When Stefano arrived home, Mamma stopped him before he could reach his room. She addressed him in that tone—the kind that told him to drop everything and listen. "Stefano," she said. "Marco told me you've been spending time with a boy from the dock. Is this true?"

"Yes, Mamma."

He didn't like how disappointed Mamma looked. Giacomo was his first true friend—the only person he actually enjoyed being around. The only one he didn't have to hide certain facets of himself from.

"Has he ever asked you for money?"

Stefano paused. What was that supposed to mean? There was that one time he had bought the two of them crema fritta from a street vendor, but Giacomo hadn't asked for it. He'd just looked hesitant at the stand, and without even needing to ask, Stefano had understood.

"No."

"Okay," Mamma said, her hands still perched on her hips. "Just… if he does, let me know."

"Yes, Mamma."

Stefano had gone into his room and was unloading his backpack. He heard steps coming towards his door. "Stefano!" It was Papa this time. "Are you just getting home? What time is it? Have you done your homework yet?" There was a sharp pair of knocks on his door, and immediately it opened. Stefano saw his father's eyes immediately fall on the camera on his desk. "Have you been playing with that thing all day again?"

"Oh let him be," he heard Mamma say, her voice growing louder as she came down the hall towards them. "He's just a boy—let him have fun with it."

Papa let out a heavy breath through his nose. Then, in a low voice, he said, "Someday, Stefano, you're going to be the man of the house. You can have your fun, but keep in mind that your studies should be your top priority. Finish your homework."

"Yes, Papa."

The door to his room closed. Stefano plopped down on his chair, picking up his camera and checking the lens for any scratches. Papa was always talking about being the man of the house. Being the breadwinner. He had gone to school, gone to university. And he expected his son to do the same. To a man of Papa's background, photography and art could only ever be a hobby—something to always take the backseat. Never to be pursued. Stefano hated that ideology.

But he had no choice but to listen because that was the way things were. Stefano set the camera down and bent down to pull his workbook out from his backpack. He wished he could talk to Giacomo. Everything always seemed better with him around.

They met up again after school the next day. As they roamed the streets, Stefano didn't take as many pictures, and Giacomo noticed. "Run out of things to snap?" he asked.

Stefano looked down at the device in his hands. "Do you think photography is a waste of time?"

"Why're you asking?"

"Papa thinks I waste my time with my camera. He thinks I should be something like a… a scientist or a lawyer. But I know I won't be happy as one. I'm an artist—I want to live by my camera."

"Photography is an art?"

Stefano shot Giacomo a glare. Meekly, his friend put his hands up. "Hey, I didn't know. I thought art was more… painting and drawing. Like Da Vinci." After a pause, he added, "Though I guess it takes a certain vision to take good pictures. I'm not an artist—I know that." He turned to Stefano. "What do you see in that little square you put your eye up to?"

"The viewfinder?"

"Yeah, that. Because when I look through it, all I see is what I've always seen—just with my peripheral vision cut off. What do you see?"

What did he see? Stefano had never really put words to what exactly happened when he lifted the camera to his face. Things changed—not physically, but in his mind. Even though he was restricted to one little rectangle, what he saw through it was endless potential. To him, photography was a language that spoke beyond words. Different angles and lighting were the tones used in its messages.

"I see… a lot of things. It's hard to describe."

"See, that's why you shouldn't listen to your Papa. You can see things he can't," Giacomo said.

It was the first time anyone had actually encouraged his passion. Even Mamma saw it only as a hobby. And of all people, he was glad that it was Giacomo that had his back. But speaking of him, the golden brown-haired boy suddenly looked uneasy and almost sad.

"Giacomo? Something up?"

"I showed Mamma the picture you took," Giacomo began slowly. He was deliberately avoiding Stefano's eyes, instead staring out at the water. "She asked me which part of the city you lived, and when I told her she sat down in front of me. She told me not to expect us to be friends for much longer."

"Why would she say something like that?"

"She was just trying to warn me. Said as soon as your parents found out about me, they'll make you stay away. Mamma just didn't want me to be confused when it happened."

Stefano thought back to a few nights ago. His parents had reacted negatively to Giacomo. But would Mamma really make him stay away? Papa? It was just like them not understanding the camera, not understanding how important it was to him. They lacked vision. If they told him to break off his friendship with Giacomo, he would be resolute in disobeying them.

"They don't mind," Stefano lied. Giacomo finally looked at him, and Stefano could see the cynicism in his eyes. "Really, they don't. As long as I stay in school and, you know, don't break the law or anything."

"So…?"

"We're friends, Giacomo. Nothing's going to change that."

Giacomo's face brightened. "Damn straight. Thanks, Camera Boy."

"Testa di cazzo," Stefano hissed. He quickly skirted out of the way when Giacomo tried to hit him. Behind them, a horn honked and a man on a motorbike shouted out them to get out of the way. The boys crossed the street and joined the flow of foot traffic on the sidewalk.

As they walked, Stefano said, "You were talking to Lucia today."

At that, the boy next to him was silent for a while. "Yeah," was the guarded reply.

"Well?" Stefano prompted. Giacomo shot him a side-glance. "Are you into her?"

"Maybe," Giacomo answered, which they both knew was just a reluctant way of saying yes.

"Don't blame you. She's pretty."

Lucia was a grade underneath the both of them. Her wide, pale blue eyes framed with dark lashes and long, copper brown hair were enough to make any male classmate stop and take a second look. At the start of their lunch break earlier that day, while Stefano had been waiting by the schoolyard entrance, he had caught Giacomo and Lucia walking out of the classroom together. He'd looked completely entranced by her, but Giacomo seemed to have had been in the middle of a sentence when Lucia had told him her goodbyes and hurried off.

Giacomo shrugged. "Doesn't matter. She spends a lot of time with Antelmo and Gabriele. Us quiet ones don't stand a chance, Stefano."

"Ohi! Speak for yourself!"

At the age of 14, both Stefano and Giacomo had graduated from lower secondary school and transferred to upper secondary school. At first, Giacomo was a little disappointed at no longer sharing a building with Lucia. Immediately, he brushed it off. He and Stefano were still together, and that's what mattered.

In the fall, their class took a trip to the Salerno Cathedral. There, they were led around the antiquated, 11th century building—Duomo di San Matteo, the tour guide called it. Saint Matthew's Cathedral. And within the structure was its crown jewel—the crypt that allegedly housed Saint Matthew's remains. It was a splendid combination of architecture, lighting, and art. Pillars lining the crypt fanned out into wide arcs they met the ceiling. Each one emitted a lantern-like glow that filled the crypt with soft orange light. The ceiling above them boasted a dazzling array of paintings in wide ovals.

The two boys meandered behind the main body of their party. Giacomo took a few moments to take in the scenery around them. But, boasting the attention span of an adolescent boy, he soon became bored. Nudging Stefano in the arm, he muttered under his breath the suggestion that the two of them ought to sneak off. However, his companion didn't hear him, his attention focused on the tour guide up front as they explained the baroque art style that adorned the ceiling above them.

After a while, they moved on. The guide let them out of the crypt to see the rest of the cathedral. Giacomo glanced over his shoulder at the crypt entrance as it shrank behind them. "Do you really think they've got that guy's bones in there?" he wondered.

Instead of answering, Stefano asked, "Why do they do that? Combine art with death?"

"You mean with all the paintings on the ceiling?" Giacomo shrugged. "It's fancy, I guess. Sacred."

"What do you think happens when we die?"

Giacomo gave a half-hearted laugh. "Stefano, why are you getting all existential on me?"

"It's just… being here, I guess." Stefano glanced up. Through windows, blades of light cut through the interior's dimness like knives. "I'm serious—what do you think happens?"

"When it's peaceful, I suppose it's like going to sleep," Giacomo answered. "And the good souls go to heaven while the bad ones go to hell. Why?"

Stefano shrugged. Before either of them could say anything else, a teacher called back to them, "Stay with the group, you two!" Both boys hurried their steps to keep up, leaving behind the ghost of their conversation.

"So," she said, and Stefano heard the soft flips as she perused through his portfolio. "Did you take all of these?"

"Mm," Stefano responded absent-mindedly. He was sifting through the stack of mail in front of him, eyes peeled for one thing and one thing only. Beside him on the porch swing, Lucia slowly looked through his portfolio of photographs. Over the past year, they had gotten close, though Stefano only saw what was between them as strictly platonic. He was well aware of Giacomo's feelings for her, and respected his friend enough to not encroach in his territory. Besides, Lucia wasn't his type. She was quite, for lack of a better word, stupid. Her view of the world was child-like, and it was rather pitiable. At least she had her looks to carry her.

Stefano's hands stilled on a particular envelope. This one had the name of the magazine publisher on it. His heart skipped a beat at the sight. Quickly, he flipped the envelope over and tore open the flap. Beside him, Lucia hummed a generic tune.

The letter inside was folded into thirds. Opening it, Stefano quickly skimmed through the top lines.

Dear Mr. Valentini,

Thank you for your submission.

Stefano felt his heart drop. He already knew where this was headed.

We recognize the talent, dedication, and time committed to your piece. However, we have received numerous submissions this year…

He already knew they hadn't given a rat's ass about his piece, and didn't want to waste his time going through the rest of the rejection letter. It felt almost contrived when Lucia suddenly gave a loud, "Oh!" and provided a much-needed distraction. He looked over to see what had made the girl cry out.

She had stopped at a particular picture—an old one. The image was framed in a thick white border. Stefano recognized it as one from his dear old Spectra. That particular camera had retired long ago.

Lucia lifted the photograph and its protective sleeve up. It was of a boy leaning on ropes by the water with a smile on his face. "Is this Giacomo? Dio mio, when was taken? He looks so young!"

"Four years ago," Stefano recalled.

"So he's 12 in this picture?" Lucia paused to silently examine the picture. "He's cute in this."

"Oh?"

Lucia's eyes suddenly shot up. She planted a hand firmly down on the porch swing between them and leaned towards Stefano. "I didn't actually say that, okay? Don't tell anyone!" she yipped.

"You think Giacomo's cute?"

"I said in this picture!" Lucia replied defensively.

"It's okay if you like him. He's a good guy."

"Of course you would say that! You're his friend!" But Stefano didn't miss the smile she quickly fought down. "Anyway, I need to get home before Papa starts getting worried." She stood up and placed Stefano's portfolio onto the swing. Wagging a finger at him, Lucia reiterated, "I said only in the picture," before hurrying down the porch steps.

The magazine issue with the contest winner was released two weeks later. Stefano was in his room, sitting at his desk with his feet propped up on the tabletop as he leafed through the pages. Giacomo was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and boredly throwing a tennis ball up and down.

Stefano found the picture, and immediately he pressed his lips together in stark displeasure. Really? This unsophisticated image was the one that trumped him? Stefano began to feel a deep, quiet rage bubble inside of him. Slowly, it was starting to manifest into something… something that was…

His eyes flickered to the left. When they settled on Giacomo, he felt the heat die down, flushed out by the conduit that was his friend. "Hey, Giacomo."

"Hmm?"

Stefano inverted the magazine and tossed it over to Giacomo. It hit his face with a satisfying splat. "Check it out," he said. "The winning picture."

Giacomo plucked the magazine from his face and flipped it over to the specific page. He took a few seconds to examine it. Then, to Stefano's satisfaction, gave a snort. "Ma dai? Is this it?"

"My thoughts exactly."

"But yours…" Giacomo trailed off with a sigh. "Whatever, man. Maybe you dodged a bullet here by not associated yourself with these kind of publishers."

Leave it to Giacomo to tell him what he wanted to hear instead of the monkeys who had rejected his piece. "Ah," Stefano chimed as something quickly came to him. "Remember that picture I took of you a few years back? The one you showed your ma?"

"She still has it, you know."

"I kept a copy. Guess what?"

"Did that picture, with my stunning good looks, win a different contest?"

"Lucia saw it."

The tennis ball was coming down, but Giacomo's arm didn't move fast enough to catch it. It fell and hit the boy in the face. He flinched with a cry as the ball bounced away and rolled across the floor. Pushing himself up to a sitting position, Giacomo said, "She did?"

"Yeah." The magazine was closed and tossed aside on the desk. "You haven't asked her out yet?"

"It's not that simple," Giacomo replied, placing his feet down on the ground. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "You don't get it, Stefano. Between you and I, it's different. I'm a poor kid. Lucia won't want to go out with a guy who has holes in his pockets. You see the way she dresses?"

Stefano gave a hapless shrugged. "She liked the picture." Giacomo lifted his head.

"… She did?" he repeated.

"That's what I just said."

"I… I don't… okay."

"Just thought I'd let you know. Oh, she said not to tell, but… whoops." It wasn't like he would have kept his word anyway. He watched Giacomo stand up and walk across the room to retrieve the tennis ball, all the while stuck in ponderous silence.

It took about another month before they made it official, and when Giacomo told Stefano that he and Lucia were dating, Stefano wasn't the least bit surprised. Thankfully, the relationship didn't change Giacomo. He was still Stefano's friend.

Lucia, on the other hand, grew just a little more insufferable. She tried and tried to stick onto Giacomo like a barnacle, always insisting that the two of them do everything together. Giacomo was firm in keeping his space, and whenever he did Lucia would pout. But she would eventually give in, huffing, "You're lucky that you're cute!"

Despite that, they were always a sweet couple—it took a little less than year until Giacomo, that idiot, to bring up the notion of marriage to Stefano. Though Giacomo spoke of it lightly, Stefano saw that peculiar twinkle in his eye. He was truly in love.

"And when she tells me yes," Giacomo said, "the first people I'm telling are Mamma and you. You know, to give you enough time to get a nice suit. I want my best man looking top-notch, okay?"

Stefano rolled his eyes. "You somehow got even more stupid. I didn't even think that was possible." He was answered with a smack to the back of his head.

Springtime always brought with it warmer weather and annual panic among 18-year-olds who had reached the end of their secondary schooling. The maturity exam loomed like a beast in the horizon. The struggle was hard with the finish line already in view, but when the storm blew over the young adults of Salerno who had survived the onslaught celebrated during the following nights.

Lucia wanted to go out too, but Giacomo pointed out that she was still underage and couldn't go out to the bars with the rest of them. When she insisted, Giacomo joked that she hadn't struggled like the rest of them and therefore didn't earn the right. At that, she'd grown mad and ignored him for the rest of the day.

"Ah, she'll come around eventually. I'll reconcile things with her later. Tonight is our night, buddy," Giacomo said, wrapping an arm around Stefano's shoulder and giving him a little shake. "Let's get fucked up and take over the world!"

Well, they made good on one of those promises. To be honest, Stefano had no recollection whatsoever of the subsequent night. All he knew was that he'd apparently spent the night with a girl named Romana because he was climbing out of her window the next morning. It hadn't been easy trying to make his way home in the early hours while hung over.

Those had been the good times—that short little limbo between adolescence and adulthood where they'd been free. But it didn't take long before they were once again swept down life's currents. And there were rocks. They couldn't see them—couldn't have known—because the rapids hid them.

From the moment he learned he had been accepted to art school, Stefano knew he and Giacomo had officially taken their first steps towards their separate paths. Part of him was regretful, nostalgic for the days that shouldn't have ended.

Then Giacomo told him the news. He was joining the army. The plane taking him to training was leaving in two days.

Army? To fight in wars? To again and again bear the risk of not coming home? Stefano couldn't fathom it.

"Come on, man," Giacomo said with a forced smile. "The federal aid was enough to have me stop working, but it was never going to take me to university." That smile faltered, but he held it back up. "And you know what the recruiters told me? I qualify for a death gratuity of 67.5 million liras with Mamma as my beneficiary. Sixty seven and a half million. She'd be set, Stefano."

"You do realize what needs to happen for that gratuity to get paid out, don't you?"

"I do," Giacomo replied. "But at least if I don't come home, I'll still have something to leave Mamma."

"Don't talk like that."

"I'm not going to run straight into the line of fire just to get the payout." Giacomo shook his head. "I know Mamma would rather have me than the money, but…" His eyes grew distant. "Sometimes I just get the feeling all I can do just isn't enough." The smile returned, as forced as ever. "Never mind. This is all if I survive training first. And what about you, Signore University? Don't go getting too smart on me now."

"I'll try, but no guarantees." Stefano leaned on the roping that ran along the waterfront. The water sloshed against the walkway's posts. Just beneath the surface, the thin green strands of seaweed whipped with the current's pull. "How long are you going to be gone?"

"Basic is three and a half months," Giacomo answered. "After I graduate from that, I'm officially a soldier. I'll get a few days—a week at most—to visit home. Then it's advanced training after that, and then…" He trailed off with a shrug. "Who knows? And then they ship me out to where I'm needed, I guess."

"Have you told Lucia?"

"Not yet," Giacomo admitted. "Something tells me she won't be happy. I'm going to miss her too. I'm going to miss you all."

"It's just three and a half months," Stefano reminded him.

"You're right. And you'll be here when I get back?"

"Count on it."

Two days later, the two of them took that second step apart. At the terminal of Salerno Costa d'Amalfi Airport, Stefano saw Giacomo for the last time before he would leave for basic. Lucia had spent a good minute crying into his chest as Giacomo gently comforted her and tried to hint that he needed to go soon. When she finally collected herself, Giacomo turned to Stefano.

"Have fun at university, okay?" He gave Stefano's shoulder a rough pat. "Hey, but not too much fun. Keep snapping those picture, Camera Boy."

Stefano was on the cusp of calling Giacomo a colorful name, but quickly remembered that Giacomo's mother was also there. She hugged him tightly, while telling him, "Don't skip any of your meals, alright? Get enough sleep. Call me whenever they let you."

"I will, Mamme. And I'm sending every lira I make back here, so don't you worry."

"That's never what I worry about, Gia."

An announcement over the intercom announced that the plane was boarding. One of the nearby recruiters shouted for Giacomo to hurry. Pulling away from his mother, Giacomo whisked up his single duffel bag. "Bye, everyone! I'll see you in October! Hey!" Pointing at Stefano, he added, "Beers on the uni kid when I get back!"