"Love doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints, it takes and it takes and it takes and we keep loving anyway, we laugh and we cry, and we break, and we make our mistakes, and if there's a reason I'm by her side when so many have tried, then I'm willing to wait for it."
- Wait For It, Hamilton.
Talking practically, it hasn't been a pleasant day.
First thing, the coffee machine died during the night and there was no hot cup of black bitterness waiting for him when he woke up, and he was left being a non-functional human being for the longest amount of time he ever experienced.
Second thing, there was a massive amount of cars on the way to work – which is strange, because he's careful not to choose main streets as he knows traffic is hellish at that time of the day – and so he arrived half an hour late. He never arrives late.
Third - because yes, there's a third thing – his secretary decided to quit without sending a proper explanation, and he, as busy as a top-notch broker can be, absolutely has no time to arrange the meetings and clients and supplies by himself. By four o'clock he was frustrated, caffeine-deprived and itching to get home.
Many other things had gone wrong: the printer gave its last breath mid-printing an important contract, his favorite restaurant was closed for renovation, someone scratched his precious car and now there was an ugly scrape on the driver's door and he wanted to cry.
He didn't.
So at 10:30 pm, when he was free to go back home where things were still in his control (aside from the coffee machine, but he could still buy a new one), he grabbed his things with two hands, rushed to the car, shrieked at the sight of the ugly scrape, and jumped on.
xOx
He has never had rituals in his life. During college, there was nothing such as lucky socks, or charms, or routines to do before an exam or a particularly difficult class. There was no lucky necktie for meetings with new important customers, and no sentimental attachment to his things, whatever they could be. On of his colleagues, Dave, hasn't changed his suitcase since he got the job because "it's the suitcase I had when I came for the interview", and another one, Dana, wears the same cologne every time she has meetings abroad. Victor doesn't. He simply doesn't believe in this kind of things.
And yet, he now has his own very special ritual for when he comes home.
Shoes are left by the door while he hangs the coat in the wardrobe, and he trudges barefoot to the living room, plopping down on the couch with ungraceful movements. The ritual goes on with a few more things but today it stops here because, honestly, he's so tired. With a last, herculean effort, he takes the phone out of the pocket of his pants and scrolls.
(2) missed calls from XXX-XXXXXXX
Victor jolts up, fingers pressing erratically on the call button as he hopes to be on time.
Here's another "gone wrong" thing: he forgot about the most important dinner appointment ever.
It's ringing. Oh, blessed the Heavens and the angels! It's ringing, and that means he still has room for apologies and—
«I'm sorry I couldn't take you out for dinner but my secretary quit and I had to arrange everything myself and my planner was a mess and I just got home please forgive me I didn't mean to—»
There's a soft huff on the other side of the phone, interrupting his stream of consciousness. «Victor, breathe,» the voice calmly suggests, and Victor does. He takes a deep breath, cheeks sweating from the contact with the hot phone, and repeats.
«I will make it up to you, I swear. I'm sorry about tonight, everything has gone south and I got caught up. We could go tomorrow, I have a day off.»
«There's no need for that.»
The call ends here, with Victor being hung-up on and dreading the meaning of those words. Sure, the voice sounds calm and relaxed, but that voice always sounds calm and relaxed! There's nothing reassuring him that something bad won't happen, and so Victor panics. It's over, he thinks. It's over, it's over, it's over.
Someone rings the doorbell. Victor tries not to look like a wreck before leaving the couch and trudging to the door, but he doesn't know how successful the attempt was.
When he opens the door, he thinks he's dreaming. It must be a dream, or an illusion caused by the recent delusion. It can't be real.
«The Italian restaurant you booked for tonight doesn't do take away, but Licia – you know, my neighbor from Rome – told me she could give me a hand and made some carbonara. I hope it's still okay with you.»
There's a moment in which Victor thinks he might start crying like a baby; then, he launches himself in the most desperate hug he ever gave.
xOx
They're comfortably sprawled on the bad, Raizel sitting with his back against the wall and with Victor's head on his lap, as they watch one of those bad disaster movies Victor likes so much.
«You thought I wanted to break up with you?» Raizel asks, both amused and worried, as he combs Victor's hair with a hand. Victor nods slowly, eyes following the main character of the movie running for his life in the middle of a frozen New York City. It's always New York City.
«I saw those missed calls, and then you said there was no need to have dinner together, so I thought you were upset because I was caught up at work,» he says, relaxing into the touch. Raizel stifles a laugh.
«The first time, I called to know if everything was okay because it was getting late, and you are never late,» he lifts one finger as he starts the explanation.
«The second call was to tell you I figured out you were caught up at work and that I didn't mind if we couldn't go, that I remember you usually get home around 10:30 pm and that I would come here,» two fingers up.
«When I said "there's no need for that" I meant choosing another day to have dinner together, because Licia wanted to repay me for the time I kept her dog when she was in Italy, and before I could stop her she was already boiling the spaghetti, so I was on my way with the carbonara,» the third finger is up, ending the explanation.
Well, everything makes sense now.
«I'm sorry you thought I wanted to break up with you,» Raizel apologizes, hand resting on the top of Victor's head.
Victor buries his face into Raizel's stomach, hugging his waist tight. «It's okay. Thank you for being so thoughtful and understanding.»
He feels Raizel's body relaxing and knows he must be blushing. «There's no need to thank me, Victor. It's what every normal person would do.»
The movie comes to and end, credits scrolling on the TV screen. Raizel moves, escaping Victor's tight hug to get on his feet. «It's late,» he says, « and you had a rough day. Why don't you go to sleep? I'll go wash the dishes.»
Victor shakes his head. «I will do it tomorrow. Can you read something for me?»
Raizel gifts him his soft, soft smile and nods, fingers tracing the spine of the books in the bedroom until he finds something he likes, and then returns by his side.
Victor scoots over a bit to leave Raizel some room, and when he's comfortable, Victor reaches out for physical contact.
«Happy first anniversary,» he mumbles against the fabric of Raizel's white shirt.
He hears Raizel opening the book, and closes his eyes. When he starts, Victor is back to the day he listened to him read Titus Andronicus on that voice-based SNS, when Raizel was just user Rai820, a man with a soothing voice and not his boyfriend, when Victor had no idea who was on the other side.
«...Africa. That bird came from Africa. But you mustn't cry for that bird, Paulie, because after a while it forgot about how the veldt smelled at noonday, and the sounds of the wildebeests at the waterhole, and the high acidic smell of the ieka-ieka trees in the great clearing north of the Big road...» Raizel reads.
Funny, Victor thinks. It's exactly the passage I read a year ago.
Hello everyone! pwmo here, back with the fixed chapter!
If this piece reminds you of something, well, YOU'RE RIGHT! It's a little after-story of the first chapter, featuring Victor (Frankenstein dear) as the unlucky broker, Raizel (da babe) as the precious cinnamon roll AND ALSO user Rai820 from the voice-based SNS.
Man, I wanted to write the after story since I started the first chapter, but then other ideas came up and I just put this one away, promising myself "I will write it!" every time I finished a chapter. Of course, I never did. UNTIL NOW!
The title refers to the Italian restaurant and the pacifying carbonara, and the fact they both thought of Italian things while planning the anniversary. Nothing else. No flames. (But we DO the carbonara better, believe me, I tried eating it abroad and it physically harmed me seeing restaurants put cream in it and call it "true italian carbonara". It's not. Don't believe them, they only tell lies.)
(Fun fact! Italians themselves fight with each other over the true recipe of the carbonara. No one knows how the true carbonara is - but we all agree cream isn't part of it. The main fights are over what part of swine meat should be used, whole egg vs. yolk only, and onion vs. garlic.)
Those who follow me on tumblr know that I scheduled the update on Monday/Tuesday at best, but my PC fucked everything up and I had to re-write it from scratch. It was, and I am convinced of this, the most frustrating experience in my life.
But hey, here it is!
A big thank you to the lovely people sending me prompts, reading, following, and faving this fanfiction! Seeing you grow in number and receiving your kind messages makes me feel so appreciated, like, do I even deserve this? So yeah, thank you, you're the true success here!
As I already said, Facing The Unexplained is on a break (plot planning and development take a while, I am slow and I want to keep up the good work I did until now), so chapter 4 won't be out until the second week of July, I think.
Don't misunderstand: it's all written and ready, but I need to write at least the next chapter to be sure the plot is consistent til the end. Chapter 4 is fine, I just need it for later adjustments. I am up for posting a little preview on my tumblr, if you want, but it's up to you!
Follow me there to receive updates, to see Noblesse memes and frequent shitposting, to send me memes (any kind of meme is good meme, but if it's cat memes I will call you my friends forever) or requests or suggestions for prompts/pairings. Your help is appreciated, so don't be shy! I am an awfully awkward person myself, I will probably answer you with cat memes, but it's to show I appreciate you all.
As alway, see you next chapter!
P.S. Raizel is reading "Misery" by Stephen King.
P.P.S. I am in love with Hamilton so much omg
pwmo
