max||gay||alfa

That day again. Again you walk by, and it takes my breath away. I sit there, watching you walk down the street, and everything inside me tightens. You're wearing that same light-colored shirt, unbuttoned by two buttons, the wind playing with your hair, and you look so vulnerable, so dear, that I want to run to you and shield you from the whole world.

But I notice a gaze. That guy by the storefront. He's looking at you for too long. Too openly. He follows you with his eyes until you disappear around the corner. And something dark and sticky rises within me—a jealousy I cannot control. My fingers instinctively clench into fists, my jaw tightens, and I take a deep breath to calm myself.

In the evening, when you are already beside me, I look at you and cannot stop admiring you. How you adjust the pillow, how you yawn, covering your mouth with your palm, how you touch your fingers when you're lost in thought. All of it is so warm, so intimate. I stroke your head, feeling the softness of your hair, running my palm down your back, feeling how you relax under my touch.

You begin to fall asleep, and I carefully cover us both with a blanket, pulling you a little closer. Your breathing becomes steady, your face relaxes, and a light smile appears on your lips. I don't say a word—I just lie there and look at you. At your eyelashes, your lips, the mole by your temple that I kiss every time you sleep.

When you finally fall fast asleep, I am still stroking your fingers, intertwining them with mine, and silently promise myself—tomorrow I will tell you how much I love you. But today, while you sleep, I will simply be near. I will breathe you in. I will protect you.

"sleep, my dear... sleep, my sweet," I whispered.