24

Let Me Get Your Medicine, 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.

Toni, to his own surprise, was able to hide very well from María that he was having an affair (though he still despised using that term to describe his much more complex relationship with Romano) for the entire two weeks that she was visiting. Although, he couldn't credit his own actions or abilities. Romano had apparently taken it upon himself to create distance. He didn't come to Toni's office at all in those two weeks, and he skipped class, as well. He only occasionally answered Toni's text messages, with terse responses making it clear that he wanted his distance. For which Toni couldn't at all blame him. He tried to put himself in Romano's shoes and couldn't imagine the terrible weight he was carrying. As much as Toni had tried to keep Romano from feeling it, he knew exactly what was going through his head: I'm just second best, I'm a burden to him, I'm ruining his marriage. So he was creating the distance that he believed Toni wanted.

But Toni felt empty and alone when, in the afternoons that he spent in his office, Romano wasn't there. It was the opposite of what he wanted. He wished, instead, that Romano came to sleep at his window. Even if he didn't say a single word or allow a single touch, Toni wanted to be near him. See his face in the waning winter sunlight. He realized in Romano's absence how unaccustomed to loneliness he was. His office was unnaturally empty. He found, yet again, that he could not write for the life of him. There was too much brightness, too much silence, too much warmth in his office. His fingers and his mind lost their ability to coordinate without the storm in which Romano constantly bathed him. But most frightening of all was the abrupt sense of a lack of purpose. It was unexpected and it was profound and he hated himself for it.

Toni was, in a terrifying sense, dependent on Romano's dependence.

He wanted something to protect, something to shield, something fragile and weak to carry on his back. María was not dependent on him, not like Romano was. She had her life, her ambitions, and he had his.

He could not fathom that there was such selfishness in him. Such conceit to think, He needs me. And I need to be needed.

But that couldn't be all of it, could it? The entirety of his feelings for Romano?

No, because that wouldn't explain the elation he felt on the rare occasions that Romano laughed. It wouldn't explain the fire erupting on the surface of his skin, in the spots where Romano touched him. It wouldn't explain all the sketches he wrote about every single detail of his face, his body, his soul as he'd shown it to Toni's hungry eyes. Sketches about the raspiness in his voice after half a pack of cigarettes or just waking up. Sketches about the coarseness of his hair and how he just couldn't take care of it. Sketches about the freckles dotting his skin and the old, beautiful scars that told stories on his hunched back. At the peaks of his loneliness, Toni wrote down every insult he could remember Romano hurling at him and translated them so that he could recreate Romano's angry, childish voice in his head and laugh.

He wondered if the man who'd given Romano those scars could map them out the way that Toni could.

One night, while they were drinking tea and sitting in bed, María asked if she could read the doodles in his notebook.

"I want to know what you write about all the time," she smiled. A very pure-hearted smile.

"I don't know...they're very rough drafts."

"Maybe I could even help you," she teased, pulling down lightly on his ear. He smiled and gave her the notebook—a second notebook that he had started using purely for his novel brainstorming, thankful that he hadn't used Romano's name even once. He curled up beneath the covers while she flipped through the pages, smiling softly, sipping her tea. He looked up at her and remembered being inspired by her beauty upon their first meeting.

"You get more talented every time you put pen to paper," she sighed. "The story about the Spanish general and the Sicilian child..."

"Do you like the idea? I want it to be my next novel."

"I love the idea. It's very magical."

"I'm still not sure how I would end it."

She put the notebook on the nightstand and curled up beside him, grabbing his hand and holding it to her chest.

"I think you should kill the Sicilian boy in the end."

"Kill him?!" Toni cried. He felt utter terror take root in his soul. "Dios mío, why?"

"It would be a tragic and poetic ending for the general, no?" she continued. "He dedicates his life and his love to protecting this child, after all the terrible things he's done, only for the boy to die in the end."

"And the general notices all his sins collecting at his heels."

"Exactly."

"Maybe you should write it, huh, María?" he winked. She smiled and kissed the tip of his nose, while he prayed that she couldn't hear the skips and jumps of his constricted, fearful heart.

"Hey, Antonio, I've been meaning to ask."

"Dime."

"Why don't you wear your wedding ring?"

The day before María's departure to Greece, in between his classes, Toni went to visit President Kirkland in his office at the old main building.

There were two reasons for his visit. One was that President Kirkland always insisted that if Toni ever needed help, he could come to him. The other was that Toni couldn't stop remembering the rumors that Gilbert had mentioned. About Arthur Kirkland being involved with a student. Though Toni certainly didn't know President Kirkland as well as François did, he didn't find it to be a terribly farfetched idea.

"Ah, Antonio. Please come in."

"Gracias." Toni gave an anxious smile and sat in a large armchair opposite Arthur's grandiose mahogany desk. He looked as regal as ever, back straight and hair coiffed and everything absurdly clean. He had bookshelves filled from top to bottom, the books organized by subject. The office was simply and tastefully decorated, with a Persian rug, Chinese vases, and a plethora of international souvenirs and trinkets along the shelves and on his desk. And, as expected, there was a teapot on his desk next to a Queen Elizabeth bobble head. It was all very British.

"I can't say I wasn't surprised to receive your message," he mused. "But I am, of course, happy to meet with you all the same. Tea?"

"Yes, please."

"Earl Grey all right?"

"Of course."

"Wonderful." Arthur smiled and poured the tea into his beautiful cups. He handed one to Toni. "Now then. How can I help you?"

"I...well, I wanted some advice," Toni began. He wasn't used to hearing his own voice tremble. He took a sip of tea.

"Something the matter?"

"Yes, actually," Toni sighed. Arthur raised his eyebrows and gestured for Toni to continue. "Bueno, I'm worried about one of my students."

"Ah, I see."

"I think that he's very bright, and very talented. But he's come to me with some very deeply rooted issues."

"Your reaction?"

"Well, I'm trying to help, but...I'm worried that I'm hurting more than helping." Toni needed a way to disguise the true issues.

"How so?"

"How should I put this," Toni mumbled. "I don't want him to become dependent on me for help. I don't want to keep him from reaching a point where he can simply depend on himself. Does that make sense?"

"Certainly, certainly." Arthur grabbed the handle of his cup, but did not drink from it. "It is dangerous for people of that age to become overly dependent. Not to mention the burden that kind of dependency places on you."

"No," Toni snapped reflexively. Arthur blinked at him in surprise. "It's not a burden. Not at all. I want to help him as much as I can."

"I see..."

"Lo siento. I didn't mean to snap at you, President."

"Not at all," he smiled, "but I do think I see the problem now."

"You do?"

"Yes." Arthur drank from his tea and clasped his hands together atop the desk. "Your fear is the student being too dependent on your assistance. I'm sorry to say it, but it seems that you may have an issue of dependence as well, old boy."

"That's what I was afraid you'd say," Toni laughed dryly.

"It's perfectly normal. We all like to feel needed. It's inherently human." Arthur reached up and began to tinker with a miniature American flag on his desk, and a faraway look took over his emerald eyes. "But we have to be terribly careful. Otherwise we begin to trap those who needed us in the first place. As much as we love to feel depended on, we tend to let that lead to putting those who depend on us in danger of losing themselves. Eventually, we may reach the point where we believe people need us when, in reality, they don't."

"How can you tell when you're at that point?" Toni murmured, hands shaking and heart in his throat.

"It can be difficult to tell, no doubt about that," Arthur sighed. "It's the point where even they are convinced that they're dependent on you, and can't imagine another way of living."

Arthur Kirkland looked up into Toni's eyes, and Toni understood then that Arthur could see straight through him.

"I just want to do whatever I can to help him," he said quietly.

"A potential course of action depends on the relationship. I wish I could give more specific advice, but I'm not aware of the nature of your relationship with this student," Arthur said. Lying through his teeth, but tactful about it. "One option might be distance."

"But...how do I know that won't just hurt him more?"

"I suppose you can't know that. Though I would advise that you not confuse your own desires with what you think are his."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think it's intentional at all, if this is the case, but you cannot be selfish about this sort of thing. If distance is what he needs, even if it's not what you want, then you should give him distance."

"Ah."

"It's painful. And it's not fair. I know," Arthur continued. He was still tinkering with the American flag. Staring at it. "But we need to do what's best in the long run. If it means short term pain, for the ultimate benefit of each other, wouldn't that be preferable?"

"I suppose."

"Even the student may not understand. He may be confused and angry. But you must remember: you are the professor, and he the student. As much as he, or even you, may believe otherwise, you are much wiser. You have much more experience. You understand more than he does. You...ultimately, you know what's best better than he does. Do what's best for him."

Toni knew then that the rumors were not true.

At least, not completely.

"You may have to make sacrifices for his benefit," Arthur said. "I'm sorry, Antonio, but it will hurt. It will hurt terribly."

"Isn't that what it means to be a professor in the first place?" Toni said with a smile. "Making sacrifices for your students?"

Arthur smiled back, releasing the flag and lifting his teacup.

"Right you are, my friend. Right you are."

Romano still didn't respond to any of Toni's messages over the weekend. Toni, in his inherent optimism, gave him his space. María was gone, on a plane to Greece. But Toni still felt the heaviness of her presence. It was weighing him down, as much as he tried to ignore it.

He was in his office on Monday afternoon, at his window, taking his siesta. The entire office was dark and grim, and he couldn't remember the last time he had felt this exhausted. He was in that strange place, that dimension between sleep and wakefulness, staring at the spinning, blurry ceiling. When the knock came at his door, it startled him so much that he nearly fell.

"Y-yes? Come in," he called.

In all honesty, he hadn't been expecting it to be Romano. So when he saw his familiar face appear at the doorway, saw his frail frame walking into his office, he felt filled to the brim with emotion.

"Romano!" He sat up on his elbows, about to get up. But without a word, before Toni could make another move, Romano walked up and climbed onto him, resting his head against Toni's chest and intertwining their legs. Toni fell back down and held Romano as tightly against him as he could. Even he had been unaware of how desperate he was to feel Romano's touch. To feel his body fitting into the mold of his arms.

"Mi amor. Te extrañaba."

"¿En serio?"

"Claro."

They took their siesta together, making sure that the door was locked and they were shrouded in sufficient darkness.

They didn't talk about María. And Toni didn't tell Romano about his meeting with President Kirkland. Toni needed time to work out the conflicting emotions inside him and fully understand what he was meant to do. But at that particular moment, he couldn't fathom the idea of being without Romano. So he let things run their course. Things went back to how they'd been before María. Falling deeper and deeper in love. Toni, in all his years of romance and drama and passion, had never felt a love like this. Nothing had ever even come close. He had never felt something so strongly with every fiber of his being, every inch of his soul.

The winter holidays were coming up.

"Are you doing anything for the holidays, Roma?"

Romano had come down with a bit of a cold. He wasn't used to this kind of weather. He was sitting on Toni's couch, holding a cup of hot chocolate and wrapped in a blanket.

"Going back to Sicily," he grumbled, his voice hoarse. "Back to Palermo."

"Ah, how nice. Are you excited? "

Toni put on some opera, which, as he learned recently, Romano loved, and dimmed the lights. The only opera he even owned was Carmen. He sat down on the couch beside Romano and put his arm around his shoulders, kissed his feverish cheek, held him close.

"I guess. At least I'll be able to eat something other than fish and chips and your stupid paella."

"You don't like my paella? That hurts," Toni teased. He ruffled Romano's hair and kissed him again. He looked very cozy, nestled in his blanket and holding his mug and letting Toni's arms wrap earnestly around him.

"Feliciano is coming with me, actually," Romano said quietly.

"Oh?"

"He doesn't want to go back to Rome. He wants to come see Sicily with me. I don't know why."

"Well...why not?"

"His home and his family are in Rome. His heart is there—I know it is."

"But you're his family, too, no?"

Romano looked up from his mug into Toni's eyes, and his lips pursed. Curling into that frown that was too often on his lips. He opened his mouth, as if he was about to say something, but he closed it again and looked away. Silent as Toni twirled a lock of his hair between his fingers and worried about the day that Romano would no longer be next to him.

"At least he's not bringing the stupid potato with him," Romano sighed.

"Potato...?"

"This German bastard who likes to hang around Feli. I can't stand him."

"Dios mío, Romanito, can you stand anybody?"

"No."

"Not even me?"

"Especially not you, asshole."

"Ai, mi corazón..."

"You're so full of shit."

"And still you put up with me! How generous of you, querido."

Toni gave Romano a large, exaggerated hug, swaying and blowing raspberries against his cheek and neck.

"Oi, stop it!"

"¡Que te quiero!"

"Let go of me, you big jerk!"

And, even though Toni was smothering Romano's face against his chest, he could hear the laughter trembling on Romano's voice, and it was almost enough to bring tears to his eyes. As he held his Romano, his beautiful and scarred young lover, he tried not to think about what Arthur Kirkland had said to him. And he tried not to think about the conclusions to which he himself was coming. He couldn't bear to think that maybe, just maybe, this relationship wasn't what Romano needed. Maybe this relationship wasn't what Toni needed.

Maybe Toni wasn't enough for Romano.

"Romano?"

"What?"

"Te quiero tanto," he said. "¿Me crees?"

"Nun lu saccio."

"Vale. Have you taken your medicine today?"

"Which?" he scoffed. "For my cold, or for my fucked up head?"

"For your cold and for your lovely, inspirational head," Toni said. He pulled away and looked into Romano's eyes, put his thumbs against their wet corners and watched the shadows play in their amber lights.

"Neither."

"Let me get your medicine, querido. In your bag?"

"Mhmm."

Toni got up from the couch and began to walk toward the door, where Romano had discarded his backpack. But before he could take another step, he felt Romano tug his sleeve.

"Wait, Toni."

"Dime, cariño."

"I...I love you, too."

Toni blinked the tears from his eyes, but couldn't ignore the British voice in his head.

"I'm sorry, Antonio, but it will hurt. It will hurt terribly."

He kissed Romano's fingers and got his medicine for him.

Translations:

te extrañaba (Spanish)=I missed you

mi corazón=my heart

que te quiero=how I love you!

me crees?=do you believe me?

nun lu saccio (Sicilian)=I don't know