NavCDMX
#001
Mexico City Metropolitan Area Transit Network – Light and Dark versions
Feature No. 001. Includes all structured rail and bus transport networks.
2026 (updated)
O que você faria se soubesse que tinha pouco tempo para amar?
Essa história é uma elegia à brevidade da felicidade humana...o encontro de duas almas oriundas de mundos distintos que, contrariando as expectativas do destino, descobrem uma na outra um lar.
É um cântico melancólico sobre a beleza e a dor de entregar o coração a alguém, mesmo sabendo que nenhum amor é capaz de vencer o tempo. Mas a vida, em sua natureza inexorável, não consulta os desejos do coração. Quando o amor atinge sua forma mais pura, o tempo revela sua face mais cruel.
Eles se casam, vivem juntos e logo ela morre para o câncer... mas essa história não fala somente sobre perder alguém...fala sobre amar sabendo que tudo o que é precioso também é transitório. Cada sorriso torna se mais valioso porque é efêmero, cada abraço mais intenso porque pois ele pode ser o último. E quando as últimas páginas da história se fecham, permanece uma verdade serena e dolorosa... algumas pessoas passam por nossa vida por um breve instante, mas deixam marcas tão profundas que continuam habitando nossa alma muito depois de terem partido!
Summary: My first instinct was always to run away, but after running away from where I had broken down once, I had to go back there and maybe... Hawkins was now my salvation.
Warnings: Abusive relationship. Physical aggression, shallow exploration. Sexual content. Angst and superficial writing.
My first language isn't English, go easy on me.
The chapters are short.
ENDLESSLY MASTERLIST
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ENDLESSLY
CHAPTER SEVEN:
⧫ AWARNESS
The cold night air hit my face hard enough to make me shiver. Hawkins at night had that deceptive silence, like everything was asleep, when in reality it was just watching. I rested my elbows on the porch railing and let my head fall forward for a second, breathing deeply, trying to organize the chaos spinning inside me.
It didn’t work.
The tears came anyway, hot and stubborn, spilling without asking for permission. I wiped my sleeve across my face in anger, irritated with myself for being there again, in that place, like that. Drunk, fragile, and emotionally exposed — the perfect trio for regret.
Behind the glass door, the voices were muffled. Nervous laughter, someone saying something about maybe changing the game, Dustin complaining way too loudly.
— I’m sorry.
Steve appeared behind me and I sniffed loudly.
— Stop saying that, Steve.
I said out loud, my voice shaking.
— It’s not fair for you to say that — I murmured. — Not today, not in front of everyone, for fuck’s sake.
— I know, I know, I just…
Steve was drunk. He had had several beers before the game and the shots weren’t helping much either. He wasn’t the loud, messy kind of drunk — he was the other kind. The dangerous one. The one where words came out before the filter, before reason.
— I need to go home.
I murmured, not paying attention to the man in front of me, shutting out anything that came from him. That’s why when he told me to wait, I didn’t listen and started walking back into the house, Steve following me almost insignificant.
As soon as my foot hit the carpet again, Dustin ran over to me, Robin right behind him.
— Hey, hey, hey.
He said too fast, holding my arm carefully, like I might break.
— What happened.
I shook my head, trying to pull in air that seemed to have vanished from the room. The voices behind us grew too loud again, someone laughed, someone cursed at the video game controller. Normal. Everything normal. Except me.
— Nothing, Dust.
I murmured, sober enough now after whatever Steve had said hit me.
He frowned, that worried look that no longer matched his height or his voice, already too deep for his age.
— It doesn’t look like nothing. You look…
He made a vague gesture with his hand
— like you’re about to disappear again.
The word hit harder than it should have.
Before I could respond, heavy footsteps sounded behind us. Steve. I didn’t need to look to know. The air shifted, thicker, warmer.
— No… I just need to go home, Dust. Can you get a ride with someone.
I asked, but Dustin’s attention had already shifted to Steve, irritated.
— I’ll take him home.
Robin said to me and I gave her a small smile.
— Thanks, Rob.
— Dustin…
Steve said, his voice way too low for someone drunk.
— I’ve got this.
— Dude, you’re clearly not in any condition to take care of anything.
Dustin shot back without thinking, stepping a little more in front of me. Protective. Stubborn. Always had been.
Steve ran a hand over his face, eyes red — not just from the alcohol.
— Be safe, okay.
I said to my little brother, my hands on his shoulders, then swallowed hard and headed toward the front door.
— Hey, hey.
Eddie came rushing over when he saw me heading for the door and I looked back at him with a trembling pout, on the verge of crying.
He nearly tripped on the rug as he came toward me. His messy hair bounced, the band shirt slipping off one shoulder, and he opened his arms like he was about to physically stop me from crossing that invisible line.
— Where do you think you’re going with that face.
He said, trying to sound light, failing badly.
I looked at him, my lip trembling, that pathetic pout that always came before the tears. I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. Eddie understood anyway.
— Oh, no…
He muttered, running a hand over his face.
— Shit.
Behind him, Steve had stopped. He didn’t move closer. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, too still for someone who used to take up so much space.
— I just… — I started, but my voice broke. I closed my mouth, took a deep breath. — I need to get out of here.
— You can’t drive like this.
Steve said my name with so much tenderness it felt like a knife being driven straight into my chest.
— I’ll walk then.
I said, turning my back as I stepped out the front door.
— It’s dark.
Steve protested, pointing at the sky as I started walking.
— I like the dark.
I yelled back, and Steve walked up to me too fast, turning me around to face him.
— I already let you walk alone at night once and it was the worst decision I ever made. I’m not letting you do it again.
He shouted, and that’s when I broke. I covered my face with my hands and cried in front of the Harrington house like I was seventeen again.
When you collapsed, covering your face with your hands, the sound of your crying became the only noise in the night. It was a cry of exhaustion, from someone tired of carrying the weight of memories that Hawkins insisted on keeping alive.
Steve stopped just inches from you. The aggression in his voice vanished instantly, replaced by silent desperation. He didn’t touch you right away — he knew that, in that state, his touch might be the final blow.
— Don’t do this…
He whispered, his voice hoarse now, losing the fight against the knot in his own throat.
— Please, don’t do this.
Steve finally took the last step. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest, even when you resisted for a second. The smell of him was comforting enough for you to give in.
— Why didn’t you call me. Why couldn’t you love me the way I loved you.
I asked angrily into his chest.
For a few seconds, the only sound was his heavy breathing against your hair and the crickets in the distance. The question — the question that had been stuck in your throat for months, maybe years — hovered between the two of you, lit by the yellow streetlights.
— I did love…
He started, his voice failing miserably.
— No, you didn’t love me, Steve.
I denied it.
— You didn’t love me because the second we broke up you ran straight to Nancy.
— I loved you so much that I didn’t know what to do with it.
He said, pulling me back to look at me, and I sobbed as I squeezed my eyes shut.
— You should have tried.
I whispered, staring at my hands, and I heard Steve nod.
— I waited for you and you didn’t want me anymore…
I whispered and took a step back.
— I really need to go, Steve.
— I did want you. I ran to Nancy because I wanted you to react. I was an idiot and you left…
Those words hit me like a punch to the stomach, knocking the little air I had left right out of me. I stopped mid step, my feet planted on the cold asphalt, and let out a bitter laugh with no humor at all, feeling the tears burn down my face.
— You used her. — My voice came out sharp, loaded with painful disbelief. — You used Nancy to hurt me. To see if I would react.
I turned back to him, and the yellow glow of the streetlight showed a Steve I barely recognized. He looked like he was falling apart, the arrogant posture replaced by raw, drunken desperation.
— I know. I was an asshole and I thought it would work.
His voice cracked and my lower lip started trembling again.
— The problem was that you were an asshole to everyone except me, so you were my asshole. And when you were that asshole to me, Steve, it hurt.
I turned my back on him for good. I heard his footsteps trying to follow me, but then Eddie’s deep voice cut in, close enough now to intervene.
— Let her go, Harrington.
Eddie said, firm, without his usual sarcasm.
— That’s enough for tonight.
I didn’t look back. I didn’t want to see the defeat on Steve’s face, or the guilt I knew would be written all over it. I walked toward Eddie’s van, my legs heavy like I was moving through water.
I opened the passenger door and the smell of cheap cigarettes and old cassette tapes hit me — chaos that felt much more honest than Steve’s expensive cologne. Eddie got in right after me, slamming the door shut with a thud that felt like a full stop on that conversation.
The silence inside the van was thick. Eddie didn’t turn on the radio. He just turned the key, the engine coughed, and he put the van in gear.
