A/N: This is seriously so AU it hurts. Darren's Italian, okay. I don't know how long this is gonna be, but I know that there's going to be smut because, well, Darren is hot and Italian profanity is just wonderful. Nothing else, other than I like feedback.
I don't own Darren or Chris or Italy, for that matter. I wish I did.
As soon as Chris graduated, he ran away from Clovis. Not just away from Clovis, but away from the United States. Chris told himself time and time again that love wasn't real. His best friend, Lea, told him that he's got to believe in love for it to even be real. So for the past 6 months, Chris had been traveling around the world to experience new things, new settings, new landscapes, new people - and that was a thing for Chris. He went around to each country and found one boy to fall in love with.
The first boy was named Matt, a boy from Canada. Chris thought he loved him, but really, it was just lust. The second boy was named Jake, from Greenland. He had spiked hair and the most gorgeous blue eyes. Again, lust. Next was Iceland, a pale boy named Caleb was sure to be the one for him, but no. Chris stayed away from him because he was just a bit too close. The last 6 were complete creeps and made Chris shudder at the thought of them.
After 9 countries of trying to find the one, he landed in a place in Italy. Italy was beautiful, - well from the window in the airport. He had been staring around for the past 30 minutes, waiting for his called cab, just listening to the Italian language. Everything about this country was gorgeous, but Chris only had one month to get what he wanted before he left for France. Chris turns from the large window, looking around for his ride, hoisting his luggage as he wedges through the crowd, trying not to get swallowed by natives. "Excuse me, sorry," he mutters, body getting shoved into one another. He brushes through the group of people until he finally reaches the door, seeing a taxi outside. Chris runs out, briefly taking in the fresh air before getting in and telling the driver where his hotel was. All he did was nod and wave his hand before driving off. This place was new to Chris, something like he'd never seen before. Way off from Clovis and Iceland and Canada. The atmosphere was different. And as soon as the taxi stopped, Chris was in a hurry to get out, to explore this new country.
There was a sweet, smooth voice coming from somewhere around along with strumming acoustic guitar strings. He pulls his luggage from behind him, following the voice that lead to the entrance of his hotel. Chris looks up to see a boy on the step of the building with curly locks tangled on his head. His golden-green eyes shined, bright and happy and beautiful through his black rimmed glasses, and his smile was sweet as he sang. But as soon as the boy saw Chris he came to a stop, his eyes wandering up and down his body before saying, "Se sei americano?"
Chris gasps at his accent. He had been to plenty of places with accents but this one.. This one he could get addicted to. "Sorry, um. I'm not from here.. I don't understand, do you.. Do you speak English?" Chris asks slowly a little too loud and the boy furrows his eyebrows. "Sì, I speak, ahh.. Bunch of English," the boy says, standing up and setting his guitar on the edge of the step. He brushes his hands on his jeans and holds one out. "Mi chiamo Darren, uh.. My name." he says in that wonderful, thick accent. Chris takes his rough, callused hand and can barely get out the word, "I'm Chris," before Darren presses a kiss on the top of it. Were Italians always this affectionate when they meet someone?
Chris' stomach flutters at the touch of his lips on his skin and Darren looks up at him through the tops of his glasses, a charming smile playing on his lips. Chris bites his lip when Darren leans up and looks at the large hotel, "Is this your staying place? Where you will sleep?" Darren asks, pointing through the doors where it was formally decorated. Chris nods and Darren grabs for his guitar, pulling the strap over his neck. "I come here to perform a lot, I will see you then? Maybe I can show you around in tomorrow? You'd like that?" Darren questions, sensing how Chris was speechless. He smirks, jumping off the steps and waving at Chris. "I'll see you in daylight then," he yells back at him, and Chris clutches the handle of his suitcase, his insides screaming. This could be a good thing, but then again, all of the boys before Darren had treated him the same. He might just turn out to be the same as them all.
Day 1 in Italy.
Chris woke up to the sound of cars and a familiar tune playing from outside his window. He stretches in the soft sheets, just listening to the words that climbed from the ground to Chris' room.
"Tu vuò fa l' americano, mmericano, mmericano, siente a me, chi t' ho fa fa? Tu vuoi vivere alla moda, ma se bevi whisky and soda, po' te sente 'e disturbà.."
Soon enough he was peeking out the window, leaning on the edge and staring down at Darren. He wore a gray cardigan and a dark pair of jeans, and he wasn't wearing his glasses today, but he was still the most handsome man he'd ever seen. "Darren!" Chris calls down at him, and the curly headed boy looks up, a grin appearing on his face when he sees Chris. "Ciao, buongiorno.Good morning, American! Are you ready for your tour of Italy?" Darren asks, and Chris laughs. "Just give me a few minutes and I'll be down," he says before closing his window.
After showering and rushing to throw on something presentable, Chris was pushing the door open to meet Darren. His guitar was gone now, making Chris' eyebrows fly up in confusion. "Where's your guitar?" he asks, and Darren shrugs. "It's inside at the front desk."
"They just took it from you?" Chris gapes in disbelief, almost walking back inside to protest and get the instrument back. But Darren grabs his hand while he was walking to the door, laughing - that laugh that was so cute. "No, no. Do you really think they're gonna take the owner's son's best friend? Come on now, spicciare." Darren rests his hand on the small of his back, sending a lick of thrill up Chris' spine through the shock of Darren's words. "Wait, your dad owns that hotel? But it's so fancy and you're so.. Casual," Chris didn't want to insult him, but it was true. Darren shakes his head, leading Chris down the streets of Rome. "It's nothing, really. Now let's go eat breakfast."
—
Darren holds the door open for Chris, his wallet in his hand. Chris thanks him quietly and looks around, the small cafe didn't look like the one's in America, though Chris learned not to expect anything the same as where he came from. But this place had no eggs nor bacon, just tons of bread, yogurt, and coffee. It smelled delicious though. "Croissant? Are you familiar with the term?" Darren asks, gently pulling him next to his hip in the line. Chris stares at him like he grew another head, resisting the urge to just kiss him because that was adorable. "Yes, Darren, I know what a croissant is," he smiles, and Darren nods. "Just making sure," he says before releasing his arm from around Chris' shoulders to order. Chris stands behind him, watching his mouth move as Italian words spilled out. He picked up some things like, coffee and pastry.
"Grazie, grazie." Darren hands Chris a croissant and a mug, sharing a brief smile with him before picking a small table by the window. Chris sits across from him, biting into his lip, gaze glued on Darren. This boy was special in a way, different from all the others. It wasn't just the way he looked, though that was pretty different. It was just him.
"How do you know English?" Chris blurts out, eyes widening before he takes a sip of the hot beverage. Darren shrugs, "I uh.. I went to America to be big, you know. Big star, actor and performer. My papà told me I have to know their language so I learned it, it took several years of practice, and then I went to Hollywood." Darren took another bite of the bread, staying silent. Chris wanted to ask what happened but he didn't, knowing that he only knew Darren for not even a day. Then Darren looked at him. "What are you doing here? In Italy, I mean?"
Chris didn't want to answer that. He wish he could lie and say he's here for family reasons or to take a vacation, but not when Darren was staring at him with those big, vulnerable eyes. He didn't want to sound like some cheap whore who got around with guys in every country, so he settled for a simple statement, hoping Darren would leave it at that. "I want love."
Darren laughs. "Darling, this isn't Paris. This is Italy. I'm afraid you got the wrong country," he says in a playful tone, and Chris grins. "I don't know about that.." he mutters, taking another long sip of his coffee.
—
The rest of the day went by too fast. Chris and Darren walked all around the city, and at one point Chris complained about his legs hurting and Darren carried him on his back until they found a boat. The boat ride was supposed to be a tour, but Darren and Chris stayed in the back, shamelessly flirting and throwing each other smirks and glances. And all during lunch they played footsie under the table which resulted in Darren tickling Chris' sides on the way out for running his foot up too far. Chris had gotten tons of pictures of them together, but his favorite was the one of them standing in front of the Trevi Fountain. Chris threw a coin in there and his only wish was to fall helplessly in love with someone who loved him back. Darren told him that he wished for pizza, but Chris was pretty sure he was lying. But later that night, Darren's "wish" came true anyway. The pizza in Italy was different than the way America made it. It was more thin and full of vagetables, which Chris didn't mind at all. It was late when Darren walked Chris up to his hotel room, - well, more like skipped.
"I had an amazing time, Darren. Thank you for um.. Taking me, around. It was really fun." Chris smiles, and Darren pecks his cheek quickly. "Prego, bello.How long are you here?" Darren asks, taking his hands and lacing their fingers. "29 more days." Chris tells him, sighing afterwards. He had only knew Darren for a day and it already killed him that he was going to leave. He wanted to spend as much time as possible with him because his was heart already attached to this guy. "You.. You should come inside. We could talk, you know. Play 20 questions.. It's an American game, but I'll teach you." Chris whispers, his cheeks scarlet. Darren wets his lips absentmindedly, opening his mouth answer but was interrupted by a yell of Italian words.
Chris didn't understand a thing but watched Darren roll his eyes at the man, letting go of Chris' hands. "Mi dispiace, I wish I could stay but my papà needs me." Darren brushes a strand of Chris' hair out of his face before walking backwards away from him, "I will see you tomorrow, yeah?"
Chris nods and wiggles his fingers at him before walking into his hotel room, hiding his sadness until he closes the door. He groans, toeing off his shoes and throwing himself on the bed. It was a busy day and he was tired, but his mind was filled with Darren, Darren, Darren. God, he was already that clingy boy. This was going to be a messy 29 days.