New faces didn't appear often in their part of the world, neither in the village nor, of course, on the farm. It just didn't happen. Their world was very much a close one, always the same and changing only as much as the seasons did.

So, Johnny noticed immediately the new employee of the cafe' where, under Gheorghe's insistence, they popped in for lunch after selling a couple of cows at the auction.

He hadn't wanted to go back in there, that place was reminding him far too much of who he had been only a few months before, but when his stomach had made a loud, grumbling noise, he hadn't had any other arguments against the idea of a nice, hot meal.

Which, in all fairness, sounded ideal on that cold and drizzly day.

The cafe was the same as it had always been, a pretty anonymous diner illuminated by clinical neon lights, with a few tables here and there already taken by sour looking farmers that were clearly not in a chatty mood.

'What do you want to drink?' Gheorghe asked, standing in front of the cold drinks' fridge.

'Anything. Not fussed' he replied, as he made his way to the counter, to see what was the "special" of the day. Surely it was a bit too late for a proper fry up, which was a shame, he could have really appreciated some bacon, sausages and scrambled eggs to celebrate success, they had made quite a bit of money that day.

And it was there, right when he made up his mind to have just a jacket potato, that he saw him.

The new face.

The young man was smiling at him from the opposite side of the counter, that clearly fake smile of someone working in a job they hate but they are trying to make the best of it. Which was a shame really, Johnny could remember how much heavier everything was when he hated every single minute of his life.

But that rational thought that should have been in his mind at that point to make him feel a little sorry for the guy was completely obliviated by other, much more prosaic and horrible considerations.

The guy was handsome.

Johnny was immediately taken by the young man's dark, wide eyes and his sharp features, covered by neatly trimmed stubbles.

And by his name tag.

The lad's name was Marcu.

Gheorghe had told him once, when he had started, half-jokingly, half seriously, to teach Johnny Romanian, that it was very common for Romanian male names to end in "U".

Since when did they have another Romanian in town?

Wait, he could be second or third generation. For that matter he might not even be Romanian, or he could have just taken the name tag of a co-worker. What can you really tell by someone's name tag anyway?

Keep it together Saxby, screamt the part of his brain that still remembered what being rational meant.

But he wasn't too good with change.

Especially not with a change that, out of the blue, ignited that little, persistent fear that had made his space in his mind in the last few months.

How long was it going to take for Gheorghe to figure out that he had made a mistake?

And now this handsome guy appeared.

You are being ridiculous, he thought. Even if the guy is Romanian, doesn't mean that Gheorghe will immediately group up with him.

It's not how it works.

Well, he didn't know how it worked, for fuck sake, he had never been part of a minority group in a foreign country, he knew he had stuff to learn about how to deal with these things.

So, no, not all Romanians abroad knew each other. But surely Gheorghe would like to have someone with the same background to talk to, right? Johnny had heard him talking on the phone to his mother on a handful of occasions and he had always seemed to glow whenever it happened.

Johnny was fully aware that he was staring at the guy and was also fully aware that the poor lad was clearly starting to get a little nervous in front of the stranger that seemed more interested in his name tag than in ordering.

'Have you ordered?' Gheorghe said, finally appearing at his side and bringing Johnny's mind back to reality.

'No, not yet' he managed to say, his back stiffening as he watched Gheorghe passing his two cans of Coca-Cola to the lad and ordering two jacket potatoes.

The lad smiled and, clearly finally relieved, said, in a nice, deep sounding voice, that they could take a seat and that he was going to bring them their food to the table.

Johnny saw the exact moment when Gheorghe's eyes widened a little while the young man spoke.

He had recognised the accent too. It was thicker than Gheorghe by a country mile, but still fairly understandable.

Feeling like a complete idiot as his heartbeat increased, he felt surprised when Gheorghe didn't say anything about it, not a word. He just thanked the guy and walked to the last free table with the two glasses full of ice.

Let it slide, Saxby, let it slide, Johnny thought, as he followed Gheorghe and took a seat in front of him.

It is all in your head.

Johnny was many things: a man trying to improve himself, a fuckup looking for a second chance, and someone loyal to a fault.

But he had never been, and never was going to be, a very patient or subtle man.

'Is he Romanian?' he said, after taking a long sip of coke. Damn, it really wasn't the same, but he had sworn off alcohol now for the foreseeable future.

'Who?'

Johnny moved his head to indicate the food counter.

'Yes, I think so' Gheorghe replied, with a nonchalant little nod of his head.

'Why didn't you ask him?'

'Because is rude to ask and rude to assume' Gheorghe replied immediately, frowning a little as if Johnny's questions were confusing him.

'Why?' God, even he could tell that he was sounding petulant.

Gheorghe smiled his little, quiet smile before saying, in a simple, neutral tone, as if he was explaining something rather complicated to a child:

'Because the moment you ask that question and force someone to tell you, you force on them stereotypes and expectations that might hurt them'

'Have you'

He was about to ask him if Gheorghe had experience with that sort of thing before stopping himself. Johnny felt himself blush a little as he looked down at his hands clasping around the glass.

Of course, Gheorghe had experience with that. He could still picture the landlords of the local pub looking at him as if he was a piece of shite.

He could still remember himself calling him a Gypo. God, the first night in the caravan, when he even started to assume stuff about his background just by the way he looked.

God.

Johnny looked up at Gheorghe only for a moment.

Why on Earth did he decide to come back with him? He had been such a piece of shit to him, from the beginning to what had been, in all effect, the end for a little while.

Right then, right when Johnny started to hope that the ground would open and swallow him whole for all his sins, an all mighty crash attracted their attention.

Marcu had just dropped the tray he was carrying after colliding with a customer who had just last minute moved from his table before Marcu could stop himself.

'Pula' Johnny heard him mutter.

Bingo. Definitely Romanian. Gheorghe didn't swear normally, at all really, but had taught Johnny a swear word or two.

Then, quickly realising that he had made a mess of plates and food on the floor, he said, bright red in the face to the customer, a middle-aged man who owned a farm on the other side of the village from Johnny's.

'I'm so sorry'

'Be more careful next time' the guy said, before stamping away, not even offering to help.

Johnny wasn't entirely sure he hadn't done that on purpose. He was fully aware that he was changing his mind and attitudes to Eastern Europeans, but that didn't mean that everybody was doing the same.

And a new employee was an easy target.

'Idiot' Johnny murmured, shaking his head right as Gheorghe stood up.

'Where are you going?' Johnny asked, but it was too late to stop him: Gheorghe knelt near Marcu and started to help him clean up.

Gheorghe, the knight in the shiny armour.

'Stop, this is not your job' Marcu said, getting even redder in the face as everybody in the room was looking at them.

'Nu-ți face griji, lasă-mă să te ajut' Gheorghe replied.

Don't worry. Let me help you.

Johnny couldn't see his face, but he could very well imagine that he had treated Marcu to one of his kind, soft smiles.

The smiles he had shown him on more than one occasion.

The smiles he had started to think were an exclusive for him now.

Marcu bent his head to the side, studying Gheorghe for a second as his eyes grew wide.

He hadn't figured out till then that Gheorghe was Romanian too.

Then Johnny saw him smile.

And he heard him starting to talk in a Romanian far too fast for him to understand even a single sound.

Gheorghe answered.

And he laughed.

Damn you, what are you laughing about? Johnny thought, feeling the muscles of his shoulders tense.

He kept his eyes down, staring at the drink in his glass, making the ice slush here and there, trying to drown the sound of the two men's voices.

Words he couldn't understand. Words he didn't want to hear.

You will soon figure out you made a mistake and you will leave.

I am scared.

Gheorghe came back, but Johnny kept his eyes down.

'Food is coming in a moment. Marcu said it shouldn't be long and says he is sorry for the delay'

'Uh-uh' Johnny replied, nodding. Marcu. They were already on a first name basis already. Great.

He didn't trust himself to say anything else.

They didn't speak for the rest of the lunch. If Gheorghe found it as uncomfortable as Johnny was finding it, he didn't say.

But the food was good.

Damn the food and dam you, stupid new face.

That night, when they finally closed the door of their room, his old friends Anger and Frustration took over him, with the result that, as Gheorghe kissed him gently as they rolled in bed under the covers, Johnny quickly escalated things. He pushed him to lie down and quickly got on top of him passing a leg over his body, straddling Gheorghe before kissing him more forcefully, opening his mouth and penetrating it with his tongue.

Mine. Mine. Mine, he thought, as his body arched against Gheorghe's, who was clearly as excited as he was.

Gheorghe opened to him without protestations, letting him take, take and take.

'John?' he said, with a question in his voice when they finally broke apart to breathe heavily, forehead against forehead.

Johnny knew what the question was, if he was alright or summat.

He didn't answer. He couldn't because he didn't want to give voice to the ugly beast in his chest, still hiding under the surface of his very shaky control.

He was trying to be better. For himself and for Gheorghe.

He only nodded.

And he left on Gheorghe's neck the most visible love bite he could master, marking him for everybody else to see before letting Gheorghe take over.

That night he needed to feel him as close as possible.

The following evening, right after the two of them were starting to relax in front of the telly after a tiring day and as his nan finished off some ironing still to do, there was a knock on the door.

They never had anybody knocking on the door, except in an emergency. Or if it was the postman.

Or the postman with an emergency, but that was another point.

'Are you expecting someone?' Deirdre said, as Johnny stood up, frowning. He turned to Gheorghe, but he seemed as clueless as he was.

There was another knock.

'One minute' Johnny shouted as he rushed to the door.

When he opened the door, he found himself face to face with Marcu, the guy from the cafe.

He was just standing there, looking nervous as he fidgeted with his hands. He looked windswept, his hair slightly messed up and his cheeks reddened by the cold air.

How on earth did he get to know where they lived?

Ah, right, small world where everybody sort of knew each other.

Plus, the address of the farm was now on the website Gheorghe insisted on creating before launching their cheese business.

He knew that had been a bad idea, he just knew it.

'Can I help you?' Johnny said, his hand still on the door, ready to slam it back any second. That only resulted in the young man looking even more tense.

'Does Gheorghe live here?' he asked, finally showing the guts to look at Johnny in the eyes.

The guts, or the stupidity, because that only irked Johnny further.

'Yes'

He hoped that the "And?" was easy enough to pick in his voice.

'Maybe I speak with him?'

Damn. It was a reasonable enough request. And he seemed fairly innocuous. Not to mention that he still had some jumpy cat vibes about him.

Johnny took a deep breath and said:

'Wait here'

And slammed the door in his face.

'Who was it?' his nan asked as he re-entered the room.

'A visitor for Gheorghe' Johnny said, letting himself fall on the sofa, crossing his arms to his chest.

'Who?' Gheorghe asked, looking confused.

Johnny would have laughed if the tension in his body prevented him from it.

Sweet, kind Gheorghe. Did he really not know the effect he had on people?

'Go and see for yourself'

Gheorghe shot him one, last confused look, but, without a word, he did as he was told.

He couldn't hear what Gheorghe or Marcu said when they saw each other, but he could tell the surprise in Gheorghe's tone. But they kept on talking. And talking. And talking some more, as if they were old friends that had not seen each other for years.

At least Gheorghe didn't invite him in.

'Who is it? Coming this late' his nan muttered under her breath.

Johnny didn't reply. Too many thoughts were swirling in his head, engulfing everything. He wanted to tell her that it was someone Gheorghe had charmed once again with his kindness and patience, but his voice was gone.

He stared back at the screen without really watching anything but looking at the lights and colours made him at least a little more composed by the time Gheorghe came back.

'So, who was it, lad?' his nan said, with a little apprehension in her voice.

See, even my nan struggles with change. Give us a break.

Gheorghe looked at Johnny questioningly, probably surprised that Johnny hadn't told her who Marcu was, but Johnny kept silent, looking back at him.

Gheorghe sighed, defeated, before explaining:

'Yesterday we met a new, Romanian employee of the café. He has come to ask me some advice as he has been receiving hate messages through anonymous letters and he is getting quite worried. I have offered to go to the police with him tomorrow'

'That sounds awful' Deirdre said, finishing off her work.

Yes, yes, utterly awful, but to Johnny it sounded just like the perfect excuse to get close to Gheorghe.

'What? He doesn't have legs to go by himself? Why does he need a bodyguard?' Johnny burst out, trying to make it sound like a joke, but it really wasn't.

The frown on Gheorghe's forehead deepened as he stared at him, his head slightly bent to the side.

He knew Gheorghe was trying to figure out what the hell was going on in Johnny's head.

Good luck to you, Johnny thought. He didn't even know himself what the hell was going on, as his thoughts just whirl and whirl.

And the old self-loathing was making each and every one of those thoughts dark reminders of his failures.

Silently, Deirdre left the room. Johnny knew that she hadn't quite finished her tasks, but he was glad she had left them some space.

Because the tension between them was starting to rise.

And no, it wasn't all his fault.

The fault was all Gheorghe's boundless kindness.

Johnny kept his eyes away from Gheorghe, but he heard him sigh.

'It's already difficult to face things like this. To have the courage to speak up. I am just helping someone in need'

Johnny laughed. Someone in need alright.

'Why are you laughing?'

'Because it is funny how quickly you move from one charity case to another' Johnny said, standing up, his whole body wound up like a drum.

Getting ready to fight even though he knew full well that it was not the right way to go about this.

Just talk to him. Tell him that you are just scared.

'What are you on about, John?'

Come on John, talk.

Gheorghe's expression was the same as that bleak day in Scotland, right when Johnny was making a mess of the speech that he had rehearsed so much in his head.

'John?'

Don't call me that.

And, right there and then, all went wrong.

'You finished helping me out, brought me back to the right path, and now you are finding someone new to help. Someone'

He took a deep breath.

'Someone more handsome. Someone who speaks your language and understands your background better. Why don't you go to him, or back to frigging Romania? They will know how you feel, and you will not have to deal with an ignorant fool like me'

Gheorghe, unconsciously, took a step back at the unexpected assault of words from someone who would have normally just bottled everything up.

Johnny himself felt shaky and scared.

Was that how people felt when they spoke feelings?

And why did it feel so disgusting and dirty, while that day in Scotland it had felt scary, but right, like the first right thing he had ever done in his life?

'You know my country is'

'Dead. Yes. I remember. But your countrymen aren't, and they are everywhere' he said, emphasising the word countrymen.

'If not Marcu, there will be others'

God. He was being cruel.

He braved looking at Gheorghe's face, only to regret it a moment after.

He couldn't stay there. He couldn't stand seeing the break in Gheorghe's eyes.

So, he rushed out, bumping against Gheorghe's shoulder on the way out.

He took his clothes off once in their bedroom and threw himself on the mattress, hiding his shaking body under the cover.

That was a reason why he didn't talk feelings. He didn't know the vocabulary, nobody had ever explained to him how these things needed to be tackled with another person.

Especially when the other person was the cause of said feelings.

He tried to make himself as small as he could, hoping to squash those feelings.

But how could he, when the mattress underneath him still remembered the shape of them together? When the sheet smelled of Gheorghe's skin?

Johnny rolled further into Gheorghe's side of the bed. And waited.

And waited.

Gheorghe didn't come up to bed.

God. He had made such a mess of things.

He checked the time. It was already midnight. It was so late, he really needed to get some sleep, get some rest before a busy day ahead. They had scheduled a lot of repair work to do and he knew he couldn't be dead on his feet if he wanted to be productive.

But the thought of Gheorghe downstairs couldn't leave him be.

Enough. Face the mess you made, he told himself and, with his heart beating a manic rhythm in his chest and tiredness making his muscles ache, he threw on a t-shirt and went downstairs.

He stopped right at the entrance of the living room as the sight in front of him made him stop in his tracks.

Gheorghe was still awake, sitting on the sofa with his elbows planted on his knees and his hands covering his face.

But Johnny knew he had heard him come in. In the silence of the night on the farm, one could hear everything.

And all Johnny could hear right there and then was the thumping of his heart and Gheorghe's breathing.

'You are not a charity case' Gheorghe said, finally breaking the silence but not moving from his position.

'Why did you come back?' he asked, pushing forward, the tiredness making him talk more than he would have done.

But, at that point, he needed to know.

Gheorghe's eyes, those damned eyes that always made him feel completely naked when they studied him, grew a little wider at hearing that question.

'Do you really not know?' Gheorghe asked, his hoarse voice barely a whisper.

Johnny lowered his gaze as he stood there, unable to move. Unable to say anything.

All that had seemed so important till a few hours ago, that strange feeling of hate against a stranger who had just been captivated by Gheorghe's kindness, was all gone.

He didn't move as he heard Gheorghe standing up.

He didn't move as he heard him move close to him, entering his personal space.

He finally moved when Gheorghe enveloped him in a hug.

'Te iubesc' Gheorghe said, his voice barely a warm whisper against Johnny's ear, making hot shivers rush through his body.

'I don't know what it means' Johnny said, hiding his face in Gheorghe's neck.

His eyes were burning far too much for his taste.

'Te iubesc' Gheorghe repeated with the same intensity as he kissed Johnny's cheek.

'I don't know what I means'

'Te iubesc'

Gheorghe continued to repeat those words to him through the night, searing them in Johnny's mind, dispelling the darkness for a moment.

Maybe, if he really wanted to help the handsome young man, it was not going to be so bad.