Chapter II and III are dedicated to Bia (UBAmandaFan) who is always cheerful and attentive and also says she loves angst... just like me. Hey, Bia, I hope this is angsty enough for you.
Chapter II
PAIN
And never knowing
what could've been
Not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
"What hurts the most" by Marc Wills
The sole of his John Lobb loafers weren't used to the rough sidewalks of downtown Manhattan and it pained him to dispense of the limousine but he wanted sometime to think and organize his thoughts. So he walked the many large blocks that separated him from his destination. Or maybe he just didn't want to lose momentum —whatever that word meant.
The sun wasn't even out yet and he already saw the sea of people walking down the streets: in suits, in sportswear, always in a hurry. He blended just easily. They didn't notice him at all.
He gave a quick stare at his Rolex watch: six o'clock. He had no idea Latvy and Becks had kept him for such a long time that night. He had lost track of time and he couldn't believe it was already morning. Loud music and expensive champagne was all he could remember —as if he even cared to remember.
His heart wavered for a second. What if Gio wasn't even there? It might be too early. He couldn't think clearly. He must've had his brain clogged with alcohol, a stupor that stung his brains and pierced his temples like a crown of thorns, driving him into madness. He shook his head. No, it wasn't the alcohol. He was intoxicated with something else.
Just as he crossed the block where his office, the huge Meade Empire was based, he gave a quick glance to the imposing building dimly lit with the streetlights. 'Money was power. Power can get you anything': his father had many times told him countless times; his brother had lived by it and so did himself. Power had gotten where he'd been now, power had bought him the most extraordinary woman he had ever met in his life.
He finally found himself in front of the door of the small shop in Manhattan. The closed sign was hanged in the door but it yielded against his weight as he gently pushed it open.
Everything was neatly decorated: the walls, the ceiling, the glass windows. They spoke Italian words of a self-discovery trip under the sky of Rome and of spicy innuendos of pickles and salamis from a carefree soul, all of this painted in bright playful tones that blended in one happy mix in front of his eyes. The deli owner never let anyone decorate his place, not even his own family. Daniel knew it. Betty had told him. They both had found it amusingly stubborn then. But Daniel had to admit he had great taste. The place was colorful but nice and he liked it. Even the grinning pickle under the words 'Gio's Deli' laughing at him as he blushed at the memories of that wild night he'd shared with him. Yeah, Daniel thought, he couldn't have picked a better logo.
As he walked towards the counter, Daniel allowed his lungs grasp for air and he felt confident just by being there. Everything inside the little Deli in Manhattan invited to enter it, whispering gently into all his senses, tempting him in, daring him to stay: the warmth of the place, the permanent perfume of fresh sausages and, specially, the figure of the handsome owner focused in his work at the back of the deli.
—0—
Daniel walked with slow steps towards the counter. He had practiced every word in his head. He was calmed, they were both alone and there was no rush.
There wasn't a welcoming greeting, either.
Gio Rossi was chopping, more like murdering an onion into unnecessary little pieces. It was his cue but Daniel didn't spoke a word. His mind went blank, hypnotized by the vision of those hands: the silver bracelet, his wrist, the color of the skin. Gio had rough fingers… very skilled fingers. He had enough proof of that. The way he tightly gripped the wooden handle of that knife…
Gio eyed him from the corner of his eyes. Foul words and million curses filled his brain in an instant. He was the last person he wanted to see that day. He didn't want to have that talk. Not in public. Not then. Not ever.
"What do you want?" he said, his raspy voice pierced the air.
Daniel got taken aback by those words. That's not how he had pictured it to happen at all.
"I…" Daniel couldn't even start. Gio had left the onions and started hitting a large piece of meat with a pounder. The loud sound of Gio's hammer against the board seemed to make a statement of its own.
"I wanted to talk to you… about that night" Daniel placed his hands on the counter that divided the space between them. Gio didn't respond only the hammering sound echoed against his ears.
"That night…" Daniel continued. "I don't really know what happened there. But I just can't stop thinking about it. This is all new to me. I can only guess it's… new to you, too"
No response. Daniel closed his eyes and breathed hard.
"I don't know what to do."
"Have you ever?" Gio muttered under his breath in a conceited voice and kept smashing the meat with all his strength. Daniel could see the muscles tense under the short sleeved black cotton t-shirt that wrapped his olive toned arms.
"I know" Daniel chuckled and added, sheepishly. "You were always smarter than me. That's why I'm here. Maybe… you could help me figure out what we could do about all this, what we could do … about us."
"Us?" The pounder stopped its angry chant and Daniel found himself in front of two eyes of steel looking at him in rage. The gravely voice continued and every single word drained any ounce of the courage that Daniel had gathered on his way there. "You are sick. You make me sick."
It would have been easier if Gio had taken the pounder and crushed his chest with it. Daniel could barely move paralyzed by the physical pain his words had inflicted on his body. Water threatened to fill his blue eyes and he felt something break inside of him. This wasn't supposed to happen like that.
Gio's expression hardened as he noticed how the taller and older man shrank in front of his eyes. He saw a man of power, a man of wealth, break down into pieces. He both pitied and abhorred the presence of whatever shadow of a man was standing in front of him.
"Whatever happened that night was wrong. Grow a pair and live with it." Gio said, trying unsuccessfully to soften his voice. He cleaned his hands with the white apron that hung from his neck and wrapped tightly around his waist. Then, he looked away. He had nothing else to say.
There was a moment of silence and Daniel took the opportunity to speak trying to remember whatever words he had practiced to tell him. "Don't you think… maybe… this whole thing could be more than fascination?"
"Fascination?!" said Gio, turning around, almost shouting, "What the… fuck! You… you disgust me!"
Daniel raised his voice a few bars, his heart speeding madly inside his chest. The words were fighting against the lump that was forming in his throat, but he spoke them anyway "Has it ever occurred to you that you could be feeling the same way… That we discovered that night what we really…"
"I am A MAN!" Gio shouted back and, as he did so, a strand of hair fell carelessly over his right eye.
A heavy silence fell in the four walls around them. The brown and the blue eyes stared at each other, defiantly. The blue eyes yielded first.
Daniel tugged his own spiky hair with his fingers, nervously, feeling on the verge of despair. He couldn't find what to say. He'd never been good with words. That he knew. His lips parted to speak. "I'm scared, too. Don't you think this… freaks me out?"
Gio was sweating in anger, his nostrils burning; his eyes, on fire. Droplets of sweat formed in his forehead. He finally spoke with a controlled but uneven voice, chopped by the strength of his anger.
"I don't want to see your fucking face in this place ever again. I hope I'm understood".
Daniel's face fell, defeated. With no strength left to fight, he turned to leave. He stood by the door.
"You are not even going to ask about Betty and how is she coping with all… this?"
Gio's expressions softened, suddenly taken by surprise.
Daniel noticed the change of his countenance and the border of his lips produced a sad smile. "I bet you haven't thought about her, not even once, after that night."
"Get out!" Gio shouted back at him.
Daniel closed the door behind him.
"Get out!" Gio said once more and smashed the counter top with his fist. With a loud cry of rage and uncontrolled frenzy, he swept the counter, in one quick savage movement of his arms, throwing the knife, the meat pounder and everything he had at reach against the floor.
Gio caught a stream of blood running through his reddened palm. His hand had started shaking and he couldn't control it. He found himself realizing that he'd never feared the truth more than in that exact moment —Daniel had been fucking right.
A sharp knife would have caused him less damage than what he had just experienced, Daniel, thought as he walked back the blocks to his apartment in Manhattan. He didn't know what he'd expected to find when he entered that Deli and exposed himself in that way. All he did know was that he hadn't got it when he left. He came with nothing but a huge flame of despair burning his insides and, at that moment, it felt as if there was nothing that could take that pain away.
Daniel Meade walked again through the streets of Manhattan, clad in his designer clothes, his expensive shoes, his Rolex shining on his wrist; bathed in all that money and power. A power that could buy anyone —except him.
—0—
Next Chapter: SADNESS...
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Note: There´s an old Gio/Henry slash fanvid made by AngelicGothNeko with the Rascal Flatts version of this song in youtube (check it out!).
But it was MadiWillow with his Getty fic "What Hurts the Most" that introduced me to the original Mark Wills version which I consider much more powerful, manlier and angstier.
Thanks to both of you for this! :)
Mark Wills — What Hurts The Most
I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
That don't bother me
I can take a few tears that I've got
And just let them out
But I'm not afraid to cry
Every once in a while
Even though going on with you still upsets me
Ever days
Every now and again I pretend I'm ok
But that's not what gets me
What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing what could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you
Everywhere I go
but I'm doing it
It's hard to force that smile
when I see our old friends and I'm alone
Still haunted
Getting up getting dressed living with this regret
But I know if I could do it over
I would treat every way all the words that I said in my heart
and I left unspoken
'cause…
What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing what could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
Is what I was trying to do
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