"No, I'm pregnant.." that was probably the most awful thing to say after their years and years of conceiving failures.
The first few years of their marriage were the wildest ones – spontaneous trips to Vegas, (Harvey was a poker lover and a born gambler and Leo, well he had this brain of his that could count cards, cheat and charm all at the same time without getting caught), sex on ridiculous places and that burning passion that faded away so quickly.
On their third anniversary they decided that they will put all the effort into having their first child that, eventually, was never born. The Italian tried to blame it on himself because Harvey was the one who was never wrong, the one who never made mistakes, the one who was excellent in every way.
They never really talked about it. It was a taboo topic that each one of them was discussing with his friends but never with his significant other.
So Leonardo decided that he wouldn't be able to educate his own kid but he could share his knowledge with other people's children. So he became an art teacher in a public school, trying desperately to inspire some dull young individuals to create something magnificent, but never succeeded. He quited this position just after a few months after making a huge scene in the teacher's lounge and calling the principal "pricky, illiterate cunt".
Then it took him about half a year to finally fulfill his dream of being the youngest art professor in one of the most prestigious universities in New York but still he was living in Harvey' s shadow, who at the moment was one of the most promising young lawyers in town. It was somehow comfy, and yet dissatisfying at the same time, knowing that everyone, even his husband was thinking less of him.
Like Harvey, Leonardo had his past. Even though he was only sixteen when he got into Harvard, he had his shady, shamefull moments that always followed him. Past that he could never get rid of. As many knew, he was a bastard (both literally and metaphorically). Grew up in an orphanage in Italy after getting adopted at the age of 13 by a lonely old widower named Andrea. They moved to the US an year later.
Leonardo knew he was extraordinary since he was about five years old. The other kids were still struggling with the alphabet when he already was able to read, write and memorize any given text. And yeah, stories in books kinda caught his attention but not as much as the pictures in these books.
"Watch where you're going" a cyclist shouted at him and the Italian remembered that he was actually driving to work. He parked and headed to the main entrance of the building where a long-haired man smoking a cigar smiled kindly at him.
" You look like someone who had a wild night." said he amused.
" If you are referring to the new History of art book you gave me yesterday, yeah, you are right. I had a very pleasing night including crazy underlining and wild racing through the chapters." Leo answered with a long sigh.
Brandon was the dean of the faculty of arts and probably the painter' s only true friend in this city. He was a brilliant principal ballet dancer for ABA for about fifteen years before his retiring in 2007. And he was one of the very few people that Leonardo truly admired.
" Well, you go that going for you, which is not bad, but do I have to mention that you have a husband who need strong manhandling..."
" I already gave up trying. Causa perduta as the Latins call it." the Italian answered bitterly
" Speaking of Latins, you should meet the new Roman law professor... Might be suitable for a no-strings-attached affair which you need more than anything. He's Italian, too."
" I'm done with lawyers and liars, Brandon".