Present Day
"Wow, Gianni, nice of you to show up, huh?"
Silver had slunk in through the back door of the cafe, grabbing an apron from the plastic tub as he eased the door shut behind him with his foot. However, it wasn't enough to avoid detection. Within five seconds of entering the restaurant, Proton was there, an inscrutable expression on his face, asking these questions of Silver.
He looked at Proton, glanced wistfully at the door and the escape into the streets that lay behind him, and sighed. "I...yeah. Sorry. I'm really sorry."
"You've never been this late in your life," Proton remarked, eyebrows lifted. "You're lucky it's been really slow for a Friday. What would have even kept you?"
Lyra's coy expression entered his mind, and he forced himself to maintain a neutral expression. He'd said he was going to lie, while flirting with Lyra that morning, but now the words wouldn't come out of his mouth. Quit being a coward, he chided himself. Silver coughed. "Uh, well. I don't think you'd believe me. Can I just get out there and get to work? I'll even stay later if you need the labor."
Proton folded his arms across his chest and shifted himself to stand in front of the door into the kitchen and the dining area. Behind him, one of the cooks skimmed by to access the freezer. Unfazed by this, Proton pointed his finger to Silver. "I don't need the labor, and you know that. But you better tell me anyway."
Silver turned to the door behind him. "Tough. I'm coming in through the front, then."
"Bitch move, Gianni! You owe me the truth!" Proton called, and Silver sprinted out the door with the hopes of beating Proton to the front door.
He tore around the corner, disturbing the black and white cat sleeping on top of the garbage cans, and skidded into the front door, just as Proton was about to reach it. Silver threw open the door and slid under Proton's arm, reaching to brace it, and pointed his finger at his boss. "Ha! Loser," he declared.
Proton hissed something under his breath as Silver went about his work, something to the tune of, "Ti odio letteralmente." I literally hate you. As he went to brew a new pot of coffee, his phone buzzed in his back pocket; he assumed it was Lyra, and he'd check when there was a lull. Despite it being "slow" for a Friday, most of the tables and booths in the restaurant were filled.
The first half of his shift was marked by Proton tailing him and making guesses.
"You drank yourself to sleep last night and only woke up with the cruel light of day on your face all of forty minutes ago. Your youth is the only thing sparing you from a hangover," Proton suggested after Silver delivered coffee to a table.
"You went out to Arciere's last night to fish and overslept, so you didn't get back time," Proton mused when Silver washed his hands in the kitchen sink after wiping up spilled soup.
"Aliens. It was aliens. You were abducted by aliens. Or ancient alien theorists. They know you rant about them and their terrible TV shows when you're blackout drunk," said Proton, terrifying Silver as he walked out of the bathroom after the lunch rush ended to the greasy man standing exactly two feet in front of the door.
Silver glared at him. His hands still damp, Silver wiped them on the front of Proton's shirt. "No," was all he said.
Proton groaned and quickly ran his hands down the front of his shirt to whisk it away. "Then what, cretino? You were late! Why were you late? You're punctual to a fault! It'd take some earth-shattering event to make you that late and not even call."
Silver paused and sighed. "You really aren't going to believe me, and if you do, it opens a brand-new line of questioning that's even worse than what you're currently doing."
Proton gazed at him. Then, something seemed to click. A wry, knowing grin spread over his features, and he cocked his head. "Hmm. Did you get over some hangups?" His eyes sparkled, and he stroked his jaw. "You were with that girl last night, weren't you?"
Silver simply raised his eyebrows and went back to work. "No, wait, we need to talk about this. Get your ass back here!" Proton called as Silver went to grab the dustpan and broom.
A short minute or so later, Proton had perched himself on a table and watched Silver sweep. Pointedly and with his back turned, like a sulky cat, Silver ignored him. He cleared his throat, and Silver began to hum tunelessly to himself as he swept. With a groan, Proton stuck his foot out into the spot Silver was sweeping. Silver's eyes flicked up to him, narrowed to judgmental slits. Proton held his hands out, his expression one of contrived innocence. "Humor me, Gianni. I'm not even mad that you're late. I think I'm not mad, anyway..." Proton trailed off, looking at his fingernails with sudden interest. Then, he looked back up at Silver. "Just tell me if you were with that girl. I'll stop bothering you. I promise."
"Lyra," Silver said, resuming his sweeping. "Her name's Lyra. And yeah, I was. I'm sorry I was late. I overslept. We were up late last night."
Proton's face curled into a grin. "Overslept. After a late night with a girl. How interesting. Such a correlation to be found there, isn't there? If not causation entirely."
"Listen, you said you'd stop bothering me," Silver reminded him. Proton hopped off the table edge, wiped off the spot he sat, and shot Silver a sardonic salute before disappearing into the kitchen. After he left, Silver paused to check his phone, shielding it from view by turning his back to his coworkers.
The text was indeed from Lyra. Hope Proton isn't giving you too much trouble. You can totally blame me if you want. Can I come meet you when you're done? There was a heart emoji after the text that made Silver smile, in spite of himself.
He texted back, I'll tell you about what he did today later. It's an absolute circus in here. Silver sent the response before texting again, You can come meet me, but I can't guarantee Proton will be very appropriate. He pocketed his phone again and wiped his hand across his jaw, as if to wipe the smile from his face, but it wouldn't vanish from his face. His hand autonomously sought the broom he'd propped against the table, and he went back to work.
The next time Silver checked his phone, Lyra had responded with a shrug emoji and a simple sentence: See you at six. Silver sent her the address of the cafe, realizing she had never come to his place of work before. His cheeks warmed at the thought of seeing her sooner than he'd initially thought, and he doubled down on his efforts.
Toward the end of his shift, before the dinner rush started, Proton appeared at Silver's side, where he stood rolling silverware. "I didn't bother you all shift, so now I get to ask questions. I'm going to go smoke, and you need to come outside with me. Or I will ask them right here, in front of other people." Loudly, to the rest of the staff, Proton announced, "Unless you're okay with talking about your GIRLFRIEND in front of—"
Silver interrupted his loud declaration by grabbing Proton by the arm and towing him through the kitchen, into the back storage area, and then into the back alley. He roughly released his arm. "I will answer exactly three questions about this, and then if you ever harass me about it again, I will set your restaurant on fire right before Carnivale," Silver said.
"Oh nice. I can collect insurance money, avoid the Carnivale rush, and get rid of my shitty little brother for good," Proton remarked. Silver shot him a withering look, and the older man cackled as he pulled a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket. "Oh come on, come on. It's a joke. Alright. Three questions, and then I will be a normal human being about all this."
Silver sighed and let his hair down. He'd forgotten about Lyra's pink hairtie. Fiddling with it, he looked to Proton. "I'm holding you to that."
"Alright. Now, first question, which is two-pronged and you better answer both parts and not bitch about how it's a two-pronged question. Are you two actually dating, and are you being good to her?" Proton asked.
Silver nodded. "Yes."
Proton lit his cigarette. "Alright. Good. If you want to keep a girl around in the long term, you should be nice to her."
"Coming from you, that's cheap," Silver remarked. He snapped Lyra's hairtie onto his wrist. "You scare away literally every woman you ever date for more than a month."
"I personally don't want women around longer than a month. But you're not me. Certainly not your dad, either." Proton took a drag of his cigarette and smiled slightly. "You're a tender-hearted boy. You want to be loved. You're not looking for novelty."
Silver's face burned at the uncustomary expression on Proton's face, combined with his observation. He sighed. "You have two more questions about all this."
Proton laughed, a stream of smoke leaving his mouth as he did. "Jeez, okay." He brushed his free hand through his hair. "Did you have a really good time last night, then?"
Silver thought back on it. On her lips on his, their roaming hands, the unusual and deep silence that spanned between them in those hours alone. He thought of how ragged her breathing was, how proud he was to have made her feel that way. "Last was...really good, yeah" he said, wiping his damp palms off on his pants.
Proton gave his characteristic shark's grin. "Niiiice." He nudged Silver with his elbow. "Last question: kiss and tell?"
"Not a fucking chance. But she's meeting me here after work." He glanced at the time on his phone. "She's gonna be here soon, so please behave."
"Oh, you know me," Proton said, the shark grin only broadening. He clapped Silver on the back and took another long drag of his cigarette. Upon exhaling, he said, "Better go greet her. She's never been here, right? Make sure she doesn't overshoot. We need some better signage."
Silver felt a faint smile appear briefly, but he slapped his hand over the lower half of his face and looked daggers at Proton. He turned his back to Proton and walked back inside. Silver freed himself of his apron and stood before the mirror in front of the sink, working to smooth the kink in his hair from where he'd tied it back. He had little success, and he sighed as he put it back up. Drifting into the dining area, he wedged himself into a booth, his back against the window so he could peer in the direction he assumed Lyra would be coming from, and propped his hand in his jaw. Other than some light instrumental jazz drifting over the speakers, it was largely silent; Silver assumed business would pick up in an hour or so. Other than himself and Proton, there was one other server and a cook working, but more people were bound to arrive soon—hopefully after Silver left with Lyra. He wasn't ready for this happiness to be known.
The late afternoon sun glowed, yellow in tone and texture, on his face, warming him, and his eyes closed. It was strange to him to feel such a deep peace. Was this contentment? Was this feeling accepted? Silver wasn't accustomed to it, but he wallowed in this new mood, all the same. For the first time since Lyra had found him again, he didn't feel conflicted. Part of him could only crow, You don't deserve this and it will all fall apart. Yet, he was able to ignore that part of him, as he sat there like a contented house cat, sun hot on his face and affection burrowed deep in his chest.
Present Day
Stillness was rare in Proton's life. Always there existed a flurry of motion and noise, of Gianni blustering and customers clamoring and women chiding. The rare moments of quiet, such as this moment in the alley behind his restaurant, were appreciated—not that he would tell anyone that, of course. He had an image to uphold. Coming off as someone who enjoyed peace and quiet, as an owner of two businesses, could be seen as a weakness.
The one thing keeping him from the quiet, of course, had moved on to more interesting things. Gianni had returned inside to wait for the girl: Moira? Laura? Lena? Whatever. The American who spoke Italian with an English speaker's brusqueness, for all of her fluency. The one that, for some reason Proton couldn't fathom, made Gianni act like a total fool.
He did adore that about her. Proton exhaled, smoke caught in the breeze, and smirked to himself. Gianni had always been so concerned about appearing cool and collected, but that girl made him flustered and brought heat to his pale cheeks. "About time," Proton muttered with a laugh. Even better was when Proton riled him further about her, suggesting that he may be interested in the girl. Didn't Gianni know better by now? Petite women with sharp tongues were not his taste, but truly it was all the better to tease him with.
But truly, Gianni seemed happy. For all his bothering and prodding, it made Proton feel a little warmer, to see the boy smile for a change.
I wonder what they're like alone, he thought. Gianni had been so cagey when he was talking to Proton earlier. Truly, Proton didn't care what those kids got up to, but part of him wondered what the girl offered Gianni that no other girl had. There had been a waitress or two with a crush on him, women at bars who gave him sultry eyes, but until now, he'd largely ignored such advances. Was Gianni affectionate? Did he go off on strange diatribes about composers Proton could care less about? Did he open doors for her?
Another smirk touched his face. He could very well spy on them when the girl arrived. The cafe was largely deserted at this hour, and if he let them be for once, perhaps he could puzzle out why Gianni was attracted to this girl.
He quietly maneuvered his way into the kitchen. One of his cooks, an older, swarthy man, raised his eyebrows and declared, "Che cazzo stai facendo? You normally walk around here as though you own the place."
Proton's eyebrows shot up. "I...do own the place? Do I not say that enough? Should I say it more?"
The cook scoffed and flipped some vegetables in the pan. Proton returned the scoff and glided to the door of the kitchen. He peered out silently. Gianni sat in one of the booths, his back to the window, face angled to peer down the street. Silver's brow was furrowed, and his foot tapped with impatience. His shirt was unbuttoned now, sleeves rolled past the elbow, hair hanging loosely about his shoulders. Comfort. He screamed of comfort. Gianni had one earbud in, eyes half-closed.
Proton had to resist the urge to snicker. Gianni would leave his teens come winter, but something about his current posture was 100% petulant teenager. He was almost unable to resist the urge to burst through the door and poke fun at that boy when his posture stiffened and his expression grew...soft. He pulled the earbud from his ear and quickly smoothed his hair. Presumably, he'd spotted the girl.
Proton saw her, at the very end of the cafe, through the window. She dressed so...simply. Was that the right word for it? To him, she didn't seem very feminine. She was wearing a red and white striped shirt tucked into into high-waisted jeans. Her expression was inscrutable at this distance, but she picked up the speed at the spot that Proton presumed she could see where Gianni was. She burst through the door, ignoring the sign about waiting to be seated, and walked to the booth that Gianni sat in. He made to stand, but she waved her hand and sat down across from him, beaming.
To Proton's surprise, Gianni reached his hand across the table and held hers. Her smile grew brighter as he kissed the back of her hand. She brushed her hair from her face and then started talking and gesturing to Gianni, who simply listened to her with that same thawed expression, his hand resting palm up on the table as the girl traced a lazy pattern in his palm. There was something oddly intimate about the moment, despite how public it was. Proton's eyebrows raised as Gianni flipped his hand to link his fingers through hers. Her eyes crinkled, and it seemed that there was nothing more to say, at least for now.
Proton had never seen Gianni like this in his life. The boy's face was so serene, his posture devoid of its usual tension. Gianni had been hit on before, when they had gone out to bars. Men and women alike making eyes, but he'd seemed immune to it all—until her.
Do not burst out there right now, Proton ordered himself. You've never seen Gianni act like this. You will never see it again if he ever knows you're watching.
It seemed to occur to Gianni where he was. His eyes flitted around and his body tensed, shoulders hitching. The girl took notice, poking his forearm and gesturing toward the door, likely asking if he wanted to leave. Gianni gave a curt nod. He stood, releasing her hand briefly so that she could follow. Her hand sought his again, and they began to walk to the door, Proton realized that he could rush out there now—that was all he was going to see of Gianni's softer side.
He kicked the door open. "Gianni!" he declared. The redhead stopped in place, his shoulders tensed, and the girl turned with an expression of annoyance on her face. Proton slid over the counter and jogged over to the kids. "Ah, so you made my boy late, huh?" he said to the girl.
"You really had to just stop because he called your name, huh?" she grumbled to Gianni.
Gianni turned now, releasing the girl's hand to fold his arms across his chest. "Listen, Proton, I thought for once you'd listened to me. Instead, here you are."
"I'm enjoying this," Proton protested. For a moment, he studied the girl—Lyra, he supposed. Her warm skin tone, the unruly hair tied into two low pigtails, the air of mischief about her. Her brow, however, was furrowed, her eyes dark with warning. He opened his mouth, but then he thought of the brief moment where Gianni had seemed warm and gentle, the sort of person he was meant to be, and felt cowed in the intensity of her glare—a glare, of course, stemming from someone who looked at another person with the warmth of a fire lit on a midwinter night. The words died on his lips, whatever jest he was going to put forth.
How could Gianni not fall for someone who was ready to fight for him? Had he ever had that in his life? Giovanni certainly hadn't done that. His friendships were often centered in work or a single interest, if they existed at all, ephemeral at best. No wonder, the moment Lyra came into his life, he'd become so at ease.
No wonder he adored her.
Instead of whatever double entendre he would have normally provided, he reached out and clapped Silver on the shoulder. "Try not to be late again, kid." Unable to contain himself fully, he added, "Although, I get it, sometimes you just have...a really good night."
Lyra's face quirked, but it settled to a smile. "It's my fault. No need to give him too much shit."
Gianni sighed. "Can we go now?"
"You're the one who said 'Keep moving if Proton comes out' and then stopped the minute he called your name," Lyra remarked, shouldering him gently.
Proton sighed. "I'm docking a week's pay. So disrespectful to your boss."
"A boss I've seen absolutely shit-faced in a pigeon-filled apartment," Gianni said, his gaze level. Proton had to smirk in concession to that. Gianni began to walk toward the door. "We have plans. I'll see you tomorrow, Proton."
Before they left, Proton asked, "What about you, Lyra? Are you going to come collect my boy after work?"
Lyra paused for only a moment. "If he wants me to. See ya." They left the building, the door clattering behind them, and Proton was left with a faint smile. The thought of having a Lyra was horribly stifling, but he understood the appeal to someone as soft-hearted as Gianni.
"What's the smile about?" asked one of the servers, sweeping up spilled salt.
"Ah, don't worry about it," Proton said. Fearing his suave exterior had peeled away too much, he smoothed his hair off his forehead and pointed to her. "My face is none of your concern."
She gave him an odd look, shrugged, and went back to work. Proton leaned against a table and watched the figures of Gianni and Lyra recede, hands linked. He shook his head. Turning back to the server, he declared, "I'm banning everyone's boyfriends and girlfriends from this restaurant until the end of time."
"You're going through something," she said.
Proton rolled his eyes. "You're going through something. Get back to work."
Damn it if he wasn't happy for Gianni, though. Proton retreated to the back; he had to get to his bar on the other side of town. Sad drunks and disparate husbands were more his crowd. Wonder what they're getting up to tonight, he thought, as he untied his apron. Whatever it is, he better not be late again tomorrow.
Present Day
"Don't say it."
"Just once. Please just let me say it once."
"You already said it back there."
"Silver, let me say it! I need to say it!"
"No you don't!"
Walking down the streets of Venice, Lyra and Silver, oblivious to the swell of evening foot traffic, were arguing.
Lyra huffed at Silver. "C'mon, dude, you were so adamant in the restaurant about not—"
Silver gave her a threatening look that seemed more comical than imposing. "Don't you dare say it. Don't criticize me. You have no idea what working for Proton is like."
"You sure complain about thumbtacks a lot!" Lyra remarked. She swung their linked hands between them. "Come on! It was so simple! We were just going to walk out of there—"
"Lyra—"
"—and you chickened out!"Lyra finished.
Silver scoffed. "I told you not to say that. You're gonna pay for that later." Lyra's eyes widened; his tone was laced with...something darkly flirtatious.
She was silent for a moment before she bumped him with her shoulder. "Bawk, bawk," Lyra taunted, her tone flirtatious, and he could do little but roll his eyes at her.
Despite her taunting, he felt...relaxed. The air cooled with each step, and Lyra pressed close to him. "So what do you want to do tonight?" he asked.
Lyra looked up at him with a wry grin. "Remember when I told you about mochas? I borrowed my aunt's stovetop espresso maker, and I hunted down a milk frother while you were working. I figured we could stop somewhere and you buy chocolate that you like and I'll make mochas."
"As long as it isn't sweet," he warned her.
"That's why you're picking out the chocolate! Also, I have exactly zero dinner plans!" she declared. "I'm not really a good cook. And I don't know what half the food in your fridge is."
Silver scratched his neck. Was the food in his refrigerator really so bizarre? "Time to learn some taste, then." He then paused. "Were you going to make dinner?"
Lyra dropped behind Silver to let some children dart past; a bright cacophony of laughter followed. As she jogged to fall back in step, her hand still linked in his, she said, "I was going to try." There was a faint hint of a defensive whine. "I was going to look up recipes, but then when I stopped at home I decided to practice instead. I've been so disorganized today."
Silver simply chuckled. They stopped into a corner store, where Silver picked up unsweetened hazelnut chocolate. Lyra took it from him and paid with a Cheshire cat grin. Passing by the meat counter, thin-sliced prosciutto at a discount price caught his eye. He bought some, along with day-old bread, an idea for a cheap dinner in mind. Silver also snagged a bottle of wine—Lyra's birthday was a few weeks out. He doubted she would want any that night, so he would try to stash it away as a surprise for later. When he and Lyra met up outside the shop, she eyed the paper bag under his arm with an arched brow. "Whatçha got there?" she asked.
"It's a surprise," he said. She tried to stand on tiptoe to peer in, but he warded her off with his free arm.
"Oh, so you're gonna hold a surprise over my head, but you couldn't just walk out when Proton called your name?" she challenged, reaching for the bag.
His hand slid up, cupping her face. He searched her eyes, the mischief there, and he said, "Listen, you're gonna pay extra for that later," he told her. "You've brought it up twice."
"Oh, I'm terrified, dude," she said, her face a little red. He dropped his hand and continued walking, leaving Lyra to jog and catch up. The rest of the walk home involved Lyra attempting to look into the bag. She dropped behind him and grabbed at the bag. Silver lifted it out of her grasp, earning a scolding from her. Then she darted around his side and tipped it, trying to peak in. Silver used his free hand to steady his bag and his hip to bounce her away. "Come on!" she demanded, when they were no more than three minutes from his house. "Stop being tall!"
"Stop being a pain in the ass!" Silver said, but his tone was more amused than barbed. "You'll know in a few minutes what I bought."
"And I'll pay for insinuating you're a chicken," Lyra added, tapping her chin.
"Indeed. Shame about that. In fact, maybe you're going to pay threefold now, for even referencing it in passing," Silver said.
When he arrived, he let them both into the building, holding the bag high with one arm as he unlocked the door. Lyra threw her hands up. "I'm not even grabbing for it right now!"
"I'm taking no chances," he said. They entered the building and at Silver's door, he unlocked fluidly. "You first."
"What a gentleman," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She darted to his kitchen counter and pointed at two strange devices sitting there. "Milk frother and espresso maker! For the stovetop! Because apparently Adrianna thinks espresso machine and a stovetop espresso maker are the same thing," she said. There was a bag of coffee beans sitting beside the stove, and she watched Silver as he set the bag on the counter. "Can I know now?" she asked.
He tossed prosciutto and bread on the counter. "Sandwich stuff. I have some tomatoes in the fridge, if you know what those are."
Lyra stuck her tongue out, but she had already set about to work. With her back turned, he stashed the wine in the cupboard under the island. Chances were, in her endless nosiness, she had felt it in the bag, but in his mind, if she hadn't commented on it, it didn't exist. He sat himself at the island counter, watching her. Her hair was loose today, a chaotic swoop about her shoulders. The back of her shirt scooped below her shoulder blades, giving him a view of paler, smoother skin. "You were feisty on the walk home," she commented, scooping beans into the espresso maker.
"It was a tense day," he admitted. "Proton wouldn't leave me alone."
She glanced over her shoulder at him, one eye covered by the mess of hair. A quick puff blew the strands away, and she then said, "I showed up and you seemed relaxed."
"I just...don't like when he bothers you, is all," Silver muttered, almost into his hand. His stomach was growling. He grabbed a knife from the block, tore open the bread bag, and cut two slices of bread. "I owe him a lot. I have a hard time saying no to his face."
Lyra's mouth quirked. "Doesn't mean he has to harass you, though?" Lyra commented. She set the maker on the burner and crossed to the other side of the island. Her face dropped heavily into her hands, propped up on the island by her elbows as she regarded him. "Sandwiches?"
"Sandwiches," he said. He piled prosciutto on hers. "Wanna toss me a few tomatoes? They're on the second shelf in the fridge. Also, can't remember what sort of cheese I have in there."
"Provolone," she said. She handed him the ingredients and set to work with the frother. "There's a red wine vinegar dressing or something?"
"Yes. Best idea I've heard all day. Toss that—" he paused, seeing Lyra's mischievous grin. "No. do not toss a glass bottle at me. Hand that to me." She did so with a wink.
As she set the frother on the stove, she snagged two mugs from the cupboard, mismatched and corny. One was an old, chipped mug with a print of St. Mark's square. Proton had given it to him when he first needed to furnish the apartment. The other was bright red with devil horns printed on it—a gag gift from a coworker. "Devil or the Square?" Lyra asked, lifting each for emphasis.
"Square," he said. Lyra gave a nod. The espresso maker began to steam, and Lyra turned the heat down. She fiddled with the frother and then turned to Silver, who sighed. "He was weird after you came. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but then he didn't and acted...normal? I don't like it. The bastard's plotting something," he said, stroking his chin. There was stubble there; he hadn't been able to shave that morning.
"He's scared of me, obviously," Lyra said. "I gave him a real sour look."
Silver snickered. "Yeah, you're terrifying. I could literally pick you up with one arm and run if I needed."
She scoffed, the picture of outrage, and folded her arms across her chest. "Short people are closer to the fires of Hell than you, so we hold some really long grudges and high levels of aggression," Lyra reminded him. He put together a sandwich and pushed it across the island to Lyra, whose eyes lit up. But then, she gave him a hard look. "You can't buy my forgiveness"
"You're still gonna pay for earlier," he reminded her.
"What? For insinuation of chickenhood?" She pulled both the frother and the espresso from the stove. "Anyway, you're getting a mocha now. I will add a little sugar. And you will enjoy it."
Silver had to smile at her. She moved with inhuman speed putting drinks together, stirring in chocolate and humming to herself as she went. "I figured you're not much for sweet, so I didn't make whipped cream," she stated as she brought the mugs to the counter. She sat down beside him. "Let me know how you like it."
He gazed into the mug. Silver had seen mochas in his time. This one was dark in color and opaque; the scent of espresso was more enticing than nauseating. He'd never liked the smell of coffee much, but the tang of chocolate made it almost...palatable. He lifted it to his lips, Lyra's eyes on him. "Can you not stare at me while I do this?" he asked.
"Oh! Sure." She turned away and warded her face with one hand. The gesture made his heartbeat pick up; emboldened, he took a sip. Espresso's tang hit his tongue, but so did strong chocolate, with only a hint of sweetness. The hazelnut in the chocolate came later, almost an aftertaste. He turned to Lyra, who was now peeking at him through a gap in her fingers. "Thoughts?" she said.
With sincerity, he said, "It's really good."
"Good!" she took a sip of hers and made a face. "So bitter...this is terrible!"
"You have terrible—"
She clapped her hand across his mouth, which he laughed into. "Stop saying I have terrible taste! I'm over it! I have great taste!" she said. Unable to contain his laughter, he pulled her hand from his face with little effort. She tried to wrestle it back, her imperious look now as amused as his, and he kissed her palm. Lyra's laughter died, and she looked at him with far softer eyes. "Glad you like it," she said to him.
He released her hand. "Eat your sandwich already," Silver grumbled, and Lyra took a punitive bite of the creation.
The mood was softer now, a silence stretching between them. When Lyra finished her food, she took her mug and Silver's to rinse in the sink. As she stood there, she interrupted the silence, only to say, "What do you want to do now?" she asked, her voice light as lace.
He tugged at his shirt collar. "I'm gonna go shower quick and change. We can figure something out after."
"I'll be here," she said.
"I won't be more than ten minutes," he promised.
She vaulted over the back of the couch and settled cross-legged, facing her. "Take your time," she said.
"Sure," he said, fully intending to rush through the shower.
Speedrun, he told himself as he retreated to his room. He stripped, put his hair into a knot on top of his head, and scrubbed the stench of the day away. His hair would have to wait another day; he didn't want it wet tonight. As he sped through his shower, he thought of the warmth in her gaze. There had been nothing he wanted more today than to go home, to spend time with her. Was it normal, when in love, to hyperfocus, to zero in on time with that person? Was it healthy? It had to be; he felt happy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been happier.
As he stepped out, he drifted to his room and dressed in the first clean clothes he could find. A gray t-shirt and black joggers that he slid into, enjoying their warmth after the crisp, unforgiving material of his work clothes. It was strange to him, that he wasn't worried about this, about her. That thought could have diverted to worry and sent him into a spiral—he was past that.
He opened the door and found Lyra sitting, eyes half-closed. The last rays of sun were bright orange on her face, and she opened her eyes when Silver reappeared. Her mouth quirked. "You look cozy," she said.
He nodded. He sat beside her and slid sideways until his head dropped into her lap. "Long day, huh?" she asked, her fingers lightly tracing from his temples.
"Very," Silver replied.
"Don't wanna be wild and crazy tonight?" she asked.
"I don't really wanna go out." He opened one eye and looked up at her. "If you're okay with that. Do we really even go out other than to get gelato and walk around?"
"Not yet," she said. Her hair fell around them. "Although, when I turn 18...I want to get up to stuff. You've got three weeks to pony up."
Silver opened another eye. "Oh, I've already started."
Lyra smiled. "Good." she stopped leaning over him and tapped the end of his nose. "You're going to be the whole barnyard. A chicken and a pony, huh?"
Silver groaned. "That does it." He sat up and Lyra jumped to her feet, a huge grin plastered on her face. "I almost was going to let you calling me a chicken slide. But now you're really gonna pay," he said.
"You walked right into it," she said in a sing-songy voice.
He stood and took a step toward her. She took a step back, still smiling. Silver cocked his head. "It's gonna be this way, huh?"
Lyra blew him a kiss and bolted, putting the couch between them. She smiled broadly at him. "You're gonna have to work for it," she said, winking.
"Do you even know what I'm gonna do?" Silver said. He shifted one way; she shifted the other.
Lyra shrugged. "Kick my ass, but in a fun way?" she suggested.
His face fell. "Lyra, I would never hurt you, I've—"
She guffawed, slapping her hand on the back of the couch. "I know that, you dork. It's a joke." Noticing his expression didn't lift, she added, "I won't say that again, if it makes you feel better."
Silver gave a nod. "Thanks." However, he was already moving, and Lyra squeaked to dodge his grab. "Get over here already. Too many chicken jokes. You've gotta pay now." She danced away from him, her face absolutely giddy.
They chased about the apartment, Lyra giggling and ducking under his arms. Granted, he wasn't trying hard—he enjoyed the squirming, when he would get close and she then burst into hysterical laughter as she ducked and dived around him. After a while, she moved too close too the kitchen. He spread his arms to cut off her next route, and she foolishly darted into the kitchen, where there was no outlet—the island was more of a broken half-wall than a standalone part of the kitchen. She stood there, staring at the refrigerator and the wall with a sigh, and turned back to Silver just as he reached her.
"Welp," she said, throwing her hands up. Silver blocked her escape route with his arm. "What are you gonna do?" she asked, her tone one part curiosity and one part...something.
Silver stared down at her. He tucked her hair behind his ear. With a sigh, Silver admitted, "You know what, Lyra? I actually never figured out how to make you pay," he said.
Lyra laughed and rested her forehead against his chest. "Silver, you really are a chicken."
He kissed the top of her head. "If I think something, can I recover from this blunder?"
"Never," she said.
Silver sighed. He stepped away and tipped Lyra's chin up. "You're the worst," he said before kissing her. It was all he'd wanted all day. She melted into him, standing on tiptoe, arms over his shoulders. When she pulled away to breathe, he sighed, shaky. "Are you going to stay over tonight?" he asked.
Her eyes brightened. "You...want me to again?" she asked, mouth quirking.
"Honestly, you can stay any night you want to," he said. He hastily added, "But don't get a big head or anything."
She kissed him softly and pulled away. "I'll take you up on that." She drifted to his couch, settling in. "I...brought something to wear to bed. And a change of clothes. Just in case you asked," Lyra admitted.
"What, you weren't going to demand my time?" he said. He propped his elbows on the back of the couch and looked down at her. "I'm offended."
Lyra rolled her eyes. "Fine." She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then stretched her arms toward him. "Oh Silver, dearest and handsomest man, please allow me to be a pest in your apartment all the time if you would so let me."
Silver clapped a hand to his face. "Don't ever do that again." He vaulted over the back of the couch, landing somewhat positioned over her.
Noting his position, Lyra smiled. "Make me."
Noting the edge to her voice, the warmth in his cheeks, he lowered himself over her and kissed her, hard. She smiled into it and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close and lighting every corner in his body.
Present Day
It was late, near midnight, when they finally retreated to sleep. Lyra sat alone on the bed for the time being, waiting for Silver to come out the bathroom. She had swapped her egg shorts and tank top from the previous night for an oversized t-shirt, printed with a velociraptor wearing sunglasses, and black spandex shorts. There was a soft smile on her face, a buzz from earlier still rolling through her.
"We actually need to sleep tonight," Silver had told her earlier, entangled on the couch. "I work tomorrow, I don't want to be late again, and I need to remember to set an alarm."
Lyra had nodded. "Yeah, of course."
Now, sitting on his bed, alone, knees drawn under her chin, she sighed at the thought of just sleeping. Sure, they would cuddle up. Being touched and yearned after was new and electric, something she craved deeply.
The bathroom door opened, and Lyra tried to stomp down her desire. Silver gave her a half-smile that she returned. His phone buzzed on his dresser, and he went to look at the notification. She studied his face in profile, thrown into stark angles by the half light. Something about the light on his cheekbones, for a moment, made her think of his father. With a jolt, she looked harder. The resemblance, beyond the planes of his cheekbones...was non existent. Sure, she saw some of his father in the shape of his chin and eyes, but it was so fleeting that if she blinked it disappeared. Growing up, she wondered if Silver would grow into resembling his father, but he obviously never had. Giovanni's face was so square, his brow grim and craggy. Silver was somehow both longer and softer—still masculine, but less brutish. Does he take after his mother? Lyra thought,
He glanced over. "You trying to dissect me with your eyes?"
She realized the intensity of her gaze and chuckled. She let her hair fall in her face and peered at him with one unencumbered eye. "Nah, just thinking," she said, "but about something weird. Maybe not a good nighttime conversation."
"You can't just say that and not bring it up." He crawled into bed. "Spit it out."
"You said you found out who your mother is, right?" she hedged. Silver's eyes flashed a bit, but he nodded. She continued, "Just...is that who you look like?"
His brows raised. "Just noticing that I look nothing like my dad?" Amusement filled his voice, but there was an edge to his voice that told Lyra she needed to talk with some care. He tucked his hair behind his ears. "I...yeah. I do. I looked her up, not long after I learned her name. I saw a woman with my hair and my eyes staring back at me."
Lyra stared, wide-eyed. "Did you ever meet her?"
Silver hesitated. A strange expression crossed his face before he shook his head. "I haven't. I...I have weird feelings about it." He picked up his phone and tapped and scrolled through a few screens. "Wanna see her?"
"Your mom?" Lyra clarified. He nodded, and handed his phone to her without waiting for an answer. Shock washed over her; saved in his phone was a picture of a woman, who appeared to be early to mid forties at oldest, that was the spitting image of her son. Her expression was steely and hardened—Lyra supposed a missing child would do that. She looked up to Silver. "Who is she?" she asked, her voice soft.
"Her name is Ariana. She's from Ireland," he said. Lyra handed the phone back to him, and he let the screen fall dark. "She was turning twenty-one when she met my dad. He was thirty at that point. She was in a long-term relationship with a kid by the time she turned twenty-two." He tipped his head back and sighed. His eyes slid to Lyra. "Did more digging. She was a student in Rome when she met my dad. She was studying history. He interrupted her schooling; I didn't find anything about her graduating from university until several years later. After I'd disappeared with my dad."
Lyra didn't know what to say, her mouth falling slightly open. Silver sighed and ruffled her hair. "I'm fine, Lyra. Don't give me that look. She's actually the least difficult thing to talk about in the mess of my life. He messed her life up quite a lot, but she made a name for herself. She's a divorce lawyer in Canada. Quite the shark, too, if her record is anything to go by" he added, a small smile touching his lips.
Lyra cocked her head. "Have...you ever tried to reach out?"
"No," he said, not much to Lyra's surprise. He set his phone on the nightstand and flopped onto his back. "I'd just interfere with her life, I think. How do you lose a child for 18 years and regain them again?"
For that, Lyra had no answer. It was too late to have a reasonable thought on the matter. She reclined beside him, peering at the expression with guilt. "I don't know what to say, Silver, I'm sorry to have brought it up this late."
"Don't worry about it." He turned over and pulled Lyra against him. She felt soothed by his embrace, and her eyes closed. A wave of sleepiness crashed over her, perhaps due to the warmth and safety in his arms. "I figured you'd ask. I've been prepared."
"Mmm." Lyra buried her face into his chest. "I have questions, but not tonight. Is that okay?"
"Yeah." He reached with one arm behind him, and the lights flicked off, leaving the backs of Lyra's eyelids dark and cool. "Does my life disturb you too much yet? You gonna tap out because one parent is a dead criminal and the other is estranged and in Canada and I'm here in Venice playing at self-sustenance?"
"No, the lifestyle of poultry doesn't alarm me," Lyra remarked.
Silver sighed heavily. "Shut up with the chicken jokes."
"Okay." She yawned. "Too sleepy to keep it up, anyway. Running out of ways to poke."
"You'll pay for all that somehow," Silver said, but his voice was laced with sleepiness. "I swear."
"Action...no consequence." Lyra felt silent. She adjusted herself to be facing away, her body fit neatly into the crook of his. Silver nuzzled into her neck, jolting her awake for a brief moment, but once he settled the sleepiness returned, warmed her, and nearly overtook her.
Just before she fell asleep, she swore she heard Silver mumble, "I swear, I'd just interfere in her life." Lyra squeezed his hand, tucked against her midriff. He gently ran his thumb against her palm. With a faint smile, Lyra fully succumbed to sleep.
Hello! It is I! It has been a hot minute since I've updated; I am also one update behind on this site, so prepare for a (double update).
It's been really wild couple of months, so I apologize for not updating. You're about to get about 16,000 words of update (with this one the next one) at once, which I think makes up for the fact that I gave a split update last time I updated.
Hope you all have stayed healthy and safe in these times.
Mars