"I'll kill him," Octavio spat, as he paced the inside of their beach house, the heavy steps of his feet clicking against the flooring.
It had been a mostly sleepless night for them both, with Octavio's relentless pacing and searching online obsessively for this Emelia. Elliott had tried to calm him as best as he could, trying to convince him they needed more information before he went on the warpath. Octavio had every right to be upset; Elliott knew this. But the runner had not shed a single tear that night. He was angry. Furious even. The trickster was concerned, knowing that his partner had a tendency in the past, to get himself into trouble when he felt the world was against him. He'd tried to coax him into bed, but Octavio was having none of it. He couldn't even sit down without his entire body trembling uncontrollably, which made lying down and trying to sleep out of the question. Elliott thinks he caught maybe two or three hours himself, but it wasn't exactly restful, finding himself waking up periodically to make sure his boyfriend was okay and still there with him
"Babe, I keep telling you we need more info," the trickster called back to him, from his spot at the sink, as he tried to wash the tiredness from his face.
"I can't get more info, Elliott!" the speedster said, stopping in his tracks to look at his partner. "I spent hours looking for her on social media last night. I can't find anything."
"I meant...when you talk to your dad…".
"Yeah, we're gonna have a nice talk over breakfast," Octavio huffed, folding his arms over his chest.
"Are you sure you want to do this now?" the trickster asked, making his way down from the bathroom platform, and coming to stand in front of the younger legend, resting his hands on the barrier he'd created. "Maybe it would be better to do it when you're more...calm."
"No," the runner said, shaking his head. "You can't expect me to pretend I don't know about this."
"That's not what I'm saying, Tav. I'm just...this could ruin your relationship with your dad if you're not careful. I know it's not your fault but-."
"I don't care!" Octavio exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Why should I?"
The trickster took hold of his boyfriend's hands, looking deeply into his eyes.
"Because I know you don't want that. Not really. You have every reason to be upset, Tav but-."
"I'm not upset."
"But, you still love your dad."
"I hate him," Octavio hissed, turning his face away, until Elliott took a light hold on his chin, making him look at him.
"You love your dad."
"You need to get dressed," the runner said firmly, stepping around him, to make his way into the toilet. "We're leaving soon."
"I gotta admit, I feel a little under-dressed," Elliott whispered, as they entered the restaurant Octavio's father had chosen.
His assistant had texted Octavio the address and had also arranged a car to pick them up and take them here. The runner laughed wryly at the situation, stating it was funny that his dad even remembered they were doing this today, receiving a strange look from their driver. Elliott toyed with the cuff of his sleeve, self-consciously as he looked around at all the finely dressed diners, who only seemed enhanced by the large chandeliers that glittered over almost every table. He'd decided to wear the new outfit he'd picked up from the bouquet but despite it costing him a pretty penny, it was still just a white shirt with some black fitted trousers.
"You look great," Octavio said, tapping his foot impatiently as they waited for someone to tell them where to go. "You practically blend right in."
"Thanks," the trickster replied, though he wasn't quite sure if his partner intended the last part as a compliment or not; the runner himself had decided to wear his typical outfit, a pair of jean shorts and a printed t-shirt.
"I do sincerely apologise for the wait," a waiter apologised, as he approached them.
He situated himself behind the host stand and began running his finger over the screen.
"As you can see, we're incredibly busy this morning, and our host is preoccupied. Silva, yes?"
"Yup," Octavio replied, sounding indifferent, despite the nervousness building in his stomach.
For once in his life, he was unsure if he'd be able to eat anything at all, as he followed the man across the restaurant floor.
"Right this way, gentlemen."
"Here," the speedster said, holding out his arm to his boyfriend.
"What?"
"Take my arm," he said. "We're meeting my family, which makes you my plus one. It's like...making a statement or whatever. That we're serious. That I'm serious."
"I don't know how you keep up with all this crap," Elliott said quietly, slipping his hand into the crook of Octavio's elbow. "But I was never one to turn down a gentlemanly gesture."
The waiter led them outside onto an outdoor eating area that extended over the ocean. Bertrán was already sat at a table next to the glass railing that surrounded the edge of the area, giving them a nice view of the water from their table. He seemed to be in a fairly intense discussion with a young woman who was rapidly typing into a tablet, until she noticed the couple approaching and not so subtly nodded in their direction. The elder Silva stood when they arrived, and gave his assistant permission to leave before greeting them.
"Buenos dias! I'm delighted you could make it."
Octavio immediately plopped himself down in his chair, and reached for the jug of orange juice on the table, pouring himself a glass to soothe the dryness in his mouth. Bertrán offered a hand to Elliott, which he awkwardly shook, before sitting down next to the speedster. He was a little on edge, and unsure of how to act, since he didn't exactly know when or how Octavio would decide to pull the plug on the pleasantries.
"It is a lovely morning," Mr Silva spoke up, trying to spark some conversation. "I quite enjoy coming here."
"Yeah, it's fucking awesome," the runner replied sarcastically, refilling his glass with juice.
His father hummed lowly in response, before turning his attention to Elliott.
"So, Elliott. Is this your first time visiting Psamathe?"
"Uhh, y-yes Sir. It is."
"How are you enjoying it so far?"
"Yeah, it's really nice," the trickster replied, becoming grateful when the waiter returned to their table, as he was unsure how to continue this conversation.
"Are you ready to order, sirs?"
The three men glanced down to their menus, which had gone forgotten about. Elliott nudged Octavio under the table with his knee to grab his attention.
"Can you order for me?" he requested quietly. "I don't know what any of this stuff is."
"He'll have a plate with a sample of everything," Bertrán told the waiter, plucking the menu from the trickster's hands.
"That's not even an option on the menu," Octavio said, rolling his eyes.
"The chef won't mind," his father told him, pointing out his order to the waiter.
"You don't need to flash your credit card at every opportunity," the runner continued, receiving a pointed look from his elder.
"He is on vacation. Let him enjoy himself. There's no need to be so frugal, mijo. I am just showing Elliott the same hospitality he showed me, when I visited you."
The runner looked towards his partner for his approval. Elliott merely shrugged and nodded, not wanting to make the tension at the table any worse.
"How is your bar coming along, Elliott?" Bertrán asked, as they began tucking into their breakfasts. "We must drink together again, some time."
Octavio's fingers clenched around his fork, at the statement.
"It's doing fine," the trickster replied. "I'm not there too much these days, since we're away with the games but, I have a great manager I can rely on, so….".
"Is that so?" Mr Silva, hummed, pouring himself some coffee. "I didn't know. Octavio doesn't tell me these things."
"I can't tell you anything when you don't call!" Octavio retaliated, receiving a pointed look from his father.
"You stopped calling me, mijo."
"Because you're never there! I shouldn't have to make a fucking appointment every time I want to talk to you!"
"That's unfair, Tavi. You know how busy we are, around here."
"Oh yes, Papá. I know how busy you get."
"I am glad you're enjoying your time here, Elliott," Bertrán spoke, attempting to reel the conversation back in. "I have visited many planets in my time, and none have had the impact on me that Psamathe has. Though, I may be biased. But I truly think it is the best place to start a business, be educated...raise a family, if one so desired. Someone like you would thrive here, Elliott. I would make sure of it."
Octavio glared at his elder, while Elliott fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve, not certain how to respond.
"I...I'm sure you have a point, um...sir, but Solace is my home. I couldn't imagine ever leaving it. And I...still have my mom there so I couldn't leave her. Not unless I had to like...at the moment for work."
Bertrán hummed, looking between the two men, raising his coffee cup to his lips.
"I suppose that is as good of a reason as any to stay put. Family is important, after all."
"Do you ever shut up?!" Octavio erupted suddenly, slamming his fist down on the table, causing the cutlery to rattle in a manner that caught the attention of the diners closest to them. "How do you spend your entire life talking out of your ass like this?! I don't understand it!"
His father seemed taken back by the outburst, taking a quick look around to ensure no one of importance was paying attention to them.
"Ah, it seems someone got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning," he chuckled, but it was without humor, before leaning over the table to address his child more closely. "Qué te pasa, hijo?"
"If you think family is so important, then explain this!" Octavio retaliated, digging into his pants pocket, tossing a folded up piece of paper in his father's direction.
Octavio could swear he saw a small shake in the older man's hand as he unfolded the paper, and looked it over. The pair of hazel eyes, almost identical to his own, seemed to darken as his father looked up at him.
"Where did you find this? What is this?"
"Proof that this family is more fucked up than I thought it was," Octavio replied, raising an eyebrow when the other Silva set the certificate down on the table, casually.
"What is this about? This certificate isn't real. What exactly are you trying to do here?"
"Duh. Of course it's a copy," the runner scoffed. "You didn't think we were stupid enough to give you the real one, did you? Don't even think about lying. We know."
Bertrán's nonchalant expression contorted into one fueled by rage, before returning to a more neutral look; though his face was still a shade of red, as he turned towards Elliott.
"This is your doing! I trusted that you'd be a good influence but, I should have known better than to leave him with you. Your kind are all the same! Blood thirsty, money hungry, scum!"
Elliott furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth to respond, but was stopped by his partner who got there before him.
"Déjale en paz!" Octavio snarled. "Rapido, Papá. Start talking. I don't want you to have time to make up some bullshit excuse for all this."
Bertrán leaned back in his chair, rubbing his fingers across his forehead, suddenly looking very defeated.
"As you wish. But Octavio...there is no going back from this. I hope you know that."
"I want to know," the speedster replied quietly, prompting Elliott to slide his hand under the table to take hold of his clammy fingers.
Mr Silva idly tapped his finger tips against his coffee cup.
"I always wanted a family," he began. "Your grandfather gifted me a sum of money to get our lives started. We didn't try for children for a few years after we'd married. When we did...we discovered Valeria couldn't have children."
"So, you went and dicked down the first other woman you could find?" Octavio interrupted. "Real classy, Papá."
"Language, Octavio. Díos Mio," his father scolded, shaking his head. "But...yes. I did have an...affair. But it wasn't a random woman. I knew her for quite some time. She worked at a lounge I would visit quite frequently after work. Things between Valeria and myself were not...the best. I believed she was not being faithful to me."
"Did she cheat on you first?"
Bertrán's eyes flicked across to the waves lapping against the supporting poles of the deck, they were on.
"She did. When I found out Emelia was pregnant, I was so ashamed. Your grandfather was furious with me. And I was furious with myself until...she said she didn't want to be a mother."
Octavio narrowed his eyes.
"Go on."
"I knew I had to save you. Whether she wanted you or not, she was in no position to raise a child. So, I explained everything to Valeria and we decided we would take you when you were born and raise you ourselves."
"Yeah, you guys did a great job at that," the runner said rolling his eyes. "None of this makes any sense. Why would she want me? She hates me."
"She does not hate you. She is your mother," Bertrán said firmly.
"She's not though, is she?"
"I told her she could...stay and be your mother, or she could leave. In exchange she got rights to the company. She made sacrifices for you. Pretended you were her own flesh and blood. Her...pregnancy was difficult, so she stayed out of the office for months. It was very difficult for her. " he explained, matter of factly. "It worked out. I got the family I wanted, and she got the career and lifestyle she always dreamed of."
Elliott shook his head, in disgust, suddenly very much missing his own mother.
"So, you blackmailed her into staying," Octavio pointed out, crossing his arms. "No wonder she's such a bitch."
"Don't be ridiculous, mijo. You know what people around here are like. We did what we did to protect ourselves and you. It's not like that at all."
"Isn't it?"
Bertrán rested his elbows on the table, emitting a long sigh.
"I tried to be kind to her. Gave her whatever she wanted. Worked with her. Allowed her to make decisions. Parties. I sat back and let her do as she wished. I tried to give you everything you could have wanted. Tried to do what was best for you to set you up for a successful life. But both you and your mother like pushing. Nothing was ever enough for either of you."
"Don't try to blame me for this!", Octavio piped up. "You're delusional, Papá! All you ever did was ignore me and let...her, ruin my life!"
"She is your mother!"
"Did she even bother to adopt me?!"
"We made sure she wouldn't have to!"
Bertrán sat back in his seat, looking stunned with himself, knowing he had said too much.
"What does that mean?" the speedster asked cautiously.
His eyes fell on the forged birth certificate. He wouldn't even have been able to tell it wasn't real if they hadn't found the original.
"You paid everyone off, didn't you?" he said quietly. "Or...blackmailed them all into staying quiet. Did you pay her off too? My...real mother?"
His father shook his head, looking down at his joined hands on the table.
"We...merely gave her what she needed to start a new life somewhere else. She didn't want you, Octavio. You have to understand-"
"Where is she now?"
"I...don't know."
Octavio stood abruptly, almost knocking over his chair in the process.
"I'm done. Let's go, Elliott."
"Tavi! Don't walk away from me!" his father called after them. "We can go home. We can talk about this and make it right! See reason, please!"
The runner turned around to look bitterly at the man, still seated at the table.
"Gracias, for breakfast...Bertrán."
Elliott collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in his pillow, breathing heavily. He turned his head when he felt the mattress shift underneath him, to see his partner pulling his underwear back on and stand up.
"You don't want to cuddle?" he asked, wrapping himself in the sheet as he sat up.
"Do I look like someone who wants to sit around and cuddle?" Octavio retaliated, causing the trickster to squint at him.
"I think after everything you've been through today, you could at least use a hug."
"Elliott," the runner sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can you just shut up? You have no idea what you're talking about!"
"Hey!" Elliott snapped back, shuffling himself to the edge of the bed. "I get that you're going through something, right now but I'm trying to help you! So, why don't you have some fucking respect?! Don't talk to me like that."
"I'm sorry," the younger legend mumbled, folding his arms. "I'm just…".
"Stressed?" Elliott finished for him. "Yeah. I can tell. Come here."
He moved himself back slightly, so his boyfriend could sit between his legs. He rubbed his hands across his shoulders slowly, feeling the tension Octavio was holding.
"Tell me how you're feeling," Elliott said, placing a kiss to one of the many freckles scattered across the speedster's back. "It might help a little."
Octavio sighed heavily, sounding more defeated than Elliott had ever heard him sound before.
"I don't know really," he began, idly picking at the skin on his hands. "I just feel...like I'm angry but...like I feel nothing at the same time."
The trickster nodded sympathetically, squeezing his shoulders in a comforting way, as he made small circles with his thumbs.
"What do I do, Elliott?" Octavio asked suddenly, his voice quiet. "I don't know how to...I don't know…".
"I wish I could make it all better," the trickster said, attempting to soothe his partner. "When I found out that my brothers were missing I...thought I'd never be able to feel better, ever again."
"It's not really the same thing….".
"I know, it's not the same but what's happened to you...it's a loss. I know you weren't super close to your mom but, still...it's a loss. And it might take a little time to process that. And that's okay."
"Do you think Papá was telling me the truth?" the runner asked.
"I'm not sure, babe. Do you?"
Octavio shrugged under his lover's touch.
"I'm not sure either."
Octavio lay in bed that night, unable to sleep, with a thousand thoughts going through his mind. He turned onto his side, his eyes falling on his boyfriend who was sleeping soundly next to him. He felt like his whole life was a lie. His whole life had been a lie. He'd always been proud of who he became after he stopped living by his parents wishes. Octane had given him everything he ever dreamed of. But now ,all of a sudden, it felt like there was something missing. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to delve back into who Octavio was and where he came from, and the nagging feeling to do so wouldn't leave him alone. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table, quickly turning the brightness down, as to not blind himself or disturb his partner. He went through all his social media apps again; typing in his birth mother's name in the search bars, even going as far as to search on some more obscure or less popular social media sites, but he always got the same results as before. Nothing. He slipped out from under the covers, and attached his legs, making his way outside and onto the deck. He drummed his fingers on the back of his phone, as he looked up at the night sky. He could see the moon and the stars so clearly, from here. He shivered when a breeze hit him, having forgotten how chilly Psamathe could get at night, especially close to the ocean. Octavio unlocked his phone once more, scrolling through his contacts until he landed on a name he hadn't seen in years; not since the gauntlet. His thumb hovered over the call button, until he shook his head, opting to send a text instead.
I need a favour.
His phone chimed almost immediately with a response, startling him.
Another one?
I'll pay.
He waited for a response that didn't come, and he partly wanted to throw his phone down onto the sand out of frustration, until he got something he didn't expect. A phone call.
"Hola?"
"Octavio Silva," an all too familiar voice greeted him, his tone mocking. "What do I owe the pleasure, your grace?"
Octavio rolled his eyes, suddenly thankful this wasn't a video call.
"I told you I needed a favour. Quit playing around, Rey. I don't have all night."
"Touchy much, amigo?" the other man chuckled. "It's not a surprise you're calling then. But just so you know, I don't deal to just anyone these days. But I'll admit I'm a little surprised. We all thought you'd gone clean. Mostly."
"Not that," the runner replied firmly. "I need you to find someone."
"Oh? Now I'm interested. Alright, Silva. Let's talk business."
The next few days passed in a blur of agonising anxiety. Originally, Octavio didn't want to tell Elliott about the phone call, but he'd managed to drag the information from him eventually. Unsurprisingly, the trickster was empathetic to the situation, and told him of times he'd almost driven himself mad searching for any information he could find on his missing brothers. He'd paid people high sums of money for little to no clues on their whereabouts, and warned the speedster not to get his hopes up too much. It was difficult for them to remain in the vacation spirit, and Octavio spent most of his time running along the same stretch of beach, or pestering his boyfriend to pose for photos that he could edit, just to occupy his time; not that Elliott minded in the slightest.
"Tav?"
Octavio looked up from his plate to see his partner looking at him expectantly.
"Babe, if you keep daydreaming your breakfast is gonna go cold."
The runner wrinkled his nose and looked down at his omelette, before shoving the plate away.
"I'm not hungry."
"You haven't even touched it," Elliott said, pushing the plate back towards him. "You've barely eaten anything the last couple of days. Just try a little bit."
"I don't want it," Octavio replied, standing up from the table and moving to step outside. "You eat it, if you want."
He rested his elbows against the railing on the deck, looking out towards the sea. The waves seemed more unruly than usual, this morning. It wasn't long until he heard the sliding door open behind him, and his partner stepped out to join him. Elliott wordlessly wrapped his arms around his waist, hugging him from behind and taking a moment to kiss his temple, leaving his mouth there.
"Maybe we should just go home," he whispered. "I'm sure we could get an early flight. It might make you feel better."
"We can't even go home," Octavio mumbled, leaning back into his lover's touch. "Talos isn't our home. Not really. It sucks."
Elliott chuckled quietly at the remark.
"Yeah, it kinda does. Being here made me realise how much I like nice weather. And being able to order pizza whenever we want."
"I miss that too."
"Maybe we could skip the hotel dinner tonight and order some pizza instead?" the trickster suggested, smoothing a hand down the younger legend's back. "We can get whatever toppings and sides you want. How about that?"
Before Octavio could answer, his attention was diverted to the buzzing in his shorts pocket. He took it out and unlocked the screen, covering his mouth with his hand, upon seeing a text from Rey.
"Holy shit."
"She's pretty," Elliott said, wanting to break the stunned silence that hung over the room for the last few minutes.
Octavio flicked between the couple of photos, in the email he'd been sent, containing whatever basic information Rey could find on Emelia; including her name, some pictures, her last three addresses and an email address, but it seemed to be for some cake decorating business, and not a personal one.
"Do you think she looks like me?"
The trickster looked at the woman on screen, and back to his partner. She had long, dark wavy hair, a mole on one cheek, deep brown eyes and a larger nose than Octavio's. He ran a hand over his chin before answering.
"I guess she does, a little? I think you look more like your dad. S-sorry."
"It's fine," Octavio sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Everyone says that. Why is her name different?"
"Maybe she got married? Or just...changed it?" Elliott suggested with a shrug. "It's only the surname that's different."
The speedster nodded slowly.
"Maybe."
"Are you okay?" Elliott asked, taking his boyfriend's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, grateful when Octavio squeezed back.
"I don't know, Ell. I thought...I'd feel more? Am I supposed to love her? Seeing her just makes me more confused."
"Well, you don't know her," the trickster soothed. "And this has all happened so fast. Of course you're not going to know how to feel."
Octavio began to pick at skin on his fingers, thinking the situation over.
"Would it be weird if I...wanted to talk to her? I mean, I talk to people I never met before all the time. This is no different."
"Whatever you want to do, I'll support you," Elliott told him, squeezing his hand again. "You know that."
"Are you nervous?" Elliott asked, leaning against the sink, watching his partner brush his teeth.
"I don't think so," Octavio replied, after he'd rinsed his mouth out. "Should I be?"
"I'm a little nervous," the trickster admitted, stepping down into the bedroom to begin searching through the dresser.
They had to extend their stay, to accommodate this meeting with Octavio's birth mother. They'd decided a few days prior, to just bite the bullet and contact the only email address they had for her. After a couple of correspondences over a few days, Emelia had agreed to meet them in the city, under the conditions it was just Octavio and no other Silvas would be in attendance. Octavio wasn't sure what to expect, since their interactions so far had been fairly brief and through text only, and now he was meeting her, for real, tomorrow. Emelia had suggested they exchange numbers for convenience, in case one of them got lost on the way to their chosen meeting point.
"What should I wear?" Elliott continued, pulling out different articles of clothing. "I want something that says, 'hey I'm kind of your future son-in-law, but also like...a cool guy," y'know?"
"Elliott…," Octavio began, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. "I've been doing some thinking and...maybe you shouldn't come."
"What?" the trickster questioned, turning to face his boyfriend, his expression falling. "But...you said I could come. I want to support you."
"I know you do, amor. And I love you for it, but-."
"Moms love me!" Elliott piped up. "Seriously! I've hosted so many bachelorette parties and my bar and the moms always love me."
"I just think maybe...this is something I should do on my own," the runner replied, trying to ignore the chocolate puppy eyes his partner was giving him.
"But you don't have to do it alone," the trickster said, kneeling in front of him and massaging his fingers into his thighs. "I know you like your independence but, I love you. I just want to be there for you."
Octavio scratched the light stubble growing on the side of his face, and looked down at his partner.
Those damn eyes.
"Fine," he said. "You can come. But...stop calling her my mom."
"Yes, sir!" the trickster said, jumping to his feet and eyeing his partner facetiously. "Anything for you, Master Octavio."
"Shut up!" the runner replied, with a small laugh, grabbing a pillow and swatting his boyfriend playfully.
It was some time before dawn when Octavio awoke, the next morning. It was just beginning to become bright outside, he noticed, as he rolled to the side of the bed and attached his prosthetics. He glanced over his shoulder towards Elliott, who was still fast asleep, snoring softly. He stood up and stepped as quietly as he could around the room, tugging on his clothes; though he knew from experience, it was unnecessary with Elliott's tendency to be an incredibly heavy sleeper. He hovered by his boyfriend's side of the bed, and looked down at his sleeping form momentarily, before taking his phone off the bedside table and turning off the alarm the trickster had set.
"Lo siento, mi amor," he whispered, placing a kiss onto the fade shaved into the side of his partner's head. "Usted no tiene que ser una parte de esta."
Octavio shuffled from one foot to the other, as he waited outside the café where he was supposed to be meeting Emelia. He'd stopped by Rey's place on the way to give him his payment, wanting to get the exchange out of the way as soon as possible. Rey had offered him a little bag of something as a token of goodwill. He had apparently missed him dearly, but Octavio didn't believe that for a second. He politely refused his offer, stating he was trying to stay on track and keep the use of any substances exclusive to his time spent in the arena.
"When did you get so boring, Silva?"
He thought about that as he leaned back against the wall, exhaling deeply. He certainly didn't feel boring right now, with a mixture of adrenaline and anxiety hurtling through his veins, making his heart beat uncomfortably. He was beginning to wish he'd taken the bag now. If any time was a good time for a smoke, it was now. He shook his head and rolled his shoulders back.
"Get your shit together, Octavio," he told himself. "You're not scared of this. You're not scared of anything."
He pushed the door of the café open, causing the bell above the door to jingle, making him jump slightly. He looked around the room, until his eyes landed on a woman sitting at a table near the back. She was mostly turned away from him, due to the angle she was sitting, but somehow he knew it was her.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, as he approached.
There was no turning back now.
"Um...hi?"
She looked up at him, smiling sheepishly as she toyed with the brightly coloured ribbon secured to the end of her braid.
"Hi."
They fell silent, looking at each other awkwardly for some time, until Emelia sat up straighter and gestured to the other side of the table.
"Sit down, if you'd like."
Octavio wasn't sure what to say, when he took his seat. He'd seen the TV shows where people were reunited with lost family members. The people on screen were always so emotional and like they'd finally found this missing piece to their lives. Elliott would sit and cry over those shows for hours, until Ajay suggested it probably wasn't the best idea to keep watching them. This wasn't like those TV shows. This was real and it wasn't emotional. He barely felt anything at all.
"I hope you don't mind, I already ordered something," Emelia eventually spoke up, wrapping her hands around her mug of black coffee. "I was a little nervous. I needed something to occupy my hands."
Octavio rejoined her at the table after he'd ordered his own coffee. He was tempted by the flakey pastries on the counter, realising he'd skipped breakfast again but decided against it.
"So, you...own some sort of bakery or something?" he asked, receiving a soft smile from the woman, who seemed grateful for the conversation starter.
"It's actually a café, a little like this one but...our style is more rustic, I suppose."
"Is it...in the city somewhere?"
"No, I...moved from the city a long time ago," Emelia spoke, keeping her voice quiet before taking a sip of her coffee. "It's a funny story actually. I went to school, thinking I wanted to be an accountant. I ended up dropping out when I met my wife. She's an amazing baker and cake decorator. We opened the shop together, so the only thing I'm counting these days is how many left over cakes we get to take home after our shift."
Octavio drummed his fingers on the side of his mug.
"Okay, so you're married now."
"Yes," she nodded. "It seems like you're doing well for yourself too."
The runner was slightly taken back by the remark.
"You know who I am?"
"Of course," she chuckled. "Most of Psamathe knows who you are."
"So, why didn't you ever...say anything?"
Emelia ran her finger around the edge of her mug, thinking about her answer carefully.
"I...didn't think...Your father promised me you'd never find out. And I knew I had to stay away."
"You're scared of him," the speedster pointed out. "Why?"
"Everyone's weary of the rich here. You'd be an idiot not to be."
"Then why did you come? Why'd you answer my email at all?"
"Because...it would have been cruel to leave you wondering," she replied, looking down at the table. "I know you probably have so many questions. I...don't know if I'll be able to answer them all."
Octavio leaned back in his seat, digging his nails into his palm. He only had one thing he really wanted to know.
"Why didn't you want me?"
She looked both shocked and saddened by the question and it took her a few minutes to begin talking.
"I was a young woman with...nothing. I wanted to go to school. I was working at a bar. I wasn't ready to-."
"Or you just saw a way to make an easy fortune," Octavio cut her off, folding his arms. "I know they paid you. Papá told me."
"I...no! That's not…," she stammered, shaking her head. "Nothing about what happened was easy. I did what I had to do to protect myself. And I still do it everyday. I have to take care of my family. They don't know anything about this. They can't."
"He said the same thing," the speedster scoffed, looking away. "Everyone just looks out for themselves, huh?"
"I understand this must be difficult for you," Emelia said quietly. "It's not easy for me either. But...it was complicated and still is. I came here for your benefit, but if your father finds out...You'll maybe understand some day when you have children of your own."
Octavio wrinkled his nose, glaring at her.
"You have other children?"
"My wife…," she began cautiously. "She had a little boy before we met. His name is Roman. He's actually a big-."
"So, now you have time to be a mom?" he scowled, his voice trembling as he stood up. "You're all the same! You pick and choose when to give a shit about people!"
"Octavio, please," she said, grabbing his wrist. "I never even got to see you when you were born. They took you away. But seeing you now...If you just let me explain."
"No," Octavio replied, shaking his head, jerking his arm away. "I'm sick of everyone trying to make me feel sorry for them! I'm sick of listening to everyone's excuses! This was a mistake. We shouldn't have done this. You shouldn't have come."
Elliott's eyes fluttered open, the light of the day creeping into the room and disturbing his slumber. He groaned to himself, turning onto his side. He could feel the sheet cling to him slightly, his body feeling sticky with heat. He slid his hand over to the other side of the bed, in his groggy state, finding it empty. He rubbed at his eyes as he sat up, looking around the room, finding it lifeless.
"Tav?" he called out, his voice croaky with sleep.
Elliott dragged himself out of bed, and stepped across the room to knock on the toilet door.
"Babe? You in there?"
When he didn't get a response he glanced out onto the back deck, but there was no sign of Octavio anywhere. He returned back to the bed, and took his phone from the nightstand. He cursed out loud when he noticed the time; it was passed one in the afternoon. How did he manage to sleep in like this? And why hadn't Octavio woken him up? He checked his messages for a text from his boyfriend but found nothing. He skimmed through his phone book and quickly pressed the dial button on Octavio's number.
"Come on. Pick up," he said to himself, nibbling on his lip.
He tried this a couple of times, but only ever got through to the runner's voicemail. The trickster began to pace the room, as he tried again, noticing the handwritten note perched on the dresser for the first time.
I'm sorry, amor, but I really need to deal with this on my own. Please, don't be pissed at me. Treat yourself to a spa treatment or something. I'll be back soon.
Love you.
Elliott ran a hand through his slightly greasy curls, with a sigh.
"Dammit, Tav."
Octavio stormed into the front lobby of the Silva Pharmaceuticals offices; ignoring the call of the receptionist as he passed by the front desk, and boarded the elevator. His phone began to ring, and assuming it was Elliott calling again, he switched his phone to silent mode, unable to even bear the thought of talking to his partner right now. He let his head fall back against the glass wall, drumming his fingers against the can of energy drink he'd picked up on the way. He wiped the back of his hand against the sticky marks on cheeks. Not that he'd been crying on the way here, at all. Not even a little bit. He downed the rest of his drink, when he reached the floor he wanted, tossing the empty can in the trash as he quickly walked down the hall, not bothering to look into any of the other offices on the way; he knew exactly which one he wanted.
"Octavio!" his father explained, when the runner barged through the glass door of his office. "What...are you doing here?"
"What's the matter, Papá?" Octavio replied, his voice low. "Aren't you happy to see your son?"
"Of course!" Bertrán said, closing whatever file he was working on, on his computer and turning around in his desk chair to face his son. "I just...wasn't expecting you to come back so soon."
"It's not like you called to check on me or anything," the speedster mumbled, folding his arms.
"Yes, well I...thought you might need some space. Some time to process everything."
"Yeah, sure."
"Oh, it's you," a woman's voice came from behind him, followed by the all too familiar clicking of high-heels on the floor.
Octavio's shoulders tensed as his mother stepped into the room, carrying a large stack of files, which she promptly dumped on her husband's desk.
"With all the stomping and slamming of doors, I could have sworn someone let a fighting bull loose in here."
Octavio wrinkled his nose at her sarcastic tone.
"How nice of you to finally show up, Mamá. Did you finally run out of rich people to brown-nose?"
"I was away on business," Valeria answered firmly, throwing a glare towards Bertrán. "Not all of us can leave and go on a mini vacation whenever we feel like it. Someone has to keep this company afloat. Thanks to me, my intern Matthew will have some excellent opportunities coming his way."
"Until you decide to ruin his life too," the runner scoffed, receiving a raised eyebrow in response.
"Always with the theatrics, Octavio. Honestly, no wonder you-."
"He knows," Bertrán interjected, before the pair could start arguing, resting his chin on his hands. "He knows everything."
It took a couple of wordless looks between the couple for Valeria to understand his meaning.
"How could you be so stupid?" she said, narrowing her eyes at her husband. "Idiota!"
"It wasn't my fault, he-."
"No," his wife spat back. "Nothing is ever your fault, is it? You're a joke. A disgrace to the Silva name. Both of you."
"What would you know?!" Octavio retaliated, his tone rising. "You're not even a real Silva!"
"And yet, I wear the title so much better than both of you put together," his mother snarled, stepping towards him. "You men are all the time. You wouldn't know what a sacrifice was if it hit you in the face."
The speedster scoffed.
"And what would know about them? All you care about is what you can gain from everybody."
"I made bigger sacrifices to raise you, than you'll ever understand."
"Raise me?" Octavio laughed, though there was no humour behind it. "Is that what you like to tell yourself? That you raised me? What a great job you did."
"I did a better job than that common whore ever could have," Valeria spoke. "You're just too much of a spoiled brat to see it."
"Whore?" the runner repeated, clenching his fists by his sides. "I suppose it takes one to know one. What was it you did again, Mamá? Jump on the first rich guy that'd have you, just to claw your way up the social-."
He was cut off by a quick strike to the face, that left his cheek red and stinging. He peered up at his mother, his hazel eyes appearing to shift to more a more venomous green;
"I'll ruin you for this. For everything. Wait till the whole Psamathe press here's about this, and your precious reputation comes crumbling down around you. Piece by piece."
He inhaled sharply when the same hand that had struck him was on his jaw, and manicured nails were attempting to pierce into his skin.
"You have nothing on us," she hissed, holding him firmly. "You're nothing but a spineless little rat, who never knew how lucky he was. Who never had any manners and never knew his place."
"Valeria! Basta!" Bertran shouted, standing up and rushing to pull his wife's arm away from his son. "I said, enough! Leave him."
The runner narrowed his eyes at his mother, while she folded her arms, looking away.
"Don't be so surprised, Papá. It's not the first time she's done it," he said, straightening his shirt, before looking back at Valeria. "I have everything I need to ruin you."
"What is it that you want, Octavio? What will stop all this?" his father asked him, running a hand through his hair. "I'm seriously beginning to doubt you came here for a family reunion. How unfortunate."
For a moment, the young legend was speechless, his mind and heart racing. He didn't think he'd be offered anything besides some bullshit excuses, so he never really thought about it.
"My inheritance," he blurted eventually, internally cursing himself as soon as he said it. "And...for both of you to just...leave me alone."
"Perhaps you are my son, after all," Valeria laughed wryly, smoothing the front of her blouse with her hand. "But no deal. We're not stupid."
"I can perhaps...organise something of the sort," Bertrán said quietly, ignoring the stern glare from his wife. "No inheritance. But you can have what's left of your trust fund and something extra. My lawyers will sort it in a couple of days."
"Cool. Whatever," Octavio replied, with a nonchalant shrug, his gaze falling to his feet.
"You can not be serious?!" his mother spoke up, eyeing the two men with disdain. "Bertrán, for the love of God! You've always been too lenient with him! No wonder he turned out the way he did!"
"We'll speak no more of it," her husband told her, leaning back against his desk. "What needs to be done to protect this family, shall be done. That's the way it's always been."
The room fell quiet after that, and when no one decided to speak again, Octavio wordlessly turned on his heel to leave.
"Go on. Go. Remember to keep your mouth shut," Valeria called after him, making him pause in the doorway. "Oh, and Octavio? If I ever see you inside this office again, I won't hesitate to call security."
He made sure to slam the door on his way out, hastily making his way down the corridor, trying to pay little attention to the stares that followed him from the other offices he passed.
"Octavio!"
He looked up, as he called for the elevator, turning to see his father, leave his office to follow him.
"Tavi, please! Don't walk out of here again. Stay. We can sort this out and be the family we were always supposed to be. You can move back here. Take Elliott with you. You can have a life here," Bertrán spoke, his tone desperate. "What does he like, hmm? Bars? Nightclubs? Restaurants? Hotels? He can have all that here. With you. I'll make sure of it. You'd like that wouldn't you? Being able to provide for him and whatever family you might have."
He flinched when a firm hand was placed on his shoulder, his father's eyes piercing into his own.
"You just have to stay, mijo. Please. Even after everything you've done, I'm still willing to take you back. That must mean something to you."
Octavio pulled away, anger beginning to boil in his stomach.
"After everything I've done?!"
"That's...not what I meant!" Bertrán spluttered, reaching out for his son again, only to have his hand swatted away. "Tavi, please. You know that's not what I meant."
"I see what you've been doing now!" Octavio said, his voice trembling. "All this time, you've been pretending you care just to get me back here to go along with this pretend, perfect family you have in your head. Trying to make it seem like everything that goes wrong is my fault, when it's yours...and hers. And then trying to use Elliott against me?! The one thing that actually makes me happy and you're trying to control it! That's why you've always sucked up to him so much, isn't it?! So, he'd try and convince me to come back here!"
"No," the older Silva said, shaking his head. "Mijo...Mira. You've got it all wrong. I just wanted the best for you. If you just let me explain, everything-."
"No," Octavio cut him off, stepping back and pressing the elevator button again. "It's too late for all that."
"Octavio, you can't leave. Not again," Bertrán called after him, as he entered the elevator. "I'm your father."
His hand trembled as he touched the button that would take him downstairs, the doors automatically closing.
"Adiós, Papá."
He paused for a few moments, when he stepped back into the downstairs lobby, waiting to see if anyone was going to follow him. But no one did.
Elliott chewed on nails, as he sat in bed looking at his phone for perhaps the millionth time that day. He'd been calling and texting Octavio all day and was yet to get a response. His stomach was overflowing with anxiety, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard rustling outside the door of the beach house, until it was pushed in and his partner stepped inside.
"Hey."
"Hey?" Elliott repeated, glowering at his boyfriend. "You've been gone all day, and all you have to say for yourself is 'hey'?"
"I'm sorry," the runner said, taking a few tentative steps towards him, stopping when Elliott got up from his spot on the bed.
He half expected to receive an earful from the trickster, but instead he was swooped into a warm hug.
"I was so worried," Elliott told him, holding him tightly. "I th-thought something horrible happened like...you were kidnapped and were being brainwashed to be a CEO, or som-something. I th-thought about calling the police but then I thought that would just make everything worse."
"I'm sorry," Octavio replied, rubbing his boyfriend's back soothingly. "I'm okay. I'm here now."
"I'm so glad you're safe. Don't pull that shit ever again," Elliott said, pulling back and resting a hand on both of the speedster's cheeks; noticing his puffy eyes and dark circles for the first time. "Oh, babe...you look horrible. What happened?"
The trickster took both of his hands and led him back towards the bed, so they could sit down, facing each other.
"Did you meet her? What happened? Is she nice?"
Octavio shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head.
"I'll tell you everything...I just need a sec," he said, leaning forward to bury his face in his lover's shoulder. "My brain is going too fast. I feel like my head is gonna explode. Did you have your spa treatment?"
"No. I couldn't even think about relaxing. I was thinking about you," Elliott chuckled softly, bringing his hand around to massage the nape of the speedster's neck.
"I'm sorry."
"I know. It's okay. Take all the time you need. I'm right here."
The two men jumped apart when there was a heavy knock at the door.
"Who is that?" Elliott whispered, placing a protective hold on his partner's arm. "Is that them?!"
"I don't know," Octavio whispered back, watching as the trickster stood up and began slowly making his way to the door.
"Stay there," he told him, peering through the peephole, though he couldn't see much due to the dark.
Octavio watched his boyfriend intently as he opened the door, preparing himself to pounce if anything fishy went down. Instead, Elliott seemed to be in hushed conversation with someone and stepped back into the room holding a familiar cardboard box and some bags.
"You, uh, have a visitor," he said, turning back to the runner before placing the box and bags on the floor carefully.
Octavio sat up slightly straighter, relaxing slightly when he realised it was someone he didn't actually mind seeing.
"I hope you don't mind me stopping by," Maya said quietly, as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "I brought the stuff you'd left without, and anything else I thought you might want. I didn't think you'd want to go back to the house. Your father told me what happened."
"He did?" the runner asked nervously, standing up. "What...what exactly did he tell you?"
"That Valeria isn't who you thought she was," she replied, with a shake of her head. "I had no idea, Tavi. I really didn't. I'm so sorry."
"He...just told you that?" Octavio continued. "I thought it was meant to be a big secret."
"Yes, well...alcohol tends to loosen the tongue."
"It sure does," Elliott chuckled, suddenly feeling awkward when the other two people in the room glanced in his direction. "I, uh...I'm a bartender. Kind of."
"He's drinking?" the speedster asked quietly, receiving a sympathetic look from his nanny.
"Don't worry about that," she said softly. "You just look after yourself."
"Right," Octavio replied, with a nod, scratching his arm awkwardly. "I guess...I have some stuff to tell you both."
Over the next while, Octavio filled them in on the events of the day, from his meeting with his birth mother to what happened in his father's office.
"I just…don't get it," Elliott scowled, his tone laced with frustration. "How can they just...do this and no one gives a damn?!"
"Money protects people from most things on Psamathe," Maya informed him. "If they have enough of it. It's not an usual thing for cover-ups to happen. Some...are an awful lot darker and sinister."
"So, what do we do now?" the trickster asked, toying with the silver bracelet on his wrist. "I hate this feeling of...not being able to do anything."
"There's nothing we can do, amor," Octavio replied, with a sigh. "We just...get over it. It's not like...we were the closest family in the world."
Elliott sighed, leaning back in his seat.
"I guess...life doesn't always work out the way you want, huh? It just feels like a big old kick in the nuts."
Octavio began to giggle at his partner's expression, stopping when his stomach began to gurgle loudly.
"Sounds like dinner time is upon us," Maya said, laughing warmly. "I should...leave you to it."
"You can...stay, if you like?" Elliott piped up, looking at his boyfriend for approval. "I can order enough stuff in for all of us."
"I wouldn't want to impose. This is...technically meant to be a vacation for you both, right?"
"Yeah, but...you should stay," the runner said, gesturing for the woman to sit back down. "If you want to. I think I'd...like that."
"I...would like that, too," Maya replied with a soft smile, sitting back down. "As long as you're sure it's not a bother."
"Of course not!" Elliott said, briefly standing to take the menu from the nightstand. "As the saying goes, 'me culo es tu culo', and all that."
The trickster looked between his boyfriend and their guest, who had broken out into a fit of giggles, with a confused look on his face.
"What? What did I say?"
The group spent the remainder of the evening eating and drinking and exchanging stories. Maya shared some tales of Octavio's teenage years, while the couple filled her in on stories from their time in the games, to how they met and their first Christmas together, which led to Octavio proudly showing off some pictures of Mica and the ring on his middle finger.
"So, yeah," Elliott said, coming to the end of the story he was telling. "I would like to travel more."
"Elliott's dream is to see as many planets as possible!" Octavio chimed in excitedly. "We've still got lots more places to visit!"
"How exciting," Maya hummed, a soft smile forming on her lips, when she noticed the loving look the runner was giving his partner. "I suppose I should get going now. Before it gets too late."
"What are you gonna do now?" Octavio asked, eyeing the woman as she stood. "Just go back to the house?"
"I think you might have been right, Octavio," she replied, with a glint in her eye. "Maybe it is time I get my ass out of here. There must be more to life than making beds."
"Yeah, go crazy!" the runner exclaimed, with a laugh. "You must be missing excitement in your life since you don't have to look after me anymore."
"I suppose, I don't," she replied, reaching to give Octavio a hug. "I'll be sure to send you a postcard from wherever I end up. And you send me one from your next adventure. We shouldn't go so long without talking again."
"I'll try to keep that in mind," Octavio told her, with a shy smile.
"I'll walk you out," Elliott piped up, following the woman to the door, lowering his voice before speaking again. "Thanks for staying. I...think he really needed this today."
"Of course," Maya replied, patting the trickster's forearm gently. "Take care of him. He's a good boy."
Elliott stroked his partner's hair gently, as they lay in bed that night, with the light still on. Neither of them wanted to sleep just yet, and they had laid together in a comfortable silence for the past while.
"Are you okay?" the trickster eventually asked.
Though he enjoyed having the opportunity to spend a quiet moment with his lover, he couldn't help but notice how out of character it was for the runner.
"Yeah," Octavio replied, with a slight tilt of his head. "I mean it...feels weird but…".
He trailed off with a sigh.
"It's not like...it really changes anything. I...never really saw my family anyways…".
"I know, but-".
"Mira, there's something else I have to tell you, that I didn't wanna say in front of Maya," Octavio interrupted, propping himself up on his elbow.
"Okay?" Elliott replied, somewhat nervous. "What is it?"
"Papá...is giving me money to stay quiet," he began, peering towards his partner to see his reaction.
"You mean...like...a bribe?"
"No...well...I don't know. Maybe."
Elliott stayed quiet for a moment, thinking it over.
"I don't know, babe. I've...done some stuff like that before and it always ends up messy."
"It won't," Octavio assured him. "They won't risk doing anything funny. And besides...I can use this money to take care of you! You won't have to work another day in your life! Depending on...how much I get."
"But...I like working."
"Then we use it for something else! We can travel or...Put it towards getting our own place. We can make a little spot for your mom with us, if she needs it down the line."
"You'd...do that?"
"Yeah," Octavio replied, cupping his cheek. "Gotta look out for the one mamá I got left, right? Trust me, amor. This is a good thing."
Elliott nodded slowly, bringing his hand to rest over the one on his cheek.
"I trust you."
It was dark when Elliott woke up, groggy and confused. He didn't remember turning the lights off. He must have fallen asleep while he and Octavio were chatting. He peered through the darkness, noticing the other side of the bed was empty.
"Babe?"
He looked around the room but it was completely shrouded in darkness with no sign of his partner anywhere.
"Tav?" he called out again, moving to get out of bed, muttering to himself. "Dammit, Tav. Not this again."
He wasn't sure what drew him to the back door of the house, and made him look through the glass door, seeing a lone figure sitting with their back to him. He quietly slid the door open and stepped out onto the deck and down onto the beach, his bare feet dragging silently through the sand as he approached the sniffling individual.
"Babe? What are you doing out here? It's the middle of the night."
Octavio briefly glanced at his partner before turning his face away, wiping his cheeks with the palm of his hand.
"Hey," Elliott said quietly, sitting down next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "What's going on?"
"I hate crying in front of people," the runner muttered, roughly rubbing at his eye with a balled up fist.
The trickster gently pulled his hand away from his face, sliding his fingers through Octavio's and caressing his thumb lightly, with his own.
"It's okay to cry. Sometimes you just need to. It's okay."
And just like that it was like the floodgates opened, as Octavio buried his face in his partner's chest, his slim shoulders shaking profusely with every sob.
"Why am I so stupid?!" he cried, receiving comforting rubs to his back. "For a while, I really thought he gave a shit about me and that...maybe we could work things out some day. But the most fucked up part is, for the longest time, I thought the way they acted with me was normal. But now...I see you and your mom and what you have and...I have so many moms and none of them give a shit. I'll never have that. They're all the same!"
"I'm so sorry," Elliott soothed. "I know it probably doesn't mean anything to you now but...sometimes families aren't always the ones you're given but they're the ones you find. And I know for sure, there's so many people back home that care about you. I love you so much, Tav."
"I love you too. You're the only thing in my life that ever made sense," Octavio whispered back, through a sniffle. "I don't know where I'd be without you, Ell. I...don't even want to think about it."
"You know, I fall more in love with you everyday," Elliott hummed, running his thumbs over his boyfriend's tear stained cheeks. "I've never felt like this with anyone else."
It had taken a while for Octavio to calm down, his cries now replaced with the occasional hiccup. They had settled themselves on one of the sun loungers on the beach. They lay facing each other, using each other's warmth to try combat the cold night breeze.
"Why do you say that?" Octavio asked, unable to fight the bright smile that spread to his face.
"Because it's true," the trickster told him, rubbing his hand over the goosebumps that had formed on the younger legend's arms. "And I was hoping it would make you smile. I'm...sorry for doubting you before."
"It's not your fault," Octavio replied. "I...still need to get better at this, talking about my feelings crap."
"So, what do you want to do tomorrow?" Elliott asked. "I can still look into getting us an earlier flight home if you don't want to be here anymore."
The speedster thought it over for a few moments.
"I think...we should stay. We should try and do something fun. There's no point letting them ruin our vacation more than they already have."
"If you're sure," the trickster responded, stifling a yawn. "I'm always done for some fun."
"I think I'd like to go to the aquarium," Octavio mused out loud. "And then...I guess, I can show you some of the fancy restaurants around here."
"But you hate that kind of thing."
"Yeah, but...I know you like it," the runner replied with a shrug. "And I think I owe you a spa treatment too."
"Is that everything you want to do?" Elliott asked, a playful tone to his voice.
"Did you have something else you wanted to do, amor?"
"Maybe."
"Come on, then. Spill your secrets," Octavio said, a smirk forming on his lips as he watched his partner adjust his position so he was sitting cross-legged.
"Permission to be cheesy as hell?"
"You got it."
"All of this has got me thinking. I want…," the trickster began, dragging out his words, taking Octavio's hand. "To do the forever thing."
The runner blinked at his partner a few times, confused.
"The what now?"
Elliott averted his eyes for a moment, obviously embarrassed.
"It's where we...do everything together. Fight everything together. Overcome everything together and no matter what happens, just...be together. Forever."
Octavio sat up slightly, his heart hammering in his chest.
"Elliott...are you…?"
"Being dumb? Y-yeah. P-probably."
"That...sounds awesome," the speedster replied, his voice barely a whisper.
"Yeah, it...kinda does," Elliott chuckled, lovingly looking into his partner's eyes that seemed to sparkle in the moonlight.
He held up his hand, extending his pinkie finger towards the runner.
"So, starting from tomorrow...What do you say? Forever?"
Octavio sat up fully now, wrapping his own finger around his partner's, in a pinkie swear, as he leaned over their joined hands to brush his lips against his love's.
"Forever."