3:00 a.m.
March, 2023

We were lying sprawled on a patch of damp grass, jackets beneath us as makeshift blankets, the half-empty wine bottle lodged between our legs. The night had a stillness only Vienna could offer, with the quiet hum of the city faint in the distance.

The wine had loosened our conversations, made our laughter softer, and our silence more comfortable.

"I always thought that parks at night were supposed to be creepy," Nick mused, voice soft from the wine's warmth.

Nick's eyes were dark in the low light. The freckles along his face stood out like stars. He seemed more constellation than boy.

I chuckled, lazily pointing at the sky. "In Vienna? Only if you're sober."

We laughed quietly, passing the bottle between us. The air was crisp, carrying the bite of snowfall's approach, but I didn't mind. The wine kept us warm, and our heads felt light. The city felt far away, the night ours alone. Slowly, the world around me started to blur as my lids grew heavy.

Just as I was on the verge of falling asleep, a cold drop hit my forehead.

"What the—?"

Another drop. Then another.

We sat up in unison, staring at the sky. It wasn't rain. It was snow, light at first, spiralling down like a slow, unexpected dance.

"Snow? I thought it wasn't cold enough?" I asked, blinking in surprise.

The snow began falling lightly at first, melting as soon as it touched the ground, but it didn't stop. The flakes thickened, tumbling from the sky like ash.

Within moments, the snow became blinding, swirling around us in violent gusts. The peaceful park had transformed into a white blur.

"We need to find a shelter!" Nick shouted over the rising wind, grabbing my jacket. We scrambled to our feet, slipping slightly on the slackening ground, and took off running down the path, barely able to see two feet in front of us.

The storm whipped around us, but through the wall of the snow, we spotted a faint orange glow. As we got closer, we saw it— a small pub, its wooden sign swinging gently in the wind, the windows fogged up with the warmth and the chimney releasing smoke from the fireplace inside.

We rushed towards it, our breaths ragged as we threw the door open. The warmth hit us instantly, enveloping us in the smell of wood, smoke and beer. A few patrons sat at the bar, oblivious to the havoc inside.

The storm had come out of nowhere, sudden and fierce, leaving the streets deserted except for the occasional passing cars, headlights cutting through the misty air.

We saw a small round table that was near the fireplace that set alight the otherwise dim lit bar. The bartender moved softly behind the counter, wiping down glasses.

We exchanged a look of relief and exhaustion, slumping into the booth near the fire. A moment of silence passed before I broke into a grin.

"I guess Vienna's parks are creepier than we thought."

Nick grinned, shaking the snow from his hair. "Another bottle?" He asked, nodding towards the bar.

A server approached, a smile tucked into the corner of her lips as she set down two glasses of deep red wine, the liquid catching the firelight. "For the snow-bound," she said, a wink in her tone.

"Thankyou," I murmured, watching as the wine swirled in my glass, rich and dark. I took a sip, feeling the warmth spread through my body, chasing away the last of the cold. Outside, the wind howled louder, rattling the windowpane. I glanced at Nick, watching as he cupped his glass between his hands, eyes focused on the fire.

"I can't believe it's almost over," I said, glancing out the window as if the swirling snow outside could somehow slow down time. "I feel like we just got here. I'm going to miss this place."

Nick watched me in that quiet way he always did, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I'll miss more than the city." His voice was low, meant only for my ears. He swirled his wine, eyes never leaving my face.

"You always know how to say the perfect thing."

He leaned forward, his voice lowering, taking on that velvety tone I loved. "That's the job, isn't it?"

He was a man who had spent years crafting stories, a renowned writer whose words had touched many but whose heart seemed unreachable the most.

I was a struggling actor, still chasing dreams that seemed always just out of reach, but there, in that city, with him, I felt like the leading role.

"Is this the only way it's going to be?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper. "This brief moment stolen between your world and mine?"

He didn't respond right away, his eyes searching mine, filled with words he couldn't form. "Maybe that's enough," he said finally, though even he wasn't sure if he believed it. "Maybe these moments are worth something."

I laughed, a soft broken sound. "They are; but it's not enough, is it?" My voice cracked, blinking back the emotion rising in my throat. "I don't want to be a fleeting part of your story."

For a moment, silence fell between us, thick with everything we wanted to say but couldn't. Nick reached for his glass, stirring the wine gently, though he had no real desire to drink it. "You're not," he said quietly, looking into my eyes again. "You're more than that."

"I'm going to miss you," I whispered, leaning in, face inches away from his.

His breath caught, and then he closed the space between us, my lips finding his in a kiss that was soft but filled with all the longing we had hidden. It was fleeting, like our time together, but it was enough.

Nick then pulled away, blinked slow and drunk, looking so bright. The light of the flames danced in his eyes. For a moment, we stayed like that, eye to eye and staring at each other, Nick coming alive in the firelight, and I, I was falling harder.

This unguarded vulnerability on Nick's face twisted the knife deeper into my heart. Still, a deep sense of warmth flooded in an instant, soothing the pain in my chest until it was almost gone, until it spread so wide it felt like I was on fire. At this moment, it didn't matter that our time had run out. I could spend a lifetime looking at him, and it wouldn't be enough.

At some point, the fire dimmed, and the patrons at the bar thinned out, but neither of us noticed the time slipping away. The conversation flowed like wine— effortlessly, without any need for grand topics or profound words. We spoke about the city, the places we had seen, the people we had met, but mostly, we enjoyed the quiet presence of each other. It was as though the city outside no longer mattered. For now, it was just us, the warmth of the fire, and the low hum of Vienna's heartbeat in the background.

Once the blizzard had ceased, Nick suggested that we go for a walk. I looked outside, the world still fresh with snow, and nodded despite my reluctance.

Outside the fusty atmosphere, away from the thick scent of old wood and stale tobacco, we walked with our arms crossed as our breath fogged in the air with each exhale, and the cold so sharp it almost stung.

The snow storm had erased what remained of the night before, turning the sky into a soft, muted grey with patches of pale blue peeking through the veil. The clouds were hanging low, the air crisp and sharp, and the world hushed and still.

We were not talking. The weight of the silence pressed down, heavy and uncomfortable as we continued our small trek down the street. I have never been good with awkwardness. Truth be told, I am not good at a lot of things, like... I'm not good at small talk. I mean, I can do it, but it always feels so forced. I'm not good at keeping in touch. Friends drift, and I always mean to reach out, but I forget or I convince myself that they're better off without me. And relationships... that's a disaster waiting to happen. But mostly not good at dealing with awkwardness.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked, surprised at how desperate my voice sounded.

He hesitated, his shoulders stiffening slightly as if he had just been jolted from a daydream. "Oh, just... the snow," he replied, finally looking up, his eyes shimmering like the flakes falling around us. "It's pretty, I guess."

Another moment of restraint.

Footsteps light on the snow clad streets, Nick walked further. Hands tucked deep in the pocket of his thick coat, he pulled up his collar against the biting cold. Hair tucked behind the ear on one side— his left— and falling loosely on the other.

I noticed these things.

Suddenly, a low rumble rolled across the sky, subtle but growing— a reminder that the storm wasn't done yet.

The wind was so strong that walking was tiring, because of course even the wind wasn't in our favour. I hid my face under the scarf around my neck, eyes almost shut close because of the harsh dry wind, making them sting and well up with tears.

"We should've just stayed inside, Nick," I complained. We glanced at each other, caught in the moment between tranquillity and tension, the wind tousling our hair. The storm was returning with a quiet insistence, as if Vienna itself was unwilling to let the morning pass without one last display.

"You agreed! Don't blame this on me now–" Nick couldn't finish his sentence. A strong blast of wind almost pushed him back, Nick stumbled and tripped, falling on his arse in the snow.

"Bloody hell! Are you okay?" I rushed, crouching next to him.

Nick stared at nothing for a few moments, then burst out laughing, eyes forming little crescents with crinkles on the side. His hair was damp with snow, his beanie covered in it, cheeks flushed because of the cold and nose red. He smiled big this time, with all his teeth. It overcame his face, transformed it. Honest. Genuine. Hiding nothing. Then came his laugh, and that was something I knew I'd remember for the rest of my life, because it was just so Nick. It was deep, rich and velvety. It filled the space around with a warmth that lingered long after the sound had faded. It was perfect for him.

And, weirdly enough, despite being bad at a lot of things, I have always been good with memories. Which is why, if anyone asked me in the future, I'd be able to pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with Nick. It was in Vienna, with a calmed snow storm, when Nick fell hard on the snowy ground and looked like a mess. That's when I fell in love. And, God, did I fall hard. There was no loud thumping of my heart, no breath getting stuck in my throat, but suddenly I couldn't hear the wind roaring in my ears but just the sound of Nick's laughter.

I was not surprised. How could I be? I should've known, really.

"Help a friend out?" Nick said, pulling me out of my thoughts. I grabbed his arm and helped him up. We started walking again but this time I kept him a bit closer, with an arm wrapped around his waist.

"So that you don't fall," I told him.

It was a lie.

_____________________

8:00 a.m.
March, 2023

We went back to the pub in silence, the air cool against our faces. The warm glow from inside greeted us again as we pushed through the door. The bartender glanced up, recognising us. "Forgot to settle your tab, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Nick replied, handing over the cash. He nodded, returning to his work as they exchanged a quick glance.

Once outside again, we stood still for a moment, the feeling inside our chest getting heavier with each second passing by. "The station?" Nick asked softly.

"Yeah, let's go."

We walked towards the railway station, footsteps echoing in the quiet streets. The place was nearly deserted when we arrived. Nick collected his bags, a strange finality in his motion.

As we left, I could feel it— the airport was next. The end of this journey, and the beginning of something else. I knew that things wouldn't be the same after this.

"Hey," Nick said, breaking a silence so long I had gotten lost in it, gotten lulled by it. The interruption was not unwelcome. My eyes got pulled to his, and I couldn't decide if I liked him better in the soft hues of dusk or the morning's first shadows. "Hey."

"Charlie," he said again as he approached me, and there was no reason for Nick to say my name but I liked how often he did it anyway.
We were so close together now. Nick's grip shifted on my wrists, but he didn't let go. He brushed his thumbs back and forth over the delicate skin just below my palms, where the veins were. The pulse. His touch was feather-light, soothing, careful. Soft touch. Soft boy. I felt dizzy.

I could feel Nick's shaky exhale on my chin. On my lips. Nick was something past beautiful. The curve of his jaw, the length of his throat, broad shoulders, solid chest, wiry-strong in some places and soft in others. Honey-coloured hair shaken out over his forehead. Dark eyebrows, darker eyes. He was created to kiss and be kissed by, so giving.

But I was different. I take more than is given to me because it's never enough for someone like me. I was selfish when I connected my mouth with Nick's, but the sweetness of it left no room for guilt.

The tide of warmth between us left me breathless. Nick was everywhere— on my arms, my hips, moulding his body to mine like I would disappear. He kissed me carefully, but gentleness is not what I wanted right now, not after I will be deprived of this all later, so I entwined my fists into Nick's shirt and kissed him with enough intensity to break open the sky.

The cobwebs of my spirit were gradually being forgotten. Nick beamed at it and I was a hundred percent sure that the boy in front of me was the sun, because there's no way it's possible for a human being to shine the way he did. There's no way that it was possible for a human to affect me in the way that Nick did.

The realisation hit me with the force of a wave crashing against the shore. It wasn't just that I didn't want him to leave. It wasn't just that the goodbyes felt wrong and hollow. It was the gnawing ache of something I hadn't let myself feel until this moment.

So all this hung over my head, the prospect of losing time, the knowledge that he was leaving, and the biting feeling that Nick and I were something more than what we had thought of. But then I looked at him, at his blonde locks peeking through his woolly hat and his blooming cheeks, and time felt so intangible. It felt like something we will always have.

I liked him so much, but even those words were insufficient for the feeling. I was almost willing to fargo what I knew for what I felt, to give in to it now no matter how much it'd hurt later. I didn't want to exist at the threshold of something with Nick anymore; I wanted to be something. But the thoughts crumbled even as I thought about it. We had already talked about it in fragments, a fantasy that neither dared to fully entertain.

The words should've come easy, but they didn't. I smelled Nick's cologne on my neck, and I thought that everything was okay. The words could wait. Right now, I felt I had all the time in the world to come around to saying them.

His skin held the smell of snowflakes and boy. His hair carried the sweet scent of almonds.

"What's wrong?" Nick asked, and I realised I had been silently hugging him for too long for it to be normal.

I shook my head at him, wet and defenceless to the sight of him. I was unbearably in love with him. I couldn't stop seeing it anymore.

"Do you have anything to say to me before I go?" He asked again.

I thought about it. I had so many things to say. Like, for example, Why does this have to end? Can't you extend your stay? Just one more day with you. I love you. Stay.

Instead, I said, "Will I ever get to live this dream again?"

Nick stared at me with his intense black eyes and didn't respond for a second. Used to his pregnant pauses, I could interpret what most of his looks meant by now. This one, dark brows furrowed, a light crease forming between them, indicated that Nick was deep in thought. He might have shared what he was thinking, or, more likely, just stayed silent.

"Last night, in the park, you told me you have no more dreams left to chase," Nick said with a sweet smile, probably seeing the moment in his mind. "But dreaming is not something we unlearn how to do. Dreams die and they are reborn and they change, but we don't lose the ability to chase them. To hope for them to come true."

Slowly, I let the words wash over like a breeze. My gaze travelled on our side, it was not white out there anymore. The trees were naked, shaking hopelessly against the wind, anxiously waiting for the leaves to sprout again.

"Is that what you want me to do?" I frowned, trailing my eyes back to Nick. "Let myself dream again?"

Nick smiled, cocked his head to the side.

"Perhaps."

I nodded, growing alive in my weakness for Nick. I told him I was glad we stayed in Vienna, even if just for a day. Nick told me he was glad he'd met me, and this was another unravelling, another weakness that made me feel so alive. Made me a little terrified as well.

I glanced up at him, and asked quietly, "What about you? Do you dream as well?"

He grinned, "You'll have to read my novel to find out."

Some people regarded Nick as a brazen storyteller but if you asked me, he was the sun and the moon.

_____________________

9:30 a.m.
March, 2023

The airport was a blur of movement— people hurrying past, dragging suitcases behind them voices echoing over the steady hum of announcements.

I glanced at the boarding gate ahead, trying to measure how much time we had left. Not enough.

We looked at each other with little smiles as Nick prepared to board his plane home. I saw Nick as I did on that very first moment we met, prettier than anyone I had ever seen before. Still, the prettiest. Always, most likely. His sharp nose, the mole under his eye, the strength of his brow, and the soft lips that always betray what he felt. There isn't a part of him that I didn't love, not a part of him that I didn't like.

Nick stared back. Was he studying me, too? Did he also want to memorise the parts of myself that he'd miss? I was sure that he would miss me, but for how long? How long until this memory of us soured, and I will be nothing more than a boy that he happened to meet? I supposed that wouldn't be something I was allowed to worry about.

Still, I looked at him with adoration, and I hoped that Nick could see it, that the emotion was obvious. He is loved. Nick looked away as he slung his bag over his shoulder, the weight of his notebook inside a comforting presence. His ears were pink, and he tucked his chin into his chest.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked softly.

"Don't know. I can't seem to look anywhere else."

I put a hand on Nick's cheek and stroked it with my thumb. Nick's blush deepened, but he turned into himself and met my eyes once more. I could see it in his gaze, that maybe I was loved too.

There was a beat of silence, and I felt a genuine peace settle in my chest. The type that warms even on cold days, and it brings a smile to your face. It's a good thing to be loved, a better thing to be grateful for it. I would never take this love for granted.

"So," I asked, half-smiling, as I remembered what Nick had mentioned earlier, "before you leave— did Vienna do the trick? Any ideas for that new novel of yours yet?"

Nick paused, the boarding gate just a few feet away, and met my gaze with a knowing grin. "Yeah," he said, his voice quiet but confident, "all it takes is one good idea. I'll have a lot of good ideas after our short retreat."

I raised my eyebrow, both curious and pleased.
The writer nodded, his eyes bright with a spark that hadn't been there before. "There's something about this place— the old streets, the night at the park, the storm this morning, even this station— it all just clicks. Though I'm starting to wonder if it wasn't just Vienna. Maybe I've had a muse with me this whole time."

I blinked, caught off guard for a second, before my smile grew warmer, a bit more certain. "Is that so?"

Nick fought back a smile and looked down with a nod, eyelashes fluttering.

It reminded me of the feeling of a roller coaster coming to a stop at the end of a ride, after the adrenaline from the climb and the drop while the wind is whipping at your cheeks, when everything feels so still by comparison but your heart's still pounding. The thought at the end that it wasn't so bad, and feeling foolish for being so nervous at the start.

"Will you reveal any secrets?" I inquired.

"It's a love story between artists."

I smirked. "Bet you had to do a lot of outside research for that one."

"Oh, very much, of course I had almost no material to draw on," he said sardonically, meeting my gaze. "None at all."

My lips twitched. "Is it titled yet?"

The loudspeaker crackled, his flight number echoed through the terminal. Final boarding. And then, he turned, walking toward the gate, turning back for one last look.

"Can you think of one for me?" Nick mused.

I held Nick's hand and thought about the exact moment I had felt Nick's presence in the train. Desire didn't exist until I laid my eyes on him. I thought about the first time he said my name, the first touch, the first kiss. The transformative power of human connections and the profound impact a person can have on your sense of self and belonging. I thought about the snow storm. I knew love existed because he laughed and I was there to witness it.

I fell in love with every moment his chest made when he breathed.

Sometimes there is just no way to hold back the river.

"Querencia," I said then, and Nick ran his thumb over my hand.

"Querencia? You have to tell me what it means," he replied with a look of pure interest.

I looked into the beautiful pair of eyes that imprisoned the sweetness of saccharin. How could I forget a man like that? How could I forget a man like Nick?

Because Nick was the home that I never had.

I hesitated, then nodded towards him. "You, Nick. It means you."

___________