He averts his gaze, fixing it on the fire, which only seems to be an image before his eyes, something minimal and insignificant. He looks back at me and giggles when he notices that I'm still watching him, waiting for a response from him.
Samuel: I don't know ... (shrugs). It's like I feel like I'm obligated to do it.
May: But you are not
I say in a funny tone, trying to lower the tension and not seem so pushy about the subject, which seems to be uncomfortable.
Samuel: Does it bother you that they want to take care of you? (He asks with a show of curiosity on his face).
May (river): I'm not very used to it.
Samuel: Well, but ... your dad ...
May (interrupting): I wouldn't call that "taking care of myself."
He squints his eyes, confused.
May: He's just possessive and ... he loves to dominate everyone.
He lets out a sigh, staring at the ceiling.
May: What are you thinking about?
Samuel: I know absolutely nothing about you (looks at me).
May: And what do you want to know about me? (He asked with a mocking smile).
Samuel: I summarized my whole life for you less than an hour ago, I don't know. Tell me something.
He lies down in place, bringing both hands behind his neck. I rest my back on the dry ground next to him. We both look at the ceiling, as if it were invisible or non-existent, and dozens of stars were reflected above us. A drop of water that falls on my face makes me remember that it is not like that, but that we are locked in a barn, lit only by the light of a concealed campfire and covered by a roof that does not even fulfill its only role of protecting us from the rain that attacks the fields outside.
I bring my hand to my face, wiping it off, and I hear him chuckling.
May: Move away, you idiot.
I say to slide to the side, still with my fingers covering my face, thinking that he has already moved away and granted me more space. But as I do so, my forehead bumps against something and as I lower the back of my hand, I find the warm skin of his chest glued to me, along with the delicate chain that falls on him. I raise my gaze and spontaneously regret having done it when I notice his eyes, immobile, pointing at me. What differentiates him from the many times in which our eyes met is that this time he does not look at me, not my eyes, but has his eyes fixed on my half-open mouth, which only reveals the altered state in the one that is my nervous system. His damp hair and bare torso baffle me, while his expression only forces me to recap what I dreamed of a couple of days ago. The way you look at me the unknowns that he seems to hide behind that look, making it impossible to guess what things are going through his head, that situation in which I do not know how to act and pray that it ends, but at the same time I would love to be able to freeze in my mind and reproduce it an eternal number of times, until it was worn out and ceased to exist. Everything leads me to that dream, the words that, according to Mía, her brother would say: "Sometimes the dreams we have are short films of our desires". I wonder if that could ever be true. I do not deny it as before and I ask myself: What would happen if it were like this? Is that wish ... Samuel? but at the same time I would love to be able to freeze in my mind and reproduce it an eternal number of times, until it wears out and ceases to exist. Everything leads me to that dream, the words that, according to Mía, her brother would say: "Sometimes the dreams we have are short films of our desires". I wonder if that could ever be true. I do not deny it as before and I ask myself: What would happen if it were like this? Is that wish ... Samuel? but at the same time I would love to be able to freeze in my mind and reproduce it an eternal number of times, until it wears out and ceases to exist. Everything leads me to that dream, the words that, according to Mía, her brother would say: "Sometimes the dreams we have are short films of our desires". I wonder if that could ever be true. I do not deny it as before and I ask myself: What would happen if it were like this? Is that wish ... Samuel?
I am so buried in my overwhelming thoughts that I do not perceive how he approaches and I only react when his soft lips touch mine and my forehead sticks to his, under the sound of the rain that falls outside those wooden walls and the stars I still imagine about us, watching us with curiosity.