“Yeah, and—”
“You didn’t have to be here, though.” Corrado made a noise under his breath, adding, “We told you that, but you decided to stay. I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”
“It’s not about being here.”
“I think it is.”
“Corrado—”
“I don’t know what else to tell you, Chris. You chose to stay. This is what it means.”
Chris made a disgusted sound. “Fuck all of this.”
Something crashed against the floor—a metal ting ringing out—before a few seconds later, Chris came flying out of the room where he and Corrado had been working for a good portion of the afternoon. Alessio, leaning against the wall because he’d figured it was better not to interrupt the brothers and their work, avoided Chris’s gaze when he came storming out. Not that it made much of a difference, as he still saw the glare Chris threw his way before he passed him by without as much as a hello.
Alessio wasn’t offended.
He didn’t know much—if anything at all—about Corrado’s twin, and not really for a lack of interest. There simply wasn’t a lot of time here to bother with making friends. At least, not during that first year, unless someone was training you with a partner, or to be part of a team. Then, it was pertinent that you became friends with the person who you would be forced to trust with your life at one point or another.
It was strange, in a way, how he could easily pick out the differences between Chris and Corrado, and without much effort at all, too. But everyone else seemed more interested in finding all the things that made them exactly the same.
Alessio liked what made them unique.
He waited until Chris rounded the corner at the end of the corridor before he pushed away from the wall. Coming to stand in the doorway of the room where the two had been working, Alessio quickly found Corrado in the room.
Sitting at a large metal table, surrounded by dismantled pieces of several guns, Corrado stared hard at the wall, lost in his thoughts. His brow, dipped in concentration, knotted further before he shook his head. Still, he kept staring like he wasn’t willing to get back to work.
This was meant to be a fun task, too, for the most part. Or rather, something that most prospects enjoyed. Getting set in front of a mess of dismantled weapons and being told to figure out what went with what was a hell of a lot easier than getting the shit beat out of you in the gym, after all.
“Problem?”
Corrado’s head swung around at Alessio’s question. He leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest, and gave the man across the space a look. A silent, well?
“You spy a lot,” Corrado muttered. “People don’t like that, you know?”
Alessio shrugged. “Keeps me in the loop.”
“Well, stop.”
Probably not.
He didn’t tell Corrado that.
“What’s going on? That’s the first time I’ve seen Chris get that pissed here.”
And it wasn’t like the other Guzzi twin didn’t have a reason to get mad at The League. Everyone here had one reason or another to get pissed at someone or something. That was the whole point of this goddamn place—to push one’s limits to the breaking point, and then beyond.
“It’s nothing,” Corrado muttered, and then, he held up a tiny spring, “is this for the AR or the AK?”
Alessio arched a brow. “Neither.”
“Fuck.”
Corrado threw the spring back to the table, clearly disgusted that he’d been wrong. Folding his arms over the white T-shirt stretched across his chest, he glared at the many pieces he still had left on the table. No one ever told them how many guns were on the table, but it became obvious once someone started counting the clips and magazines.
Usually six to seven. All in as many little bits as they could be broken down into so that it could be more challenging. Little nuts and everything. Yeah, it was like a whole puzzle.
But with guns.
“Are you avoiding what that was all about with your brother because you’re in a mood, or ...?”
Corrado glanced up, his brow furrowing as he took Alessio in again. “No.”
“You sure?”
Because wouldn’t that be typical Corrado?
Alessio figured so.
Corrado shook his head, dropping Alessio’s stare as he reached for more parts to begin his task again. Negative reinforcement was a popular tactic at The League—this task wasn’t any different than the others. So, if he didn’t get those guns put together, now made more difficult by the fact he was doing it alone, then he was going to be here all night.
No dinner.
No bed.
No sleeping.
Nothing.
He would be here until he finished.
That’s how it worked.
Alessio didn’t miss that Corrado was quick to work, though. That he didn’t care he’d been left alone to do the task, or that he would probably be here for a few more hours because of it, either. He didn’t complain; he simply got to work.
That meant good things.
“Chris is in a different place than me,” Corrado muttered as he eyed a small clip. “That’s all. He came here with intentions that were way different from mine, and they’re catching up to him. It’s not about me, or even him ... it just is what it is.”
Alessio tipped his head to the side, considering that. “Because he stayed here for you, and you joined because—”
His words cut off, and he realized then that, in fact, he had no idea why Corrado chose to join The League as a new prospect. He’d never thought to ask. Then again, there was a lot he never asked a guy he now regularly woke up to sleeping next to him in bed, or even, found him waiting for Alessio when he went back to his rooms at night.
It seemed like that was just how the two of them transitioned. All it took was a moment in Alessio’s rooms a month ago, and the next day, shit was different. Or, that’s how it started, with different things between them, until the two of them found a routine that worked for them in their private, quiet moments. They didn’t talk about shit—they just did it. Alessio liked it that way, and he suspected Corrado did, too. Otherwise, they wouldn’t keep doing it.
As for everyone else ...
If someone noticed, they didn’t say.
Dare never mentioned it to Alessio, and neither did Cree, but that wasn’t unusual, either. As long as no one was being forced to do something, and it didn’t affect what was happening at The League, they were willing to let whatever happen.
“Why’d you stop talking?” Corrado asked.
“I just realized, I never asked you why you joined.”
Sure, he heard the things Corrado’s father said in Dare’s office that first night. Corrado and his twin had made passing comments. But he never outright asked, and got the information from Corrado.
“And you know, that there’s a lot of other shit I don’t ask you about you ... or your life away from here,” Alessio added.
Corrado looked up from the table again. “You want my life story, or ...?”
He gave him a look.
Corrado replied in kind.
Rolling his eyes, Alessio muttered, “It was just a thought, that’s all.”
Corrado went back to work, seemingly pleased with himself when he found the right barrel for a specific body piece he’d been tinkering with for a couple of minutes. “Ha, fucking piece of shit, I got it.”