The clock read almost midnight when Braian entered his hotel room. His shoes were the first to fly into a random corner, followed by the loosened tie and the jacket tossed carelessly over the armchair. The mirror stared at him with the coldness of someone who knew too much. The reflection showed a tired man, with red eyes and shoulders curved by the weight of the past.
He fell sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling the day spread through his bones. The meeting with the Brazilian federal team had been tense. Not because of the mission itself — logistics were something he mastered with expertise. But because of Luiz Felipe's presence. The man who was once everything. And who now... was a complete stranger.
Or almost.
Braian could still recognize the mannerisms. The look of distrust, the way he crossed his arms when he wanted to seem unshakable, but was uncomfortable. The deep voice, which always gave him chills, even now that it came loaded with formality and distance.
It was like seeing a ghost. But one that breathed, walked, and... didn't recognize him.
He got up and went to the suitcase. From a secret compartment, he removed a small dark wooden box. It was small, simple… but it kept what was left of a love interrupted by fate. Memories that Braian tried to keep alive, even if only for himself.
He sat back on the bed and carefully opened the lid. Inside, some photos, a broken watch, and a leather bracelet with two initials engraved: L & B.
He picked up one of the photos with trembling hands. It was his favorite. He and Luiz lying on the grass, laughing, their faces close together. The sun reflected in Luiz's brown eyes, who looked at him with that mixture of tenderness and desire that made Braian forget the world.
He ran his thumb over Luiz's face in the image.
"“You still exist inside me, you know?”" he murmured. "“Every piece of me… is still yours.”"
He closed his eyes, and the flashbacks came like an avalanche.
Flashback 1:
Luiz pushing him against a wall in the university hallway, eyes shining with contained passion.
"“If you keep provoking me like this, Braian, I swear we're going to miss class... again.”"
Braian smiled, cheeky, pulling Luiz by the tie.
"“And would that be a problem?”"
The kiss that followed was urgent, hungry, as if they knew the time they had was limited. The wall, a mute witness to a love that grew hidden between the cold corridors of the university.
Flashback 2:
Braian waking up on a cold dawn, curled up on the small sofa in their apartment. Luiz appeared with a blanket, in rumpled pajamas, sleepy eyes.
"“I don't like sleeping without you.”"
And he lay down next to him, even though there wasn't enough space. They slept embraced, tight, but happy. It was simple. It was intense. It was real.
Back to the present.
Braian wiped away a tear that escaped. He didn't cry often, but now... it was impossible to contain.
The cell phone vibrated on the bedside table.
Clarice. A video call.
He hesitated, took a deep breath, and answered.
"“You have that look of someone who's seen a ghost.”" she said, bluntly, as always.
"“More or less.”" he smiled, tired, his eyes heavy with memories.
"What happened?"
""Luiz is alive, Clarice.
"what do you mean...."alive"?"
Braian nodded, without speaking. The silence spoke for him.
Clarice was silent for a while, just watching her friend with that look of someone who knew more than she said.
"“You want to run away, don't you?”"
"“I've been thinking about it all day.”" he admitted. "“But running away has never been my style.”"
She smiled tenderly. That tenderness that only true friends knew how to offer.
"He doesn't remember me...."
"“Braian, you don't have to do anything now. Just… breathe. But remember one thing: the love you lived was real. Even if he doesn't remember, you remember. And that says a lot.”"
"“It says that I still love someone who no longer knows who I am.”" he murmured, his voice choked.
"“Then make him remember. Little by little, with time, with calm. And if it's not possible... at least you tried.”"
Braian looked at the photo once more, as if the image could guide him back to some safe place.
"“I just wanted him to look at me that way again... as if I were the only safe place in the world.”"
Clarice took a deep breath, moved.
"“Maybe he'll look like that again. But until then... keep being you. Because this Braian who loves so strongly? It's impossible to forget.”"
(Braian's thought):
"I don't know if you'll remember us, Luiz... But I'll be here. Waiting for the moment when your eyes meet mine and, even if for a second, recognize the love we shared. Because we are still here. In fragments."
Hotel balcony. Rainy dawn.
Braian was sitting alone on the small balcony of the hotel room, a cup of bitter coffee in his hands, while thin raindrops dripped from the awning above. The city was plunged into silence, and so was he.
The wind carried a familiar smell of wet earth — the same smell as that night. The night of the accident. The smell was etched in his memory as an alert, an olfactory scar that arose every time the pain threatened to return.
He closed his eyes slowly, feeling the pain rise like a tide, until it swallowed everything.
""Even if you had died… I couldn't have moved on, you know?"" he murmured, looking at the cloudy sky. ""But you didn't die, Luiz. You just... forgot.
That's what hurt the most. Luiz was alive, but had been taken by a more cruel type of death: that of oblivion.
Braian picked up his cell phone and opened the hidden gallery. There was a photo there that he had kept with almost religious zeal. Luiz sleeping on his lap, with a slight smile on his lips. They were on any weekend, in an isolated cabin. No clocks. No rush. No fear.
The simple happiness stamped on the face of the man who now looked at him like a stranger.
Braian slid his finger across the screen, as if he could touch that time. As if he could go back there.
""You used to call me ‘my personal sun’… remember that?"" he laughed, with a lump in his throat. ""You said that even on cloudy days, I made you see color.
The sky thundered in the background, as if the universe heard, or responded. Maybe both.
He closed the gallery. Opened the messaging app. Wrote to Luiz. One, two, three times. Deleted them all.
But, on the fourth, he left the message there, in the draft:
“If somewhere inside you, there is still a trace of us… please, find me.”
He didn't send it. He just locked the screen and stayed there, listening to the rain fall and trying to sew his heart with memories that no longer belonged to the present.
And even so… he couldn't stop loving.
Because some scars, even invisible, continue to hurt.
And the name of that pain… was Luiz Felipo.
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