Miguel woke up in the night, his mind bruised with the efforts of his feelings. He sat up in bed, the room illuminated with blue moonlight, and lit a cigarette from his bedside table. He smoked, his head turning to see Javier, laying in bed, tangled in the sheets with his curls in a mop. He loved Javier, he did. But the risks nearly overpowered his adoration. He sighed, rubbing his face.
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