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Love is patient, love is kind.
Although Luca scoffed at silly human beliefs, the words were repeated often enough in school assembly to stick with him. He will never trust people who wish he wouldn’t exist, and he happily spent most of his time in religion classes defiantly dreaming about boys out of spite, and wondering how the school priest would react if he told him he could be impregnated by another male.
But those words have burnt into the core of his being all the while.
And so he was patient, and he was kind.
But when, for the third time in a month, he’s caught breathless with a hammering heart, thinking oh my god, it's happening, only for Alberto to look at him in confusion from where he’s kneeling, tying his shoelaces, he doesn’t have much patience left in him.
The thing is. Alberto is a true romantic. The most embarrassingly cheesy lines fall from his lips as easy and natural as breathing. He never shies away from a kiss or a meaningful touch of the hand. He, too, is patient and kind, just in his own, sometimes unconventional way, but more often than not, his impulsive and explosive spirit wins.
Alberto is the kind of man who rarely ever takes him out for a dinner, or gives him flowers, or does any of the things from Human Courting 101 (a pamphlet poor fifteen year old Luca had written in an attempt to sort out his confusing feelings between the girls in class who sent him love letters and the memory of a scrawny kid who endangered his life repeatedly).
His taste for romance is a lot more waking him up at 2am to go swimming and distracting him with shameless flirting as he's trying to study and endangering their lives zooming through narrow cobbled streets on the Vespa - actually, his love language might be being a life-threatening nuisance.
The point is - Luca isn't sure whether to expect him to casually slip a ring into his morning coffee one day, or send him on a wild goose chase of a treasure hunt, or a more traditional, candle-lit date with meaningful gazes and handholding and everything he had ripped directly from romance novels into his pamphlet.
It’s the not knowing that wears him down. His heart races every time Alberto stares at him for a moment too long. (Which isn't rare. At all. It happens daily.) Every time Alberto drops something and has to kneel to pick it up, his breath is stolen away. And when Alberto for the first time in months does take him out for dinner, he's trembling with anxious anticipation the whole evening and feels ridiculously disappointed by the end of the date.
Luca is embarrassed by how he can't stop thinking, waiting, yearning for the moment to come. He had no clue how important the idea of making their love official and recognized had become to him, until he was denied it. Maybe catholic school couldn’t pray his gay away, but it might have ingrained the importance of marriage into him. (He can't deny the appeal of easier tax returns either.)
He feels like a destitute heroine from centuries past gazing out the window, waiting helplessly for her lover to come home and he's sick of it. Without knowing it, Alberto is driving him completely insane.
The breaking point comes on a Wednesday in May, when he’s startled awake from a nap by the smoke alarm blaring. Luca wants to cry in frustration at laying his heart in the hands of a man who not only forgets to propose to him but also burns pasta on the stove.
But he has resigned to this fate long ago, ever since their first handshake. Even as Luca’s yelling at him while fanning smoke out the window, he can’t for a single second deny he’s helplessly head over heels for the boy.
So he decides to take matters into his own hands. He spends weeks thinking and dreaming and planning, giving his boyfriend a period of grace, just in case his proposal plans suddenly spring into action, but to no avail.
And then summer comes, and they're stepping on the train to Portorosso for their yearly vacation back home, and there's no turning back.
The first few days back go by in a whirl between visiting their families and old friends. While it’s touching to realize how many people still care for them, even when they barely spend a couple of weeks back a year, Luca quickly finds himself exhausted with the endless lunches and catching up over coffees and the little favors his mother expects.
He also tires from the extra added layer of sneakily pulling Massimo aside to whisper about his plans and get some extra hands to help him on the special day. Thankfully, his soon-to-be father-in-law is equally excited and promises to help, even offering up stories about Alberto’s teenagehood that he mentally files under T for Teasing, Future.
It’s rare Luca spends time with him on his own, and he thoroughly enjoys it, and is especially touched to recognize all the admirable qualities instilled in his boyfriend - but he does not enjoy sneaking around Alberto’s back. He catches some suspicious glances, but smoothly deflects it by claiming to bond with his papa and distracts him with kisses. (Thank God he’s so easy to distract, otherwise Luca wouldn’t ever be able to keep a secret.)
In the hustle and bustle, he almost forgets to break the news to his own family. So one day, when Alberto has plans to catch up with Ciccio and Guido, Luca excuses himself in favor of going underseas. The two boys are mostly Alberto’s friends anyways, he usually finds himself the third wheel in the group.
On the swim, anxiety flares in him. His family has never had any explicit objections to their relationship, but his mother has never quite warmed up to the boy who basically stole him away from them. He finds her a little ways outside town harvesting kelp and breathlessly calls out a greeting.
“Hi Luca, I didn’t expect you today,” she greets as they exchange pecks on both cheeks.
“Where’s dad and grandma?” he asks fervently.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Sorry, I’m in a rush. I have news.”
“They’re back home, but what is it, dear?” Daniela frowns.
“I’ll tell you all together. Come on,” he urges. “It’s good news!” he reassures her when she hesitates. Daniela tries prying it out of him on the way, but he keeps his lips sealed.
He pecks his father’s and grandma’s cheeks in greeting and denies the offer of food, wanting to keep it brief to not raise any suspicions with his boyfriend. He decides to jump right in.
“Soooo… In a couple of days, I’m proposing to Alberto.”
He sees his mother blink swiftly, and his father’s eyebrows rise. The tension is broken by his grandmother, who chuckles a nice and offers him a fist. He bumps it gratefully before looking expectantly at his parents.
“Well? Aren’t you happy for me?”
“Of course, son. We’re very proud of you,” Lorenzo stumbles and swims over to give him an awkward hug. Luca sighs, his father has never been the best at connections, but at least he tries. When they let go he stares in defiance at his mother, whose nervously fluttering fins betray her still fumbling with the concept.
“What’s wrong.”
“I- this is just so sudden, Luca. You’re so young-”
“Ah, cut the crap, Daniela,” his grandma chimes in. “You were 19 when you and ‘Renzo got married.”
“Well, we were childhood sweethearts, we’d been together for years, it wasn’t too soon.”
“Mom ,” Luca groans, “I’ve literally known him for ten years and we’ve been dating for almost five. How is it any different?”
“You’re not even done with school, dear-”
“University , mom. I will be in a year. It’s not like we’re getting married now, it’d probably be next summer at the very earliest. Probably longer, so we can save up some money and invite our family.” He raises a sarcastic eyebrow at her.
The argument feels like playing whack-a-mole. He’s grateful when his father takes her aside to gently whisper to her. He shares an exasperated look with his grandma.
“Shush, ‘Renzo. I know, but-” she sighs in exasperation and focuses her attention on Luca again. “Luca. Are you really sure about this?” She holds up a hand to stop his protests. “It’s a huge commitment. I’m not sure he’s the one-”
“Mom! What the fuck!”
His family all freeze and stare at him in shock. He realizes he might not have ever sworn in front of them before and recoils a little in embarrassment. Grandma gets over it first, giving him a brilliant grin and nodding encouragingly. Daniela fumbles and stutters on:
“It’s just- I always imagined you with someone who’s… a little more like you, calm and level-headed. Is he really good enough for you?”
Luca’s fins flare up in imposing outrage.
“After everything he’s done for me? For you?! Where were your complaints when he brought you my letters and helped out with the goatfish?!”
“Ah, yes, our level-headed little Bubbles,” Grandma chuckles. “I wonder where he takes it from.”
Even though he appreciates the wittiness, he growls at her before continuing his rant, voice steadily working its way up to a shout.
“He’s the best thing in my life. He lets me be myself, unlike you. If you think he’s too impulsive or adventurous or whatever, maybe consider that’s what attracts me, that he’s the complete opposite of you.”
He pauses for a moment to catch his breath, and selfishly appreciate the gobsmacked look on his mother’s face. He considers retreating, but finds he can’t stop the lifetime of buried resentment boiling in his blood.
“You were gonna send me off to become some kind of creepy, half-life deep creature! Just because I wanted something else than you! Who the fuck does that to their own child!”
“Luca, honey, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Daniela pleads, lifting her hands placatingly.
“I don’t care what you meant, or what you think. I’m going to marry Alberto, who I’m head over heels in love with and always will be.” He looks over his family, daring anyone to challenge him. “We good? Nevermind- don’t answer. I don’t care.”
With that, he turns on his tail and swims off in a huff, ignoring his mother’s calls.
Heart beating furiously with adrenaline, he swims fast enough to whip up a frenzy of sand and kelp all around and doesn’t care about the angry yells from the neighbors he passes. He thought he’d gone over every possible bad scenario in his mind, but somehow, they managed to make it even worse.
Luca slows down a little as he gets outside town, free of the cloying feeling of people hovering around him. Desperate to relieve the anger rushing through his body, he looks around for something to punch or kick or tear into. All he finds is a starfish that he picks up, lifting his hand to throw it as far as he can - but doesn’t have the heart. He gently puts it down again, curls into a ball and muffles a scream into his palms, feeling hopelessly pathetic at his inability to control his frustration.
“Luca!”
He twirls around on a dime, surprised to see his father rushing after him. Curiosity piqued, he momentarily buries his feelings and waits.
“I’m sorry- I’m sorry about that,” Lorenzo pants.
“I’m not,” he grumbles.
“No, of course not, you’re absolutely right. Your mother is more old-fashioned than she likes to think. And even after all these years, she still thinks she knows what’s best for you.”
Luca blinks. This might be the most upfront his father’s ever been with him. Like his prize crabs, he’s much too shy to peek out of his shell, and he's never heard him defy his mother before.
“And she never really warmed up to Alberto - I think she still blames him for your moving to the surface. She’s too proud to apologize now, but give her some time. She’ll come around. Me and grandma will wear her down.”
Luca sighs, feeling his anger drain a little.
“Thanks, dad. I don’t regret anything I said, but I hope we can patch things up. I think… I’ve been holding on to that stuff for a long time.”
“Of course, son. She’s a tough mussle. We’ll crack her open.”
Luca hugs him, grateful to finally feel his support.
The little reconciliation helps him calm down on the rest of the way back to Portorosso. He knows his mom will come around, but he’s still upset that there's any issue at all. And wildly offended on his boyfriend’s behalf.
That evening, he surprises Alberto with an onslaught of hungry kisses to relieve his anger, and mentally apologizes for his family. (Which will also be his, soon. Hopefully. He doesn’t let himself linger on that doubt.) Alberto is confused, but doesn’t complain, eggs him on to soothe his thrumming emotions with sweat and passion. Luca’s heart warms at how even without a word, he can always make him feel better.
While the stifling stillness of Portorosso summers brings him a breath of nostalgic, wild-spirited past, he can’t help but miss Genova already. He misses the bustling streets, music through their bedroom window from morning to night, markets and used book stores and his newfound freedom their stable, calm domesticity gives him. He realizes he’s outgrown his hometown, especially as he’s gazing out to sea and fuming about his family. The thought makes him a little wistful, but all the more excited to cement their future together.
Then comes their first day off, free from any obligations to anyone but each other. They wake up stupidly early, still in their everyday routines. Alberto eagerly sucks off his morning wood and promptly falls back asleep before he can return the favor. He chuckles fondly and plays with his hair, content to drift off in a sleepy haze.
When Luca wakes up again, his boyfriend still snoring softly against his ribs, he stares at the morning sun reflecting playful waves on the ceiling. He glances at the calendar on the wall and realizes with a speeding heart what day it is. Luca wakes his adorably sleepy boyfriend up with gentle kisses.
“What are we doing today?” Alberto yawns as he stretches, heels lifting off the floor. Luca can’t help drinking in the sight, all golden skin and freckles and muscles and soft stomach that’s gonna be his fiancé soon. (Again. Hopefully. Probably.)
“I have plans,” he replies as he too gets out from the warm nest of blankets.
“Oh.”
Luca sees him deflate like a dejected balloon and breathes a huff of laughter.
“With you, dummy.”
“Oh!”
Luca comes closer and cups his jaw gently. Alberto gladly snakes his arms around his waist to pull him closer.
“Do you know what day it is?”
“Umm… Thursday.”
He rolls his eyes, making Alberto frown a little, it is Thursday, after all. He’s certain. Almost completely certain, anyway.
“It’s the anniversary of our first meeting.”
Alberto’s eyebrows raise and his mouth hangs open for a couple of seconds before he finds his words.
“I didn’t realize - how do you know the exact date? Sirens don’t use calendars, do they?”
“I counted the days back from the first day of school, once I learned the calendar.”
“You’re a nerd,” Alberto sticks his tongue out at him, deflecting from the way his cheeks heat up. Luca soundly ignores the teasing, instead brushing a couple of stray, blonde curls behind Alberto’s ear and gazing earnestly into his eyes.
“Can you believe it’s been ten years?”
“That’s like. Almost half our lives.”
“Mmm. So I want to commemorate it.”
“How?” Alberto licks his lips, staring at him hungrily.
“That’s a secret for now. But your whole day is mine.”
Alberto hums in interest, before dipping him down like when they dance, until his weight is held solely by his strong arms and he’s kissed deeply until dizzy and breathless.
“I hope the schedule isn’t too tightly packed for this.”
Luca giggles and pecks the corner of his mouth.
“No, I’ve put in at least three breaks for kissing you silly.”
“Only three?” Alberto pouts.
“If you’re a good boy and get ready fast, we might have time for a fourth.”
Alberto swiftly pulls him back up, and moves to open the closet.
“Okay. Okay. What should I wear?”
Luca puts in a request for his favorite shorts - the one that makes his ass look really, really good - but otherwise just tells him to dress comfortably. He’s grateful when Alberto matches them with a loose tank top that’s just a little too short, revealing just a sliver of skin when he moves, and an almost ridiculous amount of rings, both in his ears and on his fingers. (He makes it work though. Which is good, since Luca plans to up the count by one.)
While he’s in the bathroom, Luca races down the stairs with Giulia’s old picnic basket in hand to find Massimo humming along to an operetta as he beheads fish.
“Good morning,” he calls, not waiting for a reply as he hastily shoves supplies into the basket. “It’s today.”
“Buongiorno, Luca. I know.”
“You’re- you’re still on board, right?”
“Si, si, don’t you worry,” he turns around to give him a reassuring look. “You go off and enjoy the day, I’ll have everything ready when you’re back, te lo prometto.”
“Thank you,” Luca absent-mindedly replies, shaking his head in an attempt to clear the debilitating clouds looming around his jittery brain.
“Luca,” Massimo rumbles, in that voice that still sounds so stern he stops dead in his tracks, even when he knows it’s filled with love. “There’s no reason to be nervous.”
Luca sighs and rubs at his temples, trying to soothe his spinning thoughts.
“I know. I know. I just want everything to be perfect.”
“Any day with you is perfect to him,” Massimo smiles fondly and pats his back. The honesty combined with his fraying nerves is almost enough to make him tear up. He gives him a grateful peck on the cheek before resuming work on the picnic basket.
He ignores Alberto’s complaints at leaving the house before breakfast, but graciously lets him chug a cup of coffee and have a short chat with Massimo before they’re out the door.
“Where to?” Alberto asks curiously as Luca fastens the picnic basket to the back of his bike. He smiles and points up the hills, towards the ancient tower standing proudly at the top of Portorosso. Alberto groans. “All the way up there, on an empty stomach?”
“Fine,” Luca rolls his eyes and throws him a couple of grapes from the basket. Alberto eagerly shoves way too many into his mouth and grins back at him, mumbling a thank you through bulging cheeks. Luca gets on his bike, announcing “Thanks for the head start!” with a cheeky salute before biking off. He hears a shout behind him but doesn’t look back, only grins manically, determined to win the race.
Alberto catches up to him not far into the hill, still chewing furiously on the grapes. He gulps them down, wincing a little at the frankly stupid amount of food going down his throat at once, before falling into a comfortable pace just a little behind his boyfriend to unashamedly appreciate the view. Luca casts a glance back and frowns before treading harder.
For once, Alberto doesn’t allow flaring competitiveness to take over. He strategizes, eggs his boyfriend on the whole way up, just barely catching up to him and calls teasing challenges, making him speed up and burn himself out, while he paces himself.
And just when they’re nearing the top of the hill, Luca’s panting, legs trembling, Alberto finally rises from the seat to tread as hard as he can, easily passing the brunet, who calls a breathless complaint, and he slows to a halt by the landmark tower with a good twenty meter lead.
“Took you long enough!” he grins as Luca throws himself off the bike and leans on it for support, chest heaving as he catches his breath.
“You’ve never- you’ve never beaten me before,” he gasps.
“I know!” Alberto laughs excitedly. “Aren’t you proud of me?”
Luca only gives him a dour pout and leans his bike on the wall.
“Aww come on, babe, you’re such a sore loser,” Alberto coos. When his only response is a grumble, he grabs his waist from behind, hoists him into the air and spins him around until the gruff demeanor turns into giggles. “Better now?” he asks as he sets him down. Luca turns around in his embrace and gets up on tip-toes to give him a sloppy, sweaty kiss Alberto eagerly leans into.
“Come on,” Luca keeps one hand on his wrist as they untangle. He grabs the picnic basket and leads him to a small dirt path heading further into the forest behind the tower. They walk in silence, continuing up the rolling hills and enjoying the reprieve from the sweltering sun, until the trees scatter to reveal a meadow with tall grass, brimming with a rainbow of wildflowers.
“Oh, this is beautiful,” Alberto gasps softly.
“Isn’t it? Massimo tipped me off. He used to bring dates up here when he was young.”
“Why hasn’t he shown me? I’m his son,” Alberto frowns.
“I asked,” he shrugs. “Besides, you’ve had years to explore Portorosso. You’ve shown me plenty of good date spots already. I wanted to surprise you.”
The blonde perks up at that, happily follows him to the middle of the meadow and takes in the view of the Portorosso bay framed by trees swaying softly in the relieving morning breeze.
Once Luca's spread the blanket and sat down, Alberto flops down and lays his head in his lap, a teasing grin on his face.
"I want my reward."
“Hmm, what did you have in mind?” Luca teases right back as he opens the picnic basket.
“Something sweet.”
Luca plops two grapes right into his mouth.
“I’ve already had grapes, though. I want kisses,” Alberto pouts.
“You’ve already had kisses. Besides,” he checks his watch, “it’s still a while until the next scheduled kiss break.”
“Fine,” Alberto groans and sits up. “I’m hungry, anyways. What else do you have?”
“Sandwiches, oranges, figs, grapes-”
“Oranges!” Alberto snatches one from his hand. “They’re so much sweeter in Portorosso.” He quickly peels it and hungrily devours three slices in quick succession. “Man, it’s like I said. Everything good is above the surface,” he hums contently with drops of nectar trickling over his lips.
Luca leans forwards and slowly licks it all off, feeling Alberto’s warm breath falter against his face.
“That’s what you get for being a messy eater,” he whispers, meeting his eyes with an intense gaze, before sitting back, casually popping a fig into his mouth and savoring the furious blush on his boyfriend’s face.
“I don’t think that will work as discipline,” Alberto looks at him pointedly and bites into another bursting orange slice, leaving him with splatters on the nose. Luca huffs and settles closer so he can eagerly lick the spare drops off him after every slice, the taste sweeter off his lips than from the source. No two people have ever spent that much time finishing one orange, he thinks, but doesn’t mind at all.
The tension isn’t relieved at all when Alberto picks up a peach and lavisciously licks at the divot of the plump fruit, all the while fixing him with a seductive stare. Luca definitely gets the implication. His eyes flicker down, notes the tent in his pants and decides to relieve the unpaid favor from this morning. The sticky, syrupy taste of fruit stuck to the roof of his mouth mixing with his musky, bitter taste makes him think of ambrosia.
When he’s done, Alberto flops back onto the blanket with a content sigh.
“It’s only noon? I can’t wait to see what more you have in store.”
Luca grins as he bites into a sandwich and hopes Alberto doesn’t get the hints at what’s about to hit him.
They spend hours tangled together in the meadow, feeding each other and sharing memories of all the near-deaths and confused moments from their first summer together, and sweeter, more intimate secrets of their teenage crushes on each other. Alberto teases him relentlessly about Human Courting 101, but Luca gets his payback recounting Massimo’s stories about how absolutely useless Alberto used to turn whenever summer vacations rolled around.
Luca drifts off to sleep after a while, safe and warm in his boyfriend’s embrace. He’s woken up by a gentle stroking on his back, which makes him stretch happily like a cat in the sun. He cracks his eyes open and stares blearily at his face.
“Hey,” he croaks.
“Hey,” Alberto chuckles.
Luca smacks his mouth, displeased at how the scorching sun and the treacly fruit has made his mouth feel like wet, dirty sand.
“Blegh,” he grimaces. “I didn’t pack any water, did I?”
Alberto rummages through the basket and shakes his head with a sympathetic frown.
“Should we head back for dinner?”
Luca checks his watch and groans, fuck, the day was slipping out of his hands faster than he expected. He sleepily flops back down to trace patterns on his chest.
“Massimo knows not to expect us.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, we have other plans,” he yawns.
“I hope it includes food though,” Alberto notes at the loud rumble from his stomach. Luca grins and rubs his belly soothingly.
“‘Course it does. I am a responsible planner of day trips.”
“Except for the water.”
“Shut up.”
They’re walking slowly hand in hand down the hills when Alberto stops dead in his tracks.
“What?” Luca asks, looking at him bewildered.
“Ssh!”
He frowns and listens intently. The breeze playing in the trees, the rustling of grass, the dissonant whines of cicadas… and something else, something metallic tinkling.
“What is it?” he whispers quietly.
“Goats,” Alberto breathes, looking around like a dog that’s caught a scent. “There’s goats!” he exclaims in excitement, drops Luca’s hand to run off the dirt path, headfirst into the forest.
“What- goats? Beto, wait!”
Luca gives chase, following him through the uneven terrain, jumping over logs and stumbling over rocks. He almost runs into Alberto, who’s suddenly stopped and stares into a small clearing and he’s right, there are goats, large, rugged and wild-looking creatures who are all staring intently at them, but their significance is lost on Luca.
“Hey, quick question, what’s with the goats?”
“Oh, sorry,” Alberto says absent-mindedly and pats his shoulder, eyes locked on the goats. “I used to herd goats for one of the families up here - the Bianchis, you know them?” Luca nods. “I haven’t seen them in years, though.”
“... didn’t their daughter tag along with Ciccio the other day?”
“I mean the goats. Ohh, the kids - they can’t be more than a couple of months-” his voice trails off, high-pitched and excited, before calling them with a loud, silly voice that has Luca stifling a laugh. A couple of gangly kids break out of the herd to approach them curiously. Alberto kneels and extends a hand for them to sniff, sweet-talking them into coming closer.
“Hi buddy, hey little guy, how are you doing?” he coos and scratches behind their ears and glances up at Luca. “Don’t be rude, get down here and say hello.”
Luca bends to put down the basket and greet a kid approaching him, but pulls his hand back as it tries to lick him. He’s always been skeptical of surface animals, they’re unpredictable and move in mysterious ways compared to fish. What do they need so many limbs for? And why are their teeth so huge? Before he can think, they’re surrounded by the entire herd, a good thirty circling them. He nervously calls out for Alberto.
“What?” he looks up at him. “They’re just goats, sweetheart. They’re gentle, really.”
“I don’t trust them. Their eyes seem so… mean,” he shudders, which makes Alberto laugh.
“They’re just goats!”
“No, I definitely get why the devil has rams’ horns in our school textbooks now.”
“Luca, that’s catholic propaganda. What hypocrites, goats are as Italian as pasta. I bet they don’t abstain from goats’ wool, or milk, or cheese-”
Alberto’s sentence trails off as he slowly stands, staring transfixed into the distance. Luca follows his gaze and lands on the biggest, meanest goat of them all, with long, matted brown fur streaked with gray and thick, curled horns, nostrils flaring as it stares directly at them.
“Alberto-”
“Toffee,” he breathes.
“What?!”
“Luca, it’s Toffee!” he gestures exasperatedly at him, somehow expecting him to follow this insane goat tirade. “I’m gonna have to fight him.”
Luca sputters in bewilderment.
“Uh, how about no? Beto, don’t fight a goat.”
“I have to. It’s our thing.”
“You don’t have a thing with this random goat-”
“Toffee’s not random, Luca,” he laughs. “My sworn enemy, cavolo, I thought he’d be dead by now - oh God here he comes.”
Oh God, here he comes indeed. The goat -Toffee, he reminds himself, is running headfirst at them, the rest of the herd spreading to allow the ram to, well, ram. Luca pulls at Alberto, shouting his name, but he stands his ground and shoves his hands away, bracing them in front of him, preparing for impact.
When the goat comes close, Luca thinks fuck it and retreats behind the closest tree. If his boyfriend wants to get killed by a goat named after confections, so be it, marriage plans be damned. He’d take a harpoon for him any day, but this is an entirely different beast. Literally.
He barely has time to get behind the tree before he hears a dull thud and a grunt behind him, which makes him clap a hand to his mouth.
“I killed him,” he whimpers into his palm. “Oh my God, I’ve killed him.”
Then he hears a strained chuckle and he turns around.
Alberto has grabbed Toffee by the horns and the two are locked in a fierce grip, both trembling as they push against the other. Alberto is leaning forwards, putting his whole weight into overpowering the goat, which snorts and tosses its head to throw him off.
“Don’t think I’ll fall for your tricks again,” Alberto grins, holding off the attempts to break free with an elbow to its nose. “See, I told you!”
“The only thing I see is that you’re crazy!”
“Is that news to you-”
The blonde is cut off as Toffee jumps and bucks, which throws him off. Luca grabs onto the tree trunk to support his hammering heart. Alberto stumbles to regain his balance, repositions himself just in time for the next assault. This time, he sidesteps the ram, bypassing its horns to grab it in a headlock.
“You ready to resign yet, old man?”
“There’s something called being the bigger person, Alberto, I think fighting a goat might be the perfect chance to practice it!”
“Ha, never! I fully intend to die petty.”
Luca groans in frustration and rests his head against the tree, again questioning his decision to marry this man. Why this one, specifically. Who cursed him to be head over heels for this absolute moron. There are billions of people on the planet. Why this one.
His eyes snap back to the quickly developing scene as Alberto yelps. Toffee is leaning into him, trying to tip him over. He registers a cocky grin before Alberto scissor jumps over its back. The goat, however, outmaneuvers him - how! how can he be involved with a man who’s outmaneuvered by a goat - bucking forcefully directly into his ass. Time seems to stop for a moment as Alberto’s face quickly flashes from smug to shock to a pained howl -
“My balls!”
- and crumples into a ball that falls to the ground with a thud.
Apparently, his boyfriend’s life being threatened doesn’t concern him enough, but his testicles being targeted? That does it. Maybe they are intellectually matched, after all.
Before he can think, Luca yells and rushes the goat. Toffee bleats in surprise and bounds a couple of meters away before realizing he’s another weak, soft human and refocuses its anger, running straight at him.
“Alberto, get your ass up right now!” he screams, darting away from the terror of the devil goat, begging he can distract it enough for his boyfriend to get to safety.
Luca agilely zig-zags through the grass, narrowly avoiding the other goats that run away in absolute terror, keeping Toffee out of ramming distance. Out of the corner of his eye, he registers Alberto standing - good, they have a fighting chance. He yelps at how closely Toffee gets to ramming him down as he makes a turn. Oh, damn it. A fleeing chance.
“Alberto, get away!”
“No, no, I can take him-”
“Don’t you fucking dare, we’re getting the hell away-”
“Where am I gonna go?!”
Their yelling only fans the flames of the other’s hysteria. Luca gulps thickly through the fear stuck in his throat, and points to a sturdy-looking tree behind Alberto. He starts running as fast as he can towards him.
“Up the tree, up the tree, go, go, go-”
“Don’t lead it here!” Alberto screeches.
“Where do you expect me to go, get in the tree, come on, idiot!”
Alberto finally turns tail and scales the tree like a possessed lizard, settling on the lowest, thick branch to extend a hand out to him. His heart is beating out of his chest, God when did Toffee get this close, the terrified adrenaline pumping through his veins makes him run faster than he ever thought himself capable. Finally, he grabs a branch and Alberto’s hand and hoists himself out of ramming distance.
But not into safety. Not having time to plan his ascent, he’s currently stuck bracing his feet against the tree trunk and holding onto a branch and Alberto’s hand for dear life to balance him. He has nowhere to go without falling.
“Fuck! Where do I go from here?” he shouts, close to tears. He glances down and sees Toffee rearing, dangerously close to nipping at his ankles.
“Luca. On three. I’m gonna grab your waist, and you’re gonna jump up here.”
His eyes whip to Alberto, who’s surprisingly calm, with a grim look.
“No fucking way. You’ll fall off, you can’t hold onto the branch while lifting me!”
“Got any better suggestions?!”
Luca squeals as he feels fur brush his ankle.
“Oh my God, Alberto, we’re gonna die here, we’re gonna die, and I haven’t even-”
“If we go, we go together!” Alberto shouts and grabs his waist. Luca gasps, losing his balance and negating any other possibilities: he screams and pushes off the tree trunk with all his might.
No physics or gravity should ever allow for this to work, but he begs for all the logical, undeniable truths of reality to bend for them, just a little. And if, for the first time in his life he sends just a tiny, little prayer to the God he doesn’t believe in to escape the devil he definitely believes in after meeting this fucking goat, that’s no one’s business but his own.
Luca desperately scrambles to get ahold of his boyfriend, the branch, anything, and ends up hanging from the branch and Alberto’s thigh like a floppy cat, legs swinging underneath. He sees Toffee leap after his feet, grits his teeth and uses the momentum to swing one leg onto the branch.
He feels Alberto’s balance toppling as he grabs under his armpits, feels him trembling with the effort to pull him up.
“Don’t you dare let go,” he yells and uses one final, adrenaline-induced feat of Herculean effort to get his other leg up, leaving him halfway draped over his boyfriend’s lap and clutching his thighs around the branch, staring shell-shocked down at Toffee bleating furiously.
He breathes out for the first time in what feels like hours. Luca shakily sits up to stare at Alberto’s equally shocked face that slowly splits into a sheepish grin.
“We made it!”
Luca smacks his arm, hard.
“Hey!”
“What the fuck, Alberto! Why would you- why did you- I-”
The adrenaline leaving his body in a rush makes him dizzy, and is replaced by fragile fear that forces a sob through his throat.
“You’re so stupid,” he hiccups, wiping furiously at his eyes.
“I’m so sorry, angioletto, please don’t cry-”
“I will cry as long as I please after that shitshow, thank you very much.”
Alberto leans forward to stretch his arms around him. Neither of them dare move closer, still very aware of the angry bleating underneath them, but Luca ignores the awkward pose and clutches at his back and cries out every last drop of goat-induced terror.
“I’m still mad at you,” he mumbles against his chest.
“I can understand that. I’ll think twice before challenging a goat again.”
“I hope I never see another goat in my life.”
“Don’t judge them, it’s just Toffee- ow! ” he exclaims as Luca thumps a fist into his back, “- okay, I’ll do my best to keep your life goat free from now on.”
Luca untangles from his embrace, sniffing an indignant thank you and wiping the scales from his face.
“I’m sorry, I was a complete idiot. I didn’t expect Toffee to be alive and well. He just hates my guts. I used to be able to tire him out, but turns out, this old goat can teach itself new tricks.”
Luca chuckles weakly at that.
“What now, we just wait for it to leave?”
“I guess?” Alberto’s stomach rumbles again and he groans. “I did not think this one through.”
“Oh no, the picnic basket!” he wails and looks around frantically. Sure enough, there it sits in the grass, overturned, with a crowd of goats eagerly eating everything, including the basket itself. He buries his face in his hands. “I absolutely despise you right now.”
“Fair enough. You're still the light of my life, the apple of my eye-”
The absolute absurdity of the situation finally hits Luca, and he bursts into manic giggles. He bends over and clutches at his stomach. It doesn’t help at all when Alberto joins in, falling forwards over him and laughing so hard it makes no noise. They stay shaking and laughing in a heap until tears stream down both their faces. Alberto pulls back first, gasping and wiping his eyes.
“I- I’m still sorry, but that was really funny.”
“I’m still mad at you, but I agree.”
Luca sighs as he sits up, feeling exhausted but relieved after the emotional roller coaster. He hums and swings his legs, watching Toffee jump after them and chuckling at his efforts. Alberto experimentally grabs his hand and he graciously lets him, even offers him a smile.
“I can’t believe you never told me about herding goats.”
“It was usually just a day or two during May or September, guess I forgot about it by the time you were back in Portorosso.”
“You herded goats, and I used to herd goatfish,” he hums thoughtfully, turning the words in his mind. “Two fish boys herding goatfish and fish… fishgoats,” he mumbles and frowns, “no, that makes no sense. The fish boy who herds goat fish and the fish boy who fights goats-”
“What. Are you talking about. Are you having a stroke?”
Luca laughs sheepishly.
“Ah, no, it just sounds like it could almost be a tongue-twister… but I can’t get it to make sense.”
“Tongue-twisters? I repeat, are you having a stroke?”
“No, Beto, I’m fine,” he waves away the worried hand reaching for him. “Tongue-twisters. They’re sentences constructed to be hard to pronounce. You’ve never heard one?”
Alberto shakes his head.
“Okay, let’s see if I remember any… oh, here we go.” He clears his throat, closes his eyes and focuses. “Sul tagliere gli agli taglia non tagliare la tovaglia... la tovaglia non è aglio se la tagli fai uno sbaglio.”
“Well, that makes no sense. Why would the tablecloth be over the cutting board.”
“It’s not supposed to make sense, it’s just a fun way to practice pronunciation. Wait!” he exclaims, grinning. “I have the perfect one. Sopra la panca la capra campa, sotto la panca la capra crepa.”
Alberto is utterly fascinated by the way his tongue curls skilfully around each letter, never stumbling or mispronouncing anything.
“Don’t like the implication, but very fitting.”
Luca laughs and smiles brilliantly at him, anger completely forgotten.
“I dunno why, but they really fascinate me. I memorized every single one from our textbook. Used them to terrorize some teachers, actually.”
Alberto grins widely, and eagerly asks for more.
“This one’s for Machiavelli - sotto le frasche del capanno, quattro gatti grossi stanno; sotto quattro grossi sassi, quattro gatti grossi e grassi.”
And that does it for Alberto. Luca's eyes closing in focus, tongue literally twisting and perfectly rolling the R’s that sound way too similar to the way he will sinfully moan his name just as he reaches his peak, and-
He shakes his head furiously and tries to inconspicuously move an arm in front of his crotch, but of course Luca is eerily perceptive and fixes him with a sarcastic glare.
Toffee bleats underneath them.
“Ahhh I’m sorry,” he groans and hides his face in his hands. “You’re just too good at that.”
“Well, thank you for fun, new ideas for the bedroom," he deadpans. "Never expected it to be reciting tongue-twisters in a tree after fighting a rabid goat, but life never fails to surprise. I’m not helping you out with that, though,” he gestures to his lap.
“No, I absolutely deserve it,” he grumbles glumly and glares at the goats tearing the picnic basket to shreds.
“Hey, at least it still works after Toffee tried castrating you,” Luca grins and they both laugh before falling into a comfortable silence, waiting out the raging goat and his raging boner.
Luckily, Toffee has soon worn himself out, and the rest of the herd bleat in disappointment as they realize there’s nothing tasty left in the basket. They all drift off, the metallic tinkling of their bells fading.
“Whew!” Alberto exclaims and quickly swings out of the tree and holds his arms out to his boyfriend. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I can get down just fine, Beto.”
“Will you let me be a good boyfriend and apologize for making an ass out of myself over goats.”
Luca rolls his eyes but accepts, slowly lowering himself down so he can grab his waist. His shirt rolls up, and Alberto can’t resist blowing a fierce raspberry on his belly. Luca shrieks in laughter before he’s let down to the ground.
“Still mad?” he asks. Luca shakes his head and leans up to peck his nose. Alberto chases his mouth and pulls him into a proper kiss that makes his heart warm.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
And this, right here, that's why Luca loves his stupid boyfriend, even when he’s risking their lives over a goat power struggle, even when his skin is itching from being scratched up by tree branches, even when Giulia’s bound to be furious over her picnic basket.
Alberto grabs the remnants of the basket and they retrace their path back to the tower, hand in hand, still giggling over the goats.
"Dio Santo, what happened to you two," Massimo gasps as they walk through the front door, arms and faces littered with scratches and bruises, clothes stained with dust and grass.
"Oh hey, Papa. It's kind of a long story-"
"He tried to wrestle a goat and we were chased up a tree and had to wait for half an hour for it to leave," Luca summarizes, giving Massimo an exasperated look.
"Not Toffee?"
"Of course it was Toffee."
Of course Massimo is invested in his insane goat story.
"Did you best him?"
Alberto shakes his head.
"Ahhh, one day, figlio," he chuckles and tousles his hair. Alberto grins and shakes his hand off in a pleased embarrassed way, turning to Luca.
"Now I've gotta listen to his plans so he doesn't get mad at me again."
Luca exchanges a quick, meaningful look with Massimo, who nods and gives a thumb up behind his son's back before lumbering into the kitchen.
"Okay. Shower first. Then, dress up in something nice. Something nice nice." He holds up a hand to stifle his questions. "I'm wearing a dress shirt, for reference." He checks his watch. "You have thirty minutes."
"Yes, sir!" Alberto quickly kisses his cheek and runs up the stairs.
"Leave some hot water for me!" he shouts after him. Alberto stops on the stairs and gives him a hopeful glance. "No, we're not showering together. Get moving."
Luca waits until he hears the bathroom door slams shut, then two extra seconds, before he grabs the wrecked picnic basket and runs into the kitchen.
"Sorry about this," he sheepishly hands Massimo the remnants of the basket.
"I always told him to not mess with goats."
"But does he listen? No! Because he might be the stupidest man in the world!"
"But you love him."
"More than anything," he sighs in resignation and buries his face in his hands. Massimo pats his back.
"I noticed you were behind schedule, so I waited. I'll get the Giulietta."
"Oh Massimo, you're the best," he jumps up to hug him. "Grazie."
"Nessun problema, figlio. I'm grateful to give something back to Alberto."
"You've given him all he's ever needed," Luca pulls back and looks fondly at him, surprised to find tears twinkling in his eyes.
"I'll save them until it's official," Massimo grunts and blinks them away. "Go get ready, you can't propose looking like that."
It's not until the warm water pounds down on him in the shower that he realizes what Massimo called him. Figlio. He needs a couple of extra minutes to fully recover from the wave of emotions that brings.
Luca buttons his shirt and casts a quick glance on his watch. For once, he’s the slow one, Alberto already done and waiting downstairs after being told off for being handsy while they dressed. Nerves make his fingers fiddle and fumble with each button and curse under his breath.
He checks himself out in the mirror, pleased to look sharp and clean after days lazing around in the Portorosso summer uniform of ratty t-shirts and shorts, now swapped in favor of a crisp, white dress shirt tucked neatly into dark slacks, finished off with suspenders. Alberto really likes him in suspenders, for some reason - he suspects it’s because it’s an easy handle to grab him by and pull him in for kisses. (Luca’s more partial to ties as a dressy manhandling tool, but is willing to indulge his boyfriend.)
The final thing he does before leaving the room is rummage around his bag for the small, simple box hidden in one of his socks, giving it a small, superstitious kiss for good luck and pocketing it.
He finds Alberto in the kitchen shoving a large chunk of focaccia in his mouth.
“You’re getting food in like thirty minutes.”
“C’nt wait,” he chokes through the mouthful.
“You look nice,” Luca mutters, smoothing out a couple of wrinkles on his boyfriend's shirt.
Even with a face stuffed with focaccia, he somehow manages to look good. Luca gives him a quick up and down, happy he’s picked the dressy, flower-patterned shirt in hues of green and orange that accentuates both his skin and eyes. Alberto dresses up seldom enough that every rare occasion has him swooning a little. (Secretly, of course.)
Alberto swallows, and sure enough, grabs onto the suspenders to pull him closer.
“You too,” he whispers over his lips. Luca grins and twists out of his grip, ignoring his complaint.
“There’s one thing missing. Come.”
He brings him into the garden and bends over one of Massimo’s lovingly kept flower pots to pinch off one brilliantly orange dahlia, which he swiftly tucks behind his boyfriend’s left ear.
“Now you’re perfect.”
His beautiful boyfriend who can shamelessly flirt and seduce him one second, then have a total brain malfunction the next from being adorned with a flower. Luca chuckles and scratches behind his ear. Alberto seems to regain his thoughts and grabs his hand to kiss his knuckles.
“Touché, Paguro.”
Then he pushes him against the house wall and drinks up his surprised gasp in a fierce kiss that has Luca’s heart fluttering excitedly. He melts against him and intertwines their fingers, willingly surrendering as Alberto presses them into the wall. He smells clean and fresh of rosemary soap and it’s enough to make him forget his schedule and plans -
They both jump as Massimo throws open the garden gate. He doesn’t even cock an eyebrow, having lived through their teenage years of hormonal makeouts whenever they had two seconds to spare.
“Huh. Alberto in clean clothes? Molto bene, Luca.”
Alberto shouts an indignant hey! as Luca grabs his hand to lead him towards Massimo. The blonde grumbles in complaint, but stands up a little taller as he looks them up and down.
“You both look very handsome, ragazzi. I don’t think I’ve seen you both dressed up since Luca’s graduation party.” They both grin, pleased but a little embarrassed. “Let me take your picture before you go,” Massimo announces and goes inside to get the camera. Luca feels his boyfriend stiffen.
“Hey,” Luca gently rubs a thumb over his hand. He knows Alberto’s not the biggest fan of having his picture taken, but he really wants to commemorate the occasion. (Which is exactly why he planted the idea in Massimo’s head). “You do look really good. Please?”
“Alright,” he relents, planting a kiss on his temple. Luca beams up at him, wraps an arm around his waist and turns them both to face Massimo standing in the doorway, camera in hand. He feels Alberto lay a hand on the small of his back. And without looking, he senses the shit-eating grin on Alberto’s face as his hand slides down.
“Don’t- don’t you dare,” Luca hisses, trying to keep the polite smile on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Alberto’s smile only growing.
But like an asteroid pulled into the Earth’s orbit, nothing can stop the determined hand of his frisky boyfriend. And even if he expects it, Luca can’t help the squeal escaping as he pinches his butt, right as the blinding flash goes off.
“Beto!” he yells and slams a fist into his chest. Alberto laughs boldly and smushes a kiss to his forehead. Massimo looks at them in confusion, but snaps another picture anyway, startling them to forget their squabbling and laugh sheepishly.
“I guess it was too much to expect a proper photo of you two,” he sighs. “I won’t hold you any longer. Go have fun.”
Alberto bounds forward to plant a peck on his papa’s cheek. Luca follows suit, whispering a quick grazie that earns him a fond, meaningful smile that eases the nerves prickling at his heart.
“Where to?” Alberto asks, exiting the garden gate and on autopilot turning towards the piazza. Luca grabs his wrist and pulls him to the docks. “Why did we dress up if we’re going underwater?”
“We’re not,” Luca replies and leads him towards the tiny, rickety rowboat Massimo once gifted Alberto as a birthday present. He elegantly steps into it and holds a hand out for his boyfriend. “I didn’t want to borrow the Giulietta, because… we might not be back until tomorrow.”
“Hmm, is that so,” Alberto smirks and brushes a stray curl behind his ear.
“Mmm,” Luca grins, “plus, now I get to watch you get all hot and sweaty rowing. It’s a win-win, really.”
“Oh, there’s the catch,” the blonde rolls his eyes but obediently sits at the rower’s bench. Luca sits down opposite him, smiling tenderly directly at him and it’s enough to make him fumble with the oars, but he safely casts the dinghy loose and pushes them off. “Where to, amore?”
“Our island, of course.”
Hearing him call it their island makes his heart melt a little. So long it had been haunted by the ghost of his father, but Luca single handedly chased every shadow of hurt and betrayal away, rebuilding the tower stone by stone with joy and love. Still, the thought of going back there always makes his heart flutter nervously, scared some long repressed memory will rear its head.
“There’s no food there,” he frowns.
“Beto, it’s all taken care of. You will be fed, you big baby.”
He tries prying, but is only met with shushes and secret smiles.
Alberto begins rowing and deeply inhales the scent of salt and kelp and home. A cooling sea breeze rustles his damp hair, a welcome relief after a long day in the scorching heat. The sun has just begun to sink in the sky, pale golden light playing through hazy clouds, promising a brilliant sunset. He doesn’t have eyes for any of that though, content to drink in the sight of his carefree, sun-kissed boyfriend holding a hand over his eyes and squinting out to sea.
The waves are unrulier than he anticipated. While looking slow and easy, the winds roil the waves into gentle giants, and the shift from scorching heat to the cooler sea breeze makes the currents above and under water clash in chaos. The boat is pulled in opposing directions with every take of the oars, and he struggles to keep them on course.
If he weren’t distracted, he would have avoided it, gently turned the boat to cut the waves with ease. But how could he not be distracted by his gorgeous boyfriend glowing in the evening sun?
He winces as a beast of a wave crashes into the boat, rearing tall above the railing and splashing water all over Luca who had been blissfully oblivious, but is now shrieking in shock.
Alberto wants to apologize, but is completely frozen as his boyfriend berates him, because who knew how good sirens would look in drenched dress shirts? Luca’s beautiful, iridescent seafoam scales are revealed by the transparent white shirt that clings to his every curve. His flaring fins and furiously whipping tail make Alberto want to either cower or jump his bones.
“- are you even listening to me?”
Alberto very carefully pulls the oars in and lays them down. He doesn’t dare stand up in the rocking boat, so he gets down on his knees, settling between Luca’s to gaze up at him in awe, gently stroking his cheeks. The sensation of scales in his human fingers is new, each individual scale standing out to his soft, tender nerve endings.
“What are you doing?” Luca asks skeptically. Alberto gives no answer, simply pulls in his fishy face for a kiss, and if his hands feel weird on siren skin? His lips definitely do. It feels like nibbling on raw fish, except this fish nibbles back, gnawing on his soft, pillowy lips with pointy teeth that make him slump bonelessly against into him with a moan. Alberto grasps for his neck, feels out the thin flaps of skin that billow with every breath, grinning as little pleased clicks resonate through Luca’s throat.
“What- what’s this about?” Luca pants, pulling back to look at Alberto, who’s furiously red and gasping for air.
“You look very good in a wet shirt,” he confesses. “Humans don’t have a clue what they’re missing, not inviting sea monsters to wet t-shirt contests.”
Luca looks down in surprise to take in the scaly skin peeking through the shirt. He has to agree - it does look good. But Alberto’s reaction looks even better. He smirks and strokes his tail up his spine, preening at the way his body trembles in response.
“Oh, you’re into this, aren’t you,” he breathes over his lips. Alberto whimpers and nods, and the opportunity is too good to pass up; he grabs his waist and pulls him up to climb into his lap. He immediately almost falls off as the boat hits another rocky wave, but Luca wraps his tail around his waist to keep him safe and sound in his grip, and Alberto really likes that, judging by the way he melts into him and clutches at his back.
He dives back in, foregoing kissing for sucking at his lips that taste even sweeter heightened by his siren senses that pick up on every uneven bump caused by his anxious habit of worrying at them. Alberto tilts his head and eagerly opens up, leaving Luca free to lick into his mouth, still tasting of tangy, sweet fruit. He holds him firmly with his tail, leaving his hands free to roam hands over his throat, occasionally scraping gently with his claws and grinning at how his boyfriend shivers.
Luca is playing with the thought of throwing all his plans overboard to discover what sea monster tails can do to human bodies, when another wave makes the flimsy dinghy jump, and they both fall forwards. Alberto grunts as his head bumps against the rower’s bench and gulps for air as the heavy siren lands on top of him. Luca scrambles off and cradles his face, heart beating out of his gills.
“Mother of pearl, Alberto, are you okay? Please, please tell me you’re okay,” he pleads.
The blonde groans and rubs at the back of his head, grinning weakly at him.
“Yeah, I’m fine, but damn, was roughing me up all day your plan?”
Luca embraces him, muffling apologies against his cheek. Alberto chuckles and pets his head fins.
“I think you should get dry before I jump you again. This boat’s not made for makeouts.”
“Alright. But definitely noting this as another fresh bedroom idea,” Luca winks and shakes off his scales while Alberto retakes his seat at the rower’s bench. “Let’s get going. We’re way behind schedule. I’ll row, you’ve been through enough today.”
Luca reaches for the oars, but Alberto shakes his head and pushes him away.
“That’s okay, let me keep going-”
“- no, it’s my turn to be gracious and cute and apologize-”
He can tell by the flush on his ears that Luca’s getting riled up, and considers relenting to keep the peace, but he doesn’t want to get splashed again, or bonk his head.
“Luca, the waves are way rougher than they look today. I think I should-”
“Beto, I can handle myself, I know the ocean just as well as you-”
“- the ocean, yes, but boats? The breeze is stronger than you-”
“- will you let me do anything myself, for once -”
They yelp as the boat jumps again, almost throwing them overboard. They frown at each other, still standing headstrong on their opposing sides. Alberto sighs and offers him one oar.
“Teamwork?”
“Won’t that be slower?”
“Yes, but we won’t be arguing.”
Luca huffs, takes the oar and plops down on the bench next to him, grumpily keeping his eyes on the rolling waves. It somehow annoys him even more how they don’t even have to keep count to row perfectly in sync, how he just falls into his boyfriend’s rhythm.
The sudden argument has his heart jumping erratically, doubting all his plans. Whenever they argue, which is more often than he likes to think, something’s always bubbling beneath the surface that he doesn’t know how to explain. He just feels… inadequate.
Alberto gives him a couple of minutes of introspection before he rests the oar on his thigh and breaks the ice.
“Hey.”
Luca only grunts in response, but pulls in his oar so they’re drifting in the rocky current.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you’re weak. The waves caught me off guard and made me nervous.”
“I get it,” the brunet sighs. “You are right, of course, you’re the fisherman’s son, I’m just the fish. I just… sometimes I feel like you do everything for me.”
“That’s not true. Maybe… things were a little imbalanced before, with me paying your tuition and stuff. But you do loads of stuff for me, especially after we moved in together.”
Alberto growls internally at how his words shuffle and stumble and come out sounding stale, unable to convey everything he feels. He glances over at Luca, who’s still gazing wistfully at the horizon.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, caro.”
Luca sighs and looks to the floor, discovering the dahlia that must have fallen out of Alberto’s hair. He picks it up and twirls it between his fingers, deep in thought.
“I… just… you treat me so well and give me so much. You’ve helped me realize all my dreams. I don’t have much- I don’t have anything to offer in return.”
“Luca. I’m a simple man. As long as my hands are occupied, be it with fishing or motorcycle repairs or anything that can keep food on the table, I’m happy. I don’t have big dreams like you. You’re my dream. You always have been. Helping you achieve your goals makes me happy. You… you don’t have to do anything, just… be with me?”
Luca finally looks at him, his eyes large and glassy. He nods and blinks to hold back his emotions.
“Okay. Okay. Yes. I guess I just get nervous that you secretly want more and that you’re scared to tell me.”
“I’ll tell you if I suddenly want to… I dunno, start a gelato stand or something. Promise. But for now, this little fish is all this fisherman needs.”
Alberto wants to groan and bury his flushing face in his hands - why can’t he ever just stand in sincerity without ending with cheesy, deflecting humor? He’s grateful when Luca chuckles.
“I’m very happy to be in your net.”
“Mmm, you’re my favorite catch,” he grins. “Friends again?”
Luca nods, puts the flower back in his hair and the air feels lighter.
The trip is painfully slowed down by their teamwork - the sun already setting and sky darkening by the time they pull the dinghy onto the beach. Alberto’s complaining loudly about hunger again, and Luca has to agree - they’re over two hours behind his schedule and his own stomach is also aching.
“Come along then,” he grabs the blonde’s wrist after he’s secured the dinghy, and pulls him towards the tower.
Alberto gasps as they climb the ladder and his old residency comes into view. The tower has fallen into more decay every summer they’ve been back, but now it’s clean and tidy. Every cobweb and dust bunny has been swept away, and the old, broken furniture has been removed in favor of a small, round dining table with two chairs in the middle. The table is draped with a clean tablecloth, and set for two, with candles and a small rose in a vase between the plates.
When Alberto’s up, Luca grins and throws out his arms.
“Well?”
“What- how- when did you-”
“Massimo did most of it, honestly.”
Alberto inhales a delicious, familiar smell.
“Is that trenette al pesto?”
“Of course it is. A little predictable, but-” Luca grins and holds out a chair for him, “- what else could commemorate our first meeting?”
Alberto gratefully takes the seat and smiles as Luca pours him a glass of red wine and lights the candles. He pokes at the bowl of pasta in front of him, licking a drop of pesto off his finger.
“Mm- how’s it still warm?”
“Massimo brought it over here while we were getting ready,” Luca explains as he sits down.
“Wait, is that why you two have been whispering conspiratorially all week?”
Luca shrugs with a huge smile on his face.
“He’s the best,” Alberto sighs blissfully. “May I? Or do you have anything else scheduled?”
Luca chuckles and gestures approvingly. Alberto grins gratefully, serves them both hefty portions and digs in, groaning happily from the first bite. Of course, he’s perfected the recipe himself and often proudly serves it in Genova, but Massimo’s is just inexplicably better. Or maybe the whole made with love thing is actually true. He gets lost in thought trying to figure out how to make pasta with love.
They devour the meal in silence, both too hungry to remember conversation skills. Alberto’s done first, as always, and leans back in the chair to pat his pleasantly full stomach.
“Oh, that was perfect.”
“Agreed. I was a little too confident about time. Low blood sugar might have contributed a little to everything in the boat.”
Alberto hums in agreement and looks around the tower, reminiscing about their times here together. He also curiously looks for any lingering ghosts, but is pleased to find none, only the real and solid presence of his boyfriend.
“The only other surprise I can think of, is if you had a pile of trash on the roof so we could build another crappy Vespa and defy death. I can’t believe we survived that. Wow, we really were idiots, weren’t we?”
“You’re still an idiot,” Luca chuckles as he puts down his fork, secretly pleased that’s the only surprise Alberto can think of happening tonight.
“But I’m your idiot,” he winks cheekily and reaches across the table to intertwine their fingers. Luca rolls his eyes but can’t keep the smile off his face. Alberto’s face softens into tender honesty. “See, I told you you do things for me. Thank you, Luca. This day has been perfect. Even when things went kind of off the rails. I’ve loved every minute.”
Luca’s smile is too wide for his face, but suddenly trembling, like he’s about to cry. Alberto’s heart melts and jumps nervously at the same time, feeling something shifting between them that he can’t guess at or explain. The brunet takes a deep breath and stands.
“I have dessert, too. On the roof. But first, I, umm…” he stutters and he fiddles with his hands. “I have something for you.” He pulls out a simple envelope hidden beneath the tablecloth. It’s simple, innocuous, with his name on the front. “Don’t open it yet. Wait until I’m gone.”
Alberto takes the letter with trembling hands and glances anxiously up at his boyfriend. His heart aches in confusion - has this whole day been a final hurrah before he breaks up with him?
Luca meets his gaze, equally nervous, but sees the preemptive heartbreak spreading on Alberto’s face and melts into a fond expression. He leans forward to peck his forehead.
“No, it’s nothing bad, sciocco. Trust me. Just read it.”
With that, Luca walks off, trembling with anticipation that makes him certain he’s about to pass out. He gives Alberto a final reassuring glance before disappearing up the stairs.
Alberto breathes a deep, preparing sigh - even with the reassurance, his brain tingles with static nerves. It’s been years since they last wrote each other letters - he wonders what prompted this. He downs the rest of his wine and impatiently tears the envelope open.
Mio carissimo Alberto,
It feels strange to write to you like I used to when we were separated, when you’re curled up next to me with one hand on my arm, breathing slowly and peacefully.
There’s so much I want to say to you. Not that I am too scared to say, just never find the time to. Like when I wake up cold in the night and you hold me tighter, or you’re running late for work and barely have time for a quick kiss, or you make me dinner even when I’m too tired and cranky to be grateful, or we argue over something stupid, and I want to pull you close and tell you I love you a hundred times, but can’t derail the day. There’s not enough time in the world to express how much I love you. I would have to lock you up and spend every waking hour kissing you. It’s also so much easier to write sometimes, that way you can’t distract me with puppy eyes or kisses. (Don’t stop doing that though - I adore your puppy eyes and kisses.)
This I’ve said a thousand times, but I can’t help saying it again - you changed my life. You literally taught me how to stand! and walk and run and bike and how to be brave and how to love. But oh, how my heart aches whenever I think about that scrawny, starving kid you were back then, how I wish I had found you earlier and taken care of you. I try my best to make up for it now and I hope you feel that. I hope I make you feel as loved as you used to think you would never be.
I think I’ve loved you since that first day we met. Not that I knew, but looking back, the feeling I get when I look at you now, sleeping soundly next to me, is the same as when you first shook my hand. I couldn’t keep myself away from you then, I still can’t, and I repeat, I will never leave you. I have never thought about leaving you, and I never will. If you ever try to leave me, I will lock you up.
Okay, enough about me. I was supposed to tell you what I love about you… but it’s hard, when I love just about every single thing about you. If I start, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop, and this will be ten pages of “I love every single one of your freckles” and “I love the way you sigh happily after your morning coffee, like every sip is your first” and “your hands might be my favorite thing in the whole world” and “did you know I used to collect little rocks and pieces of glass and it took me years to realize I was searching for the shade of green in your eyes?” and “your ears are cute”. Wow, this got embarrassing really quickly. (I do wanna try counting your freckles sometime, though.)
I’ll try to summarize.
You’re strong and soft and stunning, kind and funny and charming and self-sacrificing and brave. You’re the kindest, most generous person I know. I admire your hunger for everything in life, for experiences and learning and happiness and me. sorry, that was overly cheesy…. but I can’t believe the gorgeous man next to me is the same as the little kid you once were. Damn, Alberto, you really grew up in the blink of an eye. I adore the man you’ve become and I can’t believe how lucky I am to call you mine.
I love how you make me feel - warm and safe and brave. I feel at home and at peace whenever you’re near. I love how you look at me, like I’m the only person in the world, and like you’d drop everything in your hands if I asked. (You do that too, frequently. You still owe me a new vase.) I love how you love me, love every time you call me something ridiculously sweet (and ignore my complaints - good - ‘cause I do love every word), and the way you smile at me, and every single kiss you give me is a revelation, even five years after our first. (You still give me butterflies. Maybe not every time, but often enough that it’s a little embarrassing.) And you keep blowing my mind every time we make love, I love how you taste and feel and -
A good two lines are furiously scratched out, which makes Alberto laugh and briefly try to decipher the text underneath, but can only make out a couple of words, like beautiful and warm and lovely . They make him smile as he continues reading.
- no, nope, that's too embarrassing to write about, actually. I’ll have to show you instead.
I think I know when I realized I love you. Right on the platform, when you sent me off to Genova for the first time, Alberto, you were so nervous and shy and I know how scared you were to see me go, but you did anyway, ‘cause you wanted me to be happy. Little did I know then that coming back to you would be my true source of happiness. But how you did that for me still makes me tear up a little----
Alberto frowns at the weird little squiggly line that trails off the last word.
-- sorry I woke you up. I hope petting your hair until you fell back asleep made up for it. Anyways. Yes. It still can make me cry, knowing how much it hurt to let me go. That’s what makes it so easy to devote myself fully to you, because right from the start, I knew you would sacrifice anything to see me happy. (I hope you don’t sacrifice anymore, though. I made you move to Genova with me… was that a sacrifice? Am I doing enough to make you happy? Am I being greedy with you? Oh God, now I’m getting nervous. We need to have a proper talk about this.) Alberto, you truly made everything in my life possible and I am eternally grateful for that, and even more that you’re still right beside me, supporting me. (again, I hope I provide you with enough of that back… You love me so much and perfectly that I feel my affection pale in comparison.)
Alberto smiles wistfully at his boyfriend’s insecurities laid bare on the page and makes a mental note to schedule yet another “I love you more than anything in the world and you’ll always be enough for me” pep talk.
Life is hard sometimes. I have to admit that. We do argue a lot, and frankly, you piss me off a lot of the time. I know I piss you off too. But I think that love is a choice rather than a feeling. Yes, I love you because I feel it, because I’m ridiculously head over heels for you, but I also choose to love you. Every day, I love you on purpose, even if we fight. I hope you choose me, on purpose, as well. Even when it’s hard, I will always choose you.
Alberto… I know you still get insecure. You once said you were hard to love, but amore mio, loving you is the easiest thing in the world. You don’t ruin things, you make things better. Everything you do makes things better - you can repair just about anything, you help both our families and any neighbor or friend, you’ve supported me for years, you make me better. You make everything around you better, and I hope you understand that. Life is brighter and better with you in it, for so many people. Especially me.
You make me feel like anything is possible as long as you’re by my side. Every day with you feels fresh and new and exciting. I love how you are the first thing I see when I wake, and the last thing I see before falling asleep. And I sincerely hope and believe we will be doing that for years to come.
I hope you’re laughing a little at this letter - I certainly am - I feel ridiculous for how grandiose words get when you don’t have to say them out loud, but it’s true, every single word is true. Never doubt that, and never doubt that I will always love you.
Thank you for indulging me. Now come up to the roof, per favore.
Con tutto il mio cuore,
Tuo Luca
Alberto puts down the letter and has to curl in on himself, to try to keep his chest from bursting with emotions too big for his body. It’s almost like the panic attacks he still occasionally gets, when the world gets too far and close at the same time, and he shrinks into a scared little kid, except it’s all warm safety, just too much of it, because Luca loves him too damn much. He never knew joy could implode his heart just as easily as fear.
He breathes for a couple of seconds, Luca’s sweet words bouncing around his brain and worming their way into his heart. Remembering things has never been his strong suit, but he begs his fuzzy brain to retain this, if nothing else. He takes the letter again, lovingly traces a couple of the words, until he remembers Luca’s here and waiting for him. Alberto jumps out his seat and leaps up the stairs, two at a time.
When he’s at the top and glances over the stone wall, his heart stops and he slows to a halt.
Luca is kneeling in the middle of the platform on one knee, smiling at him nervously
Alberto smacks both hands over his mouth to muffle his gasp. Of course, of course, of course , this whole day, the reminiscing, the picnic, the flower, dinner and wine and candles and the letter. He suddenly can’t remember how to breathe as tears blur his vision.
“Hey,” Luca calls softly.
“This isn’t fair,” Alberto pouts, pointing a trembling, accusatory finger at his boyfriend. “You agreed to let me do it!”
“You’re too slow,” Luca chuckles wetly. “Will you please just come here, you big goof.”
Alberto obliges, wiping at his eyes as he stands before the brunet who’s looking up at him with those big, shining amber eyes that he finds himself falling as headfirst into today as the first day they met.
Luca gently takes his hand in both of his and takes a big gulp of air. He gets no further than his name before he breaks into a sob. Alberto grabs at his face but Luca takes his hands in his again, holding him in place.
“Let me finish,” he whispers. “I think I’ve said everything I wanted to… except for this.” He inhales shakily as a tear rolls down his cheek. “Alberto, you were my beginning, and I want you to be my end.”
Alberto’s legs buckle and he falls more than sits down on his knees to take Luca’s face in his hands and press their foreheads together.
“Of course, of course, always, I will be all the endings you want.”
“Let me finish,” he repeats giggling, “let me do this properly.”
Luca finally pulls a small, black box from his pocket, opens it to reveal two simple, discreet silver bands. He stares directly into Alberto’s soul.
“Alberto Marcovaldo, will you marry me?”
“Yes, yes, yes, please. Anytime, anywhere,” he rambles and presses their lips together, too much grinning teeth to be remotely comfortable, but perfect nonetheless.
Luca gently removes his hands from his face and slides one ring onto his left ring finger. He silently gives the other one to Alberto, offers his own hand and sighs blissfully when the ring is on. They both stare at their hands in awe, before locking eyes and dissolving into a fit of teary giggles. Luca pushes him to the floor and they roll around kissing and wrestling playfully, before settling breathless on their sides, knees touching and gazing into each other’s eyes.
“You’re gonna be my husband,” Luca breathes.
“And you’re gonna be mine,” Alberto grins.
“I can’t wait to be your husband.”
“I can’t wait to be your husband.”
“I’m gonna enjoy being your fiancé.”
“I’m already enjoying being your fiancé.”
“Are you still upset about me stealing your proposal?”
“No, I’m relieved, actually. I’ve been trying to come up with something… but nothing felt good enough. But I was too stubborn to give up, so...”
“That’s exactly what I thought,” Luca laughs, “but I got so impatient… Ever since we talked about it, I’ve been thinking about it non stop. I just couldn’t wait any longer.”
“Mmm, have you been getting lost in romantic daydreams again?” Alberto grins and tousles his hair, leaving his hand to tenderly stroke his cheek. Luca glowers at him.
“More like wondering how long I could wait before I strangle you. Especially after this whole day. After that goat charade I seriously considered throwing the rings out the window.”
Luca tells him about every time Alberto has put his heart through a rollercoaster the past months, which has the blonde laughing and groaning in first-hand embarrassment.
“Luca, I’m so sorry! I had no idea how much it was bothering you,” he whines. “I’m an idiot-”
“A moron, frankly-”
“- a complete dumbass-”
“- but I wouldn’t have you any other way,” Luca smiles and rubs their noses together, making Alberto giggle and chase his lips. He sighs happily as he pulls away, and they simply study each other in intimate silence, until Alberto remembers something.
“Wait, what about dessert?”
“Oh Beto, haven’t you realized yet? You’re dessert.”
“Noooo,” he laments theatrically, “I was craving something sweet-”
Luca straddles him and kisses him breathless and it’s absolutely poetically perfect how the place that used to hold all his fear and heartbreak is the same where he’s found again to be held devotedly forever.
The next morning, Massimo stands at the garden gate, anxiously watching the boat come in. Alberto quickly ties the dinghy to the dock, before jumping off and marching straight up to his papa, looking furious.
“You knew!” he shouts, pointing at him, “All this time you knew?”
“Si, Alberto,” he responds calmly. He knows his son well enough to know his anger is covering up a different emotion entirely. Massimo gently takes his hand and surveys the newly added silver band on it, before meeting his eyes with a proud smile. And sure enough, Alberto’s eyebrows draw together and a crumpled sob makes its way through his pout. He throws his arms around Massimo.
“Grazie, papa. Di tutto.”
“Certo , Alberto. I am so happy for you,” his voice breaks as he finally lets go of the tears he’s held back ever since Luca nervously asked for his son’s hand in marriage.
Luca trots along the dock, waving a hand that glints with a flash of silver. Massimo holds his arm open and lets the brunet into his embrace, joyfully squeezing the boys together and it doesn’t take long before their tears make way for giddy laughter.
A soft voice calling from the piazza makes Luca turn around to find his parents and grandma approaching, Daniela fidgeting nervously with her fingers. He untangles from the group hug and greets them with an awkward wave. His father wraps him up in a hug and Grandma gives him a look and pokes at a hickey on his neck, but his mother hangs back and waits for him to come to her.
“Congratulations,” she says simply, taking his hand in hers and surveying the ring.
“Thanks, mom,” he smiles sheepishly, not sure where to look or what to do with his hands. She lays her other hand on his cheek and sighs.
“I’m sorry. No, really, Luca, I’m so sorry. I think…” she muses, eyes wandering over his face. “It just feels like the first time he took you away from us. Before I could even twirl my tail, you grew up, and sometimes I still see my precious little baby. But you’re not anymore. Even after all these years, I still hold on to hope you’ll come back here one day and live like us. But you won’t.”
Luca sighs and leans into her palm.
“No, I won’t. He didn’t take me away. I came willingly. He only gave me the courage. If you’d sent me to the deep… I would have been absolutely miserable and ran away anyway. I always dreamt of the surface.”
Daniela pinches his cheek.
“That’s for yelling at me,” she says sternly, and before he can complain, she yanks him down to kiss his forehead, “and that’s also for yelling at me. You’re completely right. You’re an adult. You make your own decisions. And you and Alberto are perfect for each other.”
Luca’s vision is getting blurrier by the second, so he buries them in his mother’s neck in a tight embrace.
“Thanks, mom.”
“Aw, get in here,” he hears her say and is suddenly enveloped by another, familiar body from behind. He smiles and nuzzles against his boyfriend’s chest. Daniela pulls back from them and points at Alberto.
“Now you’re in a period of grace, young man. I trust you because Luca trusts you and you make him very happy. But the second I get a whiff of anything, if Luca as much as complains about you not doing the dishes? You’re in big trouble.”
Luca twists in his boyfriend’s arms to survey the flickering deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes.
"I don't understand, and I'm too afraid to ask," Alberto says.
“Welcome to the family, guppy!” his grandma exclaims with a boisterous laugh.
“Thanks, mom, anytime he’s being disobedient I’ll just look at the telephone.”
“You’re very welcome, dear. Some emotional blackmail is necessary in any marriage.”
She casts a glance at Lorenzo, who shrugs with a grin.
“Ragazzi, get back here!” Massimo’s voice booms through the piazza, waving his camera at them. Alberto doesn’t complain, just takes his hand and actually starts skipping, infecting Luca with giggles all the way.
Massimo takes a series of photos, and Luca’s certain all of them are blurry, as they’re both vibrating with joyful energy and Alberto can’t keep his hands off him, but finds he doesn’t mind when he’s dipped into a passionate kiss that makes him forget his family is watching. (Until his grandma’s wolf-whistling at them, but he just flips her off, too wrapped up in their own little world to care.) He’s certain the pictures will be absolutely perfect, blurriness and rude gestures be damned.
When they get home to Genova, Luca hangs four pictures side by side on the fridge.
In the two first, the day of the proposal, all dressed up in their Sunday best, Luca trying to pose primly with a grimacing face brought on by the butt pinch, Alberto’s shit-eating grin looming over him, followed up by him beating at his chest, unsuccessful in wiping the smile off the blonde’s face.
Then, the day after, both in rumpled, stained clothes. The first; his own grin face-splitting, Alberto’s infectious smile pressing into his cheek, the second; him hanging upside down from Alberto’s neck in a kiss. It’s frankly embarrassing to display on the fridge, and he already prepares himself for Giulia’s teasing on her next visit, but he finds the fluttering joy in his heart looking at them wins over her brutal nature.
Alberto’s sleepy arms snake around his waist, blinking owlishly at the pictures. “Looks good,” he mumbles.
Luca makes a noise of agreement, turning to accept a kiss. "Disgusting, but good."
“Hey. Rude.”
“I’m only preparing you for Giulia’s reaction to them," Luca says, reaching up to ruffle his hair with a small chuckle.
“Oh God, she’s gonna be insufferable." Alberto buries his groan in the crook of his neck.
“I know,” Luca laughs and untangles from the embrace to hand Alberto a fresh cup of coffee that he gratefully sips with a content hum, exactly the way Luca knew he would, today, tomorrow, for the rest of their days.