The meadow is completely bathed in the darkness of the Hour of Dreams when they come to visit it. Soft flutters descend from the heavens, resting on the buds that timidly adorned the orchard. Their very presence seems to shake the winter spell that keeps every scion, bud and sprout asleep; and around them, the Wind dances, eager to carry the most delicate fragrances and caress the soft petals. The delicate murmur of spring alerts everyone that the moment had arrived. And in the firmament, the Moon bents to watch expectantly as the fairies start their work.

The first to start the dance gently shocks her feet on a yellow cocoon before performing graceful jumps and turns to announce to her sleeping friend that the moment of flowering had arrived. All the eyes of the world seem to alight upon her, watching in wonder as a daisy blossomed under her skillful feet, petal followed by petal, step after step. Around her, dozens of fairies imitate her actions, bringing to life all the sleepy plants. The tulips open their eyes amazed by the delicate movements of arms, the gardenias are impressed with the jumps, the dahlias are enthusiastic about the turns, the roses sigh with the waltzes and the hydrangeas cannot ignore the elaborate rounds that were interpreted on their heads.

And so, little by little, under the watchful eye of the stars, the world is filled with colors and smells, celebrating a magical party of life. Quickly the carnations, freesias, chrysanthemums, daffodils, and lilies awake from their sleep and the branches of the trees are dyed with green, leaving the winter behind. Soon the song that can only be heard by those who belong to the world of the fairies resounds through the skies, and the skirts turn, the petals flutter, the leaves move; creating a vortex of joy and happiness, stealing luminous smiles from the firmament.

But a little further away from the revelry there is a fairy fluttering with determination towards the garden of a country house. His eyes are fixed on a cocoon that lays forgotten in a pot by one of its windows, and unable to leave any flower condemned to an eternal dream he directs his wings to help her. The little green button seems to sigh in relief even in dreams when she perceives it, and the fairy hurries. He stands on the tips of his feet stretching as long as he is, and closing his eyes he starts to spin around the cocoon, making elegant poses combined with twists and low jumps, which released his magic little by little, like a soft tingling that gently shocks the young Poppy awake. And so, little by little, and petal after petal, the flower wakes up between yawns, opening more and more with each new step of the fairy.

When the fairy senses that it would only take him a couple more turns for the heart of the Poppy to return to beat, he makes one last jump and crowns his spring dance with a series of increasingly fast turns. Finally, the Poppy spreads her leaves and stretches her stem upright; finally, the god of dreams frees her from its protective embrace. And so, the fairy starts to open his eyes softly to admire how the belt of red petals opens in all her splendor and glimpse the world that revolves around him. And he would have stayed like that until he had finished with the last carmine corolla if he had not caught out of the corner of his eyes something moving inside the human home.

The poor fairy shivers from head to toe, hiding behind the pot of the Poppy. With his whole body cringed in sheer terror and his soul in a fist, he encourages himself to look through the leaves and ascertain that no one had seen him. His gaze slides across the room whose lights had been lit at some point during his dance. The floor is made of glossy wood, at the bottom some golden cups and small statues rest on shelves. At the opposite end, a low table is adorned with a vase full of dying roses, and a pair of chairs are arranged near windows as big as doors. In the middle of all, a small clock hangs on the wall marking the seconds with taciturn constancy.

The only interesting thing is happening in the center of the room.

Standing with elegance and advancing with precision, a human with hair colored like the Sun and emerald eyes dances alone, without even music to accompany him. His steps are fast and slow at the same time, and he had a lightness of feet that is rarely seen in non-magical creatures. His arms are raised, guiding an invisible companion in an extraordinary exchange of turns and poses. Soon he is pulling his partner away from him with pain, and with the same alacrity he brings them closer to his torso and wraps them in a longing embrace. And so, slowly, a story of passion and torment is drawn by his solitary and prodigious walk.

The coppery eyes of the fairy shine with excitement, hypnotized with each of the human's movements. Never in his thousands of years of existence had he seen such dance. It does not look alike the waltzes that fascinated the fine flowers, nor to the animated rhythms that drew the most colorful of their torpor. No, the fairy could not even imagine what kind of flower would be attracted to such movements, but he was sure that it might be very beautiful. Certainly one of the most beautiful flowers in the whole world.

Forgetting all fear of being spotted by the man lost in the passion of his dance, the young fairy stands up and, imitating the position of his arms and feet, tries to follow each of his steps, but the pace is much more inconstant than what he is used to dancing and soon he ends tangled up with his own feet and sliding in a split to the floor. The Poppy next to him watches him confused, too sleepy still to understand what was happening, and the fairy's cheeks are dyed with the same carmine of her petals, seized by shame. It is unthinkable that a human could be better than him on what he was born for, but even so, the movements of the one with golden hair seem to surpass his abilities.

Soon the dance stops. The lights go out and the human disappears behind a door with an indecipherable expression. The gentle caress of the moon's rays is succeeded by the greeting of the Sun in the sky, and the fairy dance is replaced by the peaceful stillness of the first spring morning. But the excitement in the heart of the fairy who sits next to the Poppy could not be replaced by tranquillity, as the memories of the hypnotic dance remained in his mind, and the desire to emulate it traveled through his body from head to toe.

No, when a whim takes hold of the thoughts of a fairy, there is no force in the world capable of preventing the stubborn creatures from fulfilling their purpose.

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The man meets him at once, waiting behind his French doors with an arm resting on his waist, and had to take a few seconds to recover from the shock. When he looks up again to make sure he had not imagined it, the boy is still there with his coppery eyes fixed on him. Hair with the color of chestnuts, smooth skin, and pink cheeks receive him with attentive vigilance; slender build and medium height, the young man wears a sleeveless carmine shirt that fit his torso perfectly and that is released at the height of his waist in some kind of skirt that descends to the beginning of his legs. Under it white tights, and on his feet crimson ballerinas.

The emerald gaze goes back and forth a couple of times, unable to understand what is a ballet dancer doing in the middle of his garden, spying on him without any brazenness. But he does not have much time to think about it, because with his free hand the strange young man knocks on the door frame, demanding to be attended.

"Good morning," the man mutters, opening the door just a little, still confused with the situation.

But the fairy, who although walks disguised as a human, knows little about the ways of mortals, cannot understand that it is a greeting and only manages to nod gently as a response. After all, there are no better mornings for a fairy than those at the beginning of spring.

"I plead Your Grace to teach me how to dance like you." He explains quickly, without twists.

The man looks at him self-absorbed, and the fairy wonders if there was something in his appearance that showed signs of his artifice.

"Do you want me to teach you how to dance tango?" The human asks, making sure he has understood.

"Tango," he repeats with delight, savoring the word in his mouth. "Yes, that's what I want," he assures him, eager to start.

"And you came all the way here to ask me to teach you?" He questions, half-offended and half-amused by the audacity of the mysterious young man.

"You do not have to fear for my spirit and energy, because my trip has not been as long as you imagine, nor my journey tiring," the fairy reassures him. "When can we start?"

"And why should I teach you to dance, if I can ask?" The human again questions with a smile slipping from his lips, every second more fascinated by his indecipherable visit.

The fairy frowns, confused and angry at the unnecessary delay. "If the reward is what worries you, you must not fear, whatever wealth of your ambition I can provide." And looking towards the golden glasses resting at the back of the room he adds. "If it is gold that pleases you, gold you will have."

And the human with hair bathed in the color of the fire has to cover his mouth to keep himself from laughing. That boy could not be weirder, and yet there is something captivating in his presence that prevents him from dispatching him immediately.

"What if I do not treasure gold or wealth?" The owner of the house presses him again.

The fairy stares at him in complete confusion. It is well-known among all the magical beings that there is no human whose heart does not ambition something, such is the nature of their race, and so it would remain until the end of all time. Clearly, the man was hiding the truth behind his smile, and in front of lies a fairy does not know how to act.

"For the pleasure of sharing the beauty and joy of a dance, there is no sacrifice too great." He ventures to say, wishing intensely that his words would convince him. But, would there be such noble thoughts within such simple minds?

The man stares at him, surprised. And an unusual brightness summons a smile into the emeralds of his eyes. A new revision from head to toe and a sigh is needed before the door opens fully for his visit, and the fairy comes in quickly, waiting expectantly in the middle of the dance floor.

"Shall we start now?" He asks with a victorious smile, too excited to think for more than a few moments that this justification was not enough payment for the favor that was being granted. But he dismisses the worry quickly; after all, it would not take more than a few days to discover what the man truly longes for, and consequently, give it to him as a reward. No illustrious fairy would ever keep unpaid debts, let alone with mortals.

"Wait a minute, I have not accepted yet," he warns, approaching him and extending his hand. "Let's start from the beginning: Martín Hernández." He introduces himself.

And the fairy gently put his hand on the man's, without shaking or squeezing; not sure what he was asking.

Martín does not miss the opportunity to seductively kiss the torso of his hand, winking at him in an accomplice way; but again, the ways of the men were unknown to the poor fairy, and he only managed to withdraw his hand with discomfort.

"And your name is?" Martín urges, eager to conclude the presentations.

The fairy swiftly opens his mouth to answer him but stops when he remembers that there are no words in any human language that could match the sound of moonbeams on carmine petals nor mortal ears that understand the language of fairies. He only could tell the truth. "I do not have any of your names."

Martín raises an eyebrow, amused. "I like how you act mysteriously, but if I'm going to teach you I need some way to call you."

"In that case, you can give me whatever name would please you." The fairy states, frowning impatiently.

Martín takes his time to examine the young man. He studies his face carefully and circles him as if he expected to find a label with his name written on it. Finally, he announces that his visitor had the appearance of a Manuel, and the fairy does not question it nor object it.

"Well Manuel, I'm not sure how you did it, but you have me quite convinced. I just need one thing." Martín says sitting in one of the chairs that are waiting next to his coffee table. And before the fairy could respond, he adds. "No matter how nicely dressed you came, I need to know how light your feet are and how great your abilities before accepting you as my student." He states, making himself comfortable. "Show me that you know how to dance and I'm all yours."

The fairy could not help smiling from ear to ear, completely pleased with the agreement. And retreating calmly a couple of steps, he stands in front of Martín with one of his arms stretching towards the ceiling in an elegant pose, resisting a few seconds before starting his dance.

Manuel raises one of his legs with his knee bent, and lowers it again with great grace, crossing his feet behind him and fully stretching his leg over his head before advancing the first steps. A turn follows other poses, and soon Manuel finds himself making delicate jumps that every professional dancer would envy, and skillful pirouettes that would leave anyone without air. Each one of his gestures and movements possesses an innate fluidity and naturalness that made it impossible to take his eyes off him. And Martín soon found himself envying the fine fabric that swirls around Manuel's waist and imagining what kind of tango would be invoked by someone so experienced in the art of dance. The fairy makes a series of turns that seem to awaken the sweet memory of violins in the mind of the man, and with extreme parsimony, he concludes his presentation in the same pose in which he had begun. He remains still for just a moment, before turning his face with emotion, wanting to see the blond's reaction.

But he already knows what his response would be.

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In the next few days, Martín discovers that all the grace and elegance that Manuel's body possesses vanishes completely when dancing tango. The feet of the dancer cannot coordinate when the rhythm of the songs changes from slow to fast and vice versa, his movements are either too delicate or too abrupt, and he never manages to get in tune with the tone of each song. Worse still, Manuel does not understand in the least the kind of emotions that should unfold when dancing a tango, and even the few times he manages to perform the steps correctly his interpretation is flat and empty, nothing compared to what he has shown him he is capable of.

But in spite of everything Martín has to admit that the will of the chestnut boy is unbreakable, and his passion infinite. The coppery eyes shine brightly each time the blond gives him advice or teach him a new step, and he never stops practicing until he manages to imitate him perfectly. The Argentine believes he has finally found someone whose love for tango is as great as his. And even when his student makes mistakes, Martín cannot help but smile with affection because Manuel's blunders are probably the most graceful he had ever seen.

Martín's life begins to fill with Manuel. Every morning he finds the boy waiting for him in his backyard, and every morning he smiles from ear to ear when he hears him complain about how much he made him wait, even when he invites him to enter before the agreed time. The days slid by seeing Manuel practice, first with a broom between his arms to ensure a correct position, and then with Martín holding him in the back to correct some gesture or to guide him through the track. And little by little his body forgets the mistakes, eliminating the clumsiness and learning to behave with the necessary style and stamp.

Soon Manuel seems to understand how to talk to humans, and their conversations become longer and more habitual. The archaic way he had learned from his older sisters blossom into one more relaxed and informal, and he realizes that in futilities lay the trick to satisfying any mortal. And Martín seems to love talking. From him Manuel discovers that he has dedicated his life to dance, that he learned to dance when he was still a child (which was only two decades ago), that he came there from distant lands, and that the cups and statues he possesses were gifts granted for being the best tango dancer in all the kingdoms he has visited.

And although Manuel can hardly give vague answers about who is he, what is he doing, where he lives and how many years he has been living in that world; he has no problem in reciprocating his confidences by telling him about his favorite flowers, or how beautiful the stars looks in the middle of the night, how kind the wind blow is, and how much he likes the morning dew to bathe his skin. And Martín seems content with knowing that the color red is his favorite and that he learned to dance all sorts of things since he was very young, because every time he tells him something a smile appears on his face and his eyes look at him with an intense brightness, as if he fully understands the beauties of which the fairy speaks about.

Manuel also discovered that Martín is not the kind of human he has heard of. The anecdotes that spoke of wars, hatred, lies, and selfishness does not seem to reach him; and the fairy can only glimpse goodness and joy in him. There are only a smile and a happy comment when his fickle temperament explodes, nor less than a compliment and a sentence of encouragement every time he makes a mistake. Besides, his manners towards him are impeccable, his smile dazzling, and his features as dashing as those of any prince he has ever heard of; and so the fairy has no doubt that he has gained himself the company of the most illustrious of humans. It is thus that with time he learned to enjoy not only the dance but also his sympathy.

There were days where Manuel's inhuman resistance made them forget about the passing of the hours, and neither of them tasted a bite until their stomachs begged them desperately to eat. And there were many more times in which Martín had to drag him into his kitchen with the threat of not training him anymore if he did not eat something. He soon learns that Manuel only seems to eat fruits and vegetables in very small portions; and that it does no matter how many times he assures him that no diet is necessary for him, who is already perfect, his student's appetite is never enough to finish a dish. The poor fairy, who does not get any benefit or pleasure from it, struggles every day to chew on a couple of things to make him happy, although Martín is never completely satisfied with his attempts.

The solution to his problems came fortuitously one day when Martín tried to tempt him with one of his alfajores, worried after Manuel only nibbled a couple of pieces of apple. The soft taste of chocolate and dulce de leche in his mouth illuminated the face of the fairy who, although still not adept of human food, could recognize that the sweets were their greatest delights. From then on Martín started to order pies and cakes for his disciple so as not to see him faint in the middle of his ballroom. Besides, everything was worth it if he could glimpse the dazzling smile and the delicate blush of joy that colored the cheeks of the one with brown hair.

With the weeks, the feet of Manuel recovers his innate ability and learns to vary the speed and to control the technique. His movements became as precise as those of his teacher, and his naturalness and flexibility began to favor him when interpreting the pieces. But Martín still cannot see passion or desire in any of Manuel's steps, no matter how elegant and impressive his tricks are. And even though it is not something he can teach him, and he promised himself not to accompany him at his dances, he soon finds himself leading the way, completely lost between his coppery eyes.

Manuel is shorter than him and weights almost nothing. He does not have to exert any effort to guide his light feet through the music, and lifting or dragging him across the floor is no problem. He is also able to stretch in a split without even blinking, accompany him in the most complicated series of steps without even letting go a drop of sweat, and raises his legs well above his head. Everything in him made him the perfect companion with whom Martín had always dreamed.

And although he once again tries to keep his distance and not be guided by his feelings, it is difficult not to be tempted by Manuel's beautiful face, or his sweet innocence, the intelligent brightness of his eyes, his enigmatic but captivating personality. His hand starts to slide closer and closer to Manuel's waist, and his contact becomes tighter. For the first time in all his years of practice, Martín does not have to pretend that his soul aches with every step that separates them even a few inches nor worry about his eyes and hands wandering the skin of his partner with supplicating longing. Soon it became a game of will to bring his face closer to the chestnut boy without stealing a kiss, and his classes extended until the Sun disappeared from the sky and Manuel ended up fleeing from his arms.

Every time he impresses Manuel with a movement and his eyes shine excitedly, Martín feels younger. Each time a surprised gasp escapes from the pink lips, followed by a smile, Martín cannot contain the tingle that flutters in his stomach. And he wants to stay that way forever, dancing tango with Manuel for eternity without worries, in a game of interminable seduction. But Martín is out of breath much faster than he wants, and soon he has to yield Manuel to his invisible rival, and content himself with stealing smiles from him every time he delivers a compliment.

And although Manuel does not want to admit it, he is already starting to wish he was not a fairy so he could stay and dance the whole night with Martín without fear of transforming before his eyes. And thus, be able to feel the electrifying tingle that seizes him each time the blond lifts him firmly, the delicious tremor that ran through him every time his eyes met, and the exciting beat of his heart without any pause or farewell interrupt it. There is nothing in the world that could hide his blushes whenever the human flatters him, neither is greater satisfaction than to illuminate the emeralds with emotion and bring a smile to his mouth. Manuel can even swear that all happiness of the past is opaque compared to the one he shares with the man of golden hair.

And so, even though Manuel does not know what is to enter through the main door, the metaphors passes over his head, does not understand half of his jokes, and sometimes is too direct and a little grumpy; Martín learns to love all his peculiarities. And although Martín is a human, Manuel finds fewer and fewer defects in him and start to love him even with his heart prone to inconstancy, and above all the beautiful and perfect things that his fairy eyes had known before.

But Martín is always sad and tired, Manuel can tell it. The melancholy is there in his eyes every time he thinks the fairy cannot see him, occupied in his lonely dance. And it is there every time the fairy's eyes spy him in the night, when he can no longer resist the separation and he watches him through the window, leaving all the flowers of the world behind in order to see him again. But the fairy, although every day understands more about humans, does not know what to do to fix a heart in pain, because his own, too young and pure, has not found any pain until that day when he discovered misfortunes in the other. Therefore, he does the only thing he can do to bring joy to the world.

Each time they separate for Martín to recover his breath, Manuel rejects his invisible companion and instead begins to interpret pieces for Martín. At first, the fairy feel ashamed of himself and fears that his attempts would not give results; after all, flowers and hearts had nothing in common. But after checking that the golden-haired man looked at him hypnotized after each turn and jump he is sure that his dances not only can wake the spring but could also light the hearts. And although there are few more addictive things than dancing tango with Martín, capturing his look with the dance is close enough, no matter how embarrassingly conceited those thoughts are.

And dancing ceases to be his whole life, and it begins to be a gift for that other who is now part of it. And while there are times when Martín prefers to just sit and share a hug, or hold hands while regaining his composure; Manuel does not lose hope that one day his dance would end all the problems of the man with hair colored like the Sun and finally his debt would be paid. Even if that means, unfortunately, having no reason to stay or any impediment to entertain flowers with his new skill.

Because Manuel loves Martín with that pure and innocent love of the fairies and is willing to do anything to bring happiness to his beloved.

His first and only love

That is why, when Martín gets up from his seat with fire in his eyes and takes him by the waist to return him to the center of the dancing floor, Manuel cannot repress a sweet sigh. With a smile he allows himself to be guided by the blond's expert arms, tightening his torso to the taller one, and tangling his legs between the other's in a series of steps that steal gasps of emotion from his mouth. A turn, a jump, and then another turn separates them before the Martín's arms claim him back. And it is then, when Martín bends him backward, holding him firmly with one hand on his back and the other on his thigh, that it happens: copper and emerald meet and although the music keeps sounding neither of them can move.

When the violins begin to announce the crescendo, Martín finally gathers the necessary strength to dare to bring their faces closer and, if the owner of all his thoughts allowed it, to kiss the sweet mouth with which he has been dreaming for more than a month. And although Manuel is afraid that the emotions that seize him at that moment are too strong that he may end up forgetting to keep hidden behind his disguise; he cannot avoid putting his arms around Martín's neck and closing his eyes, letting himself be carried away in the wait for the caress of lips that never come.

"Martín Hernández!" A voice calls behind their backs. And the scream is so hard and scathing that both jump scared, forgetting the kiss that still makes their lips tingle expectantly. "What are you supposed to be doing?" Asks a blond man with glasses at the entrance of his ballroom. And Martiín cannot help but try to hide Manuel behind his back while holding his hand tightly.

Because, although he knows that the time has come to face reality and give answers, he is not willing to let him go for anything in the world. Even if it means having to give up his second love in life: tango.

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The fairy fails to understand half of the things that happen since the second man enters the room. It is the first time he sees another human in Martín's house, and he does not know very well who he can be or what else, apart from smiling for sympathy, it is the appropriate conduct in that kind of occasions. His doubts are relieved when Martín presents the stranger as Sebastián, with whom he shares blood ties. But when his turn to greet the other party comes, and Manuel introduces himself as Manuel, no casual conversation becomes present (even though the fairy already had, for his own pride, several answers prepared in his head), and instead, only a deep hatred seems to shine in the eyes of the newcomer.

And although he does not know the human's ways, he is quite sure that Sebastián's treatment during the few minutes they spend together is lacking in manners, since he does not believe he committed any offense for him to be expelled from the family meeting. Less does he feel worthy of the instant indifference and animosity with which he is unfairly treated, but Martín only looks at him with regret in his eyes without saying anything in his favor, and the fairy ends up going to the garden, disappearing on his way to the meadows to the surprise of the visit.

He does not go too far, though.

Manuel buzzes worried, flying to the nearer open window to better hear what is happening. And the cheerful Poppy, who has flourished tirelessly since her first encounter with Manuel, observes him pass by and get infected of the same restlessness that squeezes the fairy's heart. Unfortunately, he does not last long inside. Martín soon discovers him fluttering inside his living room, and almost as if he had recognized him in his new form, he takes him in his hands with delicacy and leads him towards the freedom of the garden, with the acid words of Sebastián eating away at his ears.

His second attempt is hardly more fruitful. This time as a butterfly, Manuel decides to rest on the lovely Poppy, which opens its petals with pride to show him how much she has grown thanks to the constant magic that she drinks from his dances and the spectacular carmine hue that dyes her. But Manuel does not have time to pay attention to those details, too busy trying to get his delicate butterfly ears to catch at least a couple of sentences of what goes on inside. It is well-known by the fairies and all magical beings how angry and violent some humans can be. And although he is sure that Martín's kind soul would never resort to such excesses, he does not know the stranger, and cannot assure that the bonds formed by the family will stop him if at any moment his anger is unleashed.

"... a complete stranger!" Sebastian remarks, and Manuel must not resort to any magic to decipher what they are talking about him.

"I know him very well and that's enough for me." Martín answers, as offended as the little fairy.

"How do you even know what he really wants? How can you be sure that..."

"I am. Manuel would not do anything you're thinking about, he's not like that."

"You're blinding yourself to a pretty face," the man reproached.

And for a moment he could not hear the rest of the discussion, distracted by the murmur of the Wind calling him to give him his bursts and allow him to play between his sighs. But he turned down the invitation cordially as quickly as he could and when he turned his attention back to the discussion the words that confronted him left him even more uneasy than he felt.

"Keep going like this will kill you! And if you do not cast him away, I..."

"You nothing! I don't want you to come near Manuel again." Martín roared, grabbing his cousin's arm with anger in his face, and the little butterfly trembled with fear. He had never seen Martín like that and now he feared that it was he who would explode in a fit of violence against his visitor. "What's more, I don't want to see you again around here," the blond added, dragging the other man back to the front door. "And if you dare to..."

Manuel could not continue listening to them after they disappeared down the corridor, but he hurried to become a robin and flew over Martín's house to perch on the tree at the entrance and see what was happening.

Sebastian sighed in defeat after the door was closed in his face, and with an anguished face entered the metal chariot that was dozing outside Martín's house. The human's honey eyes watched the peaceful façade for a couple of minutes, almost waiting for the door to reopen and reason to enter his cousin's head, but he knew it would not be like that. He finally woke the metal monster and drove his walk away from Martín's place. Manuel watched him disappear down the dirt road, and only flew back to the blond's window when he checked that there was no danger of him returning.

.

He finds Martín sitting in the ballroom, his head hidden in his hands and his eyes looking at the floor. It only took him a few steps to perceive that his soul was conflicted, and he cannot help fearing that he is the cause of all this affliction.

"Martín." He calls softly, pain poking through his eyes. And when the blond looks up surprised that the boy is standing next to him, the fairy can see that his eyes are almost with tears. "Was it my fault?" He asks, drying a drop that has fallen down the human's cheek with his thumb, afraid to hear the answer.

"The fight?" Martín asks, and Manuel nods, diverting his eyes because he doesn't want the man to see the dismay in his eyes. "No, no. Of course not," assures the man, placing a hand on Manuel's and giving him a consoling smile.

"I don't want to cause problems," Manuel insists, still unable to believe his words. Because despite what he saw, he knows that Martín is as kind and gentle as any fairy and that he would do everything possible to avoid pain to others.

But Martín pulls him by the waist and sit him on his legs tenderly. "You do not have to worry about that, you've never been a problem, on the contrary." He comforts him in a tight embrace, resting his nose on the brown hair and inhaling its flowery aroma. "You're the only good thing about this place," he assures him, and Manuel couldn't help but lift his face with his cheeks flushed and his heart pounding.

"The only good thing I've had in years," Martín whispers with bright eyes, gently caressing his cheek. And the fairy is sure that it has never been heard on history so sweet courtship, nor more beautiful words have been shared between another pair of lovers.

That is why, when Martín leans towards his direction, Manuel doesn't waste a second to entangle his arms around his shoulders. And closing his eyes gently, he lets Martín's lips drink from his mouth, and with that, all previous worry vanish before the tingling that floods in his belly and clouds his thoughts. Martín's arms hang from his waist and hold his head, gently pulling him towards himself. And Manuel discovers in his mouth something more charming than a dance, allowing the afternoon to slide slowly, while attached to his lips.

It is only the arrival of the first stars that manage to tear him out of his arms. Because, no matter how pleasurable Martín's kisses are, there is a law that cannot be broken: when the Hour of Dreams makes its way through the night no fairy must be in front of human eyes.

And Manuel does not want to take a chance. Because he has decided to always stay by his side, and if he has to suffer a few hours of separation, that pain would be easily welcome.

For there is no evil that does not bring good; and when love seizes the heart of a fairy, there is no sacrifice in the world capable of preventing them from fulfilling their longing.

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Manuel does not return to visit the meadows or to dance for any flower. His days are spent entangled in the arms of Martín, bathed in gentle caresses. And although he can no longer enjoy full afternoons sharing passionate tangos with Martín, he does not stop dancing for him the most beautiful rhythms that he has ever learned. Because Martín has confessed with regret that he has come to the field to rest and take care of an injury and that he is not supposed to exercise or make any effort at all. And although at the beginning Manuel cannot help but bother with him for having lied to him about something so important, a couple of kisses in his frown and Martín's words of forgiveness are enough for his temper to calm down and for his heart to flood in love again.

And he says to himself that Martín is right, that hiding information is not the same as lying, and that he must never fear that his love deceives him. Because Martín is good and kind, and because his heart is strong and would never fall before the inconstancy and darkness that afflicts other humans.

And so, the weeks go by, only separated when the infamous hour approaches and Manuel must flee from the hugging contact of Martín to take refuge from his gaze until the next dawn. The Moon, faithful companion of afflicted lovers, observes him every night waiting on the roof for the Stars to fade in the sky and the Sun to reign the world. And although the fairy perceives the call of the advanced spring, and his body shakes in a sweet tingling eager to run to the fields and continue his way south in search of more flowers to wake up; Manuel turns his ears deaf and stands firm until the voices of his soul are silenced and a new morning arrives.

Every day he asks Martin anxiously. "Are you going to recover soon?" And every day Martin responds with sweetness, "Only if you keep dancing for me." And to Manuel, it seems like a very wise response so he follows his request, completely ignorant of the kind of conditions that alter human bodies and how to cure them. But it doesn't matter, because Martín loves even the way Manuel walks, and he cannot spend a single day without seeing his face shine with emotion every time he dances for him. And because while following the orders of his doctor and resting, nothing should ruin the idyllic paradise in which Manuel has submerged him.

Or that is what he expects.

Sadly, human longings do not always come true. And one morning Martín wakes up so tired that he is barely able to get out of bed and start his day. But he must pretend, because Manuel greets him with a kiss on the mouth at the moment that he appears in the kitchen, and he looks so beautiful wearing the shirt that Martín has lent him next to the jeans that he has bought him to vary his eternal attire, and so infinitely smiling, that Martin does not have the strength to ruin his day with his problems. And after all, nothing says that it is not due to the hours of sleep that he has lost thinking about how fortunate it is to have Manuel by his side, or how early he has risen.

So, he swallows a couple of extra pills in secret and sits down to have breakfast like any other day, leaving aside his worries. He cannot help but smile with rapture at the expression on Manuel's face when the chestnut boy tells him the happy news that a lark has decided to make his nest in his garden, and the brightness of his eyes as the conversation continues by telling Martín how fascinated he is with the new wonders he devoured from his library. And it is at that moment that Martín realizes that he loves Manuel so much that his chest hurts with pure love. His breath escapes his lips with the sudden realization, making him fall to the floor before the frightened copper eyes.

That is exactly why Martin cannot bear the horror of seeing Manuel completely distraught calling his name, not knowing what to do to help him. He cannot, because Manuel's happiness is the most precious thing he has in the world, and he wants to keep it until the last moment, and even more if possible. So, he makes an effort to send an emergency message to Sebastián, and then make sure to dry the tears that alter the beautiful face of his lover, promising him that everything will be fine. And he knows it's true because he's not ready to let it go yet, and even less without a proper farewell.

But the anguish does not disappear from Manuel's face for more comforting words than Martín recite. And when Sebastián appears as a hurricane and finds him completely mortified, and with Martin carefully huddled in his arms, he even feels ashamed to have doubted of his love for the tango dancer and to have accused him ok taking advantage of his talent. But there is no time for questions or second impressions, and soon they are driving at full speed to the nearest hospital, with Martín well protected in the embrace of the fairy who cannot stop hiccoughing of pure despair; although Sebastián assures him that nothing is going to happen to him.

It is, in the waiting room of the rural hospital, that Sebastián confessed to him that Martín's injury is actually a heart disease that has surprised him in the prime of life and the peak of his career. And that, of not finding a new one for him before another one of those episodes is repeated, Martín has his days in that world counted. But that he should not worry, because his cousin was among the first on the waiting list and it was more than certain that someone will soon give him a heart.

But Manuel does not want Martin to have a new heart. Because, although the one he has now is as prone to lies as any other mortal one, it is the kind, cheerful and passionate heart that Manuel loves; and he cannot imagine the man with any other.

That is why, when the night falls and the Moon puts its eyes on him, knowing his anguish; Manuel makes a decision.

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When Martín opens his eyes again, Manuel's face lights up as if he had never once felt any greater joy in the world. And although Martín can see the traces of tears on his cheeks, and the pallor of his skin, he is extremely grateful not to have to see him again with a broken heart and his face sunk in sorrow. Just a few seconds are enough to receive him in his arms and soon he makes sure to cure all of Manuel's pains with his lips. And although Sebastián cannot help but comment on how they are behaving extremely embarrassing, he is happy that his cousin can enjoy Manuel's company in those critical days.

That is why, when Martín is finally discharged and asks to return to his home with Manuel, Sebastián does not put up any resistance and drives in silence until the retired country house, without any comment or reproach on his part. When they say goodbye, however, he cannot stop himself from begging for Manuel to call him if another crisis happens. But Manuel just smiles sweetly and assures him that everything will be fine, that he will take care of Martín, and that soon his cousin will return to dance the tangos as if nothing had ever happened. And although Sebastián knows that those are only words of consolation, he can not help but feel satisfied by the aura of serenity that seizes the strange boy. So, when he leaves, he does it without major worries, completely sure he left Martín in good hands.

And Martín cannot complain about the opposite because the last week he spent with Manuel is the best time of his life.

The mornings began with Manuel bathing him in caresses, and they pass by with a fascinating tranquility between whispers and laughter. His appetite was getting worse, but that did not stop him from ever gossiping some alfajor with his beautiful boyfriend, or from stealing from his lips traces of chocolate that barely managed to compete with the sweetness of the pink mouth. At noon, a peaceful nap and the delight of holding Manuel in his arms kept him away from all his pains. And although his forces were dwindling, every day without fail, he accompanied Manuel to his garden and together they watched the landscape until the heat of the Sun ceased to bathe their faces, and it was time to sleep soothed by the voice of the fairy who sang the most beautiful lullabies for him.

If Martín had something to regret during those days, it was not founding such an angel before in his life, mostly due not having memories of a long romance at his side but only a little more than a few months of love and joy to give to Manuel. But when Manuel hear this he only smiles warmly assuring him that there is no difference between a second or a thousand years at his side, because he would have loved him with the same intensity with which he loves him now, and before such passion the dictates of time and death are not and will never be anything. And although Martín wants to apologize again for having to leave him so soon, Manuel quickly distracts him from his worries by commenting on how wonderful life is in spring, and how incredibly charming it must be to be born as a flower and live to bring joy and beauty to the world.

Martín cannot help but smile with infinite tenderness at the innocence of his perfect Manuel, who already had a lot in common with the flowers, and at that moment he decides to bury his sorrows forever. And although he is sure that behind the smile of his beloved sadness and despair are being hidden, he is willing to make their limited time together as enjoyable as possible, and so he dedicates his time stealing as many laughs and blushes as he can. Because if Manuel has decided to make his last days the most beautiful of his life, he cannot help but reciprocate.

So, when Manuel asks for a last selfish desire, Martín can't even think about denying it. And hand in hand they walk towards their ballroom, to share one last tango.

The violin resonates throughout the room with such a painful cry that makes the hearts of the couple tremble, forcing them to join their foreheads as they move slowly along the wooden floor, in a soft but shuddering walk that speaks of all the sorrow and agony in which the tragedy of his love has become. With certainty and slowness, Martín spins him on the balls of his feet, and crawls back with him, pressing the other's torso tightly against his with the secret longing of never letting him go. And Manuel stretches his leg behind his back and then back in a calm gesture, following his walk with mastery, and without taking his eyes from the emeralds.

Soon an accordion is united to the song of the violin, and although the speed does not increase some of their movements become faster and playful, and suddenly both remember that it is their last dance and that they must make it worthy of that title. The smile begins to slide down their lips, and a glimmer of emotion escapes their eyes as the piano marks its final notes and the song changes rhythm.

Martín's feet move quickly across the floor, guiding his partner firmly. Manuel advances first turning to one side and then to the other, without taking his eyes off Martín's face for a single moment. And the blond's hugging gaze also watches him with heed, eager to be the sole owner of those coppery eyes. Surprisingly, Martín seizes one of his legs and lifts him without an effort, making him spin through the air to end up curled on the dancer's thigh. Martín's nose runs through his skin with longing, and Manuel stretches his neck with pleasure before bouncing back in a half turn and falling on the balls of his feet, with their foreheads together. And Martín guides him back to the beginning with more and more ingenious steps, willing to seduce him with his skills.

The violins are abruptly interrupted for a moment and their eyes meet eagerly, Manuel with one leg stretched back and his back curving how long it is. And this time Martín is dragging him as if he were taking from the world the most precious treasure. Two more turns full of flirting and smiles, and Martín spins around putting himself behind his back. Manuel slowly stretches his arms to the sides and Martín follows back his journey with his hands, admiring greedily the softness of his skin. The violins sing with coquetry when they meet again face to face, and Manuel takes his hands and raises his leg over his head, depositing his thigh on the hand of Martin who looks at him as if his presence alone made him burn from feet to head.

Manuel feels pain in his chest when Martín separates their bodies and turns him again to continue advancing through the floor, and he has to control himself not to jump on his lips and ruin the dance. The music reverberates in the room with a rhythm more and more quickly, and Manuel feels that he floats and burns at the same time, and he longs with all his heart to be able to sink his body into the blond's and never be separated from his side anymore. The last chords approach, and Martín embraces his waist with strength and elevates him a few centimeters to perform a pirouette with his legs. Without giving him rest, he guides him in a frantic series of steps and finally picks him up once more to finish the dance with Manuel in his arms, with one leg resting on the blond's thigh and the other hanging towards the void.

Their faces, flushed with effort and emotion, ignite when their eyes meet again, now enveloped in silence. And his skin seems to cry at the touch of the other, burning in an unstoppable tingle where their bodies come together. Slowly their mouths come closer and share a slow and passionate kiss; and Manuel entangles his legs around the hips of the tallest, unable to be separated even an inch. Martín tries to hold Manuel's waist carefully before moving blindly to his bed of cotton flowers, savoring every last inch of his mouth and the skin of the one with coppery eyes.

And it is there, in that room bathed by the Sun of the last day of spring, where Martín teaches him the fiery, unrestrained and passionate love with which humans love. And finally, the fairy's heart understands the last ingredient necessary to interpret the most perfect tango in the world.

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The Sun was releasing his last glimmerings on the sky when Manuel called his lover with a sweet voice, freeing him from the world of dreams. Martín opened his eyes slowly, tired, and smiled with joy to find Manuel's face waiting for him at his side. Without wasting a second he took his waist gently and stole a chaste kiss and a delicate blush from him.

"Good night," the golden-haired man whispered as a greeting. And Manuel nodded pleased.

"No other night better than this," he agreed. "Would you like to go see the Stars with me?" He added nervously but still smiling.

Martín's hand caressed his cheek while he meditated his proposal, his hair scattered on the pillow like rays of sunlight. "I don't know, Manuel. I'm tired." He finally replied. "We can leave it for tomorrow." He added after seeing the disappointment peek through the coppery eyes.

"We cannot," Manuel refused. "No other night of the year will be like this. And, besides, there's something important that I have to show you, and it can't wait till tomorrow." He explained, freeing himself from Martín's embrace with a delicate jump, and reaching out to pull him out of the bed. The emerald-eyed man could not help but notice that Manuel was wearing the clothes with which he had first met him.

"It's fine, it's fine. You win but let me wrap up first." And so he does, under the watchful eye of Manuel who cannot stop walking through the room with such great anxiety that it makes Martín nervous.

Yet none of his questions are answered as they head towards the garden, and although the man offers him one of his jackets Manuel replies that he won't ever be cold. Outside, the Wind blows with a serene softness, taking murmurs from the leaves of the trees. And above the first Stars open their eyes with drowsiness, waiting for the Moon to illuminate the night with flashes of silver. In front of them, and delicately deposited on the stone path leading to the meadows, a small flowerpot awaits with nothing but fresh earth resting inside.

Curious, Martín asks if that is what Manuel wanted to show him, but the boy just smiles and shakes his head, observing the Moon with melancholy. Standing there, in silence, he cannot help but press his boyfriend's hand harder, because it seems like Manuel is going to cry at any moment and the only idea pains him. But Manuel does not cry, and instead, he looks at him with the most tender smile Martín have ever seen.

"By your side, I have spent the happiest days of my entire existence," Manuel finally murmurs, unable to prevent his voice from trembling with emotion. "And if it had been in my hands, I would have chosen to share centuries with you of being possible." He adds, and Martín cannot keep his eyes from getting wet with guilt. "I love you." He concludes at last, and the phrase is so simple but so intense that Martín does not need anything else to know how much that it is true.

"Manuel..." he whispers with a lump in his throat. But the one with brown hair again denies with the head, with his eyes closed. And Martín lets him talk.

"There are many things... I..." Manuel hesitates, squeezing his lips and swallowing air. "You..." He tries again. "Could you promise me three things?" Manuel asks desperately, as the argent light begins to bathe the shadows of the world with its ethereal touch and the song of the night envelops all morning beings between cozy dreams.

"Of course," Martín murmurs, anxious to please him and to erase all the pains of his face. "Anything you wish."

"First you must promise me, that whatever happens, you will not think badly of me. Promise me, please, that you will never stop loving me or forget me." The fairy begged, feeling his heart clench in his chest. Because, although the heart of the one who he loves is inconstant and imperfect, he does not want to let it go without the certainty that at least in some of its corners the memory of those days would shine with warmth.

Martín smiles dislodged and wraps him in his arms, moved. "I promise you there is nothing, no single thing in this world, Manuel, that can ever make me stop loving you. Not even death itself." He assures him, kissing his eyelids to erase the tears that are struggling to fall from the copper pools.

And Manuel sighs so happy and relieved, that all fear inside him destroyed. When he opens his eyes again, the second promise slips from his lips, before the attentive gaze of a sky full of indiscreet Stars.

"Also promise me, that when you get better you will not forget what life is, neither in the saddest days nor during the nights of greatest melancholy. Promise me that you will live every day as if it were a new joy." Manuel pleads, entangling his arms on the blond's neck. And Martín, who does not have the heart to tell him that there is no cure and that soon his days in that world will be over; gives his word to Manuel anyway, willing to follow his desire until he loses his last breath. The boy smiles satisfied, bathed by the delicate kiss of the Moon.

"Finally, promise me," he adds hurriedly, looking up at the sky. "That you will drink the water of the flower under the sight of Moon." Manuel beseeches, returning his gaze to the emeralds. And although Martín does not know what he is talking about, he swears by his life that so he would do. Because if it will make Manuel happy, then nothing in the world will prevent it from being so.

And the boy smiles with so much delight that all the stars in the sky dim in comparison. Soon he inclines his face towards Martín and steals a quick kiss before taking his hands. "You should not be scared nor cry because nothing but love has guided me to my choice, and nothing but the joy of having saved you will accompany me to the end of my days."

And Martín does not have time to ask him the meaning of such words, because the Hour of Dreams resonates in all the clocks in the world, and before his eyes, Manuel transforms into a sea of crystalline white light that is consumed little by little until only a small red glow remains between his hands. When the emeralds open again, a small version of Manuel looks at him with a smile on his lips, and Martín thinks that his heart is going to stop right there, at any moment. Or maybe he is still dreaming.

"Ma... Manu?" He mumbles in astonishment, and the little fairy, about the size of his palm, nods accompanied with a soft jingle of bells; turning from side to side to proudly show his wings of silver light. Martín gasps once more, smiling. And only manages to bring him closer to his face and whisper. "You're so beautiful." And although Manuel's face is as small as the tip of his index finger, an unmistakable blush flushes his cheeks and a smile shine on his lips.

Without wasting any more time, Manuel brings his mouth to the blond's lip and gives him one last goodbye kiss. And then, gently flutters to the empty flowerpot, offering his pact of love to the Moon that nods consolingly. To his delight, Martín has followed him and puts his big eyes on him. At last the stage for his last dance is ready, the curtain has fallen, and before the curious eyes of the Stars and hundreds of fairies, Manuel begins his tango.

His first movement is confident and fast, Manuel stretches his leg to one side with agility and moves his arms in circles to steal the gaze of his main spectator. A fluid turn that gets the envy of the Wind returns him to the starting position, and soon he raises his leg in a split and starts walking on his earthy track with no invisible companion to guide him, because the only one worthy of dancing with him is between his audience and the fairy do not intend to betray him in the last of his moments. A series of playful steps make the tingling of the Moon's magic run through him, and to his happiness, the fire burns again in the emeralds.

Another turn follows a jump that takes the breath away from all the spectators; and Manuel moves with such passion and elegance that it seems as the music flows from his body and wrap everything around him. The Moon shines with more candor, astonished; and a current of energy runs the fairy from head to toe, bringing the memory of thousands of past springs. Manuel dances without stopping for a single moment; because the night is short and the spell must end before the Moon disappears from the sky before its wings disappear and its light ends up being extinguished. A new leap and Manuel's body screams his eternal love to the heavens, a twist and his sighs of pain fill the air. And his feet tell their story of forbidden love and the tragic end that awaits them, thrilling even the coldest of all hearts.

Soon the fairy can perceive that the magic is working, but does not stop for a moment, eager to capture his beloved's eyes until the end. And although his feet become so heavy that he can't jump or turn again, and his arms are so fragile that he can barely move them, Manuel goes on. Little by little the covenant of life becomes reality, and his feet are transformed into roots that sink into the earth, his long and slender body turns into a stem, and his arms extended towards the kindly Moon imploring for the last time to maintain her promise and save his lover before finally becoming long petals as red as blood and as soft as clouds. And from among the petals, only two shining filaments remain as proof that once the most beautiful coppery eyes of the world adorned the face of the noblest of all fairies.

And suddenly there is only loneliness and silence.

"Manuel?" The man with golden hair gasps, taking the flowerpot between his hands, without understanding anything. But the flower does not give him an answer for there are no words in its mouth that can reach human ears, and because the expression of pain on his face makes it tremble from the roots to the petals. "Manu?" Martín pleads once more, and the merciful Moon tenderly explains to him that the fairy is gone and that there is no power or magic in the world capable of returning him to his arms. Because when the Hour of Dreams makes its way through the night no fairy must be in front of human eyes if they want to keep their lives and their wings.

The scream of agony rises towards the firmament, shaking every living creature around it. And while the man clings desperately to the flowerpot pleading for that nightmare to end, the Stars and the Moon accompany him in his affliction, releasing tears of pure magic that soon fill the flower of blood. It is thus, between sobs and groans, that the pact is finally completed, but nobody drinks from its nectar of life, nor does any lip caress the scarlet petals. Desperate, on the screen of darkness that covers the world, the Stars beg the human to end the spell and heal his heart of all torment.

But Martín cannot stop crying and screaming with despair, because losing Manuel was like losing a part of himself, and the pain that invades him at that moment is much greater than any other that he has ever suffered, and it clouds any other emotion and erase all his thoughts. What is, after all, life without Manuel? What is life without the one you love? What value is there in continuing to exist if there is no one with whom to share sorrow, passion, and joy? What was even the goal of remaining in that world if the only time he had felt really attached to life had been when Manuel was at his side? And Martín can't stop remembering morning dances, evenings full of smiles and nights with Manuel in his arms to the point that he wants his heart to stop working right there if that manages to prevent spending even a second more without the fairy at his side.

His cry is so sincere and so afflicted that the Clouds decide to accompany him in his grief, and the Wind starts to scream his sorrows, and the Trees tremble between moans. In the window of his ballroom, the tender Poppy tears herself in a cry of mourning for her fairy friend, and soon her petals turn to dust as she disappears, dragged by the breeze. For a moment the whole universe seems to be mourning the death of the little noble fairy who sacrificed all his existence for love, and for love, his sacrifice seemed to be condemned to ignorance.

But Manuel, who even with his pure heart and his crystalline soul has always been stubborn and obstinate, used his last strength to whisper to Martín that he still had to fulfill his promises. And although Martín does not understand and can't hear anything that the flower tells him, a part of him senses Manuel's call. And even with the tears bathing his face and the sobs altering his breathing, the human with golden hair and emerald eyes drinks until the last drop of the healing nectar that the fairy got by sacrificing his own life, finally settling the debt that he had once acquired. Soon a soft heat fills Martín's chest and runs throughout his body filling him with energy and vitality, eliminating every last one of his fatigue and suffering. However, not even the last of the drops is able to cure his broken heart; and he stays in the garden crying his loss long after the heavens are clear, and even after the Moon retires to rest in his rooms, and the Sun reigns again over the sky.

There is where Sebastián finds him the next day, completely alone and soaked. Red eyes and a look lost in his own thoughts are the only things that he receives from his cousin. And although he calls for Manuel and fills Martín with questions in search of a sensible explanation for such gross negligence towards his health, nobody seems to hear him. Finally, Martín murmurs to him that no lawyer or notary is already necessary; because his heart has finally healed, and because there is no longer any Manuel to bequeath everything that he possesses. And he lets himself be dragged by Sebastián into the house he once shared with his magical lover without resisting, with the flowerpot that contains the last part of Manuel in that world still between his hands.

A couple of weeks were necessary to verify that Martín's condition had disappeared without leaving any sequel, and everyone received the news of the miracle with great delight. Sebastián was never able to forgive Manuel for disappearing without a trace, and although Martín wanted to explain the truth behind everything he soon understood that nobody would believe the story of the fairy who gave his life to save him. Over the years he learned to preserve the memory of the young man with coppery eyes as the sweetest and most painful of all his secrets; and although his broken heart never healed, no illness or annoyance came back to haunt him even in the last days of his short life as a mortal.

The flower that was once Manuel grew every spring, eager to see again the one who had stolen his sweet and pure heart; and all the springs Martín danced for him until his petals fell, and his stem became barren.

And although the years passed, and the hair like the Sun became white snow, nothing and no one ever managed to prevent Martín from living every day with joy, dancing tango until his feet surrendered. And nothing, neither his inconstant heart, nor his ambitious soul, nor even death itself, got him to ever stop loving with all his strength that beautiful and bewildering nameless boy who once came to his door to ask for tango lessons.

.

.

.

The meadow was completely bathed in the soft light of the Hour of Life when all the fairies but one left to chase the spring.

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Notes

The fairy name of Manuel was, in effect, a prediction of his end in that world.

The clothes Manuel wore are similar to a maillot with a skirt.

An alfajor is sweet made up of two circular pieces of dough joined together by some creamy substance such as dulce de leche.

Dulce de leche is a traditional Latin American sweet, which corresponds to a caramelized variant of milk.

The flower in which Manuel was transformed is an Añañuca. Añañuca is a desert flower that only grows in the foothills between Chile and Argentina. It has a great healing power, gives peace, calm, renewal and teaches to live in fullness.

The Poppy symbolizes those people who attract us, and who make the world better; but that we should not attract on our side, because they either get destroyed or destroy us. In the language of flowers, the poppy symbolizes repose, tranquility, and comfort.

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Extra:

Music that I used as inspiration for this story:

"Tír na nÓg" by Celtic Woman, for the spring dance of the fairies.

"Magic Hour" by Ahn Trio, for Manuel's ballet solo.

"La Cumparsita" by Gerardo Matos Rodríguez Forever Tango version, for the tango between Martín and Manuel.

"Assassin's Tango" by Jhon Powell, for Manuel's tango solo.

"The Last Rose of Summer" by Celtic Woman along with "Sus Ojos se Cerraron" by Carlos Gardel, for the end.

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Hope you enjoyed the story!!!