Chapter 3: A Simple Solution?

Disclaimer: I do not own Cantarella. Cantarella is the property of Yuu Higuri, who is much better at history and politics than I am, so please don't expect too much historical information.

A/N: As near as I can tell, Cesare seems to have some sort of mind-link with Chiaro whenever his demons get especially bad, so Chiaro can always sense when he's being attacked. For the record, in my story, Chiaro has been sleeping with Cesare (in completely non-sexual fashion) whenever the demons get really bad, ever since the first time. But Cesare still hasn't figured this out.

Chiaro silently crept into Cesare's room, his heart aching at the sight of Cesare tossing and turning from nightmares. He quickly went and sat on the edge of the bed. Just this much seemed to send away Cesare's nightmares, and he immediately relaxed as Chiaro began to stroke his hair. "Chiaro," he murmured.

Chiaro stopped his hand briefly, but Cesare had only been talking in his sleep. For a long time when he'd started doing this, Cesare had called for Vanozza, but these days he always said Chiaro's name. Chiaro supposed it depended who Cesare most strongly associated with the demons being sent away.

Chiaro kept his eye on the demons keeping their distance. Occasionally they got tired of waiting and simply left Cesare alone for a while, and Chiaro went back to his room, but usually they stayed, especially lately. Chiaro certainly didn't mind staying—he was very used to this by now—but the more often he stayed, the more likely it was that Cesare would catch him at it. Chiaro had no idea how he would react. But tonight was a bad night. Not as bad as some—there had been nights that Cesare had started screaming in his sleep, alerting Volpe, Pedro and everyone else, but fortunately not before Chiaro had already arrived at the scene. When it got this bad, Cesare would sometimes fight him, staring wildly at him but clearly not recognizing him, until Chiaro managed to get close enough that the demons started to leave him alone. Then Cesare would cling to him, trembling and murmuring his name, hands knotted in the back of his shirt.

Volpe would usually stand there, watching as Chiaro rubbed Cesare's back in slow circles until his breathing calmed and he was no longer clinging, and then he would offer to stay with Cesare so Chiaro could go to sleep. Chiaro would simply stare at him until he left. Comforting Cesare was Chiaro's job. He did not trust Volpe to deal with Cesare's demons, and anyway, he couldn't. Chiaro never knew if Cesare remembered these nights. He never mentioned them. Which was, of course, Chiaro's intention, but sometimes he wished Cesare knew and he wouldn't have to be secretive like this.

Carefully, he lay down next to Cesare. Like usual, Cesare rolled closer to him and nestled against his shoulder, relaxing as Chiaro put his arms around him. Although he felt bad for Cesare, Chiaro loved these nights, when his friend would actually allow him to hold him and comfort him and drive his demons away, even if he didn't know it. He loved the feeling of warmth it gave him, and he loved seeing the peaceful expression on Cesare's face. He almost never saw it when Cesare was awake. Only twice now—the two times Cesare had let Chiaro hold him when he was awake. Why did he always pull away when it was so obvious he wanted to be held?

Chiaro shook his head. "You know," he whispered very, very softly, "You could try being a little affectionate when you're awake. I wouldn't mind. Actually, I'd like it." Cesare didn't respond, and Chiaro rubbed his back until he fell asleep.

…

Cesare had to get to the bottom of this. Chiaro seemed to be taking every excuse in these last few days to be close to him, and Cesare was finding it very hard to believe he didn't have some ulterior motive, particularly since it was working. He was letting his guard down more and more when he was with Chiaro, especially since he'd realized he loved him, though that ought to have made him more on his guard. He kept thinking of Marrone, and no matter how much he told himself that Chiaro wasn't Marrone and had no reason to kill him, another part of him castigated himself for loving Chiaro. It was bad enough, he thought, that Chiaro stayed with him out of loyalty rather than fear. That made an uncertain bond, which could break at any moment. But for Cesare to love Chiaro so much that the cleavage of that bond would destroy him—that was unacceptable. Oddly, he hadn't really feared losing Chiaro until he'd started loving him. It was all so strange.

Should he tell Chiaro to stop being so affectionate? His heart turned from the thought, only to earn him more mocking from the demons. But he figured at the very least, he ought to figure out why Chiaro was being affectionate to begin with. Until now, he'd thought Chiaro was a very hands-off person, but now he felt like he'd somehow given his permission and unleashed a flood of warmth that was as frightening and confusing as it was wonderful. And Chiaro said the reason was because he loved him. That made no sense, unless… unless Chiaro was in love with him.

Cesare straightened up from leaning against the windowsill. Why hadn't he thought of that? Of course. That was the only way it could possibly make sense. After all, he didn't really have any redeeming qualities other than his looks. But Chiaro had never struck him as the type. Not even slightly. However, if he was, that made things so much simpler. Cesare would know exactly how to keep Chiaro; he could play the part of a lover to perfection. And yet… Cesare couldn't help feeling disappointed. He'd really hoped Chiaro liked him for himself, not… but that was impossible. Cesare knew it was impossible. How could he find out for sure?

"Cesare?"

Cesare turned around to see Chiaro come in. He smiled. "You're back."

"Yes. I was looking for you. You're supposed to meet with the Spanish ambassador tonight, you know." He casually put an arm around Cesare's shoulders.

Cesare looked at him curiously. "I know." Suddenly he had an idea for how to test his new theory. He pulled away, but put a hand on Chiaro's shoulder. He began to slowly lean toward him.

For a moment, Chiaro stood still, looking confused, but then he suddenly jerked back, just before Cesare would have gotten close enough to kiss him. "What are you doing?" he asked, looking more than a little alarmed.

Cesare pulled back. "Hmm." So Chiaro wasn't in love with him. He gave a small, frustrated sigh that his simple, workable explanation had turned out to be incorrect, even if that explanation hadn't exactly been the one he wanted. What was it then? "Nothing," he said, letting go of Chiaro's shoulder and looking out the window.

Chiaro stood still for a moment. "You weren't… going to…."

"Your eyes were bloodshot. I was checking to make sure you weren't sick." How could Chiaro be this loyal to him without even being physically attracted to him? He completely failed to see what Chiaro was attracted to instead. Was it his charisma? It didn't seem to be.

"Oh." Chiaro sounded a little doubtful. "Am I?"

"No. Just tired. You should get more sleep." He turned back to Chiaro, studying him. No, it couldn't be his charisma—Chiaro always saw straight through it. Was it his intelligence? That might merit admiration, but affection? But Cesare didn't delude himself—apart from his looks, his charisma, and his intelligence, there was nothing attractive about him.

Chiaro shifted, clearly uncomfortable with being stared at. "Are you… upset?"

Cesare smiled a little at his worried expression. "Do I look upset?"

"Sort of."

Cesare shook his head. "I'm just confused. You're a very perplexing person."

Chiaro blinked. "I am?"

"I had a theory for your recent behavior, but I was wrong, so I'm at a loss again."

There was a pause. "I've been… acting oddly… so you thought I was sick?"

Cesare grinned and laughed a little. "Exactly. As it turns out, you're just weird."

Chiaro blinked again, looking like he wasn't sure whether he was supposed to be offended.

"Come on, let's have something for dinner. I can never eat much during official meals."

His friend gave a long-suffering sigh and followed him.