Alex Barcelona & Nikelaos – Homeoffice
Homeoffice – Alex Barcelona, Nikelaos
In the amber glow of the afternoon, the apartment smelled of cold coffee and the dampness of recent storms. Nicélao typed with concentrated fury, his left eyebrow arched with that tension Alex knew well: the heavy weight of work deadlines. His linen shirt, however, remained impeccable, as if elegance were a muscle Nicélao exercised even in solitude. Alex leaned against the wall behind Nicélao’s chair, barefoot and shirtless, the sweat of fever still glistening on his collarbone. He studied the back of Nicélao’s neck, that vulnerable spot where the brown hair curled against the skin.
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