Wiping his hands along his face, Xavi rubbed his eyes, then straightened. He could fucking do this. He fucking could. Briefly, a long-forgotten memory flashed through his head: his dad running after him down their street, Xavi on his bike, his dad cheering him on as Xavi rode the bike for the first time without the training wheels. He’d felt so free back then, like he could take on the entire world, his dad’s words carrying him across the asphalt. Just like Lulu was now cheering him on every step of the way, always. Yeah, he could fucking do this.
At first, the bookstore was quiet, the streets slowly filling outside, when thesiestaended and the temperatures dropped to a more pleasant warmth. Then people started spilling through the doors, some clutching their own copies of Xavi’s book against their chests, excited smiles on their faces. After half an hour of signing, Xavi’s hand started aching slightly, but it was a good kind of ache, because it matched the ache in his jaw from smiling back at all the faces who looked at him like he was special to them.
“It’s really you!” A young guy had looked just about to faint, before his boyfriend had nudged him closer, and he’d started reciting his favorite passages from Xavi’s book back to him.‘A Daniel,’Xavi had written with the pen Lulu had gifted him for their three-month anniversary.‘Gracias por todo.’He’d continued to sign books, looking up at short intervals, finding Lulu’s eyes on him from across the room, his back leaning against a bookshelf, a proud look in his eyes, a tender smile playing on his lips.
A Cezar, a Mercedes, an Emma, a Julio… The names went on and on, one smiling face giving way to another. In the end, Xavi’s heart spilled over, so much love in the small bookstore. Eventually, the line grew shorter, and when he looked up, it was Lulu, hiscisne, his love, standing in front of him, his eyes brimming with anticipation, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth as he handed Xavi his own copy ofthe Loneliest Hour. Xavi shook his head, chuckling, because it was just too cute how Lulu had annotated the fuck out of the well-read copy.
“A quien?” Xavi rasped, clenching his hand, before picking up the pen.
“A Lulu.”
“Lulu.”
“Sí.”
Xavi opened the book, smoothing out the page with the dedication on it. ‘A los días en detención y las amistades que te mantienen durante el dolor.’Because that’swhere it had all begun, wasn’t it? That day in detention, when a lifelong friendship had formed between three boys. Three boys, who were now men but still friends, still carrying each other through the pain. They’d all experienced loss. Through all stages in life they were there for each other—he, Lulu and Joe. Noah now, too.
Holding the pen against the paper, Xavi wrote what he hoped would be the beginning of yet another chapter of his life. Then he closed the book carefully and handed it back to Lulu.
“Gracias. Por todo,” Xavi whispered.
“De nada,” Lulu smiled back, then turned and walked back to the spot in the corner, in front of the rows and rows of books.
Xavi signed a few more books before the store closed, and when the room was empty, he dropped his pen on the table and sighed deeply, with gratitude and a feeling of closure, almost. He’d come full circle. Looking up, he saw Lulu moving toward him, greeting a few employees on the way, the book still clutched against his chest.
“That was incredible.” Lulu shook his head when he reached Xavi. “You’re fucking famous,oso!”
“Nah, I don’t know about that,” Xavi felt a blush creeping across his cheeks.
“You are! You’re the fucking… I don’t know… You’re the fucking queer Stephen King.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You always say that when I’m right.” Lulu smirked.
“Do I now?” Xavi rose, then walked around the table and came to a stop in front of Lulu.
“Yes.”
Nodding at the book, Xavi’s voice was raw and shaky when he spoke. “Did you read it?”
“Jeeez,mano, are you freaking out on me?” Lulu held a hand up against Xavi’s forehead. “Of course I read it. I was the first one to read it, remember?”
“That’s not… I meant the inscription. Did you read it?” His heart pounded in his chest, beating furiously against his ribs.
“Oh, no, not yet,” Lulu frowned.
“Read it, baby.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
Opening the book carefully, Lulu found the title page, his gaze trailing along the words Xavi had written, the most important words he would ever write. Hewatched Lulu’s lips move, then he looked up, his eyes wild and wondrous, a silent question in them, before his gaze dropped back to the book, his lips moving as he read the words again. Lulu’s bottom lip started trembling, and he sucked it into his mouth. A few tears landed on the cream paper, like summer rain, hot and heavy.
“Do you mean it?” Lulu eventually sniffled.
“Every word,” Xavi breathed, his chest suddenly light, lighter than it’d ever felt.
