He looks up, looks in David’s eyes. This hurts too fucking much. He goes to pull his hand back, but David grips his wrist, holds him in place. “If I think about it too much, I’ll never stop,” David reveals quietly. “I won’t be able to stop thinking about it.” He stares up at the ceiling. “I know from experience.” Iker bites his lip, looks at him desperately - God, can’t you just understand? Don’t you see, don’t you know? You must know, fuck, you must - and turns his wrist slightly, presses his hand against David’s. “I need you to think about it,” he whispers. “I can’t… If you’re feeling like this, I can’t… I can’t feel this way alone -” David sighs heavily, looks down at his hands. “I just got married, Iker.” [...] Later, when they are spent and sweaty and lying against each other, Iker turns and presses a gentle kiss against Cesc’s temple. Maybe, in another life, this would just be a prelude for them – maybe they would continue being each other’s distraction. Maybe Iker would say, “I love you.” But instead, Iker runs his fingers through Cesc’s hair, and Cesc says, “I think you’ll always love him,” and Iker quietly answers, “I think so, too.”