18

I Will Play for You, Querido

Mi amor. Mi vida. Te quiero tanto—te quiero, te quiero.

No te dejaré nunca.

Te prometo.

Por eso...por favor...

No me dejes, mi amor. Mi vida.

When Toni opened his eyes he had to squint. He and Romano had forgotten to close the blinds when they'd gone to bed last night, so the post-shower sunlight was rushing mercilessly into their bedroom. He blinked a few times to get accustomed to the light. He had one arm wrapped around Romano's waist, pulling him in, and the other had gone numb beneath Romano's head. Smiling and drowsy, he squeezed his waist and put his lips to Romano's neck. Romano moved just slightly, shifting the position of his legs and grabbing Toni's fingers. But Toni was surprised to realize that Romano truly was asleep. His eyes gently closed, his lips parted, his body rocking with the rhythms of his heavy breaths. Toni wasn't sure if he could recall another time when he had seen Romano sleeping this soundly. Smiling, he kissed him again. Wondering how he had managed to get so lucky that he could wake up with his arms around him.

Just as he was beginning to get accustomed to the light, he heard an unbelievably irritating vibrating sound. It was a sound he recognized, and though he was loath to get out of bed, he knew that he needed go answer his phone. After one more kiss, he gently got out of bed, being careful not to rock it so as not to wake Romano (it was so hard to get him to sleep after all). He picked up his phone, ringing on the nightstand. His heart sank when he saw the name flashing on his screen.

"Joder..."

He picked up the phone and, bringing it to his ear, left the room. Began pacing the kitchen and the living room.

"¿Sí?"

"Antonio, mi amor, ¿qué tal?"

"Ah, María..."

It was his wife, María. It was strange hearing her voice on the other end of the phone. Before Romano, it had brought him joy, a sense of companionship and comfort. But now he wasn't quite sure what to feel. Speaking to his wife while his lover slept in the other room.

"You sound tired. Did I wake you?" she asked.

"No, no, that's okay. It's nice to hear from you." It wasn't really a lie. He couldn't even convince himself that he didn't miss her, or that he wasn't glad to speak to her. But he could hear the strain in his own voice—he hoped that she couldn't.

"Where are you?"

"Taking a trip to Wales for the weekend, actually," he said. "It's nice here by the ocean."

"Oh, I bet. You're alone?"

"Mhmm."

"Make some friends, Antonio!"

"Hey, I have friends! I just needed a break, that's all."

"Okay, okay, whatever you say."

"What about you? How are you?"

"Fine, fine. Busy, as always."

"Make sure you get rest. You always work yourself too hard."

"Of course. Actually, I'll have a break next week and want to come home and see you."

"Oh, ¡estupendo!"

Suddenly, while María continued to talk, Toni heard something from inside the bedroom. Within moments, he saw a groggy and disheveled Romano appear in the doorway, rubbing his eyes and straightening his pajamas. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, mouthed with his chapped lips, Who is it?

Nadie, Toni mouthed back, shaking his head.

"Antonio, are you listening?"

"Yes, yes, I'm listening."

"Is that okay? Well, of course it's okay. It's my house too, after all."

"Claro..."

"Is everything okay? You sound distracted."

"I'm fine."

"Okay, so I'm buying my tickets...when would you be able to pick me up from the airport? What is the nearest airport, anyway? I can't remember."

Romano, stretching his arms, moved into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Scratching his stomach, looking through its contents. Yawning. He looked so beautifully unkempt and oblivious. Toni instinctively cupped the speaker, so that María couldn't hear anything that Romano was doing.

"Ah...I could pick you up from London," he said, softly.

"Sure. Why are you whispering?"

"I'm not."

"Okay?"

"Cazzo che ti fotte, doesn't this guy drink milk?" Romano grumbled. Toni couldn't completely understand what he'd said, but he assumed it was vulgar.

"Antonio? Is someone there with you?"

Toni's voice caught in his throat and his grip on the phone tightened. He glanced over his shoulder at Romano, who was looking back at him with a furrowed brow.

"No, nobody's here," he said.

What the fuck? Romano mouthed to him.

"Really?" María said. "I could've sworn I heard someone there."

"Ah, must be the neighbors..."

"Oh."

"The neighbors, eh?" Romano hissed. Without warning, he grabbed a tomato sitting on the kitchen counter and chucked it straight at Toni's head. He was able to duck beneath it just in time, hearing it slam against the fireplace. "Eh, bastard?"

"I definitely hear someone there..."

"No pasa nada, María, no pasa nada."

"Testa di cazzo!" Romano screamed.

"Okay. Well, I'll buy my tickets for next Friday—"

"A fanabla!"

"Vale, vale," he said, ducking beneath another tomato.

"I'll send you the itinerary..."

"Perfect—ai!" This time Romano threw two at once, and one of them hit Toni right in the eye.

"Figlio di puttana!"

"What is going on, Antonio?!"

"Nada, mi amor. I have to go, okay? I'll call you later."

"Vale...te amo."

"Ah...t-te amo también."

He hung up just in time to take another tomato to the face. Romano was seething, his face red and his hands clenched into fists. Toni put his phone down and, pretty much in vain, tried to wipe the tomato remnants from his face.

"That wasn't nobody, bastard!"

"No, you're right."

"It was your wife, wasn't it," he spat. His eyes glistening with tears. Toni felt like the lowest of the low. "Just a neighbor, eh?"

"Roma, please."

"Tu amor, eh? Eh?!" His lips turned into a twisted smile as he grasped at his hair, gritting his teeth. "¡Y le amas también!"

"Romano."

"¡Que te jodas, bastardo!"

Romano, still in his pajamas, stormed past Toni toward the door. He put on his jacket and stepped into his shoes and didn't bother tying them.

"Where are you going?"

"Doesn't matter. Stay the fuck away. Call your wife for company if you want. You love her, don't you?"

Toni flinched when the door slammed.

He decided to give Romano his space. If he were Romano, he would be angry, too. Though, perhaps he wouldn't have thrown five tomatoes at himself. Putting the tango music back on, he cleaned the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee. He was worried for a moment about Romano—worried that he would do something impulsive. But he forced himself to take a deep breath. He trusted Romano. He knew he wouldn't do anything rash. Or so he continued to tell himself. Alone in this house, he explored a little bit more. There wasn't much to see. He looked through the photographs that President Kirkland had in his dresser. Put in a few more records. Took some photographs of his own with the small camera he had brought with him.

But he truly began to get worried when the clock struck three and Romano still had not returned. Toni was afraid. He might have gotten lost and was now alone out there, cold and confused and angry. Toni got changed and prepared to go out and look for him. And, before he left, for some reason, he grabbed the guitar he had brought with him and slung it over his shoulder.

He found immense comfort in the fact that he knew exactly where Romano had gone, though he wasn't entirely sure how Romano would have known how to get there. Either way, Toni trusted in Romano's abilities to get where he wanted to be. He also trusted in Romano's (perhaps subconscious) desires to be found. So, guitar on his back and breathing shallow with worry, Toni made his way to the lighthouse. Thinking that he might run into Romano on the way. He didn't. When he stumbled out onto the vast cliffside overlooking the lighthouse, he saw a slender silhouette at the edge. Sitting, letting his legs dangle, picking the petals from a flower and tossing them into the ocean. It was much more calm than yesterday, with speckles of sunlight dotting the grass and illuminating the colors. Somehow, Toni had found it more beautiful beneath a screen of gray.

He didn't say anything. He silently approached the figure, and he knew that Romano knew he was there. Without a word, he put his guitar onto the earth beside him and sat down. Romano did not look at him. His gaze fixed on the waves below.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna jump or anything," he mumbled. "I wouldn't make Feli upset like that."

Toni wanted to cry he was so relieved, and scream he was so angry with himself.

"Besides, you loving some other woman really isn't a reason to jump into the ocean," he scoffed. "What a pathetic way to die that would be, eh?"

"I'm sorry, Romano."

"What're you sorry for? Don't apologize, you big stupid bastard," he said, tossing the remains of the flower over the edge. Watching them sink beneath the water's surface. "It's not like I didn't know you were married. You warned me, didn't you? At the beginning of this mess?"

"Still..."

"Just shut up already." Romano lifted his legs and hugged them to his chest. "It's not like I wasn't expecting this."

Toni's grip on the blades of grass tightened and his muscles became tense.

"Of course I knew, of course I did," he said, talking more to himself than to Toni. "That I'm nobody, that when your wife calls you have to pretend I'm a neighbor. That if someone were to ask you, someone who mattered, I'm just another one of your students. I'm not blind. I know that. I know."

His tears were silent and frail.

"So if I knew this whole time...why does it still hurt so fucking bad?" Romano smiled a dry, ironic smile. "Why do I lose my shit when you tell your wife that you love her? Why do I still want you like this? Why does it hurt so much that I can't have you all to myself?"

Toni tried to recall again why he had subjected Romano to this pain. Tried to remember what kind of justification he could have had. Why he had listened when Romano had cried in his office and said, I want you. Why hadn't he said, a stern look in his professor eyes, no? I'm married, I'm ten years older than you, I'm your professor. His heart was suffocating again and he had no idea how to save it.

"I didn't think I would want that," Romano continued. "I didn't think I would want you all to myself. I didn't think this would happen."

"We never think it will."

"But here we are. In the middle of fucking nowhere Wales, because you feel sorry for me."

"That's not true." Toni said it without hesitation. Said the words before he had even formulated them in his head. "That's not true at all."

Romano glanced over at him. Eyes glistening, lips quivering.

"You still have tomato on your face," he murmured. He reached up and wiped it from Toni's cheek.

"I didn't bring you here because I feel sorry for you," Toni said. It was clear from the unchanging expression on Romano's face that he didn't believe him. "I brought you here because...because..."

"Because you feel bad for some suicidal kid that decided he wanted to have sex with you when you told him you liked his writing," Romano finished. "That's why. I mean, I don't care. I predicted as much. You don't have to hide it."

"Stop putting words in my mouth."

"I'm just saying what I know is true."

"It's not."

"Then enlighten me," Romano said, his voice breaking. "Why the fuck do we keep doing this?"

"Because we feel it."

"You're so full of shit, you know that?"

"Look," Toni whispered. He reached over and grabbed Romano's hand, and held it between them. Cupped it in his fingers. "Do you feel the warmth here?"

"What are you talking about?"

"This fire. Burning between us. You feel it, don't you?"

"Dio mio..."

"You do, don't you, Romano? It's hot and it's dangerous, but we are like moths, drawn to it. To its passion and its warmth."

"Just shut up."

"I should have stopped it before it became this big," Toni chuckled. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have said no when you came to my office."

"So you wouldn't have to deal with this."

"No, that's not why," Toni said. He clenched Romano's trembling hands more tightly, kissed his white knuckles. "Because now I've trapped you. And you don't deserve the pain that I'm forcing upon you. I should have suffered your absence to save you from this pain. I shouldn't have been selfish."

"I asked for it. You just gave me what I wanted."

"I should have refused. Even if it hurt me."

"Do you love her, Toni?"

"I don't know."

"What the hell do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean I'm not sure. Perhaps I did at one point." He paused. "But I think that if I truly loved her, I wouldn't have followed you here."

"That's not fair to her."

"Claro."

"I'm a terrible person."

"Shh."

"I can't understand this. I can't understand you."

"Roma."

"Even though I knew it the whole time...Even though you knew it the whole time..."

"Do you like flamenco, querido?"

"What?"

"Flamenco. You were in Spain for long enough, no...?"

"I mean, I—"

"No te preocupes. I won't make you dance this time." He lightly pinched Romano's cheek with a smile.

Toni let go of Romano's hands and grabbed his guitar, because he realized that his words weren't going to be making sense anymore. He wasn't going to be able to speak. He couldn't understand how to project to Romano in words the thoughts whirring in his mind. He needed some way to translate.

"You've never played guitar for me," Romano murmured, hugging his legs again.

"You never asked," Toni winked.

He ran his fingers along the strings of the guitar, felt them coarse against his skin. The sound that emerged wasn't exactly what he had been looking for. With another smile in Romano's direction, he reached up and adjusted the strings. Ran his fingers along the strings again, until he was satisfied with the sound. Then he began.

He recalled the nights in his beautiful España, sitting in Plaza Mayor playing his guitar. Not because he needed the money or wanted the attention, but because he had felt that he could do nothing else. His fingers on the strings were nimble, his thumb still against the guitar while they moved with quick and nimble movements. Fast tempo, then slow again, his head moving unconsciously with the rhythm. He was aware of a few mistakes that he made (it had been a while since he had played a flamenco) but continued to play with a smile regardless. He wasn't sure how Romano was reacting, because he couldn't open his eyes. Couldn't lose focus on the music, its ebbing and its flows with the waves. The sunlight he felt was no longer Welsh, but Spanish. The waves he heard were the Mediterranean.

When he was sweating and his fingers hurt, he began the last segment—a continuous flow of notes up and down. A complex and difficult scale. And with a flourish of his hand, he opened his eyes and completed the piece.

Romano was leaning his cheek on his knees, gazing unflinchingly at Toni, whose face was red and whose smile was beaming.

"Sei una meraviglia," Romano murmured.

"Whenever you ask me I will play for you, querido."

"Toni."

"Dime."

"I'm really scared."

"Why?"

"Because I think I'm in love with you," he said, a sob breaking from his lips as he smiled. "And I don't know what to do about it."

Toni wasn't sure what to say. He stared, wide-eyed and teary, at Romano. This beautiful, scarred boy who was telling him that he was in love with him. Who was unapologetic and strong in his emotional convictions.

"T'amu."

That was something that Toni could have understood in any language.

"No te olvides. Mi corazón es tuyo," Toni said. He managed a shaky smile, pounding his hand against his heart. "Even if I call my wife and tell her I love her...even if it's hard and we are burning in these flames...even if you were to decide that you hate me...I am yours. Ahora y para siempre."

"All of you?"

"All of me," he murmured. "Every last bit of me is in love with you, Lovino Vargas. Mi inspiración. Mi tesoro."

"What now?" Romano whispered. "I'm terrified."

Toni began to play his guitar again. He knew that Romano would recognize it.

"Bésame...bésame mucho," he sang. Romano smiled and a combination of a laugh and a sob escaped his lips. "Como si fuera esta noche la última vez."

Romano began to sing with him. His voice shaky and cracking but dripping with passion.

"Bésame...bésame mucho. Que tengo miedo a perderte, perderte después."

Bésame mucho, querido.

Baciami molto, caro mio.

Te quiero.

T'amu.

I am yours.

excuse me while I go listen to "Bésame Mucho" on repeat for the next ten hours

nos vemos

Translations:

joder=fuck. generally only used in Spain.

qué tal=what's up?

Nadie=nobody

Cazzo che ti fotte (Italian)=roughly translates to 'what the fuck'

No pasa nada (Spanish)=it's nothing

testa di cazzo (Italian)=dickhead

a fanabla=go to hell

figlio de puttana=son of a whore

te amo también (Spanish)=I love you, too

T/N: 'te quiero' and 'te amo' both mean "I love you," but 'te quiero' is a bit more common, and 'te amo' is a bit more serious (I think)

y le amas también!=and you love her, too!

que te jodas=go fuck yourself

Sei una meraviglia (Italian)=you're amazing

T'amu (Sicilian)=I love you

Ahora y para siempre (Spanish)=now and forever