He dropped the tongs in the oil-filled frying pan. Cursed, and retrieved them, burning his fingers, again. At first he’d been numb to the pain, but not anymore. Everything hurt now, old wounds and new. The scar on his head throbbed, his damaged ear buzzed, and despair lanced his heart so hard his knees went weak.
The cafe door opened and closed. Luis mechanically cooked the orders in front of him. Paolo collected the plates. Luis hyper-focused on scraping the grill and didn’t look up until he realised no new order slips had appeared. He didn’t need to turn around to know the cafe was empty.
He glanced at the clock. It was a little after two. What the fuck? But he sensed Paolo’s presence behind him before his brain thought of an answer.
Again, Paolo didn’t touch him. Luis spun to face him to find he wasn’t close enough to reach. He was sat at the table by the door, his lovely face twisted into the same suspicion he’d thrown at Luis the first time he’d opened the cafe door. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“What?”
Paolo slammed his hand down on the table. “Don’t fucking do that.”
“Do what?”
Paolo stood with a screech of his chair on the tiled floor, and he was in Luis’s face before Luis could blink. “Don’t come at me with this bullshit that you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve been acting weird since your brother showed up, now there’s gang graffiti everywhere and you expect me to believe there’s nothing going on?”
“There isn’t graffiti everywhere. There’s one thing outside, and you said it yourself it was probably kids.”
“That was before I knew what it was and realised we saw three of them on our way here this morning.”
“It was dark this morning.”
“Street lamps exist, mate. And this is a city, not a remote village in the mountains.”
That morning, like every morning, Luis had been too engrossed in how it felt to hold Paolo’s hand to concentrate on his surroundings. They could’ve walked to the moon and back and he wouldn’t have noticed. “I didn’t see anything.”
“Even if that’s true, you saw the one outside, and you know what it means. I know you do; I saw it in your face when that woman told me.”
“Oh yeah? What else did you see in my face? Cos you seem to think it’s the fucking oracle.”
“Don’t get tricky with me. I know you’re freaking out about something. What did Dante want when he came in?”
“He didn’t want anything. If you’re so observant, you’d have seen that he didn’t eat anything.”
“Exactly. He came to see you. Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.” Paolo’s voice rose to a shout by the end of his sentence, and his anger made him impossibly hotter. His cheeks were flushed, and his dark eyes blazed. In any other circumstance, Luis would’ve jumped him, rolled him to the floor, and fucked him right there, but his scrutiny scared Luis more than Dante did.
“He didn’t want anything specific. Just likes winding me up, I’ve told you that before.”
“Have you?”
“Yeah. Maybe you’re the one who needs your fucking hearing checked.”
Luis pushed past Paolo and stormed into the kitchen, trying to remember if he had told Paolo that particular snippet of joy about Dante. They talked a lot, sometimes without Luis realising it was happening, and he’d shared so much with Paolo that it had become a blur. You should’ve kept your mouth shut. For all the good it would’ve done him. Paolo hadn’t needed Luis’s confession to know Dante was bad news.
On cue, Paolo barrelled through the kitchen door. “I don’t need my hearing checked to know you’re losing your mind about something. Do you think I’m asleep when you spend all night staring at the ceiling? That I haven’t noticed you’re lost in your own head every night you come home and don’t talk to me for hours on end? What have I ever done to make you think my head is up my arse so far that I don’t give a fuck what’s going on with you?”
Paolo had never done anything to make Luis think he didn’t care, and that was the problem. He cared so much Luis couldn’t hide from him, and that was why this shit had to end. Why he had to get as far away from Paolo as possible before he kicked down Luis’s walls and dragged everything out of him.
Tell him you love him.
Luis shook his head to clear it. Where had that come from? He needed to tell Paolo they couldn’t see each other anymore. That Luis couldn’t work at the cafe and sleep in Paolo’s bed. Not that he was so in love with him that he couldn’t see himself surviving what he had to do next. “I—”
Paolo cut him off with a growl and shoved him hard enough to make him sway on his feet. “Don’t. Whatever deflective rubbish you’re about to come out with, just don’t. Tell me the truth or don’t fucking bother. This is my life too. My business your brother is fucking with to get to you. Why can’t you just talk to me? Tell me what’s going on in your head?”
Something inside Luis snapped. He moved so fast he had Paolo pinned against the wall before he knew what he was doing. “Why do you want to know what’s going on in my head? Do you think it belongs to you because I suck your dick? Is that where this is going? You think you can fucking control me?”
Paolo’s gaze was wildfire and something else that Luis was too far gone to contemplate. “I don’t want to control you. I want to help you.”
“Why? So you can mould me to fit your world instead of mine? Do you think it’s that easy?”
“None of this is easy, Luis. I just want to understand.”
“You don’t want to understand. You want to know everything. That isn’t the same.”
“Isn’t it? Not everyone has an agenda.” Paolo fought Luis’s hold on him. He was strong, but Luis was stronger, and he kicked out in frustration, catching Luis’s shin with his boot.
The pain opened the gate. Every ounce of fear and despair burst through, and Luis clenched his fists. He pulled his arm back and punched the wall behind Paolo’s head. His fist broke through the plasterboard, leaving a hole by Paolo’s ear. His knuckles erupted, blood seeping to the surface of his broken skin. Beige dust from the wall littered Paolo’s hair. It should’ve been enough to bring him back to his senses, but it wasn’t. Rage still flowed through his veins like lava, and he couldn’t think straight.
Luis leaned closer to Paolo, close enough that they could’ve kissed. “Everyone has an agenda, cos every fucker’s out for themself. Sooner you learn that, the sooner you can be done with my shit.”
He backed off, every physical disconnect a bullet to his heart. His feet hit the back door.
Paolo stepped forward. “Luis—”
But Luis was already gone. He ripped the door open and fled, pounding the busy streets in the pouring rain until he found himself on the dilapidated street he called home. Wet through and breathless, he stopped and doubled over, shock and cold slamming into him like a sucker punch. What have I done? Paolo hadn’t flinched at Luis’s flying fists, but the damage to the wall was the same as if Luis had punched him in the face. The cafe was everything to him, to his family, and Luis had brought trouble to their door. He was the fucking trouble. Paolo had been right about him from the start.