It must have been close to eight in the morning when José felt the bed beside him empty, the side that had held Carlos now growing cold.

He opened his eyes and saw Carlos, back turned, getting dressed.

All the memories of yesterday, the few hours that had just passed, hit him like a whirlwind.

The night had been full, in every way. José had wanted to do something, something more with Carlos, but he didn’t know what or how. He had felt embarrassed having to admit that he didn’t know what to do. He had never experienced anything like this before with a man. He had also been shy because Carlos had thought of everything, from small details to bigger things. He had felt awkward when he couldn’t manage what he wanted, no matter how much help Carlos offered. He had been ready to give up, but Carlos was always there, reassuring him, helping him. They had laughed together a lot, made a mess of things, and in the end, enjoyed themselves.

They had tried a few times, gradually finding comfort and connection together.

José thought about closing his eyes and pretending to sleep. He didn’t want to talk about yesterday, about what had happened. He wanted to avoid it. He didn’t know what to say. What could he even ask? “Did you have a good time last night?” Or maybe, “Did you enjoy just hanging out?”

Carlos turned. Their eyes met. Now he couldn’t pretend to sleep. The corners of his lips were turned down.

“I…” Carlos stopped. Then he grabbed his jacket and his phone from the nightstand. He fiddled with it in his hands. “I have to go.”

José swallowed and shook his head. He sat up slightly in bed and covered himself. “Yes, I mean yes, of course,” he said. That would be better. They could have a little time alone, to think. To…

Click.

The door closed behind Carlos.

Just as he had come and taken over José’s mind and heart, he had left.

But this time José didn’t feel sadness or anger. He felt more vulnerable than ever, but he didn’t cry. He wasn’t the same as before. No matter how much Carlos had come into his life, he had never felt this way with anyone else. He knew the consequences of his actions. He knew. But he didn’t care. For some reason, he let himself dream for a little while. And he imagined just one moment, finding them together in the morning, at dawn.

He was indulging in a fantasy. It was only a one-night dream, a one-night stand.

It probably would never happen again.

It shouldn’t ever happen again.