Three weeks later

Lucas POV

The waiting room seemed designed to test everyone's patience. It was a simple corridor with black chairs, no windows, and minimal ventilation, lit only by harsh white LED lights against white walls. The air grew thick with fifteen people's mingled sweat and perfume scents. Lucas, though, had endured worse in anatomy classes at the morgue. Five people had already quit before their job interviews.

"Our company is looking for motivated individuals for our pharmacies. You have a medical degree; why not apply for a full-time doctor position?" a blonde woman asked Lucas. She wore a blue suit with a matching pink blouse.

Lucas sighed, having heard this question repeatedly over the past three weeks. He kept his explanation brief. "The licensing process takes time. I submitted my documents almost two years ago, and they are still under review. I have bills to pay due to unforeseen circumstances, and I'm also studying for a master's degree, which makes it hard to work full-time. I see this as an opportunity to learn more about the medical industry here."

Kyle had coached him well, but his words seemed to bounce off the interviewer, who disinterestedly filled out the form. Lucas felt disheartened. Despite matching the job profile and doing well on the test, he doubted he'd be called back.

They parted politely, but Lucas asked to use the restroom before leaving the building; the interviewer calmly explained, "Follow the corridor and then turn to your left; it is the third door down the hallway. Have a nice day."

"Have a nice day," Lucas replied to a closing door.

The place looked clean, but Lucas didn't like the broken tiles near the sink, as he could see black mold growing there. He entered a stall in the bathroom and overheard some footsteps; he kept quiet and saw two pairs of blue pants entering and the piece of an ongoing conversation.

"Can you believe it? The bitch changed my schedule today. Marcela's going to be mad! I promised her we'd go to that concert," a baritone voice complained.

"Calm down; someone might hear us. Anyway, the company can change schedules to attend in the pharmacies if management sees fit. It's in the fine print," another voice replied.

"But they should give advance notice," the baritone guy grumbled.

"You know it's because our manager is the owner's nephew. He got the job through connections, not merit," the other guy said.

"Damn this country and its family-owned businesses. It's like a mafia. Let's get a burger," the baritone guy sighed.

They left without noticing Lucas in the stall. Lucas let out a long breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His shoulders sagged, momentarily easing the tension that had knotted in his muscles. Ultimately, it was probably for the best that he wasn't offered a job in that company. However, the relief was short-lived as he remembered he needed money to pay rent; Lucas tightened his jaw and clenched his fists.

A knot formed in his stomach and throat, his mind spinning uncertainly. Taking a deep breath, Lucas stepped out of the stall and headed towards the exit. He resolved to keep searching for opportunities to make ends meet, no matter how small. He couldn't afford to let his frustration and anxiety paralyze him there.

Lucas considered entering a bar to quench his frustration but couldn't find the pub he'd visited with Kyle. Hungry, he settled for a bakery offering reasonably priced bread, pastries, and empanadas in a colonial house with worn yet imposing bricks. A flickering neon sign above the entrance read "Empanadas Mariana" in bold crimson, casting an eerie glow. The smell of freshly baked bread, empanadas, and sweet pastries momentarily eased his worries as he stepped inside, the warmth of the bakery contrasting sharply with the cold, sterile atmosphere of the waiting room.

The dimly lit interior smelled of spices, and shelves displayed arcane artifacts. Shadowy figures moved swiftly and silently. At the counter, a tall man with a pale complexion and piercing gaze regarded Lucas coolly, his eyes almost glowing in the dim light. Lucas stiffened, slowed his pace, and noticed a dark-skinned, towering man in the shadows. His stillness was reminiscent of a stone statue, silently warning anyone who might cause trouble. Lucas swallowed hard and approached the counter.

"Good afternoon. May I have some empanadas, please?" he asked, trying to steady his voice.

The tall man nodded. "We have Tuscany and Galligan empanadas. Which ones do you like?" he said in a monotone, his gaze never leaving Lucas.

"Some with chicken, please?" Lucas asked, his voice trembling slightly.

A short, squat woman with flour-stained fingers appeared from the kitchen. "We don't have chicken today, just meat and octopus," she said brusquely, her eyes gleaming almost mischievous.

"Four octopus, then," Lucas said quickly, feeling the tall man's gaze intensify.

"Three meat, please," said a voice behind him.

A blonde man entered, even taller than the looming figure. Though his smile was friendly, his pale blue eyes held a hint of malice. The clerk's demeanor changed completely. "Of course, so lovely to have you here. Freshly made meat empanadas. Anything else?" he asked, his tone suddenly warm.

The blonde man grinned and shook his head. "No, three meat is fine."

The clerk handed him the empanadas. "Five euros, please," he said, almost obsequiously.

The man paid and asked, "Can I put up a poster outside? A friend lost his cat."

"Sure, anything you want," the clerk replied eagerly.

The blonde man looked at Lucas, his expression shifting from surprise to anger to condescension, but he said nothing and left.

The clerk handed Lucas his empanadas. "Twelve euros, please," he said, his tone reverting to cold detachment.

Lucas paid, feeling the clerk's icy demeanor. He left, clutching his bag of empanadas, his heart pounding as if he'd narrowly escaped danger. Stepping into the city, the towering concrete buildings and endless asphalt seemed to press down on him. The urban jungle felt oppressive, a stark reminder of his minority status in a place that sometimes felt unwelcoming.

Navigating the labyrinth of narrow streets in the old town, Lucas often sensed a tangible weight in the air, a reminder of the city's nature. The encounter with the blonde man in the bakery replayed in his mind. There was an aura of power around him, unlike Kyle's. Kyle's strength came from kindness and understanding, while the blonde man felt oppressive and threatening.

Living with Kyle for over a month had transformed their apartment into a home. The small space was filled with shared memories and moments of laughter. Lucas found solace in their growing bond, a friendship that anchored him amid the turbulence of city life.

By the time Lucas arrived home, Kyle wasn't there. He hoped to share the empanadas, but a note in neat cursive handwriting read, "Surprise shift; I'll be home late."

Lucas sat down, munching an empanada and gulping his beer. He'd encountered unkind people before, but this felt different. It wasn't just about being an immigrant; it felt personal, as if the blonde man saw through to something deeper within him.

He sighed, knowing some people would never accept him. As he finished his meal, a resolve formed within him. If he ever had power, he'd never treat people as he was treated in that bakery. He'd use his strength to protect and uplift, not to oppress.

As he drifted off to sleep, Lucas reflected on those who harbored xenophobia, homophobia, and other prejudices. What shaped their hearts to be so closed off? Why did they reach such different conclusions about people than Kyle did?

In his dream, Lucas was walking through a dark, cold valley with battered warriors. Leading them was Kyle, his golden eyes glowing dimly. The warriors, with torn wings trailing behind them, trudged through the freezing mist. Their ethereal glow faded, leaving them vulnerable to unseen horrors.

They approached an icy river, and Lucas felt an ancient, primal fear. Quickening their pace, hearts pounding, they plunged into the frigid waters, struggling to reach the other side. Lucas sensed unseen eyes watching them, an ancient evil waiting to pounce.

Emerging from the river, they collapsed, gasping for breath, knowing their ordeal wasn't over. The true horrors were still ahead. As they prepared to continue, Lucas felt something grabbing him from behind, trying to drag him away. He screamed, reaching out for his comrades, but they couldn't save him. Their retreating figures blurred in his vision.

Lucas yelled, the screeching sound making his throat sore. Then, a hand in the darkness touched his shoulder, and he heard Kyle's voice, "Hey, man, what's happening? Are you okay?"

Lucas blinked, disoriented. The shadows in their cozy apartment seemed to echo the darkness of his dream, but the warmth and familiarity of the place grounded him. His body was still tense, remnants of the nightmare's fear lingering in his muscles. But Kyle's presence, his golden eyes full of concern, began to relax him.

"I was swimming in a cold river," Lucas mumbled. "It was dark and dangerous, and you were there."

Kyle chuckled softly. "Dark and dangerous? I've been called worse. Maybe you should rest from relationships for a while after a heartbreak."

Lucas opened his mouth but couldn't speak, feeling his emotions jumble.

Kyle grinned. "I knew it from the start. Your eyes couldn't lie. Yet, you were so reserved that it made me want to know more about you. And here we are."

Lucas fell silent, his mind still swirling with the dream's vivid imagery.

Kyle's eyes shimmered like the stars, and he came a bit closer. "I was waiting for you to open up."

Lucas shivered, feeling warmth as if invisible feathers were delicately touching his body. He needed all his strength to mutter, "I wasn't sure how to tell you; I am sorry."

Kyle was just a few centimeters away. He smiled and casually said, "There's no shame in it. We'll get along fabulously if you're a good person and help clean the apartment."

Kyle handed him a glass of water.

"Thanks," Lucas mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "The dream felt so real."

Lucas took a sip, the cool water soothing his parched throat. He looked around the apartment, now their shared home. Living with Kyle for over a month had turned this space into a sanctuary. Kyle knew his secret, which didn't matter to him. A playful light illuminated Kyle's eyes.

Lucas blushed. "I brought some empanadas for you; they're in the kitchen."

Kyle smirked and grabbed an empanada and a beer. "How was the interview?"

Lucas grimaced. "Bad. I don't think they'll call. The place didn't seem okay."

Kyle's eyebrows furrowed. "How so?"

Lucas explained what happened in the interview and the bakery.

Kyle sighed. "Family businesses in Spain often run that way: the mom opens the business, the son makes it flourish, and the grandson ruins it. Where did you get this empanada? By the way."

Lucas nodded. "It was close to Plaza Colon. I can't remember the name of the street right now. Maybe it is in the bag. But the clerk seemed biased because of something; they were very impolite to me but super friendly with the German who entered next. Argh."

Lucas paused, trying to convey his thoughts from earlier. "When I become a doctor, I'll treat everyone equally. If I ever had the power, I would rather be compassionate and empathetic."

Kyle glanced at him. "Until then, maybe you should work in the food industry; you said you like cooking."

Lucas scratched his head. "I don't know if it would work. Working for someone might be flexible, and doing it alone... I have no idea about paperwork here; I guess it will be complicated."

Kyle smiled. "Relax, I still have my job at the supermarket and grant."

Kyle paused for a moment and then gulped. "By the way, did your ex send you the rest of your stuff?"

Lucas shook his head. "No, maybe he's busy."

Kyle frowned. "Yeah, maybe."

Lucas slowly relaxed. The warm lighting, the soft furniture, and the personal touches they had added made the room feel like a true refuge from the outside world.

Lucas looked at his phone. "Time to sleep. See you tomorrow."

"See you," Kyle waved.

Lucas finished his beer and headed to bed. As he settled back into bed, he reflected on the contrast between the oppressive city streets and the safety of their apartment. The nightmare had shaken him, but Kyle's unwavering support reminded him he wasn't alone. He closed his eyes, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. The dream memory faded in the dark, replaced by the comforting thought of Kyle's golden eyes watching over him.

The next day, during lunch at Ramón y Cajal Square, Lucas met with Manuel and Victor. The old cedars and wild plum trees provided a serene backdrop as they chatted.

Manuel first commented, "You look much better than a month ago. It seems like you've got a good roommate."

Lucas nodded, a smile creeping onto his face. Kyle was becoming indispensable to him day by day.

Victor jumped in, "And what about Jacob? Did he deliver those boxes yet?"

Lucas shook his head, a hint of concern shadowing his features. "Kyle asked about it yesterday. Jacob hasn't delivered anything, and he hasn't responded to my texts either."

Victor frowned, exchanging a look with Manuel. "So Kyle knows?"

Lucas nodded affirmatively.

"And?" both friends leaned in, eager for details.

Lucas grinned, feeling lighter. "He already knew. Didn't even have to tell him."

Their laughter filled the air, a shared camaraderie familiar to them all.

Changing the subject, Victor prodded, "How's the job hunt going?"

Lucas's smile faltered. "Not great. I'm even considering opening a food stall or something. I like cooking; my grandma taught me how. But I don't know."

Manuel scratched his head, thinking aloud, "A food stall could work, but it's tricky around here. Remember what my mom went through with her store? Those inspections are no joke."

Victor chimed in, "What about tamales? People love those, right?"

Lucas chuckled, shaking his head. "That's more Mexican; we work with corn differently. Plus, getting the leaves for tamales might be a challenge here."

Victor pondered, "Churros then?"

Lucas dismissed the idea, "Already taken. A guy is doing it."

Manuel patted Lucas's shoulder reassuringly. "Take your time. Opening anything here is a hassle. My mom had to charm her way through city hall to open her clothing store."

After lunch, they headed to classes, brainstorming ideas without reaching any conclusions.

The vast hallways of the Medicine faculty made Lucas feel small yet accepted. He found comfort in the routine and the support of friends and teachers. Despite not being universally accepted, he felt more confident in being his true self.

Lucas remembered his decision to move from his hometown to pursue his dream of becoming a doctor in the big city. Initially, he had faced challenges and encountered homophobia among some teachers, which made him wary of revealing his true self. However, finding acceptance among his classmates and now with Kyle challenged his earlier beliefs.

In the late afternoon, as the sunlight turned golden, Lucas decided it was time to head home. Just as he was leaving, he ran into Prof Ortiz, who had been instrumental in connecting him with Kyle.

"Hey, how's everything with your new roommate?" Prof Ortiz asked with a warm smile. "I saw him in the lab yesterday but didn't get a chance to catch up."

Lucas beamed, feeling genuinely grateful. "Kyle's great. He's quirky in the mornings but considerate, funny, and charming. He even made breakfast for us today. What more can I say? He's probably the best roommate I've ever had."

Prof Ortiz patted Lucas on the back approvingly. "I'm glad to hear that. Take good care of each other."

Lucas was left alone, pondering how to thank Kyle for believing in him and making their apartment feel like home. He closed his eyes, thoughts drifting to his roommate—Kyle, the man with golden eyes and a soul as old as the land they lived on.

As the wind rustled through the garden, the trees' branches swayed in unison, leaves swirling around Lucas in a whirlwind, unseen to his closed eyes.

"What would you do to show him how much he meant to you?" the wind seemed to murmur.

Lucas considered his options. Among his many talents, one stood out—cooking. He would prepare apples and cinnamon empanadas using his grandmother's cherished recipe.

With determination, Lucas opened his eyes and rushed home, hardly noticing the debris he left in his wake across the university grounds. Boarding the bus, he meticulously planned his recipe, mentally checking what ingredients he had at home and what he needed to pick up.

The supermarket bustled with customers, shelves stocked with products that stirred Lucas's culinary desires. He carefully selected ingredients—wheat flour and salt for the dough were easy, but the choice of apples was critical. His grandmother had taught him that the less attractive reddish-yellow apples with creamy skin yielded the sweetest juice when heated. Their aroma was floral, their texture sandy and delightful.

In the past, he would have gathered such apples from his grandmother's garden and medicinal herbs to prepare teas that soothed pregnant women, those with heartaches, and those seeking new beginnings. Despite her inability to walk, she had relied on Lucas to prepare these teas; her lifetime of physical exertion had taken its toll on her back.

Back home, Lucas sliced and sautéed the apples with sugar, cinnamon, and a splash of lemon juice while the empanadas baked in the oven, filling the apartment with a comforting aroma. Something else was needed to make them outstanding, something that made Lucas smile.

However, when the door opened, it wasn't the usual cheerful Kyle who entered. Instead, he appeared weary and disheveled, slumping onto the couch with an air of defeat.

Lucas's brow widened with concern as he approached. "Hey, you look a bit down. Is everything alright?"

With a heavy sigh, Kyle confessed, "Not really. I lost my job at the supermarket today."

Empathy softened Lucas's expression. "Oh man, I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?"

Kyle's fist tightened. "It's a long story. My boss was a total jerk to a new employee, and I couldn't just stand by and watch."

Lucas winced. "Wow, that sounds rough. Are you okay?"

Kyle managed a weak smile. "Yeah, just feeling a bit defeated."

Lucas spoke gently, his voice laced with empathy. "I get it. Well, you're not alone. We'll figure this out together."

As Kyle slumped further onto the couch, uncertain how to help, Lucas retreated to the kitchen to brew coffee and retrieve the freshly baked empanadas. The scent of roasted beans revived Kyle's spirits, and as he sipped the coffee and nibbled on the warm empanadas, his demeanor gradually brightened.

"Mmmn, these empanadas are good. Where did you get them?" Kyle asked, his gratitude evident in his eyes.

"I made them," Lucas replied shyly.

Kyle's gaze met Lucas's, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thanks, buddy. I appreciate that."

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