Narrator's P.O.V.
It was almost seven in the evening when Ariel finally finished his last task. The young man was in his early twenties, yet his routine was already exhausting. He worked at a fast-food joint just off Avenida Paulista; thanks to the location, it was always packed, which inevitably made the job incredibly draining. Between throwing together countless orders under the crushing pressure that the sprawling city of São Paulo forced upon everyone, and dealing with customers all day—some pleasant, others not so much—he was dead on his feet.
In the end, it was worth it. It was his livelihood, after all. He didn't make much—the place wasn't exactly huge—but he couldn't complain and, in a way, felt grateful. The money kept him afloat, especially since he was alone in the world with few people to turn to. His family had left him to fend for himself; not even his parents could stand by him, simply because of his sexuality. They'd kicked him out when he was just seventeen. He had been making his own way ever since, so he didn't mind the hard work. Thanks to his own sweat, he supported himself and actually lived quite well. He was satisfied.
After closing the register and chatting briefly with his female coworkers—who always had some intriguing gossip to share—Ariel headed out back to the locker room to change. Despite his youth, his social life wasn't exactly bustling. At work, he didn't chat much; he didn't really consider them friends. At least, not all of them. Outside of work, there wasn't anyone he'd truly call a friend, either. A few acquaintances, maybe... It didn't really matter.
The boy slipped into one of the men's locker room stalls, stripped off his clothes without much ceremony, and stepped under the heavy, scalding stream of the shower. He liked showering there because the water pressure was much better than at his apartment. It was Friday night, and with no post-work plans, there was no rush, even if he did want to just get home. He didn't like wasting water, but it had been a highly stressful day—what better way to relax his muscles than a hot shower?
Ariel was a gentle and deeply friendly person, even if he wasn't the most sociable. He wasn't usually very open or direct, but he treated everyone with respect and charisma. He was always helping an elderly man here, a woman or a child there, and he had a real soft spot for feeding stray animals—the small, defenseless ones, and the big ones too. On top of that, Ariel turned heads with his looks, though he hardly cared. He was of average height, around five-foot-seven, with a body that could be considered perfectly sculpted; his muscles were well-defined, even if he wasn't massive. He usually chalked it up to good genetics, since he couldn't even remember the last time he had worked out. His dark skin, adorned with a few tattoos, was by far his most striking feature, second only to his curly hair, which he almost always kept tied back with an old shoelace. Shades of brown flowed across him—in his skin, his eyes, his hair; those beautiful brown tones were everywhere.
His smile was another trademark. It was practically radiant, contagious to anyone who saw it. Everything about him was attractive and interesting, and he was sharp, too. He had a good head on his shoulders and saw the world through an optimistic lens, even though he was hyper-aware of the terrible things happening around him daily. He knew the dangers São Paulo had to offer and was always cautious; tragedies happened every single day. Still, it was better to stay positive, right? Some of his coworkers couldn't fathom how someone so close to perfect was still single, but at the end of the day, he didn't give a damn. This was who he was.
After a few minutes, the young man realized he'd been in there far too long, but he couldn't help it. Whenever the water hit his body, it was like stepping into his own private world, so no one could really blame him. As he enjoyed the final seconds of his shower, he felt something strange. It felt like a draft of freezing air that made his skin break out in goosebumps, despite the hot, steamy air of the stall. It was weird, but Ariel didn't give it much thought. He dried off quickly and threw his clothes on, rushing because he'd just remembered his daily telenovela was about to start. He absolutely could not miss tonight's episode—the night before, one of his favorite characters was on the verge of being killed off. The curly-haired boy was in such a hurry he didn't even notice he was no longer alone in the locker room.
"Hey, Ari. Heading out already?" Marcos, his coworker, asked as he got ready for his own shower.
"Yeah, I am," he replied simply, quickly finishing packing his things.
"Meeting someone? You seem in a rush."
"You know I'm not." He laughed.
"I swear I don't get it. You're so handsome and cool! How do you not have a girlfriend?" And there he was again, bringing up the topic Ariel hated most. Girlfriends.
"Maybe I don't want a girlfriend," he said, slinging his backpack over one shoulder and leaning against the wall to face the other man.
Ariel liked observing Marcos sometimes. In fact, you could say that maybe, just maybe, he found the guy quite... well... interesting. Marcos Chen was gorgeous. He was Brazilian, but his family was Chinese, hence the surname. Even if his Asian features weren't incredibly pronounced, they were definitely there. And man, what a body he had! Ariel liked looking at that body, but he never had the courage to do anything more than look.
Out of the five other people who worked at the diner, Marcos was the only one who always stopped to talk to him. Literally always, at every given opportunity. He liked asking about his life; he liked knowing how he was doing and what he was feeling. Maybe for that specific reason, it had been almost inevitable for a small crush to develop. Still, the curly-haired boy knew it wouldn't work out. Marcos was visibly straight, so it wasn't worth trying anything and ruining something that was already great. He definitely liked the guy a lot and wouldn't risk losing what might be his only friend.
"Well, then you should look for a boyfriend. Men can be more interesting than women sometimes," he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. And it was, but Ariel was still taken completely by surprise.
"I should look for a... boyfriend?" he asked slowly.
"Yeah. If you don't want a girlfriend, get a boyfriend. There's nothing wrong with wanting to date a man. You're beautiful, Ari, and there are definitely people interested in you. You just need to open your eyes." He shrugged and turned around, but Ariel caught the small smile playing on his lips.
"My eyes are open... Wide open, actually..." It was hard to maintain his focus when Marcos took his pants off too, leaving him only in his underwear. A very nice pair of black briefs, in his opinion. It was too much to process; he couldn't help but stare shamelessly at the body of the man in front of him.
"Well... maybe you just need to stop looking down so much..." Ariel was so distracted he hadn't even noticed his coworker stepping closer. Marcos gently cupped his face, lifting it until they were looking into each other's eyes. "You should stop looking down and start looking straight ahead. Sometimes the person who likes you is right in front of you, and you just don't see it."
They stared at each other for a few seconds. Ariel felt like he was going to die right then and there, especially when Marcos's gaze dropped to his lips. It was a massive surprise, so huge that he didn't know how to react. The handsome man flashed a wide smile, pulled back from the shorter boy—just by a few inches—and gave him a wink before slipping into one of the stalls. Ariel felt the breath leave his lungs, only returning when he realized the other man had stepped far enough away to vanish from his line of sight.
"Well, that was a hell of a surprise," he muttered to himself, grinning from ear to ear...