Carlos drifts into blackness, and for a terrifying moment he thinks it’s death. No pain. No storm. Just silence and petals floating weightlessly around him, like the rain has followed him even here.
Then—light. Memories unfurl one by one:
Max laughing at a stupid inside joke only they shared.
The way his hand lingered on Carlos’s back after a race, protective without thinking.
Midnight debriefs when their eyes held longer than necessary.
Moments Carlos had buried, convinced they weren’t meant to be his.

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