
Gavon threw on a t-shirt and opened the door. Bruno stood there with two mugs, one already half-sipped. His hair was messy. His smile was warm.
“Rough night?” he asked.
Gavon blinked, took the coffee. “Yeah… just weird dreams.”
Bruno walked past him into the kitchen like he belonged there.
“Weird good or weird bad?”
“I… I don’t know,” Gavon replied honestly, rubbing his neck.
Bruno leaned against the counter, sipping. “Maybe you need a break. Clear your head. Wanna go out this weekend? Just chill. Maybe a short trip?”
Gavon looked at him. The easy presence. The comfort.
And yet… the dream still lingered in his chest, like a warning or a pull.
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”
But inside, something whispered:
He’s not the one you’re dreaming about.
He tossed in bed, the sheets twisted around his legs, Effie curled at his feet, undisturbed by his restlessness. The sushi dinner, Izzy’s easy banter, Bruno’s warm presence… it should’ve lulled him into sleep. Instead, his thoughts were thick with shadows and heat.
He drifted.
And in the dream, he was back on the train. But it wasn’t just a rerun—this time, the bearded man was closer. His eyes didn’t just meet Gavon’s; they pierced through him.
Gavon stood still. The man approached slowly, deliberately. He reached out, cupping Gavon’s face with both hands.
“I’ve been waiting,” the man said, voice rich, low, and painfully familiar.
Their lips touched. Deep. Slow. Gavon’s knees almost gave out from the intensity.
The stranger—no, not a stranger anymore—slid his hands down Gavon’s back, pressing their bodies together. Gavon could feel every inch, every breath. His own hands wandered. The man groaned.
Heat. Friction. A sharp gasp.
Then nothing.
He woke up panting, heart thudding wildly, body flushed. His underwear clung damply to his skin.
But the dream… it faded fast. Like mist. The details slipped away as the morning light crept in.
Knock knock.
A soft tap on the door. Gavon sat up, disoriented. Effie stretched and jumped off the bed without a care.
Bruno’s voice followed. “Hey, I made coffee. Thought you might want some.”
Gavon threw on a t-shirt and opened the door. Bruno stood there with two mugs, one already half-sipped. His hair was messy. His smile was warm.
“Rough night?” he asked.
Gavon blinked, took the coffee. “Yeah… just weird dreams.”
Bruno walked past him into the kitchen like he belonged there.
“Weird good or weird bad?”
“I… I don’t know,” Gavon replied honestly, rubbing his neck.
Bruno leaned against the counter, sipping. “Maybe you need a break. Clear your head. Wanna go out this weekend? Just chill. Maybe a short trip?”
Gavon looked at him. The easy presence. The comfort.
And yet… the dream still lingered in his chest, like a warning or a pull.
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”
But inside, something whispered:
He’s not the one you’re dreaming about.
