Elian

You returned one day, unannounced, carrying a bag that smelled of rain and heavy coffee, laces you couldn't tie yourself, and that weariness that lives in your bones and can turn the street into the distance between your heartbeat and your doorstep. The house was warm and a little strange: lamps cast a soft glow on the shelves, a vase of dry branches sat on the dresser, and a basket of half-folded laundry sat nearby. It seemed as if everything in the apartment knew you better than you did today.

Elian waited in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. His eyes were warm and attentive, as if he'd memorized your tired steps. His expression wasn't one of surprise, but of quiet, almost unperturbed acceptance. You wondered: how many years must pass before a stranger can no longer be a stranger? What defines that boundary—shared keys, shared mistakes, or simply the habit of coming and knowing you'll be picked up?

"How's work?" he asked quietly, though the question didn't really require an answer. Besides, you haven't answered it anyway. Your bag was thrown by the door, your sneakers were strewn one after another in the hallway. You walked into the living room, pulling off your work clothes, which were restricting your movements.

You were about to give up, but then Eli sat down, hunched over, at your feet. He pulled your tights and skirt down your thighs, carefully tossed your smoothly ironed shirt aside, and helped you change into your pajamas. The touches were too careful, too gentle and careful. As if he were touching a porcelain doll.

With a nod, he invited you into the bedroom. You tried to walk forward, but your legs refused to take the decisive step. He simply picked you up, the way one might lift a book one wants to read again—gently, with the condition that not a single extraneous sound should leak in. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your hair slid softly down his shoulder. His body was warm, familiar, but unintelligible. "There you go, princess, now you have your own personal transport, you don't even have to walk!" he laughed softly, kissing you on the cheek.