Donovan woke to an empty bed and the muted sound of the television filtering in from the living room. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting narrow strips of gold across the rumpled sheets. For a disorienting moment, he didn't recognize where he was—his mind still halfway across the world, expecting to wake up in his small Barcelona apartment with the sounds of the bustling city street below.

  But this was Pullman. He was home.

  He rolled over and glanced at the clock on the nightstand: 11:42 AM. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so late, but the exhaustion of travel and the emotional weight of his return had pulled him into a deep, dreamless sleep. His body still felt heavy, his thoughts clouded with jet lag.

  Rather than getting up immediately, Donovan allowed himself to linger in the warmth of the bed, staring up at the familiar ceiling. The popcorn texture above him was so different from the high, ornate ceilings of his Barcelona apartment. Everything here felt smaller, more contained, more... predictable.

  His phone vibrated on the nightstand. Reaching for it, he felt his heart leap into his throat when he saw Alejandro's name on the screen.

  Made it home safe? Been thinking about you.

  Donovan's fingers hovered over the screen, a rush of emotions flooding through him. Just seeing Alejandro's name brought it all back—the warmth of his smile, the intensity in his dark eyes, the feeling of his hands...

  He took a deep breath and typed out a response.

  Sorry for not texting sooner. Got distracted with travel and settling back in. Made it home safe and sound.

  Alejandro's reply came almost immediately.

  Great to hear. Miss you already. Barcelona isn't the same without you.

  Donovan bit his lip, glancing toward the doorway where he could hear Tyler moving around in the living room. He hesitated, then typed:

  Miss you too.

  He set the phone down, guilt churning in his stomach. How could he lie here in the apartment he shared with Tyler, texting Alejandro as if nothing had changed? As if he hadn't stepped back into his real life, with all its commitments and history?

  Finally forcing himself to get up, Donovan pulled on a pair of sweatpants and an old WSU t-shirt. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, steeling himself before heading out to the living room.

  Tyler was on the couch, a textbook open on his lap, the television playing softly in the background. He looked up when Donovan entered, his face breaking into a warm smile.

  "Hey, sleepyhead," Tyler said, closing his book. "How'd you sleep?"

  "Like a rock," Donovan admitted, sinking down onto the couch beside him. "I still feel tired, though."

  "Jet lag," Tyler nodded sympathetically. "It's a brutal thing. Want some coffee? I made a fresh pot about an hour ago."

  "Maybe in a bit. I should probably finish unpacking first."

  Tyler reached over and squeezed his hand. "Take your time. No rush. I'm just happy you're back."

  Donovan tried to smile, but it felt strained. "Me too," he said, hoping he sounded more convincing than he felt.

  After a few moments on the couch, letting the familiar comfort of their apartment sink in, Donovan forced himself up and returned to the bedroom to continue the unpacking he'd started the night before. He methodically removed items from his suitcase, sorting clothes into the laundry hamper, placing souvenirs and mementos on the dresser.

  There were postcards from the various museums he'd visited—the Picasso Museum, the Joan Miró Foundation, the National Art Museum of Catalonia. A small ceramic dish he'd bought at a local market. Photos printed from his phone—images of him with his study abroad classmates, standing in front of La Sagrada Família, lounging on the beach in Barceloneta.

  And there, carefully tucked among his folded shirts, was a photo of him and Emma, their arms around each other, caught mid-laugh outside a tapas bar. The sight of it made his chest ache with a sudden, sharp longing. He missed her—her wit, her honesty, the way she'd kept him grounded during those tumultuous weeks.

  As he arranged the items on his dresser, his eyes kept drifting to the nightstand drawer where he'd hidden Alejandro's pendant. Finally, unable to resist, he slid the drawer open and removed the silver piece, holding it in his palm.

  "En el cielo de Barcelona, encontré mi corazón," he whispered, his voice caressing the Spanish syllables.

  He clutched the pendant tightly, closing his eyes as memories flooded back—Alejandro leading him through narrow, winding streets to a hidden courtyard; the two of them sharing wine on a rooftop terrace as the sun set over the city; Alejandro's whispered words against his skin as they lay tangled together in the darkness.

  The sound of approaching footsteps snapped him back to reality. Hastily, Donovan shoved the pendant back into the drawer, pushing it closed just as Tyler appeared in the doorway.

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  "Hey," Tyler said, leaning against the doorframe. "I'm getting hungry. Want to grab something to eat? My treat."

  Donovan nodded, grateful for the distraction. "Sure, that sounds good. Let me just finish this first."

  "Take your time. I'll go grab my keys."

  As Tyler left the room, Donovan quickly unpacked the last few items from his suitcase, his fingers lingering momentarily on a museum brochure that still carried the faint scent of Alejandro's cologne.

  With a deep breath, he tucked it away in his desk drawer, zipped up the empty suitcase, and headed out to join Tyler.

  "The Old European?" Tyler suggested as they got into his car, referring to their favorite breakfast spot in town.

  "Perfect," Donovan agreed, settling into the passenger seat.

  As they drove through Pullman, Donovan was struck by how different it felt from Barcelona. Where the Spanish city had been a maze of ancient stone buildings and narrow alleyways, Pullman was open, sprawling, with wide streets and modern buildings. The rolling Palouse hills surrounded the town, their golden-brown hue contrasting with the deep blue of the late summer sky.

  With Washington State University's fall semester about to begin, the sleepy summer town was coming back to life. Students were everywhere—moving into apartments, shopping for supplies, reuniting with friends after the summer break. Cars with license plates from all over the Pacific Northwest filled the parking lots, packed with dorm essentials and semester supplies.

  College Hill was bustling with activity, the fraternities and sororities preparing for rush week, their houses decorated with welcoming banners. Downtown, the local businesses that had been quiet during the summer months were now buzzing with customers, their windows advertising "Welcome Back, Cougs!" specials.

  "Feels different, doesn't it?" Tyler commented, noticing Donovan's gaze. "After Barcelona, I mean. Must seem pretty small-town now."

  "It's different," Donovan admitted. "But familiar. In a good way."

  They found a parking spot near The Old European, the restaurant already packed with students and locals enjoying their late breakfast. The hostess recognized them and led them to a small table near the window, handing them menus with a friendly smile.

  "The usual, I'm guessing?" she asked, already reaching for the coffee pot.

  "Yes, please," Tyler nodded, and she filled both their cups before leaving them to decide on their orders.

  Donovan wrapped his hands around the warm mug, inhaling the rich aroma. After weeks of espresso and café con leche, the American drip coffee tasted different—stronger, less nuanced, but comfortingly familiar.

  "So," Tyler said, leaning forward eagerly, "tell me more about Barcelona. I want to hear everything."

  The waitress returned, and Donovan ordered eggs benedict, adding, "And keep the coffee coming, please. Jet lag is kicking my butt."

  Once she'd left with their orders, Donovan found himself eagerly sharing stories of Barcelona—describing the intricate beauty of Gaudí's architecture, the vibrant energy of Las Ramblas, the serene beaches, and the incredible food. He told Tyler about his classes, about how challenging it had been at first to keep up with the rapid Spanish, and how rewarding it felt when things finally clicked.

  "You should have seen the Barri Gòtic—the Gothic Quarter," Donovan said, gesturing with his hands. "Some of these buildings are from the medieval period. You turn a corner, and suddenly you're back in the 14th century. It's incredible."

  "Wish I could have seen it," Tyler said, his expression wistful. "Maybe someday we can go back together."

  The comment landed like a stone in Donovan's stomach, but he forced a smile. "Yeah, maybe someday," he echoed hollowly.

  Their food arrived, and Donovan was grateful for the interruption. He took a bite of his eggs benedict, the familiar taste momentarily grounding him.

  "And how was your dorm room?" Tyler asked between bites of his pancakes.

  "Apartment, actually, as I’m sure you remember," Donovan explained playfully. “The studio apartment was a bit cramped, but it worked out well, though. Great location near classes and Barcelona’s most vibrant neighborhoods."

  As Tyler nodded, both of their phones buzzed simultaneously. Tyler checked his first, a grin spreading across his face.

  "It's Brad and Levi," he said, holding up his phone to show Donovan the group text. "They want us to go out tonight. They're super excited you're back."

  Donovan read the message:

  DON IS BACK IN THE USA!!! We need to celebrate TONIGHT before classes ruin our lives again!! Meet at The Zzu at 9? No excuses accepted!!

  Despite his exhaustion, Donovan couldn't help but smile at his friends' enthusiasm. Brad and Levi had been fixtures in his life since freshman year, and he had missed them during his time away.

  "What do you think?" Tyler asked. "I know you're tired, but it could be fun. Everyone back together again."

  Donovan hesitated, weighing the fatigue that still dragged at his limbs against the desire to see his friends. "Okay," he agreed finally. "But I can't go too hard. Classes start next week, and I'm still adjusting to the time difference."

  "Deal," Tyler said, quickly typing a response. "We'll make it an early night."

  As Tyler texted back and forth with their friends, making plans for the evening, Donovan sipped his coffee and gazed out at the familiar streets of Pullman. A part of him was genuinely looking forward to seeing Brad and Levi, to stepping back into the comfortable routines of his life here. But another part couldn't help comparing this small college town to the vibrant, ancient city he'd left behind—and the person he'd become there.

  His phone vibrated with another text, and he glanced down to see Alejandro had responded to his earlier message.

  Barcelona keeps reminding me of you. Everywhere I go, I see something that makes me think of your smile.

  Donovan quickly darkened his screen, his heart racing as he glanced up to make sure Tyler hadn't noticed. But Tyler was engrossed in his conversation with Brad and Levi, excitement evident in his animated typing.

  "This is going to be great," Tyler said, finally setting his phone down. "The whole gang back together again before our last semester starts. I can't wait."

  "Yeah," Donovan agreed, trying to match Tyler's enthusiasm while pushing away thoughts of dark eyes and Spanish whispers. "It'll be good to see everyone."

  As they finished their breakfast and prepared to head back to the apartment, Donovan felt himself pulled between two worlds—the comfortable familiarity of Pullman and his life with Tyler, and the passionate intensity of Barcelona and Alejandro. For now, at least, he would try to focus on the present, on readjusting to life here, on reconnecting with his friends.

  But as they walked to the car, Tyler's hand occasionally brushing against his, Donovan couldn't ignore the weight of the phone in his pocket, carrying messages from a city an ocean away—and the pendant hidden in his nightstand drawer, a tangible reminder of everything he was trying to leave behind, yet couldn't quite let go.