Monday morning came with soft skies and the promise of rain.
Bruno had offered to drive Gavon back after their short weekend trip. The road was smooth, dotted with puddles and trees blurred by mist. Inside the truck, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was warm, filled with unspoken thoughts and music playing low through the speakers.
Gavon leaned against the window, watching the water trail along the glass. Effie was curled in her soft carrier in the backseat, completely unbothered.
“I liked getting away,” Bruno said eventually, one hand on the steering wheel, the other tapping gently to the rhythm.
“Me too,” Gavon replied.
“Thanks for coming.”
Gavon turned to him. “You’re thanking me for letting you drive me?”
Bruno grinned, glancing sideways. “You made it better. The drive. The company.”
There was something in his tone. Not quite a confession. Not quite a tease.
They didn’t say more.
Back at the apartment, the routine returned quickly. Bruno helped Gavon unload the bags, set Effie’s things in the kitchen, and then stood in the living room like he wasn’t sure what to do next.
“I can stay a bit,” he said.
“You don’t have to,” Gavon replied, not unkindly.
“I know.”
They stood facing each other. Gavon, in his hoodie. Bruno, in that too-tight t-shirt that did things to Gavon’s concentration.
And then, slowly, Bruno stepped forward.
He didn’t rush. He didn’t ask.
He just leaned in, eyes soft, and kissed Gavon—lightly at first, a brush, a question.
Gavon answered with his mouth.
The kiss deepened. Their bodies pressed close. Gavon’s hand slid to Bruno’s waist; Bruno cupped the back of his neck.
When they parted, breath short, Gavon whispered, “I didn’t expect that.”
Bruno’s forehead rested against his. “I did.”
Effie meowed from the kitchen, unimpressed.
They both laughed, quietly.
And just like that, something shifted again. Not quite the dream. Not quite the stranger.
But something real.
And for now, that was enough.
Bruno had offered to drive Gavon back after their short weekend trip. The road was smooth, dotted with puddles and trees blurred by mist. Inside the truck, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was warm, filled with unspoken thoughts and music playing low through the speakers.
Gavon leaned against the window, watching the water trail along the glass. Effie was curled in her soft carrier in the backseat, completely unbothered.
“I liked getting away,” Bruno said eventually, one hand on the steering wheel, the other tapping gently to the rhythm.
“Me too,” Gavon replied.
“Thanks for coming.”
Gavon turned to him. “You’re thanking me for letting you drive me?”
Bruno grinned, glancing sideways. “You made it better. The drive. The company.”
There was something in his tone. Not quite a confession. Not quite a tease.
They didn’t say more.
Back at the apartment, the routine returned quickly. Bruno helped Gavon unload the bags, set Effie’s things in the kitchen, and then stood in the living room like he wasn’t sure what to do next.
“I can stay a bit,” he said.
“You don’t have to,” Gavon replied, not unkindly.
“I know.”
They stood facing each other. Gavon, in his hoodie. Bruno, in that too-tight t-shirt that did things to Gavon’s concentration.
And then, slowly, Bruno stepped forward.
He didn’t rush. He didn’t ask.
He just leaned in, eyes soft, and kissed Gavon—lightly at first, a brush, a question.
Gavon answered with his mouth.
The kiss deepened. Their bodies pressed close. Gavon’s hand slid to Bruno’s waist; Bruno cupped the back of his neck.
When they parted, breath short, Gavon whispered, “I didn’t expect that.”
Bruno’s forehead rested against his. “I did.”
Effie meowed from the kitchen, unimpressed.
They both laughed, quietly.
And just like that, something shifted again. Not quite the dream. Not quite the stranger.
But something real.
And for now, that was enough.
