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Chapter Text

After turning into an acclaimed surgeon all around the city of Rome, Cioccolata had felt like as if his life had become complete.

He’d had everything he wanted: a husband that loved him, a daughter who adored them both, a large and splendrous home, and the job of his dreams. His younger self would’ve never thought he’d make it that far, not even with his impeccable grades and polite attitude. The forlorn dreams of a 14-year old Cioccolata had become true, mostly thanks to his family’s own riches, but also because of his arduous studies.

Diavolo and Cioccolata, possibly the most intimidating couple in all of Rome, had then met at the ripe age of 24, quickly becoming enthralled with each other. They had then dated for some years, before it developed into an expensive and glorious marriage at the age of 27, while traveling to another country.

On top of that, they’d had an adorable daughter by the name of Vaniglia, born around a year later, after much meditation from both parts. With their combined wealth, they had ensured Vaniglia’s upbringing to be the greatest it could be, signing her up to the most endorsed kindergarten, and then to a private school.

Through the following six years, Cioccolata would be the happiest, most joyous he’d ever been. He’d become one of the most recognized doctors all around the country, and his husband Diavolo had been a distinguished architectural manager. Their beloved Vaniglia had been making good progress on her education, and it seemed like nothing could stop this cycle of happiness and good news from continuing.

Eventually, Diavolo stopped enjoying being around Cioccolata.

The doctor could only guess that Diavolo had fallen out of love. Otherwise, he found no possible explanation as to why Diavolo’s behavior had shifted from that of a firm individual to a gloomy one. Almost as if Diavolo had gotten tired of him, and of little Vaniglia.

It had begun when Diavolo had taken a week off at his birthplace on Sardinia, claiming that he had feelings to consider. Cioccolata had understood it; he’d acknowledged his husband’s feelings, and thus had explained to Vaniglia that, sometimes, her dad needed some time for himself. She’d done her best to understand, despite having been a pampered 5-year old for whom the concept of a romantic relationship meant nothing.

Weeks passed, and then months, and then a full year. The same year that Vaniglia had turned 6 years old, Cioccolata’s deepest fears had been confirmed.

Diavolo had sat down to talk to him, and had asked for a divorce.

******

It had now been a good six months since Diavolo and Cioccolata’s divorce. They hadn’t talked once ever since. Thus, it was unknown how Diavolo felt about their former relationship, nor how he felt about their divorce, or whether he still wanted to see Vaniglia.

Cioccolata, however, knew how he felt himself.

The divorce had left him with an emptiness the likes he’d never experienced before. It was indescribable, and it had crept into his very soul to stay, almost like it were a curse. Desolation gnawed at his heart, tearing it apart, this phenomenon repeating itself day by day; not even his beloved daughter’s presence could save him. Cioccolata felt like he was trapped in a box with the darkest and most macabre of his feelings. To him, there was no exiting that box.

Despite that, he coped the best he could, by covering these feelings with a tender smile and a soft expression, and just pretending they didn’t exist. Cioccolata still attended his patients with utmost excellence, and walked his daughter to school each day, kissing her cheek before leaving for work. He forced himself to forget about Diavolo and their separation right before each of his operations, and carried them with splendor.

But Cioccolata knew better than anyone that, one day, the monument which he’d built to avoid his curse would come tumbling down. He knew it better than anyone. He knew that he would break down and beg for someone to save him, only for nobody to come and grab his wrist. He knew his professional image would be eventually taken over by the darkness which he’d allowed inside himself.

Until then, all he had to do was to put on a merry expression and pretend everything was right.

“Papà, where are we going?”

Cioccolata’s yearning was interrupted by the words of his dear daughter, Vaniglia. She’d inherited Diavolo’s eyes and freckles, and Cioccolata’s green hair as well. The doctor both loved and abhorred the sight of her eyes; it reminded him too much of the life which he’d lost.

“We’re going to the local swimming pool, sweetie,” he said, holding her small hand as they walked through the city. The pool wasn’t far away from their home, and Cioccolata had always recommended walks to improve one’s life. Just doctor things. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I’d like you to take swimming lessons.”

“But I can already swim,” Vaniglia pouted. “And, besides, we have a pool at home. You could just hire some boy to teach me.”

“Yes, you can swim, if you’re wearing a floatie. Remove it, and you’ll sink.”

“There’s a girl in my class who plays the piano. Why do I have to swim? Why can’t I learn the piano?”

“Well, the piano is never a bad idea. But it just so happens that your dad has decided you’ll be taking swimming lessons. I’ve been reading some reviews, and they seem to have an exceptional teacher this year.”

Vaniglia turned to her father, intrigued. “Exceptional? Is he good?”

“That’s up to you to decide,” Cioccolata smiled back at his daughter. “Who knows? You could end up making some friends if more kids decide to sign up.”

“You are the one who needs friends, papà.”

Vaniglia wasn’t wrong: he’d made very few friends while dating Diavolo, most of them being his exes’ co-workers and other contacts. Cioccolata wasn’t much of an extrovert himself, having preferred to work on his own from an early age, something which had noticeably affected his social skills.

His strange face paint, makeup, earrings and hairstyle didn’t help at all. Many of his own co-workers were hesitant about speaking to him due to that, and due to his unmatched surgical skills as well. He saw nothing wrong with this, as he preferred to keep a distance from his fellow nurses and his patients.

The surgeon sighed as he entered the building along his daughter, ogling at the other parents that had brought their own children to such a place. He could make out a swimming pool from one of the doors behind the counter, and he saw some folded leaflets placed on the counter. Cioccolata grabbed one of those out of curiosity, before reading it through and through to further inform himself about the lessons.

After giving it a good read, Cioccolata left the leaflet back where it was, only to notice that a freckled, red-haired man had placed himself behind the counter.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“O-Oh yes,” Cioccolata stuttered. “I was wondering about these swimming lessons… I’d like to sign up my child for these lessons, but I don’t know. Do I have to fill some sort of document?”

The man acquired a stack of papers from his desk, along with a pen. He placed them above the desk as Cioccolata watched.

“Here you go. You have to write in your child’s name and information, and then the parents’ information as… Wait.”

“What now?”

The man rose an eyebrow, bewildered. “I think I went to scuola secundaria with you. Are you, by some chance, Cioccolata?”

Cioccolata’s middle school memories came back to him like an endless stream, his lips curving into a smile as he recalled the man who had once been his best friend during his youth.

“Squalo?”

The red-haired man let out a stressed sigh as he looked away from Cioccolata, clicking his tongue afterwards. “I can’t believe that you of all people have a child.”

“Contrary to what you may think, I’m a decent parent. How long has it been since we last met, by the way? Sixteen years? I think we haven’t met ever since we graduated.”

“We can talk later. Go fill up that piece of paper, please. There’s people waiting.”

Cioccolata’s smile stayed on his lips for longer than he thought. He filled the papers quickly, attempting to make his handwriting as comprehensive as possible, to counteract the effects his medical career had had on his calligraphy.

At the same time, he evoked more and more memories from school. All the pranks which he’d pulled along Squalo during their younger years, their simultaneous coming out, being a top student amongst his class, and that one summer he’d spent working at a nursing home. Especially that summer. He still couldn’t believe how fast his opinion on the elderly had shifted from a negative one to a positive one.

“Here,” he smirked as he handed Squalo the sheet, looking smug as ever. “I also meant to ask something else…”

“What?”

“I’ve heard that there’s going to be some sort of special teacher coming here. Do you perhaps know who he is? I’m just curious, that’s all.”

Squalo stared at him with disbelief. “You don’t know who it is? Man, don’t you watch TV?”

“I mean, I just heard about these swimming lessons. Also, I’m pretty busy with my job and my daughter already. I don’t have time to watch television.”

“He competed in the 2012 Olympics! You should at least have heard of him. Not that he got the best result. He landed up 5th on his category. And he was up against Phelps of all people.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“But papà doesn’t watch the Olympics,” Vaniglia interrupted, pulling Cioccolata’s shirt.

“You weren’t even born when the 2012 Olympics took place,” Cioccolata smiled at her, before looking back at Squalo. “Anyway, Vani, let’s leave. Dad needs to get back to work.”

“Damn,” Squalo cursed, frowning as he rose his voice. “Are you really going to leave without having seen the teacher?”

Cioccolata turned around before he left the building, and, in the midst of all the people waiting to sign up, as well as his high school friend, saw someone whom he’d never forget.

In a short flash, a short, bulky man exited the small hall leading to the pool, his toned body wet from all the swimming he’d done. He was wearing nothing but a pair of sandals and a skin-tight swimsuit, carrying a small towel with himself, and he stopped as soon as he left the hall, looking at the entire crowd surrounding him. His tanned skin highlighted his large, purple eyes, and his bleached hair had fallen victim to the water he’d swam on earlier.

As soon as he showed up, the whole crowd of parents and children around him ceased speaking, and the building turned silent. The mob stared at him as if they’d witnessed a deity come from Heaven, and so did Cioccolata, albeit unknowingly. He ignored all of Vaniglia’s pleas to head back home as he, too, stared in awe at the man’s figure.

Squalo greeted him with a smirk. “Good to see you’re still in shape, Secco,”

“I’m still a little rusty, y’know,” the enigmatic man replied, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just been too long since I’ve touched the pool. Also, did you tell that guy when the classes begin?”

“That was in the leaflet, I think. If anything, I’ll call him later to let him know.”

Cioccolata wondered if they had lessons for adults.

Chapter Text

Secco.

Secco, Secco, Secco.

That name had left the sweetest of tastes on Cioccolata’s lips. So sweet, that the doctor had been unable to stop thinking about him for an entire week.

To Cioccolata, having seen Secco for the first time had been almost like seeing an angel descend from Heaven. To say that he couldn’t get Secco’s image out of his mind wouldn’t be exaggerating.

The doctor had become enamoured by his purple eyes and by the round shape of his face, by his perfectly trained shape, by his raspy, stuttery-sort of voice, by the way he’d walked out of the hall, by everything. Cioccolata couldn’t remember feeling that way about anyone, not even Diavolo.

And it’s that Cioccolata had become so enthralled by Secco, despite having seen him for a mere couple of seconds, that it had begun to pry on his actual life. He would sometimes zone out while speaking to his co-workers at the hospital, and he’d ever become distracted while talking to his daughter’s teachers during important reunions.

This situation, while rather silly, had slowly gone out of hand. So much, that even Vaniglia herself, naive as she was regarding romantic topics, had started worrying about her dad.

“You’re not eating your dinner, papà,” she said, pointing towards Cioccolata’s food. “Are you not hungry? It’s going to get cold.”

Cioccolata snapped after hearing her words, quickly holding his fork as to not make her worry too much. “O-Of course I’m hungry. I’ve had a long day at the hospital! We had to treat a patient with peritonitis. They might need a laparotomy, but don’t worry. Those should take less than two hours to perform.”

Vaniglia remained stoic. “You’re hiding something, papà.”

“Why would I be hiding anything from my beloved daughter?”

“I don’t know,” Vaniglia shook her shoulders. “But it really feels like you’re hiding something from me. Is it about the swimming lessons?”

Cioccolata averted his gaze, astonished, as he ate his spaghetti.

“The only thing that matters about those lessons is that you’re doing well, okay?”

“The new teacher, that Secco guy… He left quite the impression on you. Do you like him, papà?”

Cioccolata became agitated at her words. How come his own daughter had guessed right on the first try? He didn’t recall him and Diavolo having raised her to be so shrewd, and they’d given her the most excellent education they could.

But, sadly, Vaniglia was right. Cioccolata was utterly and madly in love with a man he’d barely spoken to, after having only seen him a couple of times. Nothing like his former situation with Diavolo, where they’d taken their sweet time to fall in love and get married. It had been love at first sight, something Cioccolata had refused to acknowledge as a true phenomenon.

Cioccolata sighed, his cheeks turning a pale red as he tried to suppress a smile brought by the thought of Secco.

*****

Though his hair and makeup indicated the contrary, Cioccolata was a highly fashion-driven man. The spare money that didn’t go towards Vaniglia’s education was usually put in the bank, but Cioccolata liked to maintain an updated wardrobe.

That day, he’d left his daughter with his next door neighbors, a couple which he struggled to get along with due their less extravagant behavior. Cioccolata knew Vaniglia hated going shopping with him, as she disliked seeing how her dad struggled to choose between identical clothes while she just stood around. Cioccolata was guilty of being such a slow customer, but he enjoyed his more meticulous and calculated choices.

This time, Cioccolata was looking for a specific shirt which he’d recalled seeing at a storefront. He was quick to locate the specific shop he’d seen the shirt at, and much quicker to arrive, as the shop was just minutes from his home. Though what had surprised him the most had been the shirt’s moderate pricing, as Cioccolata usually shopped for more expensive clothing.

When he was about to pick the shirt, though, he bumped into someone he failed to recognize at first glance.

“Oh, pardon me,” he said, peeking at the man he’d stumbled upon. Something about his large violet eyes spoke to him, but not enough to identify him. “I was about to check this shirt’s size… You can go first if you want.”

“Cioccolata?”

Cioccolata recognized that voice almost instantly, and his heart skipped a beat as his lips twisted into a messed up smile, as if trying to hide his embarrassment. He hadn’t expected to find Secco while shopping, nor had he expected to see him looking so casual. Cioccolata guessed he’d gotten too used to seeing Secco in that skin-tight swimsuit, but he’d definitely pictured the man wearing something a little too lascivious before.

He stayed silent for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts so they wouldn’t get too obscene, as Secco watched with those impeccable eyes of his. They were making Cioccolata a bit nervous; if they were any other person’s eyes, he likely wouldn’t get that anxious. Or perhaps Cioccolata was just becoming tense because it was Secco, and he wouldn’t admit he liked Secco in some degree.

“S-Secco! What a coincidence, huh? Were you looking for this shirt too?”

Secco shook his head. “Not at all. I just saw you and, well, I wanted to greet you, that’s all.”

If Cioccolata hadn’t been a patient and cold-headed man, he likely would have fainted after having heard those words. His expression remained firm yet awkward, and he forced his lips into a straight line.

Cioccolata cleared his throat. “I see.”

“I was actually looking for a new pair of sneakers… But I got distracted a, and started looking at all these shops instead. It happens more than you’d believe.”

Cioccolata just nodded at him. He felt like he could listen to Secco’s voice all day without any complaints, just showering him in praise the entire time.

“Oh, I do that sometimes,” Cioccolata laughed. “It’s why my daughter never comes with me when I go shopping. She says I’m too slow when looking at things, and I need to compensate her if she comes with me.”

“Hmmm… M-Must be hard to be a father,” Secco commented as Cioccolata picked up the shirt.

“It can be complicated sometimes, but it has its good moments. We- no, I made sure to educate her the best I could, and it paid off! She’s a very good girl, if I must say so myself.”

Secco nodded slowly at him. Cioccolata hypothesized that he had no experience with fatherhood at all. Secco just looked too young to him! He was on his mid-twenties at most, but the way he was built seemed to suggest he could be slightly older than that. 

Initially, Cioccolata had thought of him as a simple 20-year old. But there was no way Cioccolata could fall for someone that young. Cioccolata wanted someone around his age, and if Secco turned out to be a youngling, he would look for another man to become enthralled with.

Cioccolata guessed his only option was to ask rather than to guess.

“By the way, my apologies if this comes off as rude,” Cioccolata headed towards the reception desk, with Secco following him. “But I’ve been meaning to ask how old you were.”

Secco scratched his hair. “M-Me? I’m thirty-one. Why do you ask?”

Cioccolata stayed silent for some moments. All his worries about Secco being too young for him dissipated almost instantaneously, and his passion for the same man burned once again. It was the answer he was expecting the least, as he truly couldn’t see Secco being older than twenty-five. Something about appearances being misleading.

“Nothing, I… I was just curious. By the way, would you give me your phone number?”

*****

“Squalo? Are you there? It’s me, Cioccolata.”

Squalo groaned. “What could you possibly want from me?”

“Stop complaining. We have barely talked since we met at the swimming lessons building.”

“Then why didn’t you just message me?”

“Because I wanted to have a formal conversation with my old friend, that’s why!”

“...Okay, I’ll play along. But just because you didn’t call me during a bad moment. What do you need?”

Cioccolata sighed as he tucked a sleepy Vaniglia in bed. “I need advice. It’s about-”

“Secco, right?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, I remember the way you looked at him when you first met him. That shit was something out of a cheesy romance movie. You really fell for him that day.”

“...Just give me the damn advice.”

“Advice for what? Winning him over?”

“I suppose.”

“Why would you need advice for that? You’re a weirdo. He’s a weirdo. It’s going to work out.”

Cioccolata scratched his nose. “What do you mean it’s going to work out?”

“You couldn’t possibly think of him as intimidating, right? You, the excellent Cioccolata Dolcio, seeing some regular man as mightier than you? That’s pretty laughable if you ask me.”

“I do not think of him as intimidating. I just… Okay, this is embarrassing to admit, but I get nervous whenever he’s around.”

“You’re completely lovestruck, aren’t you, Cioccolata?”

“...”

“I’ll give you some generic advice. Just be yourself, that’s all. I told you already. You’re both completely off the hook. It’ll work out just fine.”

“...You think so?”

“Jesus, can’t you be a little more optimistic?”

“I am being realistic.”

“Whatever. Just call him some day and hang out with him. Fucking trust me for once.”

“I’ll need someone to take care of my daughter then. Are you up for it? I’ll pay you.”

“Okay, but only because you’re asking so kindly. Good luck with your new boyfriend.”

“Hold on-”

Squalo hung up on him, leaving a befuddled Cioccolata behind.

Chapter Text

Cioccolata wasn’t a coward.

He was a lot of things. A freak, a weirdo, the black sheep of his family, a mistake . But he wasn’t a coward. He didn’t recall ever being afraid of anything. Only children, such as his own daughter, were ever afraid of things.

Cioccolata openly embraced the darkness, was fascinated by spiders and other insects, and was no stranger to heights and closed spaces. He was a surgeon after all, and thus was familiar with the grotesque and the depths of the human body. And, although he’d been raised to be deathly afraid of failure, he’d overcome that fear with time, still blaming his parents over it.

But, if there was a singular fear of his which he was afraid to admit, it was his inexorable fear of rejection. Be it from medical schools, from partners, or from his own parents, Cioccolata was unable to conceive a reason as to why he was so damn frightened by the concept of rejection. 

This fear had come and gone with the passage of time, and it had decided to come back as soon as Cioccolata had met Secco, whom he’d deemed a suitable partner for himself. And not just a suitable partner, but the ideal partner as well. Cioccolata felt like he needed Secco for himself, and himself only, and his fear of rejection had become an obstacle on his way to conquer the younger man.

Cioccolata, though, wasn’t ready to let such an irrational fear take ahold of his life. Not at his ripe age of thirty-four, and not when he had found someone that could save him from the downward spiral that was his post-divorce life. And definitely not when he was so infatuated with that same someone.

He grabbed his phone, typed Secco’s number in, gulped, and started a call.

“...Yes?”

“Secco? This is Cioccolata. You gave me your phone number earlier, remember?”

“Oh, C-Cioccolata! Yes, I remember! H-How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you. I just wanted to call you for a reason.”

“What for?”

Cioccolata had to look for an excuse to talk with Secco. He’d never been the best at socializing, having even struggled with the simple act of hanging out with his former husband’s friends. He thought that, if he told Secco he wanted to hang out, Secco would laugh it off or even find it too sudden.

“I’d like to know how my daughter is doing with her swimming lessons. Perhaps during a casual gathering, and as soon as possible. I’m a busy man, you know… If that’s okay with you, of course.”

What Cioccolata didn’t know was that, behind his stutters and his mannerisms, Secco was actually a rather intelligent man, and could tell what Cioccolata’s true intentions were.

“Oh, t-that… It’s, it’s okay for me. I’m mostly free on evenings starting at, like, 19:00PM, when I’m done with the lessons, if… If that’s okay for you.”

“Don’t worry, that’s good for me too. I don’t have any important operations scheduled for the next week, so I can take about an hour off. What do you think of tomorrow, at 19:15PM?”

“That’s, that’s perfect! Just, could we meet at my home? I’ll give you my direction and everything!”

Cioccolata didn’t even think twice before responding.

“That’s good. Then, it’s all settled down. Tomorrow at 19:15PM, at your home. Does that sound good?”

“Y-Yes, that sounds very good… See you then!”

*****

The following week passed in a flash, days quickly succeeding each other as Cioccolata awaited the fateful meeting.

At work, he’d overheard his co-workers comment on how he’d become more talkative and even cheerful through that week. Cioccolata had ignored their remarks, having deemed them as meaningless and thus unimportant; he had acknowledged that his mood had improved, though. He’d talked more to his patients, and hanged out with his fellow nurses as well. He was certain it had been thanks to his new crush, though he just said it was because of his daughter, so as not to attract more attention than he needed.

But Cioccolata couldn’t deny it. Secco was quickly becoming a powerful influence and an important character in his life, despite the fact that they had barely talked. Though he was driven by logic and not by heart, it had been his feelings which had guided him through that week. And, in a way, it had made him feel especially vulnerable, as Cioccolata had never been someone to casually talk about his own feelings. He simply thought it was stupid.

Cioccolata now stood before the apartment in which Secco lived. It looked much like your typical South European apartments; Cioccolata had never navigated that zone of the city before, it being far from the center. As he looked around, he found a nearby supermarket and a small bar, but nothing out of the usual.

Following Secco’s directions, which he’d received a couple days earlier, he rang the bell next to his floor, and awaited a response.

“Y-Yes?”

Cioccolata gulped, overly nervous about their upcoming casual meeting.

“It’s me, Cioccolata. Can I come in?”

“Of course you can!”

Secco opened the door for him, and Cioccolata entered. The doctor quickly got into the elevator and clicked the button signaling Secco’s floor. Once he got there, he found Secco waiting for him with his door open.

“How are y-you doing?”

“I’m doing well, thank you,” Cioccolata answered as he entered Secco’s home.

Secco’s home looked much like what Cioccolata had been expecting. Everything was a little messy, with some clothes and food placed around, and the TV was on, showcasing some advertisements. There were some certificates and diplomas hanging on the wall, along with a bulletin board filled with pictures and notes, and some posters as well. Cioccolata thought it all looked quite welcoming and comfortable.

He took a seat on the sofa, making himself at home, waiting for Secco as the man closed the door and organized the living room, placing all the clothes together and leaving the food back at the kitchen. A part of him enjoyed watching Secco as he simply cleaned around; it felt bittersweet, though, as it reminded of the days he’d spent with Diavolo before their breakup.

Cioccolata’s lips turned into a faint smile as Secco finished cleaning around. He turned to the younger man, basking on his beauty. More than glad, Secco looked dejected.

“Um, Cioccolata… Did I-- Did I make you wait too much?”

Cioccolata gestured with his head. “Not at all. You don’t have to worry, I’ll just do a night-shift today.”

“N-No, I mean… I’m sure you were expecting to, to see a clean and well-put house... I should’ve cleaned up earlier.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, erm, Secco. I actually feel quite welcome with this environment.”

Secco’s eyes lightened up. “You do?”

Cioccolata smiled back at him. Such an environment reminded him of the earlier days of Vaniglia’s childhood, where she would make a mess out of every room in the house, and both of her parents had to clean up Diavolo’s expensive lipstick off the mirror.

But it wasn’t time to make himself sad. There were better times coming up, Cioccolata thought. There was always an opportunity to heal. And Cioccolata’s chance to mend his wounds was closer than he believed.

“You can take all the time you want. I’m a very patient man. You do need to be patient when you’re a doctor.”

Secco closed his eyes as he smiled, teeth showing and everything. He went back to cleaning up, and it took him much less than he expected to finish, perhaps thanks to Cioccolata’s words. Secco then brought some drinks: a glass of water for Cioccolata, and a can of soda for himself. He sat next to Cioccolata as he swept his hair with his fingers, trying to look presentable.

Cioccolata thought it’d be a short conversation, but Secco had other plans. Behind his timidness, he was a rather talkative and outgoing man, especially with people he got along with. And Secco had a feeling he would be befriending the doctor sometime soon.

“So… Y-you wanted to know how your daughter… How she’s doing at my classes?”

“Yes,” Cioccolata answered. “That’s all I need to know.”

“Let’s see,” Secco looked through his phone as he licked his lips, which Cioccolata found weirdly amusing. “Well, she… She’s doing really good!”

Cioccolata grinned back at him. “You think so?”

“Yep! She, she’s got one of the highest grades i-in my class. She’s improving very fast, and… And she’s not afraid of swimming t-to the deeper end.”

“You don’t know how proud that makes me.”

“Hm…” Secco remained quiet for some moments, as if thinking to himself. He’d never been the best at conversations. “Is, is being a dad… Is it fun?”

“It is quite enjoyable. I’ve seen some couples complain about how their children are too noisy or too much of a burden, and I can’t help but think they’re wrong. Children are meant to be noisy, after all.”

“Yeah, they sure are s-sometimes… How’s it like t-to be married? Or, well, to date s-someone?”

Cioccolata lowered his head, showing a more stern expression. “I’m currently divorced, Secco.”

Secco stared back at the doctor, worried, as if life were leaving his body. “Oh… Sorry to hear that.”

Closing his eyes, Cioccolata delivered a faint smile at him, as to not make him worry any further. “You don’t have to be sorry. These kinds of things happen.”

“B-But does little Vaniglia k-know about it? Or, like… How did you explain it to, to her?”

“I… I pretty much told her that my ex-husband needed some time for himself. It’s not really the sort of thing you can explain to a child. Perhaps, when she grows up a bit, I’ll tell her the truth.”

“Maybe… Maybe sh-she knows the truth already. Kids c-can be pretty sly, y’know?” Secco paused for a moment, and tried putting on a happier face, to lighten up their conversation. “A, anyway… Did you know t-that I was at the 2012 Olympics?”

“I was told so,” Cioccolata’s face softened, highlighting his green eyes. “I heard you competed against Phelps. You must’ve felt pretty anxious.”

“I was very nervous i-indeed! I w-went in thinking I would mess up… But, in the end, I did b-better than I thought,” Secco smiled.

Cioccolata didn't have the guts to tell Secco that he had never watched the Olympics, nor cared about them, so he remained quiet about it. He simply smiled and nodded back at Secco, attempting to look away from his captivating purple eyes. The doctor rhythmically pressed his fingers against his thigh, as he tried to come up with something to talk about, to make the silence less awkward.

He stopped to observe Secco one more time, whom he truly thought was beautiful. Secco’s beauty wasn’t like that of his ex-husband’s: where Diavolo’s beauty had come from the provocative and from his self-expression, Secco’s charm relied on his simplicity. Everything about Diavolo was garish, from his dotted, bright crimson hair, to his deep black lipstick and bright green eyes. Yet Secco’s only outstanding features were his plenitude of piercings and his purple eyes.

When Cioccolata came back from his senses, Secco was offering him a glass of water, looking preoccupied.

“I-Is something wrong?”

A chill ran through Cioccolata’s back as he declined the drink with his hand. “Hm, no, thanks… I was just… Thinking.”

Secco placed the glass back on the table, and made himself comfortable in the sofa afterwards. “Sooo… What’s being a doctor like?”

Cioccolata wanted to think that Secco was as clueless as he was when it came to their conversation.

“It’s a taxing job, that’s for sure. You have to study for ten long years, and then practice for a couple more, but it pays off. And, being a surgeon myself, I can confirm that my job requires a lot of patience and precision," Cioccolata smiled. "Still, I wish I could spend some more time with my beloved daughter. Sometimes I have such long shifts I don't go back home until very late hours, so she spends a lot of time with her babysitters."

Secco simply nodded at him, acknowledging his words. For a moment, Cioccolata wondered whether he’d spoken too much or too fast, both being quirks of his which he couldn’t get rid of.

“T-That’s very interesting… Y’know,” Secco tilted his body forward as he sighed, crossing his arms. “Sometimes, I… I wish I h-had studied more.”

The doctor became curious, showing an interested look on his eyes. “Why are you saying that?”

“W-Well… I was never the, the smartest kid at school… I barely passed m-my classes, and I struggled a lot in high school. I, I pretty much became an athlete because I thought I c-couldn’t do anything else.”

“Then,” Cioccolata commented, his thumb placed under his chin, “how come you’re teaching kids how to swim now? Don’t you have to study for that?”

“I, I mean, yeah,” Secco fiddled with his fingers as he spoke. “After my injury, I f-felt like doing something for the people that had s-supported me, so I got my… My court… My courtroom… Y’know, th-the little paper where you write things t-that you’re good at?”

“Your curriculum?”

Secco nodded energetically as he, once again, bent backwards against the sofa. “Y-Yes, that! The thing is, I m-made a curriculum, and, after some time, I became a s-swimming teacher. And, honestly? I thought I’d have t-to study more to become one.”

“Being honest myself,” Cioccolata worded, “I don’t know much about teaching. It’s a horizon I’ve never bothered to explore or look at. But, still, I think you made a good choice by choosing that path.”

“Y-You think so?”

Cioccolata smiled at Secco as he blinked slowly. “I do. By the way, if you don’t mind me asking… What sort of injury did you attain?”

“A Lisfranc injury. I was lucky enough n-not to need surgery, but I had to go s-some weeks without doing anything, j-just focusing on my recovery and all that.”

“I’m guessing your rehabilitation went smoothly. I’m also guessing that you still swim sometimes, but that you try your hardest not to put any excess weight on your previously injured foot when you train, for example. As a doctor I’d advise you to put special care into your movements, so that you don’t bring harm to your foot again.”

“Um… Y-Yeah, that’s… That’s sort of what I-I’ve been doing,” said a somewhat despondent Secco, after hearing Cioccolata’s words. “And, f-for the most part, I’ve been doing fine, but… Sometimes, I get these p-pains in my foot, but they go away shortly after.”

“You should only worry about those pains when they’re strong enough to disrupt your regular activities. That’s all the advice I can give you at the moment. If I were a podiatrist I’d be able to help you further, but, hey,” Cioccolata shook his shoulders, “I’m just a simple surgeon.”

Secco simply smiled back at him, closing his eyes. His smile made Cioccolata feel warm on the inside, as if he’d stumbled upon a tender childhood memory. Secco’s sole presence made Cioccolata feel at home, and their small talk had helped ease some of the doctor’s anxieties. And Cioccolata wasn’t someone that became anxious easily, given his profession and everything. He could only guess Secco’s presence was a double-edged sword.

Out of curiosity, Cioccolata looked at the time on his phone. They had been talking for a while, though it had felt like mere minutes to the doctor. Again had Cioccolata failed to notice the unfair passage of time, minutes and hours escaping his fingers as if they were sand. He could easily spend hours and hours talking to Secco about meaningless topics, but he had a daughter to pick up, and a job to keep.

So he stood up, running his fingers through his long locs, as a confused Secco stared at him.

“Uh, are y-you leaving?”

Cioccolata sighed as he headed towards the main door. “I’ve really enjoyed this small talk, but yes, I’m afraid I have to leave. I can’t be away from my job for too long, and I need to pick up my daughter from her caretakers.”

“N-No, I meant,” Secco walked towards him. “Are you really going to leave without me s-saying goodbye?”

Cioccolata rose an eyebrow, wondering why Secco would say something like that. He simply stood there as he watched Secco get up from the sofa and walk towards him, and what followed was something Cioccolata would’ve never expected in his lifetime.

Secco pulled him down for a tender kiss on his cheek, patting his back afterwards, and opened the door for him as a bewildered Cioccolata stood there, not ready to leave the building yet.

Secco pulling him down to his height, his lips pressing against his cheek; Cioccolata had felt all of it, and he wanted more. He longed for it, yet he didn’t want to come across as a damned pervert, or anything worse. He wanted his hypothetical relationship with Secco not to be sudden, but to be like a slow dance, with the two of them holding hands and bringing their bodies closer and closer together.

Cioccolata muttered a last “Secco” as he gently left the building, allowing his fingers to graze the area where Secco had kissed him. He hadn’t even said goodbye to Secco, yet he knew they would meet again soon. And they would keep meeting, even after their love story had set off.

Chapter Text

The odes of summer sang atop the city of Rome, followed by the flight of small birds and the ascent of the Sun above them. The star shimmered atop the skies, zero clouds on sight, as the once powerful town of Rome carried on with its duties.

Cioccolata stared at the blue skies above him, his green eyes bedazzled by the Sun. He and Secco had been walking for a while now; it had likely been more than ten minutes since they’d set foot from the doctor’s house. Cioccolata wondered why they hadn’t taken a cab or gone by car, though he didn’t mind going on small walks every once in a while. As the renowned doctor he was, he even recommended going on walks regularly, so he had to follow his own words.

That month, Vaniglia had been left in the care of Diavolo. He and Cioccolata had barely spoken since the last time they’d met, and Cioccolata preferred to keep it that way. Meeting with Diavolo month after month, just to leave or pick up his daughter, felt bitter. It reminded Cioccolata of the happier times he’d spent with Diavolo, taking care of a Vaniglia that was learning her first words, or simply having a drink together.

And Cioccolata knew being single wasn’t the end of the world. He knew there was nothing wrong with living and raising a child alone, all by himself. But everywhere he looked, there was a happy couple. Advertisements, movies, shows, talk shows, his own job, et cetera. It felt like the world was mocking him for being single. Either that, or the planet had been made solely for couples. After all, couples had discounts, couples had special deals, couples had more benefits, couples had everything. What did that meant for lonely people like him?

Cioccolata had Vaniglia, his daughter, that was for sure. But it wasn’t the same as a sentimental partner. Vaniglia helped him fill the void, but Cioccolata couldn’t compare her to his former husband and partner. They were two different kinds of love, two forms that couldn’t be compared, and Cioccolata would never compare his own daughter to some man that did no longer exist in his life. And how badly did Cioccolata want to forget!

His thoughts were unfortunately interrupted when Secco’s hand bruised against his, their fingers grazing each other as they walked. Secco hadn’t seemed to notice at all, but to Cioccolata, time had slowed down the moment their hands had touched. He considered telling Secco about it, but figured out the best choice would be to keep it to himself, as some sort of memorabilia.

They kept walking and prancing, until Secco stopped in front of a small trattoria. A motorbike had been parked nearby, which Cioccolata failed to notice, as Secco invited him inside the building not too long after having arrived.

“Cioccolata?”

A familiar and not very friendly face greeted the doctor as he and Secco made their way to their table, which had been occupied already by Squalo and another man with long, silver locs. Cioccolata and Secco sat down on the table next to each other, right in front of the other couple.

Cioccolata rose an eyebrow, intrigued. “Who’s that with you, Squalo?”

The man ran his fingers through his locs before folding his arms. “I’m Tiziano, and I work as a model. Nice to meet you.”

Secco looked at Cioccolata. “Y-You know Squalo already?”

“We used to attend high school together. He was a bit of a troublemaker, but got good grades nonetheless. We managed to get along somewhat.”

“It was more like,” Squalo followed, “we got along because I was the only kid that could tolerate you. Everybody else thought you were creepy, I mean… You were always blabbing about how curious you were and how you were fascinated by surgeons and the human body.”

“That’s just how some kids are, Squalo,” Tiziano commented.

“But get this! He worked at a nursing home for two years, and he somehow managed to remember all of the grandpa’s illnesses and conditions. He always sounded so excited when he spoke about grandma Candida’s arthritis and other bullshit like that.”

“Well, if we’re talking weird, then, Secco was also pretty… Unique you would say.”

Secco got closer to Cioccolata before whispering into his ear. “I-I’ve known Tiziano since we were kids… Also… D-Don’t mind them, they j-just love to talk about other people.”

Cioccolata just nodded. He wasn’t used to overly talkative people, only remembering Squalo as being one of them during their teenage days. His former husband hadn’t been the most talkative, only baby-talking to their daughter and having late night conversations with the doctor.

As Squalo and Tiziano recalled their own childhood anecdotes, a black haired man sporting a bobcut walked up to them, ready to take notes.

“What will the gentlemen want to drink?”

Cioccolata asked. “Do you have Brunello di Montalcino?”

Squalo was visibly shocked by Cioccolata’s question, and so was Tiziano, albeit much less than his partner. The waiter nodded as he wrote Cioccolata’s order in his notes.

“Erm,” Squalo interjected as he looked at his partner. “I’ll want a Garibaldi, and Tiziano… I think he wants a Bellini, right?”

“Alright,” the waiter wrote down their orders, then looked at Secco. “What about you?”

Secco chuckled. “Me? Uh… Water, please.”

The waiter finished writing down every order. “Understood,” he commented, before he left towards the counter table. Behind said table, there was a silver-haired tall man wearing dark lipstick, showing an androgynous look much like the waiter’s.

“I have to say, Squalo,” Cioccolata began talking. “I understand why you’d be perplexed at my preferences regarding wine,” he grinned. “Though, the fact that they have it in stock is even more surprising.”

Cioccolata refused to let it show, but Secco’s kiss during their last meeting had left quite the impression on him. His secret-keeping skills teetered towards perfection, despite the fact that there was nothing too embarrassing or horrid for him to keep from others. Perhaps he’d done a few odd things during his childhood and teenager years, ones which Squalo would be eager to mention, but nothing too out of the ordinary.

Witnessing Squalo and Tiziano become shocked at his expensive tastes had been a delight, of course. Cioccolata didn’t excessively enjoy bragging about his wealth, but he didn’t consider himself a run-of-the-mill person either: he enjoyed a product’s quality over its quantity, and he was willing to show that.

“So,” Tiziano talked, eyeing Cioccolata. “Squalo told me that you have a little daughter. Where’s she today?”

“Oh, Vaniglia! She’s,” Cioccolata paused, his grin softly fading from his face. “She’s with my ex-husband. She’ll be in his care for a couple of days.”

As their exchange took place, Secco fidgeted around, talking as little as possible, quietly bouncing his leg under the table as his eyes shifted towards a small bread basket placed on the table. He wondered if it would be impolite of him to take a piece for himself, seeing as their drinks hadn’t been served yet.

Eventually, Secco waited until the drinks had been served: Cioccolata had obtained his expensive wine, while Squalo and Tiziano had received their respective drinks. Secco’s order had been simpler compared to the other mens’: his medications didn’t allow him to drink much alcohol, lest they had a nasty interaction. Regardless, he enjoyed a good soda time to time, despite his disapproval of fizzy drinks.

***

As the meal went on, the men continued talking about their business, with Squalo going on about Cioccolata’s odd behavior during high school. Cioccolata, in turn, would reprimand Squalo about his lower-than-average grades, much to Tiziano’s amusement. Secco, who wasn’t quite used to speaking to others, no matter how close, went along the conversation, sometimes contributing with his own stories.

Around the time they finished their secondo, the silver-haired waiter from before handed the group a small menu containing a selection of desserts. As it was customary of Italian cuisine, most of the desserts were seasonal fruits, though the menu included torta barozzi, sorbetto, gelato, sfogliatella, and a number of coffee and liquor varieties.

“I don’t even want to see what the receipt will look like,” Squalo muttered under his breath, as he closely analyzed the dessert menu. Both Tiziano and Cioccolata didn’t seem surprised, as the two of them were on the wealthier side of things, and Secco didn’t really notice. “Who’s even going to pay?”

“It would be fair if we each paid a small sum of money,” Tiziano commented, as he cleaned his mouth with a tissue. “But don’t be too worried about the price, Squalo. This place isn’t as expensive as you think.”

Squalo shook his head, placing a hand on his chin as he handed the menu to Cioccolata. “Well, this trattoria does look humble indeed, but it seems to be well-kept. Isn’t the owner of this place some guy called Buccellati?”

Cioccolata raised his eyebrows, and interrupted Squalo and Tiziano’s conversation. “Oh, Paolo Buccellati? I once read that he worked as a chef in France, before coming back here and starting this place.”

Despite seeming distracted, Secco was keeping track of the conversation. He glanced at the dessert menu as Cioccolata gave it to him, and kept on listening.

“That man with the bobcut,” Tiziano crumpled his tissue, “that’s Paolo’s son, Bruno. I’ve seen him promote this trattoria on social media. He’s good-looking, so he gets a lot of attention.”

“I think,” Secco joined in, as he finished making his choice, and handed the menu to Tiziano, “that I’ve seen him on the Internet too! Uh, his short videos… They always have a t-ton of views… There’s videos of him, like, fishing, and he knows a lot about seafood too.”

Cioccolata nodded, watching as the younger Buccellati walked up to their table, and pulled out a pen from his pocket. The four of them quickly ordered their desserts, and kept on conversating as they waited for their arrival, with the topic switching from the trattoria’s history to relationships. A topic which Cioccolata was a little too familiar with.

“So,” Squalo commented, as he waited for his espresso to cool down. “I was kind of popular with the girls, so my cousin would get mad at me for always being the center of attention,” he chuckled. “Still… Some years later, I realized I liked guys. But I didn’t want to come out to my family just yet.”

Tiziano sipped on his sorbetto, then placed the cup back on the table. “I can understand that. I remember being well-known because of my grades and looks, but not a lot of students wanted to talk to me back then,” he rolled his eyes. “It was a little odd growing up during that time, really.”

“Well, I’m not sure if I’d join a relationship right now,” Squalo continued. “Right now, I just want to find a better job than the local swimming pool. I’ve been thinking of working as a fitness coach, or even a personal trainer.”

Cioccolata stirred his chamomile tea with a small spoon, his eyes occasionally darting towards Squalo and Tiziano. A part of him thought they looked good together, though he was no match-maker. His lack of social skills often shocked him.

Secco finished his gelato, and cleaned his lips with one of Tiziano’s tissues, then joined in again. “I might look for a job too, I mean… T-This swimming coach thing… It’s this summer only,” he commented, much to Cioccolata’s surprise. “And, uh, I don’t think I’ll go back to being an athlete… It was too much pressure.”

“I can see why,” Tiziano gave Secco a gentle smile, before finishing his sorbetto. “Secco, I personally think you’d do good as a gym coach. You do have the skills, after all.”

Secco pressed his eyes shut, frowning. “I’m not g-good with people, man,” he stated. “Buh, besides… I’ve never been in a relationship. I don’t know how well it w-would go.”

Though he didn’t want to seem judgemental, Cioccolata couldn’t help but to think that Secco having never been in a relationship made sense. After all, Secco had seemed oddly nervous throughout the entire meal. He’d been picking at his skin, fiddling with his fingers, and looking around the trattoria, aside from other sorts of erratic behaviors. Cioccolata, of course, hadn’t commented on it, out of sheer respect for Secco.

Cioccolata himself wasn’t any better at romance than Secco. His former relationship with Diavolo hadn’t begun with a large confession, but with a growing connection between two college students. And, despite their intense bond, which had led to a marriage and a child, both Cioccolata and Diavolo had struggled when displaying attention to the other. To Cioccolata, the two of them had been too proud of themselves to consider doing such things.

“Wait,” Squalo turned towards Tiziano. “Is that true?”

Tiziano nodded, as Secco rolled his eyes. “He’s always been kind of an introvert. But, in his words, he just found most people annoying.”

What they didn’t know is that Secco wasn’t just introverted, or easily annoyed. He had some other reasons as to why he’d never experienced a relationship: Secco, however, considered those too difficult to explain.

“I mean,” Secco shook his shoulders, visibly tired. “I don’t really have a problem being single, but, uh, the thing is… I kind of want to, well, give it a try. That whole stuff about romance and love, a-and having a partner.”

Cioccolata took quick notice of his words.