Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His suitcase was definitely lost. Probably halfway to Greece by now, sipping ouzo in a cargo hold while he stood sweating in Malta’s small and chaotic airport, bouncing between Isack’s slumped body sitting on the floor leaning on his leg and Levi’s arm casually slung over his shoulders. It was way too hot to be hovering around him like that, but he couldn't really complain when he was the one who passed on his tactile ways of showing love to them. Isack and Levi both used to struggle showing their friendship in physical ways but Gabi and his brazilian roots hadn't left them with much of a choice since they had met two years ago.

“Maybe your pottery wheel made the scanner explode,” Isack said looking up, his characteristic crooked smirk adorning his round face.

Gabi's eyes rolled in pretend offense "My wheel could've been useful, you're lucky we had to travel light".

Levi laughed beside him, that shy little giggle that always sounded like he was trying to keep it as quiet as possible. He had gotten that from his german side, for sure, because Gabi had met his american mom and her laugh exploded like a million fireworks.

"Ha, here they are! Ax, Cam! Over here!"

Gabi frowned before he could catch himself doing it, Levi leaving his side to make sure they had caught his obnoxious waving from afar. Levi’s childhood friends from the US, Axel and Cameron, wheeled their luggages their way with grins up to their ears. Levi embraced them like he hadn't seen them in a century, surely because it felt this way. A year in college sure could feel like an eternity away from home.

Gabi looked away before he could catch himself staring for too long, trying not to show his annoyance. Jealousy is pointless, he reminded himself. Especially when it was this irrational. Still, it prickled; that quiet ache of suddenly feeling like an outsider.

Even though Levi treated him like family, even though Oxford felt like home now, Axel and Cameron were part of Levi's life in a bigger way then he was. They knew a version of his best friend that himself never got to meet. They shared a million inside jokes and childhood memories. Gabi had friends back in Brasil too, obviously, but none he would feel comfortable enough to spend some holidays abroad with anymore. Isack and Levi were now his home away from home, and it felt absolutely fulfilling whenever some other guys weren't imposing themselves in the middle of it.

Isack brushed past him getting up, and there was a flutter of warmth at the small of his back : Isack’s hand, for just a moment, adjusting himself back up.

"Ah bah enfin! There's your bag, Gabi".

Before he could protest, Isack was lifting it off the carousel like it weighed nothing.

"Thanks mate", he muttered.

“Of course,” Isack said, flashing a smile. Gabi suspected him of knowing exactly how he felt towards Levi's friends from Seattle joining them. Gabi wondered if he felt the same or was just being empathetic.

Levi called them forward, rallying their newfound group toward the exit with a leaderlike stroll. The sun struck as soon as they stepped a foot outside, intense heat surrounding his whole body, bright and alive, the smell of summers' warmth hitting his nostrils. He tilted his face up, eyes closed for a second, drinking it all in. For the first time in two years, it felt a little bit like Sao Paulo.

God, he’s missed this. Real summer. Heat that hugged your skin like a clingy mother. Waves of wind that brought the smell of salt and fresh fruits.

He barely noticed the collective hurry around the taxi; Isack putting suitcases in the trunk, holding the door open for him and Levi nudging him toward the farthest seat against the window. He was simply too busy grinning at the coastline that flickered into view as they sped away from the airport. He didn't even register Levi gripping his arm when the driver took a sharp turn and honked like a madman at whoever had pissed him off on the road.

This summer was going to be heaven on Earth.

He could already picture it all: endless swims in turquoise water, the feel of sand exfoliating his sun warmed skin, afternoon naps under the shade of a tree, the sound of waves hitting the shore and children playing around.

And clay under his fingernails, the strong smell of paint drying in the heat. Helping Levi's dad fixing his new summer house would be so fun, even though Levi had sold it as a service rendered: the five boys would help his father with a few works in the house and in exchange they got to spend a whole month in it, bed and breakfast included. To Gabi, it sounded like he got the best of both sides : things to create and build from his hands, and a peaceful summer away with his two best friends. Levi and Isack were a bit more reserved about painting walls and breaking stones in scorching heat, but they would end up enjoying themselves, he was sure of it. They always succeeded in making everything enjoyable eventually, even a particularly nightmarish orientation trip in the forest.

He pressed his forehead to the window. Everything looked bathed in gold, glowing in a sun that ressembled Sao Paulo's -stone walls, dry fountains and sleepy churches crumbling in the heat. The sea peeked out between the hills, blue and bold as ever.

They reached the ferry terminal of Ċirkewwa after almost an hour of winding along the coast in their rattling taxi van, the driver sometimes pointing at a chappel or a landmark, making sure they wouldn't miss any of his favorite spots.

The ferry to Gozo was already waiting, flat, wide, and crowded with people. They somehow found enough space aboard for all five of them, dragging their luggages to the open deck. Levi was excitedly retelling a story Gabi had heard at least twice before, but Axel and Cameron were foreign to. He too had inside jokes and shared memories with Levi, after all. Isack bit in his sandwich like a starved man, almost demolishing it in its entirety before he thought of offering him a bite. Gabi shook his head.

He leaned into the wind instead. The island of Gozo grew on the horizon like a forgotten memory he never knew he had - softer, greener, quieter than the Malta they just left; like the soft natural allure of a beauty queen's little sister.

The car ride from the port was even quieter, everyone already a little sun drowsy and exhausted from all the traveling. Gabi let the silence fill him up. The roads were narrower in Gozo, and bumpier. Everything looked even older there. He watched the wheat fields flicker past, endless views of vineyards, crumbling stone houses, but the sea didn't fail to catch them back on the way, blinding him with a blue color he hadn't seen anywhere before. Even the water at home had never been this blue.

Finally, his eyes closing by then, the van stopped.

Levi had said the house was a dump his father had bought to fix and busy himself with. It was large and expensive, but nothing like his penthouse in Monaco or his villa in Germany. Gabi genuinely couldn't wait to start working on this house and help make it a home.

But when his eyes opened and met the sight of it, he felt his mouth open in admiration.

This house was definitely not a dump.
It was stunning.

Two stories of sun-bleached limestone with dark green shutters and ivy curling up the side. An ornamented iron gate clearly made by hand. Two balconies facing the sun, letting the light in.

“Meu Deus,” Gabi breathed.

They emptied the taxi's trunk while Levi discreetly handed the driver a good tip when someone stepped down from the front steps. The blonde man was shirtless, tan but in a way that didn't quite fit his features, lean muscle glinting with a hint of sweat. He was dangling a hammer from one hand, a tool belt secured around his waist, and sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his perfectly sculpted nose Gabi recognized as Levi's.

He walked up to them with an excitement that could only mean one thing.

Gabi blinked. Then stared. Then regretted staring.

That could not be...

Except it was. It painfully obviously was.

Levi turned around, timidly smiled back "Hi, dad".

Gabi’s mouth went dry. The van's engine restarted and startled him, almost tripping over his own luggage until Isack grabbed his elbow to keep him upside. By the time he recovered, Levi's dad had hugged his son and was already walking toward them, barefoot, apparently unbothered by the heat radiating off the stone steps.

He took the time to properly greet Axel and Cameron whom it seemed like he already knew, somehow. Levi had always said he rarely saw his father.

Then it was their turn. He opened his mouth to introduce himself but the older man cut the grass under his foot :

“So” he started, a huge smile displaying two rows of perfect teeth "who's Gabriel and who's Isack?"

His voice was low, with a hint of a german accent, which Levi didn't carry at all, like each word was chosen with care but told with certainty.

“Gabi,” he said, extending his hand to shake “Only my mom calls me Gabriel. Usually when she’s mad".

Nico smiled again, this time crooked. A little amused. Like Gabi was eight and knocked on his door to ask if Levi could come and play.

But he reached out, and shook his hand. It was warm. Rough palms. Strong grip. Gabi felt it like an electric shock up his spine. No butterflies in his stomach, but more like a punch straight to the gut.

"Well Gabi, I'm Nico".

Nico.

He forced himself to let go before it got weird. His ears were hot. He blessed the gods for his naturally caramel skin that wouldn't let any redness show.

Nico was still looking at him.

Gabi smiled. Not because he meant to, but because he physically could not stop himself from doing it. He usually smiled when he got nervous.

And just like that, it was over.

Levi's dad - Nico - shook Isack's hand in turn and said something about hearing a lot about them both, but Gabi struggled to hear over the sound of his own ears ringing.

Nico turned towards the house, said something else, about the steps needing some work this time, and to be careful. Levi ran up to check out the garden. The others disappeared inside, eager to put their luggage down and rest their bodies.

Gabi stood there, stuck in place.
His heart thudding like a drum, replaying the scene in his mind over and over again.

He was so screwed.

Chapter Text

The house offered three rooms : Nico's, and two guest rooms they would have to share. The guest rooms shared a bathroom situated right in between that made the possibility of encountering any of the boys on the other side butt naked a bit too real in Gabi's opinion, but he would make do.

Levi had chosen to share the biggest room with Cameron and Axel, explained that it was only fair since he spent so much of his time all year round with Gabi and Isack in England.

Gabi and Isack benefited of two single beds, while their neighbors would have to share a twin and a sofa bed. Gabi wondered if Nico had bought all these extra beds for the sole purpose of this trip. On paper, Nico sounded like an amazing father; yet Levi barely ever talked about him and Gabi could count on the fingers of a single hand the number of anecdotes he'd heard about his best friend's father.

All he knew for sure was that Nico was a Formula One driver, famous and loaded, though not all that successful. Levi was born on the year both his parents turned sixteen in circumstances he didn't quite understand since Nico was German and his mother, Hailey, had lived her whole life in the US. That was where Levi had been raised, coddled by his mother and grandparents under the humdrum rainy weather of Seattle. Two times a year, he would visit his father for a belated Christmas celebration in January, and a little summer break in August. On three occasions, at his demand, Levi had joined Nico for racing weekends so he could see with his own eyes what his father did for a living that was so time-consuming, and he wasn't all that impressed by the show.

That was all Gabi had heard about Nico before a few months ago, when Levi had excitedly texted their groupchat about how his dad had retired and was inviting them all to his new place near the sea. Gabi remembered thinking how he sounded more cheerful about the perspective of a friends trip than of getting some well needed time with his father. How that was probably why they had been invited along in the first place. But it hadn't been his place to say, and it still wasn't.

They barely got any time to unpack before Nico called them for dinner on the back terrace, the sun slowly starting to set over the breathtaking view. A fairy light garland was swaying faintly in the warm breeze over the table, turning Nico’s hair to pale gold.

The food was nothing fancy - pasta, bread, some salad and local beer - but it felt alive in a way that made Gabi's heart pinch in nostalgia. The food in England had been more difficult to get used to than he had anticipated, finding time to cook in their apartment between school and his side job as a barista was a never ending battle and he missed his mom's food so much he sometimes dreamed of it. If he closed his eyes biting in the maltese bread, he could almost taste her pão de queijo. The faint sound of waves in the distance made the memories even more vibrant, covered by the conversations flowing around the table.

Nico talked easily, with a little smirk hanging on his lips like he was joking around even when he wasn't. One could definitely guess that he was used to cameras in his face and long conversations over contracts and arrangements. Gabi made sure his eyes never settled on him for too long, anxious that Levi or worse, Nico himself, would notice him staring.

He had never seen a man this magnetic before.

Nico's charm seemed terribly effortless, his hair unkempt and his skin reddened by the sun. He pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose when he recalled his life as a racing driver, an absolutely surreal carreer he mentioned like it had been barely impressive, like Gabi's own father would mention his own career as a business man.

“…so I decided it was time,” Nico stated, one arm draped over the back of his chair, “thirty-seven is old enough. I could've done a few more years, like Lewis is doing, but he's always been more stubborn than I am".

Cameron leaned in, looking fascinated. Gabi wondered if he knew that Nico himself was the fascinating part of it all, not his career.

"So, what was the fastest you've ever been? 250 kilometers per hour?"

Nico’s laugh was low, almost shy, but his posture betrayed pride.

"More like 310."

"Jesus."

"I know, right? But enough about me, you guys are here so I can get to know you better. You're my Levi's friends and I want to know everything I missed".

Gabi caught the way Levi’s shoulders tightened at that. He kept eating, and so did everyone else, but the air had shifted.

My Levi. His only son, but a son he never raised or truly knew. The disguised confession Nico gave was clean, stripped of bitterness, but the undercurrent was there : shared regrets they didn’t seem interested in hiding to each other. Gabi thought it was bold of Nico to remind everyone at the table of how much he had missed. After all, it had been his own decision, Levi could only ever follow his lead.

Isack gladly took the opportunity to talk about how he and Levi had met : he, clueless enough to get his amphitheater wrong on the first day of college, Levi kind enough to walk him to the correct destination when he finally noticed after a whole hour of Econ 101.

Nico laughed, pointed out how unsurprised he was to know Levi had been conscientious enough to get a plan of the university so he would know it by heart on his first day.

"He was always so diligent, I remember when he went to see me in Austin that one time, he didn't quite understand everything going on in the garage on the first day and on the second, it was like he had been there for years! He asked me all kinds of the question in the hotel room so he would understand everything going back, he didn't want to feel behind. I was so proud".

He smiled at the memory, but the wrinkles adorning his eyes showed an ache Gabi hoped Levi would notice. He hoped his best friend believed in his father's words, in his pride. Not because he thought Nico deserved to have his image redeemed as a father, but because Levi deserved the kind words.

His best friend only frowned even more, his face two centimeters away from getting immersed in his plate "I was just curious".

Axel asked something about the cars, Isack about the adrenaline. Nico answered politely, but Gabi was still stuck on the warmth in his smile, and the way his voice dipped when he told his story.

It was unfair, Gabi thought, to be this atrractive without trying. Maybe it was the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, or the way his tan didn’t quite belong on his skin, like he’d borrowed it from the sun against its will. He wasn’t like any man Gabi saw at Oxford, or back in São Paulo. If he was being honest with himself, maybe he’d been looking in the wrong places all along.

Levi set down his fork "We should wrap this up. Early day tomorrow.” His voice was light, but it had that careful edge he used when he really wanted to change the subject.

The meal ended with the abruptness of a book closed mid-sentence. Levi pushed his chair back and grinned at them in a grimace so unnatural Gabi had to physically retain himself from cringing back.

“Who feels like a night swim?"

Cameron, Axel and Isack didn't need to be asked twice. Chairs scraped, voices lifted.
In the noise of everyone getting up, Gabi stayed put.

“I’ll help with the dishes,” he said.

Nico glanced at him, eyebrows lifting.

"You’re sure? I can handle it, no worries"

“I’m sure".

The others drifted toward the decently sized pool glowing in the middle of the garden, not even taking the time to put on actual swim trunks but jumping in their underwear.

Gabi stacked plates, following Nico into the kitchen. The room was cool compared to the terrace, his bare feet enjoying the feel of the cold tiles.

“So,” Nico said over the sound of running water, “you and Levi are roomates".

"Yes, we share an apartment with Isack".

"You're also studying economics, then?"

“Yeah...” Gabi answered, making a face. “I don't really like it, but it makes my parents happy".

That earned him a laugh, a very brief one.
“What would you rather do?”

“Art. Clay, mostly. Painting. Anything that gets my hands dirty. That makes me happy but I get it, it's not exactly a career".

Nico dried a plate, leaning one hip against the counter, "Well, it'll still be useful here, we’ll need that. The plaster in the upstairs rooms is a disaster, and the shutters need sanding but I have no idea how to do it myself".

Gabi smiled "I'll figure that out for you, then".

"Thank you. You sound like a great young man, I'm glad Levi has people like you in his life".

"He has you too, now".

Maybe he shouldn't have said that. Was it intrusive? It sounded intrusive. Nico didn't seem to mind.

“Retirement will be good for that” he said, “when you retire, you start noticing and fixing things you’ve ignored for years. Houses, habits… relationships”.

Nico was staring at the plate getting dried by the gentle sweep of his rag. Gabi didn't push things further.

They worked in companionable silence after that. When the last plate was put away, Gabi nodded a small goodnight and stepped back into the now comfortable heat of the garden.

The pool glittered in the dark, his companions splashing each other like children. Gabi sat quietly at the edge of the water, feet dangling in, and watched through them without seeing anything. His thoughts wandered instead, to Nico’s crooked smile, the gentleness of his hands, how he was unable to hide his intentions to fix something that was probably already broken beyond repair.

Later, all boys smelling faintly of chlorine and cut grass, they went back to the rooms they had picked earlier. Isack didn't bother to take a shower, throwing on a large shirt and clean boxers before laying on his bed.

"I'm exhausted mate, loooong day".

“Yeah, me too" Gabi said in a yawn.

He didn’t mention the conversation he had with Nico. Better to keep that for himself, he thought.

Chapter Text

Sleep hit him like the hush of waves against the rocks below the cliffs surrounding the house.

When he woke up, the house stood still. Isack was still out cold, sprawled in his tangled sheets. He snored loudly, the sound usually quieted by the wall standing between their rooms in Oxford. Thank God, he thought.

Gabi had always been an early waker, especially in new places, curiosity tugging him out of bed before the sun was fully awake to go and explore. He didn't bother to put shoes on; being bare foot always felt more natural.

The air outside was cooler than he expected, carrying the salty tang of the sea. The garden stretched around the house like a shield, stone walls overgrown with bougainvillea, a lonely fig tree heavy with almost ripe fruits, terracotta pots scattered here and there, probably by a clueless Nico trying to make it pretty. The cicadas were quiet still, the island not trembling with heat just yet.

Levi was already there, sitting cross-legged in a patch of grass with a book balanced on his knee, hair sticking up in every direction. He looked more like a kid here than he did in Oxford, where one could usually find him tucked into his sweaters, hiding in the library to study away from Gabi and Isack's distractions.

"Up already?" Gabi enquired.

Levi glanced up and squinted at the sun, "I tried to go back to sleep but it's way too hot in our room".

He closed his book and set it aside.

“Can’t really sleep in when there’s a garden like this to enjoy anyway, right?"

Gabi grinned, lowering himself onto the grass beside him. He stretched out with a sigh, letting the earth still cool from the night get under his nails.

"Yeah, it's amazing here. It's like living in a painting".

Levi hummed in agreement, quiet.

For a while they sat in easy silence, listening to the distant call of a boat horn, the flutter of wings as a bird darted overhead. But Gabi could feel the weight of his curiosity sitting heavy on his tongue.

“So…” he nudged Levi's shoulder gently, “Are you happy to be reconnecting with your dad?"

Levi exhaled slowly, like he struggled to keep the air in.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I came because I always come and see him for summer break. It makes him happy” he paused, tugging at a blade of grass until it snapped, “but it's not like it's going to change anything".

“Why not?”

Levi shrugged sharply, like a wasp had landed on his shoulder.

“We’ve spent years apart, my whole life actually. He was always gone. Racing, traveling, doing God knows what. And it’s not like he was off doing anything useful, you know. He wasn’t a doctor in war zones or some scientist looking for a cure for cancer. He was a racing driver. He chose that over being my dad."

His voice dipped quieter. “And now I’m supposed to believe a new summer house and a longer summer break together is going to fix that?"

Gabi swallowed , staring at a lizard tanning on a stone wall. He thought of his own father, of the long hours at work and the sacrifices made quietly, the pride in his eyes when sending him abroad to study something "ambitious". They weren't close in the way some fathers and sons were, but they knew each other. They were tethered by love, even if they didn't always say it out loud.

“My dad…” he started cautiously, “he worked so much when I was a kid. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to so I could go to good schools and end up here with you today. I didn’t always like it, but… I knew he was doing it for me.”
He turned his head toward Levi, trying to convey how genuine he was with his eyes, “Your dad… maybe he made some bad choices, okay. But at least he's trying".

Levi gave a humorless laugh “He’s always tried in shit ways. It was always big gifts, trips, invitations to Grand Prix... It’s like he doesn’t know how to just… I don't know, be there. Its not like we have anything in common, anyway. He’s outgoing, he likes talking to people and to cameras and I can't even believe he chose to live in Monaco of all places, I hate it there! Seattle is so much better, but he always says he doesn't get why my mom would choose to stay in a place that gloomy. It's not gloomy at all, it's actually really cosy there. He just doesn't get it. He doesn't get me."

Gabi rolled onto his back, looking up at the pale blue sky that was quickly brightening.

“That’s sad,” he said softly. And he meant it. At the end of the day, Levi was still the little boy waiting for his father to choose him. Expect it was maybe too late.

Levi didn't answer. He just sat there, jaw tight, picking at the grass until the tip of his fingers turned green.

The creak of a door broke the silence. Gabi lifted his head to see Nico stepping out into the garden, balancing a terribly appealing tray of food; fresh bread, mango cubes, slices of pineapple, a round jug of juice. Nico is barefoot too, his hair damp from the shower, wearing just a white t-shirt and blue shorts. He looked younger like this, softer, his eyes focused on only one of the two boys lounging in the garden.

“Breakfast!" He announced cheerfully, a drop in his voice betraying his poorly hidden carefulness. He set the tray down on the table beneath the fig tree, where they had dinner the night before “I thought you might like to eat outside. Your friends are still sleeping?"

Gabi sat up quickly, watching the way Nico glanced at Levi, hope flickering in his eyes like a candle in strong winds. Levi only nodded politely. Gabi felt a tug in his chest. Simple food, simple words, a father trying in the only way he knew how. It didn't feel like a bribe, not to him at least. Clumsy, maybe, but filled with good intentions and where Gabi came from, it mattered.

Nico looked like he was trying to stay for a few seconds, his eyes dancing towards the table, then Levi, then away. He clapped his hands once awkwardly, then rejoined the house. Gabi's feet almost ran after him, tugged by an invisible leash loosely fastened around his chest.

Once he was back inside, Levi muttered,
"See, he always does that, send stuff".

Gabi looked at the bread still warm from the oven, at the fruits sliced carefully, and shook his head.

“Mate, this is homemade bread. He put effort in that".

Levi bit into the bread after covering it in jam, chewed more aggressively than he had to. He looked away, probably to pretend he hadn't heard his friend. Gabi had a taste too, more to break the awkwardness than out of hunger. The mango was sweet and cold, juice running down his fingers. He couldn't stop thinking how much care it took to prepare it, Nico must have been awake since dawn, cutting each piece with precision to please his son.

The garden began to stir with the sound of the other waking. Doors slammed upstairs, then muffled laughter tumbled down the stairwell. By the time they finished their slices of bread, the others emerged one by one, sunglasses already perched on their noses like armors against the morning's brightness. Isack was first, yawning dramatically, then Axel and Cameron together. Gabi didn't have to wonder if Nico would bring a second round of food for very long before he did.

He came back out with a second jug of juice, and a smile very different from the one he had adorned earlier. Levi's rejection had broken this one, so the other boys would have to do with the manufactured version. They didn't seem to notice or care.

Gabi did.

“Morning boys," Nico said, easy and relaxed. He's so good at this, Gabi thought.

"Eat, and then we'll figure out what you want to do today".

“Beach day for sure!" Cameron declared immediately, dropping into a chair with all the weight of authority. “Sun, sea, the whole thing. We didn’t come all the way to Malta to nap".

"Seconded" Axel interjected "I want to see fishes".

Levi shrugged clearly indifferent, and Isack raised curious brows at Gabi “You've been talking about swimming so much in Oxford I thought you'd be at the beach already".

Gabi’s grin came without effort for the first time of the morning.

"We were waiting for you, lazy".

Nico leaned against the table, arms crossed. His biceps swollen from his position against the wood would probably feel like a firm loaf of bread under one's teeth.

“There’s a cove not far from here,” he said. “Not the tourist kind it seems, very quiet, a few locals hang out there. It's rocky but the water is clear enough to see the bottom and you can dive from the ledges if you're brave enough".

That gets a chorus of agreements from the group. Plans made, they eat quickly, and within the hour they’re ready to walk there, sunscreen and towels stuffed into bags along with beach balls and kickboards they'll have to share. Gabi wished he had his surf board, but wasn't even sure he would remember how to take a wave after two years away from the ocean.

The road winded through Gozo like a ribbon, cutting between golden hills and flat-roofed stone houses that blinded their eyes under the sun. Gabi was visibly the best at handling the heat, peacefully strolling ahead while the others complained every other minute about getting sweaty. Gabi smiled a little to himself : he felt like that in the winter in Oxford.

At the cove, the heat hit its peak, pressing against their skin like a hot knife. They stripped down quickly, sandals slapping on the rock as they raced toward the water. Gabi hesitated a moment, toes gripping the edge. The sea below was impossibly clear, turquoise fading into deep sapphire.

“What are you waiting for?" Isack playfully grabbed his arms to push him and catch him all at once, keeping him safely on shore.

He took the leap then, air rushing in his lungs before the water swallowed him whole. It was colder than he expected, shocking his nervous system and pushing him to the surface. When he emerged, sputtering, he heard the others cheering as they took their turns, celebrating their own bravery, voices echoing off the rocks.

For a while, it’s nothing but joy. Sun on their shoulders, salt on their lips, feet ripped on rocks, the kind of freedom that only comes in summer time. Gabi floated on his back, staring at the endless sky, not a single cloud on sight, and felt something unclench inside him. His muscles relaxed like they hadn't been in a good while, he let his flow of thoughts get away from him. He thought of Brazil, his parents' pride and how fulfilling it would be when they come and congratulate him on his graduation day. How good it would feel to come back home. Sometimes, he caught himself wondering whether or not he would be able to stay and live in Sao Paulo for the rest of his life now that he had friends elsewhere. A real life to himself. Freedom to do whatever he wanted as long as he maintained good grades. His family had always been tight, they wouldn't leave him as much freedom when he'd come back home. He would have to find a nice girl there, marry, have kids, follow his father's footsteps and do even better, keep climbing the ladder so his own son could do even more in time. That's how family worked : we sacrifices ourselves so the ones after us don't have to, but then they want more for the ones after them. The circle of life, Gabi muttered to himself, the waves slowly dancing around his calm body.

He thought of Nico looking for a summer house that would be suitable to host his son and his friends, away from Monaco that Levi hated. Of him staying up late to make sourdough and bake some bread for their breakfast. Of the plan he clearly had to have it with them before Levi's indifference made him change his mind.

He exhaled.

A whole hour had passed when he joined the others playing ball near the shore. Axel and Cameron were throwing jokes back and forth along with the ball, using slang Gabi didn't understand. He treaded water, smiling uncertainly, trying to keep up. Their laughter overlapped with Levi's, easy and exclusive, and that squeeze in his chest returned.

“Don’t bother,” Isack murmured beside him, low enough that only Gabi could hear it “I don’t get half of the shit they're saying".

"Ha, you too? I thought my English was rubbish".

Isack chuckled, patting him in the back "they're just rubbing their american slang in our faces" then he raised his voice, playfully calling out "guys, speak like humans please, not everyone here is a sloppy joe muncher".

Axel and Cameron laughed, good-natured, and Gabi wondered how Isack always managed to tell people the truth without making everything awkward. He was definitely not born with that ability himself.

They spent hours there, diving, swimming, sunbathing sprawled on towels until their skin shined in warmth.
He found himself talking a bit more with Axel and Cam, slowly starting to peel back the layers of inside jokes. They were nice, he guessed. Levi wouldn't have spent his whole childhood around unkind people anyway, but their sense of humor was very different from his and he wasn't a fan of their complaining about details of the trip. Yes it was a rocky beach, yes the scorching heat made it a little hard to breathe properly, and yes their beach ball had deflated after hitting a rock, but they were living the dream and these boys didn't even seem to notice. None of them had said thank you to Nico for the homemade bread.

By late afternoon, the heat began to weaken. They walked back to the house, dripping and sun drowsy, Isack's arm loosely hanging off his shoulders on the way. Nico was discreetly waiting, working on the house's front steps that were a little wobbly, the smell of food meeting their nostrils from a few meters away. A warm meal ordered from a local restaurant, Nico said, since he wanted them to taste Gozitan dishes. They opened the bags in a hurry, starved from all the swimming; rabbit stew, ftira bread, olives marinated with garlic, Gabi's mouth watered.

They ate on the terrace, the sun sinking rapidly, casting everything in gold, then leaving them in the dark. Nico clapped, clapped again, clapped a third time, mumbled "scheiße, was auch immer..." and actually got up to switch a light that was apparently not very well set up. Gabi felt the day stretching long behind him, and his tired limbs were begging for a soft mattess. He snuck glances at Nico, laughing easily at the boys’ stories, and wondered how Levi couldn't see the gentleness hidden in his every move.

Once they had devoured the last scraps, Nico set his glass down.

"So, since it’s cooler now, I thought we could do some work on the house. Nothing heavy, just a few fixes...” his eyes flicked to Gabi.

A spark. Maybe he was making it up.
"I remembered what you said about liking clay, Gabi. I might have something for you."

Gabi’s chest lifted, a quiet thrill blooming. The others groaned half-heartedly but dutifully nodded pushing back their chairs. After all, it was part of the deal they had passed to be there in the first place.

They let all the windows open to let the air in as heat lingered in the stones of the house. In the patio, Nico handed out small tasks and tools : brushes, sandpaper, buckets of water.

"We'll just work on the ceiling edges tonight,” he says. “And the garden wall for those who aren't scared of the dark. Levi, you're in?"

Levi nodded quietly. The others grumbled but in the good-natured way of boys who don’t actually mind as much as they pretend to. They turned it into a contest within minutes, of who could scrub the fastest or balance longest on the ladder without wobbling. Isack was apparently destined to a great career in a circus regarding his balance skills and capacities to juggle with paintbrushes.

Gabi, though, was barely hearing them.

Nico had set a slab of clay on a workbench in the garden - a leftover from patching the fountain, he’d explained. “It’s not perfect,” he’d added, almost apologetic, “but maybe you can make use of it. Stronger hands than mine, maybe. I'm pretty shit at it if I'm honest. Feel free to do what you want with it, it's either that or it'll be wasted".

Gabi didn't need more encouragement. The moment he had touched the clay, cool and pliable under his fingers, the noise of the others had faded in the distance. His fingers moved instinctively, shaping, smoothing, pulling a shape out of nothing. He wasn't even sure what he was making at first; only a curve, a hollow, a rhythm, something with a soul nevertheless. Soon enough, the clay began to suggest its own shape under his palms, and then he was just a passenger of his own art.

For a minute, his world narrowed to texture and weight, the simple joy of creation. His heartbeat steady, his thoughts still. He breathed with more ease than usual. This was him, he thought, the Gabi he always wanted to feel like, beneath the borrowed life of Gabriel and his economics lectures and essays he didn't give two cents about. Here, with earth drying under his nails, he was really living.

At some point, Nico drifted closer. Gabi sensed him before he heard him, the quiet solidity of his presence. Yet he didn't look up, didn't break the rhythm of his work. If he had, he could have lost its soul entirely.

“You really lose yourself in it, uh” Nico said softly, not quite a real question.

Gabi swallowed, finally glancing up. Nico stood with his arms crossed, hair damp, now wearing a faded shirt that clings faintly to his shoulders. Even in the dim light of the garland, his eyes were bright, intent.

Focused on him, and him only.

“I… yeah, I guess” he admitted, his voice is a little rough “clay is very easy to work with, it's very cooperative so it's easy to go at it for hours".

Nico’s mouth curves into something between a smile and a chuckle “I tried myself and I can assure you it does not cooperate with me at all. You have a gift, kid".

The words land deeper than Gabi liked them to.

"You have a gift". Goosebumps.

"Kid". Crippling unpleasantness.

He ducked his head again, cheeks hot though the night had cooled. Compliments usually slided off him; he was quite popular with girls back in Sao Paulo. But Nico's attention felt like two sides of a coin; addicting yet patronizing. Like an uncle patting his nephew on the back. Except he didn't need nor want that kind of attention.

Not from Nico anyway.

Behind them, the others were still at their games, splattering paint on each other more than on the walls, their laughter carrying across the courtyard. Gabi barely heard them.

Time unfolded. Minutes, hours, it could have been days and months and years and he wouldn't have noticed. His hands moved, shaping something that resembled a bowl, wide and imperfect in some tiny details but whole and practical. He was so deep into his craft that he hadn't realized everyone else had stopped until a voice cut through.

“Gabi,” Nico said gently, like he had to wake someone from a dream, “it’s late. I think you should get some rest".

Gabi blinked, looking around. The living room was now empty, the others having long gone upstairs, abandoning their brushes and cloths where they fell on a side of thr room. Only Nico remained, watching him with a quiet patience that made Gabi’s chest tighten. How long has he been sitting there, waiting for him to be done?

“I didn’t notice,” Gabi murmured. His hands were coated in a thick layer of clay, streaked up to his forearms.
“Sorry, I—”

“Don’t apologize, it's okay” Nico stepped closer, close enough that Gabi could see the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, carved by years of sun and laughter and strain.

“It’s good to see someone so… present. So alive in what they do. It's a look I've only seen in felllow F1 drivers before, you know".

Gabi didn't trust his voice, so he only nodded looking back at his nearly finished bowl. It wasn't his best work, as he had lost the habit of working with clay in college, but it was definitely something he could be proud of. Something real, pulled out of the earth with his own hands. It had been a long time.

Nico tilted his head, studying him for a moment longer. Gabi's skin heated like the sun had suddenly reappeared in the sky to burn him raw.

Nico gestured towards the house.
"Time for bed mate, don't worry 'll clean up".

Reluctantly, Gabi set the clay aside, flexing his stiff fingers. He followed Nico inside, the sound of their steps echoing softly in the hall. Upstairs, doors were already closed, the house hushed in peaceful silence.

At his own door, after thoughtfully washing his hands, Gabi carefully opened the creaking door, stubborn clay dust still lingering under his nails. Isack really hated being woken up, but he didn't budge this time.

He thought of the bitterness that clung to Levi in ways Gabi would've never guessed before coming here.

He thought of Nico’s voice, low and warm, calling him alive.

In the dark, Gabi laid awake longer than he should have, replaying it all. The sea, the laughter, the bowl. The weight of Nico’s gaze, steady and sharp, as though it could see right through him.

Sleep came slow, but as it always did, it still came.

Chapter Text

The days slipped past quickly after that first night. The house filled with rhythm; late mornings, long afternoons, noisy evenings. Gabi finished the bowl he had shaped out of clay, smoothing its edges until his fingers ached. When he had painted it a messy burst of blues and ochres, Nico had lingered behind him long enough for Gabi to notice. He smelled like sandalwood and salt from the sea.

Later, the bowl sat on a shelf in the living room, as if it had always belonged there. Nico had simply stated that he loved it, and the words burned warm in his chest for hours.

"You're very good with your hands", Nico had said.

These words burned in places Gabi would keep quiet forever.

They spent most of the week roaming the island. They swam in hidden caves, meeting the occasional tourist, wandered through the stone villages, visited the citadel, ate fish caught hours earlier and still warm bread dripping with olive oil for nearly every meal.

They progressively got more sunburned, more sore-footed, more sandy-haired, Levi's hair rapidly turning as blonde as his father's, and laughed too loud in cafés where nobody seemed to mind.

Each day, a new flow of tourists came and returned, riding tour buses and waving at them excitedly. Gabi sent kisses their way and didn't pretend to blush when young women made hearts with their hands and took his picture. It had been a long time since he had last gotten this kind of attention, the humble popularity he had built in Sao Paulo long forgotten in Oxford, so he let himself enjoy it.

He found himself slowly adjusting to Cameron and Axel, somehow. They could be entitled, spoiled even, but their shared memories with Levi showed in their kindness. He couldn't help thinking they desperately lacked the depth he had found with Levi and Isack, but he supposed that was what childhood friendship were all about : we were raised along each other in the same area, but I wouldn't necessarily have chosen you out of my own will.

Levi had chosen him, and Isack.

And that was what truly mattered.

Isack opened up too, sharing stories with Nico over diner, teaching french swear words to Cam, leaving Gabi's side a bit more often. Not by a lot, but enough that Gabi registered it even when he started getting a bit too preoccupied with the man who had been slipping into his thoughts more and more often throughout the day.

Nico, with his manufactured smiles and hands that always seemed busy fixing, smoothing, shaping, cooking or drawing itineraries for them to follow. Gabi never meant to notice the curve of his back when he bent to lift boxes, or the warmth in his laugh when he relaxed around them, but he did. He noticed everything.

How his smiles sometimes turned genuine when Levi laughed. How he started serving tea for breakfast when Isack mentioned how much he loved it. How his hand almost held his when he introduced them to his favorite ice cream shop and Gabi's cone almost fell from his hands before Nico caught it.

By the fifth day, the boys had seen the whole island. A small island, Nico had warned, don't rush it, but they hadn't listened and now they all had caught a serious case of restlessness.

On the sixth day, Nico disappeared into Ir-Rabat early in the morning and returned with five bicycles, taking them out of his trunk one at a time and leaning them against the garden wall as if it was nothing special. Gabi could've helped, but the urge to watch discreetly from the window while Isack was taking his shower had been too strong.

“Go,” Nico said, “book a boat ride to Malta and have fun there with these."

Gabi pictured them leaving for a whole day, taking a boat back to Malta for an hour, spend the whole day exploring, eating lunch and diner there, getting back so late Nico would be fast asleep or even having to spend the night there and wait for the first boat back.

"Come with us, Nico“ he blurted out, "Be our guide?"

Levi made a sound that could only be perceived as annoyance. Gabi couldn't find the strength to care.

Nico hesitated, clearly uneasy with the idea of ruining his son's day.

"I... would you guys like that? I don't want to impose.."

Cam bit into his morning bread so he could fulfill his terrible habit of talking with his mouth full "No, Gabi is right! Come with us, it'll be fun!"

Nico’s hesitation didn't last long. A single glance at Levi, who kept quiet but didn't object, seemed to tip the balance. Gabi often wondered what Nico did all day when they were out exploring the island. Working on the house all day in the unbearable heat couldn't possibly be an option, Nico must have been bored.

“Alright,” Nico finally stated, his voice careful in case Levi decided to speak up, “I’ll come.”

Levi remained quiet and just like that, the day belonged to them.

The boat was filled to the brim with families in floppy hats and groups of teenagers dragging coolers behind them but Nico led them to a corner of the deck where the breeze was sharp and clean. The boys leaned their bikes against the railing, bursting into laughter when Cameron nearly lost his grip and caught himself with Isack's shorts, exposing his glorious pink underwear to the world. Gabi sat a little apart, watching how Nico stood so naturally among them without trying, holding space like an anchor.

Gabi imagined sketching him, but he knew he wouldn’t get the important details right: the hint of wrinkles forming around his mouth and his eyes, the very slight crook of his nose, how he folded his arms on his chest as if to keep a private thought from ever getting a chance to spill. He could never recreate such beauty and presence on paper even if he spent years trying.

By the time they disembarked in Malta, the day was blazing hot but they had grown accustomed to it. The boys mounted their bikes one after another, wobbling into rhythm, and Nico took the lead without being asked. The road ran so close to the coast, narrow stone walls hemming them in on either side, the sea following them on their journey, blue, endless, unreal.

“Stay left, watch the turns!” Nico called back, his voice carrying over the rush of the wind in his ears.

They rode in a loose pack, Cameron and Axel racing each other at the front, Isack coasting in the middle, Levi steady and quiet at the back. Gabi pedaled hard to stay close to his best friend while still keeping Nico in sight, eyes fixed on the movements of his back, the easy confidence in his posture. He may have been retired, but the last twenty years he spent as a high performance athlete showed in every single brush of muscles.

Every so often Nico slowed, letting them all regroup, handing out water bottles as if he’d been planning this for days. He probably had, Gabi reckoned.

Their first stop was in a small village perched on a hillside, whitewashed houses stacked over one another, laundry fluttering from balconies. Nico steered them toward a shaded square, where a café awkwardly arranged tables across the cobblestones. The group collapsed into mismatched chairs, sweaty but fulfilled, and Nico disappeared inside without a word, then returned balancing a tray loaded with glasses of iced tea, lemon wedges floating on top, and a gigantic plate piled high with something fried and golden.

“Pastizzi,” he said, setting the tray down, “it's basically a cheese and peas croissant. Try them before you ask any questions".

Cameron bit in too quickly and burned his tongue, Axel howling with laughter. Levi shook his head, hiding a smile.

Isack took a cautious bite and debated internally until he stated "ouais okay, very good".

Gabi sniffed the croissant for a second, just in case, and took his first bite. The buttery flakes melted on his tongue, the filling cheesy and crisp. He closed his eyes in delight.

"Meu Deus".

Nico’s laugh came low and warm. That was a real one, Gabi knew the difference too well just by the sound of it.

"That good?"

He opened his eyes and found Nico's, looking directly at him like sunlight breaking through clouds. He nodded, swallowing, unable to speak, and reached for another pastry just to have something to do with his hands and a reason to look away.

The group was noisy around them, crumbs falling, jokes flying, but Gabi felt his center of gravity shift like a compass caught in a storm, forced to change directions.

They left the village with crumbs lingering on their shirts, Isack whistling a familiar tune he couldn't quite place. The road tilted upward, winding away from the sea into farmland. The old walls rose higher there, patched with wildflowers that clung stubbornly in the cracks. Entire generations had lived there over the centuries, their work stubbornly surviving after their disappearance, their art everywhere for those with eyes to see.

Gabi felt liters of sweat pooling down his back. His thighs ached, his lungs protesting against the hot air engulfing them. It was fine. He was used to long walks in Oxford as he despised public transport there, and as a proud Brazilian he embraced the heat.

But the Maltese sun was merciless, pressing on his shoulders like a hand, leaving him no space to recover.

Nico rode just ahead, not pushing too far, glancing back every so often to check their pace. At one bend, when the road narrowed, Gabi caught himself struggling to keep balance and nearly clipped the wall. In a flash, Nico stopped, steadying his bike alongside him.

“You alright, Gabi?” Nico called out.

“Fine,” he panted, though the burn in his throat said otherwise.

Nico studied him for half a beat longer than necessary, then started pedaling again but this time slower, matching Gabi's own pace until they rode side by side. It made the climb bearable somehow, though Gabi couldn't pick out if it was thanks to this new rhythm Nico had set or to his quiet presence alongside him soothing his aching muscles.

Ahead, Cameron called back, “Last one to the top buys all the drinks tonight!” Axel whooped in response, both of them shooting forward, leaving dust in their wake. Isack groaned dramatically, promising to walk his bike if they kept this up. He would never actually admit that he was struggling, Gabi knew that much. Levi, ever steady, still rode at the back, as though to herd them all into a single flock.

The road finally spilled into a plateau, the land flattening out under the wide sky. Terraced fields stretched in every direction, olive trees scattered in the distance like brushstrokes. In the distance, a church dome rose, washed red against the pale stone. The group pulled over near a fountain, panting, splashing water on their faces.

Nico disappeared again -he had a habit of slipping away, he noticed- only to return with exactly what they didn’t realize they needed. This time it was a plastic bag from a roadside stall: peaches and plums, still warm from the sun. He handed them around, and juice quickly started running sticky down their wrists.

“Careful,” Nico warned, smiling faintly as Cam dribbled juice all over his shirt.

Gabi bit into his peach slowly, savoring the sweetness, and watched Nico wipe his own hands on a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. The simple, old-fashioned gesture makes something flutter in Gabi’s chest. Something so simple yet so rare to see, keeping a handkerchief on you just in case you dirtied your hands. Juice spilled from Gabi's chin to his neck, staining his golden skin. For a second, he could swear Nico had licked his lips at the sight.

Levi sat a little apart, staring at the fields in the distance. Gabi caught the shadow in his expression, the dissociated state that always flickered on and off when his father was around. For a moment, guilt pinched at him. He was Levi’s best friend, a brother almost, and here he was, blinding his eyes with his father like he was sunlight.

He wished that guilt had the power to make it stop.

When they set off again, Nico fell into step beside Gabi without comment, making sure he was okay with the rythm. He didn't say a word, yet Gabi could feel the way each turn of his wheel carried him closer to something he couldn't quite decipher yet.

Chapter Text

By the time they rolled into the coastal town, their stomachs had turned louder than their laughter. The air smelled of grilled fish and salt, tangy and irresistible. They clattered off their bikes, chaining them together against a low wall, and stumbled into the first restaurant Nico approved of : a small place tucked into a corner square, with wobbly chairs and a striped awning that swayed in the breeze.

They ordered way too much for six persons, platters of lampuki pie, bowls of rabbit stew, bread that arrived still steaming, the crust cracking under their fingers. Three bottles of local wine appeared and disappeared just as quickly. Cameron kept rambling about a girl he had caught a glance of from a tour bus and was for sure the love of his life while Isack kept sliding bites of food onto Gabi’s plate, murmuring “try this mate, so good” without waiting for his answer.

But Gabi’s eyes, traitorous as ever, drifted inevitably to Nico across the table. He didn't laugh the loudest, rarely ever led the conversation, but they gravitated around him instinctively, pulling him into every debate to get his opinion on everything. Wise choice, Gabi thought, since everything Nico said always brought a spark of interest. He knew so much about so many things, mundane or not. Gabi wished he could hold conversations that easily, about that many topics without ever wavering.

Every so often, when the others were distracted, Nico glanced at Gabi. Just a flicker, then gone. It made Gabi’s heart thud like the thing was trying to escape his ribs by drilling a hole through his skin and bones. He could've been imagining it, but he wasn't.

For sure, he wasn't.

The afternoon vanished into sunset. They lingered too long, and suddenly the square across the terrace was bathed in honey colored light. Nico claped his hands softly, as though calling them back to earth. “If we want to catch the last boat, we need to move now".

A choral of groans arose around the table, but they gathered themselves anyway, paid in a mess of coins and bills, Nico discreetly passing another green bill in the waiter's hand, and retrieved their bikes. The air was cooler now, saltier too, the sea pulling them back to her with every turn of the wheels.

The ride was quiet; full stomachs, tired legs, and the hush of evening settling over them. Levi drifted ahead, his silhouette framed by the sun sinking low over the water. Isack rode close behind Gabi, now humming softly, but Gabi barely registered it. He was too aware of Nico, who cycled alongside him again, matching his pace still as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

At one point the road narrowed forcing them shoulder to shoulder. Their arms brushed. Just the faintest touch, warm skin to warm skin. Gabi’s breath stopped for a second, though Nico didn’t flinch. Instead, he steadied his bike with one hand and murmured : “Careful. These roads curve sharp.”

The words are nothing but ordinary, empty. But the way Nico said them, low, measured, meant only for him, made Gabi’s chest tighten. He took a deep breathe, vainly trying to keep his heart steady.

They reached the boat just as the horizon bled into purple. The boat rocked gently, carrying them back across the channel. The boys sprawled on the deck this time, the boat way less crowded than in the morning, trading lazy jokes, heads tipped back to watch the first stars appear. Gabi leaned on the railing, the few high waves licking the boat's extremities cooling his face, and Nico joined him a few feet away.
Not close enough to touch. But close enough that Gabi could feel the space between them, charged, alive.
When the ferry docked, Nico seemed to sheperd them back home like sheeps. Everyone was yawning, complaining about sore muscles, already planning tomorrow’s swim to relax their tired bodies. Gabi said nothing. He just kept replaying that brush of arms, over and over, as if it was the only things that mattered all day.

To him, it was.
-

He awoke to a dark room still heavy with sleep. The shutters were drawn, faint sea air pressing against them, too warm to properly cool the atmosphere. Beside him, Isack’s slow, even breathing filled the silence. The clock on his phone flashed 4:32. He should have turned over, closed his eyes again and waited for morning. But his body was betraying him.

The dream lingered. Nico’s hand on his shoulder, guiding him into a pool of soft sheets. The heat of his breath against his neck. The kind of dream that started vague, blurry, completely harmless, then narrowed until it burned, until there was nothing left but the feel of skin and the unbearable sensation of being desired. He woke with his chest tight, pulse frantic, and the hard proof of his arousal pressed against his shorts.

He laid there, rigid, staring at the ceiling. Nothing to focus on but the faint rhythm of Isack shifting under the sheet beside him. He couldn't - wouldn't - touch himself here, not with Isack’s so close, their breaths crossing invisibly in the space between beds. Shame tightened his throat. If he let that dream echo through his body any longer, he would go insane.

Eventually, he slipped out of bed, the mattress sighing under him, feet silent on the cool tile. The corridor was still dark, the sun barely rising, but through the kitchen window the faintest blue of dawn was seeping into the garden. He needed to get some fresh air, to shake the dream loose until it disappeared from his mind forever.

A small noise startled him.
A movement.
Someone out in the garden.

He peeked behind the patio's wall. At first, all he could distinguish was a silhouette, that slowly shaped itself: bare feet on stone, a thin shirt clinging to a lean body, hair still damp from an early rinse. Nico stretched, slow and deliberate, as he had all the time in the world. Arms rising, back arching, then folding forward until his palms brushed the yoga mat he had unrolled on the ground.

Gabi froze behind the cold stone wall. Something molten spilled through his chest. He should have walked out and said good morning, should make a sound to announce his presence at the very least, but the sight of Nico’s body bending in and out of the sun’s first lights stilled him completely. Stuck in place like a marble statue, barely breathing.

He stayed hidden, breath shallow, just watching. Nico moved like he did in his dream, every movement so fluid he could have been dancing. He reminded Gabi of the carnival's performers back in Brasil, his grace and control over his own body betraying his past as a highly trained sportsman. No matter how far he stretched, how high he pushed his leg or how low he arched his robust frame, Nico could never sway. Strong and steady, disaster could never strike around him, as he would not let it.

Every movement like a secret only meant for him, for Gabi watching in secret, crushed by shame and desire.
Nico shifted into a lunge, hands firm against the mat, his profile sharpened by the growing light. The island was still asleep, the air damp with salt and soil, and it felt indecent to get to see him like this, so private, so unguarded. No one was ever supposed to see this.

Gabi pressed his palm to the wall, breath stuttering. The dream came rushing back: Nico’s hands guiding him lower on his body, Nico’s voice just a murmur against his ear. It coiled through him now, thick and unavoidable, like the hot air that almost choked him on his bike the day before, settling between his legs until the ache grew too sharp to ignore.

He leaned back against the stone, eyes fixed on the curve of Nico’s shoulders as they flexed, the thick line of his calves tightening and relaxing. His own hand slipped under the waistband of his shorts before he could think better of it. Just enough pressure, just enough to ease the restless ache, his teeth digging into his lip to keep any sound from breaking free, his head resting against the wall but his eyes still fixed on the object of their fascination.

For a dizzy moment, it felt like the dream had never ended. The faint scent of mint in the garden, the discreet hum of insects waking and cicadas starting to chirp, Nico’s breath steady as he folded on himself and rose again, it all collapsed into one unbearable pull. He needed more. He needed to touch, to actually feel the flexing of his muscles under his palm, needed to know what his sweat smelled like from up close, to taste it on his tongue.

And then, too quickly, Nico straightened, rolled his mat with practiced ease and headed back inside.

Panic sore through Gabi like a hawk. He yanked his hand free, wiped it against his thigh and pressed both palms to his face, praying for the heat burning there to pass for the flush of waking. Nico entered the patio less than a second after he put himself together, carrying his mat under his arm. Gabi forced himself into a yawn, stumbling deliberately into view to announce his presence.

Nico paused at the sight of him.

“Morning,” he said softly. Not suspicious like Gabi had feared; just warm, a kind of comforting feeling that made his shame somehow worse.

“Couldn’t go back to sleep,” Gabi lied, rubbing his eyes. His voice felt raw.

Nico tilted his head, studying him with a look Gabi can’t quite parse, then gestured toward the kitchen.

"Will you help me with breakfast then?"

And just like that, Gabi was pulled inside, out of the half-light of the patio and into the kitchen where the air already smelled of yeast and coffee. His body was still humming, still tender from the dream and vibrating from the stress he had just put him through, but Nico was there, sleeves rolled and rummaging the closets for flour, so he had no choice but to pretend.

The sounds of the kitchen were hushed, only the discreet clatter of bowls and the steady tick of the old clock filling the silence. Timid sunlight spilled through the green shutters of the house, striping the tiled floor in pale gold. Nico set down a bag of flour on the counter with a small but triumphant smile.

“Croissants,” he announced "I'm trying again, and this time I will succeed".

Gabi laughed, still uneasy but warming up to the idea of actually cooking and forget about this whole incident. No one had to know but him, after all.

"I've done some with my grandmother once. You just need patience, and the right touch".

“Which I don’t have?” Nico’s eyes glinted.

“I'm sure you do" Gabi answered before he could contain it, heart jolting at the words forming in his throat. He swallowed them down. "But careful, Isack is french and he won't hesitate to belittle your creations".

Nico chuckled, shaking his head. He stood close - too close - as Gabi rolled the dough, their shoulders almost brushing. Gabi put all of his effort into actually remembering the steps of the recipe he had only followed once, helped by a cookbook Nico had bought specifically for the new house, he said. Gabi talked him through each fold, each careful press.

Nico tried, fumbled, muttered to himself in German and Gabi understood his frustration just the same as in his own language. Unable to stop himself and convincing himself that the touch would be perfectly innocent, he took Nico’s hands and guided them rolling the croissants. Finding the right angle, the right amount of pressure. Nico still smelled of sandalwood and sweat.

“There,” Gabi finally said. His fingers lingered, heat spreading from the contact. “I think they're perfect like this".

Nico looked at him, really looked. His guarded smile fades into something quieter. Almost wary. The room thickened with the feel of it, the air heavy with doubt.
“You’re good with your hands,” he said again. The words burned straight through Gabi this time, down to where he was still aching, still half hard. He forced a laugh, but it was too thin, too unsteady, to be believable.

They moved around each other, brushing lightly, handing over utensils, avoiding eye contact. What began as a light cooking session had slipped into something else; an intimacy Gabi both craved and feared. A single wrong move and he would tip over.

What would await at the bottom of the well, he didn't need to know.

At last, after an eternity and when the sun was finally up in the sky, Nico leaned against the counter, dusted his hands, and sighed. Gabi braced for impact.

Said impact never hit.

“Has Levi said anything? About me?” Nico's voice was careful, almost reluctant. Like he was forcing himself.to ask a question he didn't want to hear the answer to.

Gabi blinked. “About you?”

“I worry I’m… imposing too much, and he doesn't like that...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t make it easy for me. I know I failed him, all these years... But I thought maybe this summer...” His voice faltered, steadied. “Maybe we could start again? Now that I'm retired and have all the time in the world for him... But he looks at me and I see... well, I don't think he likes me very much. Can't blame him, I suppose. So.. did he? Talk about me?"

The confession settled heavily between the two men. For the first time, Gabi saw past the charm, the practiced brightness, the blinding attractiveness, into the cold loneliness beneath.

"He... He didn't really say anything, no. He never said you were imposing too much".

Nico almost looked hopeful at that, but the light in his eyes quickly disappeared again. Levi hadn't said anything about him being too much, but he hadn't said anything at all. It wasn't that much of a victory.

“Twenty years,” Nico said quietly after what felt like an eternity of empathetic silence, “with no serious partner. A few friends, not many at all. My Levi for maybe two, three visits a year tops. That’s my life. I thought I could make something greater of it at some point... But now…” He gestures vaguely around the room, “here we are".

Gabi didn't know what to say. He desperately wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap between them, but his hands stayed on the counter, trembling. He had never felt so adult, so close to the harsh reality of being one, of being the captain of his own ship along with the terrifying prospect of sinking it. Why Nico was telling him all of this, his most intimate thoughts, he had no idea.

He was simply glad he did.

Before he could form the courage to speak, footsteps sounded from the hall. Isack appeared in the doorway, hair tousled, eyes still heavy with sleep. He stopped, taking in the scene - the flour on Gabi’s hands, Nico standing way too close to him with reddened eyes, the charged air between the two of them. For a second, the look in his eyes turned unreadable, sharp, almost bruised. What was he imagining that could make his heart hurt?

Then he muttered a good morning and reached for a bottle of water in the fridge, looking away. Gabi swallowed, his pulse hammering. His eyes tried to find Nico's again, but they were now fixed on their croissants cooking in the oven.

Something had shifted.

Chapter Text

The cove was almost empty, a strip of sand folded between two cliffs that guarded it from the rest of the island. Only a handful of tourists had successfully crossed to explore, but were keeping their distance. The water was clear enough to shimmer like glass, its unbelievably turquoise color and smooth surface broken only by the distant splash of Cam and Axel playing some game that involved throwing seaweed at each other. Isack had his snorkel mask strapped over his forehead, floating lazily, letting the current rock him back and forth like a piece of driftwood.

Gabi and Levi sat further up the shore, where the tide reached just high enough to cool their feet. For a while, they didn’t talk. Levi kept tossing stones into the water, watching the ripples overlap and fade. The sun was sliding toward its zenith, too bright to even look in its general direction. Gabi leaned back on his hands, distracted by the sting of salt on his chapped lips and the unusual silence settling between them.

Levi broke it at last.

“Isack said you talked to my dad this morning. Did he say anything? About me?"

His voice was low, steady, as though he’d been rehearsing the line in his head and had finally deemed himself ready to let it out.

Gabi tilted his head toward him. “He did, yeah. He's really trying to fix things with you".

Levi snorted at that. Brief, brittle, ressentful. “You don’t know him.”

Gabi wanted to argue, to say that he knew enough of Nico - his hands trembling over flour, the way he confessed his loneliness with a softness that felt like surrender - but he kept his mouth closed. Those moments were not his to weaponize. They were secrets entrusted to him, or perhaps little accidents he’d stumbled into against Nico's will, and it didn’t feel right to throw them in Levi’s face as proof of anything.
It didn't feel right to share them at all. Those moments were his.

“I see him try” he said instead. “That’s all I mean. I don't think it's fake".

Levi turned then, eyes sharp, hair damp from the sea clinging to his forehead. "And what do you think you see? He makes bread? He buys expensive bikes and tips hundred of bucks so we can embark on ferries that are already full?"

"Well..." Gabi hesitated "yes? Maybe he doesn't know how to do things properly but that's his way of-"

"And why exactly are you analyzing my dad? Don't you think I know him a little better than you do?"

The words hit hard, harder than Gabi would have expected. He looked down at his hands, at the grains of sand clinging to his skin. His chest tightened with guilt, with shame, with something harder to name. Because it was true. Nico had given him something Levi never got - his vulnerability - but he didn't know him more just like that.

“I don’t,” Gabi murmured “I don’t think I know him better. I just think… I don’t think he’s pretending".

Levi exhaled sharply, shaking his head. His mouth was set in a thin line, visibly holding back. He picked up another stone, tossed it into the waves. It hit the surface like a meteorit.

“Then he should've made better choices” Levi spat, his voice cracked at the edges, “He could have been there. Formula 1 wasn’t some sacred duty. He drove cars in circles. And that was worth more than raising me?"

The words bled out like poison, tainting the water's ethereal blue. Levi’s hands clenched into fists, his shoulders trembling. Gabi had no recollection of ever seeing him in such state before.

“And now what? Now I’m supposed to just forget that and play house with him because he’s retired? Because he’s bored? Because he has nothing better to do anymore?” He shook his head bitterly, “I won't be his little pastime.”

Gabi felt the ache of it, sharp and heavy. The sea roared against the rocks, indifferent, as though it had heard this kind of confession before and was unbothered by their ridiculous human worries.

He still wanted to defend Nico. Wanted to tell Levi about the quiet admissions in the kitchen, about how regret weighed his father's every gesture. But he bit down on the words again. They would only cause more trouble. Instead, he let the silence stretch, his heart hammering at the impossible position he’d stumbled into, between a man who had opened himself to him in ways no one ever had before, and the boy who had been left to grow up with the ache of his absence.

“I get it,” Gabi said finally. His voice was soft, almost drowned by the sound of the waves. "I really do".

Levi didn’t answer. He didn't believe him.

The quarrel hung between them even after the last stone left Levi’s hand. He just hurled one after the other into the stream, then drew his knees closer to his chest to stare at the horizon like the sea owed him answers.

He stayed curled inward, arms looped around his knees, jaw tight. Gabi let the hush stretch between them, afraid to push, afraid to retreat. In turn, he stared in the distance begging for divine help.

The better of an hour went by.

From down the shore, Cameron’s laugh carried, bright and careless, Axel following his every move with some crude joke that made Isack roll his eyes as he splashed water at them. The easy noises of newfound friendship. Uncomplicated, jarred against the weight pressing down on the strip of sand where Gabi and Levi sat.

“I’m not saying you should forgive him,” Gabi tried again after an eternity of silence, weighing each word on his tongue with care. “I’m just saying… Maybe it's not too late to create some good memories together. That's why we're here, right?"

Levi tilted his head, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes were hard, ice cold blue, but under the hardness, Gabi thought he saw something like exhaustion, like the kind of tired that no amount of sleep could fix.

“Right” Levi said. His voice was quieter now, but sharp still, like a blade pressed closer rather than withdrawn.

Gabi swallowed, chest tightening, unable to decipher if he should be feeling better or worse.

Right.

Levi lingered for a moment longer, then stood up, brushing sand from his shorts, and walked back toward the others. His shoulders were stiff, movements quick, as if fleeing away from Gabi.

He stayed where he was, staring at the waves. The ache in his chest was sharp, insistent. His ribs torn open, caught between two truths that refused to meet in the middle.

When he finally joined the others, Levi was already waist-deep in the water, letting Cameron and Axel tug him into their stupid game. He was laughing, or at least pretending to. From a distance, it was impossible to tell.

Gabi waded in beside Isack, who glanced at him sideways, as if sensing something unsettled. But he didn’t ask, and Gabi didn’t say. The salt clung to his skin, but it wasn’t enough to wash away the sting of Levi’s words.

By the time the sun slid low, painting Gozo in bronze and rose once again, the boys trudged back to the house with damp hair and skin still hot. The hill on top of which the house sat smelled of smoke from meat grilling somewhere down in the village. From the garden, the sharper, warmer scent of garlic and tomato spilled through the open windows, drawing them toward the kitchen before they even set down their bags.

Nico was busy there, sleeves rolled up, a dish towel over his shoulder. The counter was already cluttered with bowls and pans: chopped herbs, glistening slices of aubergine, pasta already half cooked. He looked up when they entered and smiled, easy and bright, but the kind of smile that could have belonged on a television camera and not on a genuinely happy man.

“Perfect timing,” he said. “Dinner will be ready in fifteen... ish".

Gabi frowned at that. This wasn’t the man who had talked to him about his loneliness, about twenty years of drifting. This was the performer talking - cheerful, effortless, untouchable. Not real.

Gabi wasn't sure he liked that man.

He hated that he could tell the difference by now, hated that he had been let into the truth only to watch Nico slip it back under the rug, behind a mask. The others didn’t see it, somehow. Cam and Axel dropped into their usual chairs, arguing about who had won the afternoon’s diving contest. Levi brushed past stiffly, heading straight for the stairs without a word to drop his things and take a shower while Isack leaned over the diner table, already yawning.

“Want help?” Cameron offered, though he made no move to get up.

Nico laughed, light and generous. “No thanks, no worries. Just sit. You’ve all had a long day I'm sure".

That laugh -even it sounded rehearsed to Gabi’s ears now.

Maybe he was just hallucinating it, his ego swollen with the tiny window into his heart Nico had opened for him.

He stood between the entryway and the kitchen for a moment longer, caught between wanting to step forward and help set the table and running to retreat upstairs with Levi. Was his best friend waiting for him, expecting him to come and spend the evening isolating from the world like they often did back in Oxford? Or was he still too upset and would push him away if he tried?

His chest tightened with something close to anger, though he couldn’t decide whether it was for Nico hiding his true feelings again, for Levi refusing to look for them, or for himself, helpless in the middle.

When Nico turned, finally catching his gaze, he forced a smile as fake as his and crossed the room to offer a hand with the plates. Their fingers brushed yet again, brief and unremarkable to anyone else, but the heat of it left him burning. Any contact with Nico's skin was a painful reminder of how sensitive he truly was to his touch.

Behind him, he felt rather than saw Isack’s eyes fixated on him. A chill pricked at the back of his neck, even as warmth flared in his palm. He turned around, asking a question with his eyes. Isack lifted an eyebrow, asked him what he wanted without saying a word. Gabi had no idea.

They ate outside, cicadas slowly making less and less noise as the night settled over the island, lanterns casting pools of light over the table. Conversation fluttered easily as usual, Axel teasing Cameron about the fake maltese accent he was starting to develop, Nico drawing a map in the air of tomorrow’s possible excursions for them. Levi remained mostly silent, speaking only when asked. Isack sat between him and Gabi, forever the bridge between them, and them and the world.

Gabi chewed his food without tasting it, his mind snagging on three separate threads intermingling : Levi’s resentment, Nico’s fake persona, and Isack’s sudden odd behaviors. He couldn’t quite begin to tie them together, but he could feel them tangling tighter around him, binding him around the chest and making it harder to breathe.

The night wore on, the plates emptied, the lanterns burned low. Nico cleared the table with practiced ease, and the boys drifted off in pairs : Axel and Cam plotting another midnight swim, Levi retreating to his room, Isack vanishing upstairs after him before Gabi could catch any of them.

He lingered a moment longer by the kitchen door, watching Nico’s back as he rinsed dishes. The same hands that had clumsily folded croissants with him that morning now moved with automatic efficiency. He wanted to step forward and help, to say something about the mask and how it wasn't the right route to take to fix things. But the words stayed lodged in his throat, binded by threads of doubt.

When he rejoined the second floor, it was silent. He peaked in his and Isack's room, but his friends weren't in there. He tried the other guest room, but to no luck. He pushed the door of the third room, Nico's room, just in case. At least that's what he told himself.

Isack and Levi evidently weren't hiding there either. He still took the time to look around.

Only a neat bed, sheets tight like Nico had never slept there, and the faint trace of something familiar left hanging in the air. A single picture on the nightstand, revealed by the moonlight behind the window : a younger Nico lifting a smiling Levi in what looked like a f1 garage, both posing with their thumbs up. Gabi smiled at the picture. The rest of the room was bland, Nico had clearly just moved in, and as much as he tried and decorated the communal areas, his room remained empty. On the bed, a shirt filled with logos and his name, Hulkenberg, along with sleep shorts. Gabi resisted the absurd urge of grabbing the shirt and put it close to his nose to smell the sandalwood.

He drifted back into the corridor, restless, his body full of something raw and unsettled. The house seemed too still, too rehearsed, as though everyone was holding their breath at once. He couldn't even hear Cam and Axel splashing outside anymore. Then he heard it - quiet laughter, low voices above him, from the open hatch that led to the roof.

He climbed the narrow steps, heart quickening, and pushed the trapdoor slowly. The night opened around him: the sky thick with stars, the sea below glimmering like polished obsidian. And there, sitting cross-legged against the low wall, were Isack and Levi.

They didn’t notice him.

Levi’s voice carried first, tight with a uncharacteristic bitterness "I just asked a simple question, just to know what he and my dad could even talk about. But he almost gave me a lecture. Like he knows my dad better than I do after three minutes of conversation. Pisses me off".

Gabi froze where he stood, half-hidden in theshadows of the trapdoor.

Levi went on, even sharper now: “It’s always the same. Everyone thinks my father is some kind of hero, just because he's a celebrity. They think he's so cool and fun and "oh you're so lucky!", blablabla... I really thought Gabi would be different, but he eats it up like everyone else-" his voice cracked. “I’m the only one who sees what’s behind all that. I shouldn't have brought you guys here, that was his plan and now he got what he wanted, he has all of my friends in his pocket and I look like a fool."

A pause. The sound of the sea filled it.

Then Isack’s voice, steady, thoughtful, as usual. “I get why you’re mad. Honestly, I do. But Gabi… you know him, he has this thing, he needs to love everyone and for everyone to love him. It's hard for him to see people for who they are because he believes everyone is good. It's not anything new, right?"

Levi gave a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah. He'll find out by himself then."

Something in Gabi broke then, silent and small, like porcelain cracking down the middle and slowly disintegrating. He backed away from the trapdoor without a sound, heart thrumming, the words still ringing in his ears. Worse than insults, Isack's words formed a hole in his chest. He wished they would've just called him names instead.

By the time he slipped back into his room, the hurt had hollowed him out entirely. He climbed under the sheets, turned his face to the wall, and told himself he was done. He wouldn’t follow Nico around tomorrow, wouldn’t throw himself between father and son, wouldn’t try to mend what clearly wasn’t his to mend.

He wouldn't go with the boys either, though. Tomorrow, he would stay home. He would say he wasn’t feeling well. He would close his eyes and let the others go without him and sleep the hurt away.

He pressed his face into the pillow, wishing for sleep to come, though he knew it wouldn’t.

Chapter Text

After a restless night, he stayed curled under the covers long after the sound of the others began trickling through the house, chairs scraping, sandals on tile, calling each other left and right, and morning wind that carried through the shutters. He squeezed his eyes shut, feigning sleep, though the weight in his chest wasn’t something a few more hours of rest could fix.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door. Isack slipped inside, his hair still damp from his shower, a plate of toast balanced in one hand.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re not coming down? This is the only thing I could save from breakfast".

Gabi pressed a hand to his stomach, letting out a weak groan, hoping it would be believable.

"I don’t feel good. I'm nauseous.. and I think I have a fever...."

Isack’s face shifted at once, frowning in worry. He set the plate down on the nightstand. “You should’ve said something last night. Hold on-” He darted out of the room and came back with his toiletry bag, already rummaging. “I’ve got paracetamol, you should feel better before we move".

“I don’t want to ruin the day,” Gabi murmured, pushing the pills into his palm but not swallowing them yet. "You guys just go without me".

“No, no, forget Mdina, we can stay here”. Isack’s tone was resolute.

But before Gabi could answer, another voice filled the doorway.

"So, is he okay?"

Isack shook his head without looking away "He says he has a fever".

Nico stood there, one hand on the doorframe, his expression open with concern. Then in less than a second, he crossed the room in a few quick strides and, before Gabi could think, pressed the back of his hand to his forehead.

The touch was warm, startling. Something in Gabi’s stomach twisted, heat rushing to his face. For a moment, he almost believed his own lie, his skin burning where Nico’s hand lingered. It could have very well given him an actual fever.

“Not that warm,” Nico said, frowning slightly. “but you'd better stay in bed if you're feeling unwell".

“I told them to go anyway,” Gabi muttered, pulling his shirt up to his mouth, still feigning sickness but also in a vain attempt to hide his rosy cheeks.

Isack opened his mouth, ready to protest again, but the thump of footsteps in the hall cut him off : Cameron and Axel, impatient, already calling for them.

“Come on guys, it's late already!" Cameron whined when he appeared in the doorway. His tone wasn’t unkind, just brisk, the way one spoke when holidays were finite and every hour counted. Axel nodded behind him, adding, “If Gabi's feeling shit, we'll go again with him another day, yeah?"

Levil appeared in turn, as if checking for himself. He looked torn for a moment, his gaze flicking between Gabi in bed and Nico by his side. Then he sighed, tugged his bag higher on his shoulder. "If Gabi is fine with us leaving him here", he said quietly.

“I'll be fine,” Gabi replied, forcing a weak smile. He wondered if Levi knew what smiles of his were genuine.

Nico nodded to himself, before stating "then Gabi will stay here with me, don't worry guys I'll keep an eye on him".

Just an eye didn't sound like nearly enough.

But just like that, after another regretful look from Isack, they were gone, their voices fading into the morning.

Nico stayed behind, perched lightly on the edge of the bed. “Try to sleep after you take those,” he said, nodding to the pills still in Gabi’s palm. “I’ll make something bland for lunch, it'll help".

The gentleness in his voice made Gabi’s throat ache. He swallowed the pills with the water Isack had left behind, then sank back against the pillows, eyes already half closed. His exhaustion, unlike his feverish state, wasn't faked.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Nico smiled, stood, and pulled the green shutters half closed to dim the light in the room. "No worries, Gabi".

Nico said his name gently, in a slight but delightful german accent, and for the first time all morning, he actually felt feverish.

-

Sleep crept up on him terribly quickly. He hadn’t realized how thin the night had stretched until his body surrendered, lulled by the muffled quiet of the emptied house and the burning memory of Nico’s hand against his forehead.

When he opened his eyes again, sunlight slanted differently through the shutters : no longer the gold of morning, but the pale clarity of noon. His stomach turned with hunger. He wished he hadn't pretended to be nauseous, now Nico had probably prepared bland rice and even though he would eat anything that Nico had prepared with gratefulness, it wouldn't fill his stomach. He pushed himself upright, dizzy for a moment, and padded barefoot down the cool hallway.

The house smelled unfamiliar. Not bread, not olive oil or roasted tomatoes, the things Nico always seemed to conjur, but something thicker, earthy, and spiced. Something oddly familiar.

In the kitchen, Nico stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up as usual, an expression of determined frustration on his face as he hovered over a pot. Steam clouded the air, and the stovetop bore evidence of trial and error : a spoon discarded with sauce still on it, herbs chopped into uneven shreds and abandoned on the side, a scorch at the edge of the pan.

He turned when Gabi appeared in the doorway, and the tiniest flicker of embarrassment crossed his features. “Ah. You’re awake.”

"What are you trying to cook?" Gabi asked, half-smiling already.

"It's a.. it's a poor attempt at canja de galinha,” Nico admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Chicken soup, from Brazil? I had some nearly every year in Interlagos, I know it's what you’re supposed to eat when you’re sick there, but… uh..." He gave a helpless shrug, glancing back at the pot. "It doesn’t taste, or even look the way it should. I give up, sorry mate".

Gabi stepped closer, inhaling the aroma. Too much garlic for sure, not nearly enough rice to cook it at such a temperature, chicken skinned to near collapse. And yet the effort of it, the thought that Nico, of all people, had tried to recreate something from home, something meant to comfort, stirred in him something far deeper than hunger.

“You cooked this for me?” His voice cracked a little, softer than he meant it to.

"Well, I didn't exactly cook it" Nico rectified. He looked genuinely abashed, his usual composure unraveled by something as simple as chicken soup. "I followed the recipe, no idea what went wrong".

Gabi picked up the spoon, blew on it, and tasted. The flavors clashed, yes, but underneath was warmth, too much salt, and tenderness. He set the spoon down carefully.

“It’s good", he announced.

Nico shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping, though there was still tension in his shoulders, "You're too kind”.

Gabi pressed, unable not not, “Next time, we’ll cook it together. I’ll show you. But for today, it's perfect".

For a moment, neither spoke. Nico’s eyes softened, the embarrassment slipping into something else, something almost vulnerable again, like the morning before.

Then he reached out, brushing his hand lightly along Gabi’s arm, a fleeting touch that sent heat racing under his skin. Nico retrieved his hand after a second, assessing.

“You look better,” he said at last, his voice low. “Color’s back on your face.”

Gabi swallowed, his pulse drumming in his throat. "I feel better."

They sat at the small table near the kitchen window, bowls steaming between them. The soup wasn’t exactly canja, and Nico didn't pretend to enjoy it. Gabi didn't either, as he didn't have to act.

Nico ate slower than usual, his gaze flicking up now and again, catching Gabi’s, and when it did, Gabi had to look down quickly, afraid his face betrayed too much.

When the bowls were scraped nearly clean, Nico leaned back with a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, let's get rid of all proofs of this embarassement of a meal".

Gabi grinned, leaning on his elbow. "There was nothing embarrassing about it. You tried something to help. That means more than whether the rice is undercooked or not, I think".

Nico’s lips curved, but there was something rueful in his expression. “I don’t often do this, you know. Lucky you".

“What do you mean?”

He hesitated, choosing his words.

"When you spend years chasing a career, everything becomes very... rehearsed. Training, traveling, performing. Training, traveling, performing, again and again and again... You don't really get time to spend with your loved ones, find a hobby, experience things out of your own will, try new recipes...” His eyes dropped to the empty bowl, voice softening, "and when you finally want to again, you find you’re completely out of practice".

Gabi listened, pulse thrumming. He wanted to reach across the table, cover Nico’s hand with his own, but didn’t dare.

Instead, he said : "Well, that's fine. You can still practice. Let's do that."

Something flickered in Nico’s eyes at that. Something that looked dangerously close to gratitude, or to need. A crave.

The silence between them grew heavy, until Nico pushed back his chair and stood, gathering the bowls. “Okay then” he said, lighter now, “if you’re feeling better, help me with the mess I’ve made before the others come home and make fun of my soup".

They cleaned side by side, the work simple and companionable. Gabi washed, Nico dried. Their arms brushed often, like a newfound habit, a casual rhythm that neither commented on. At one point, Nico reached past him for a towel, his hand grazing the small of Gabi’s back in a way that felt accidental, yet lingered just a bit too long to be.

By mid-afternoon, the kitchen glimmered again. They moved to the living room, where the heat now pressed through the shutters and warmed the couch in streaks. Nico poured them both iced tea, clinking the glasses together in a mock toast.

“To surviving my canja” he said.

“Not really a canja, but agreed” Gabi chuckled.

The hours slipped easily. They spoke of small things: films they loved, music Nico used to listen to before races, Gabi’s stories from Brazil. Nico laughed, really laughed, and the sound lodged deep inside Gabi’s chest. That laugh was so much more earthy than the one he served to the others.

When the conversation lulled, they sat in quiet, listening to the cicadas outside. The air was thick, the silence always too charged. Gabi stretched on the sofa, his head tipping back, and Nico, across from him, studied him openly. For once, Gabi didn’t look away.

It left him both exhilarated and aching.

The house turned quiet in a way it never was. Gabi curled into the corner of the sofa, bare calves drawn under him, the cotton of his tshirt clinging to his back with a hint of sweat. Across from him, Nico looked away. He had settled on the low armchair, one arm draped across the rest, his posture loose, careless in a way Gabi had never seen before.

They had talked for so long that Gabi had forgotten what time meant. He had no idea how many hours could possibly have passed, and he didn't need to know. All he knew was that Nico had cooked something special for him and had opened his heart again. Nothing else could possibly matter but this. Not in this moment.

Nico’s eyes lifted, unhurried, resting on him again. Not like Levi’s impatient glances, not like Cam’s or Axel’s quick and careless appraisals. Nico looked as though he was seeing him and letting himself stay there. That was what undid Gabi in ways he could never describe : being looked at without haste, as if there was nothing else in the world demanding attention but him.

And then, he noticed it: the heat pooling low in his stomach, the taut weight growing against the inside of his shorts. A sudden, aching realization. His body had decided for him what he had been trying not to name for days.

He shifted on the cushions, trying to disguise the sudden pulse between his thighs, but the movement betrayed him. Nico’s eyes dipped and caught it, lingered for half a breath too long before returning to his face.

Gabi’s chest tightened. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak if his life depended on it. His skin burned as if he had been burned by sunlight all over. He dared not follow Nico’s example, dared not risk the possibility of seeing the physical favor returned to him. What if Nico was hard, too? What if he wasn't?

He could smell him so distinctly. That characteristic scent of sandalwood, soap, and the delicate aroma of sea salt still drying into his hair, a trace of yeast and butter from the bread he made everyday to feed them. It was so strong in the air that Gabi thought it might drown him. His mouth was dry, his pulse frantic. He remembered the dream, the heat of it, the press of hands, the surrender, and suddenly it was this, it was now.

It was real.

He wanted it so badly he could barely breathe; to reach across the low table, to take Nico’s wrist, to feel the veins there under his thumb, to pull him closer just to know if he would resist or come to him. He wanted to bury his face in the place where Nico’s shirt loosened at the collar, breathe him in, and finally taste the sweat that glimmered there, consume him like a rare delicacy.

His body ached with it, the shame of it, the urgency, the irrepressible need of something he never knew he wanted.

Nico wasn’t blind, assuredly. His stillness was too deliberate, his casual pose too carefully held. His eyes betrayed something, the look of a deer being caught deep in the forest where it thought it wouldn't get found.

They hovered there for what felt like a lifetime, two men bound in silence, the blue vase Gabi had made from his bare hands as their only witness.

He reached for Nico.

Then, footsteps. Laughter. The metallic clank of the gate slamming shut. Voices too loud, tumbling into the courtyard.

The spell shattered.

Nico moved first, quick and decisive. He grabbed the throw blanket loosely hanging on the sofa's arm and threw it in his direction, the fabric landing in his lap like a secret note passed under a table. His eyes flicked up, unreadable, a warning and a kindness at once.

“You look cold” he said, his voice even, almost amused. Why be a F1 driver when he could've been that good of an actor all along, Gabi thought.

And then he was gone, already walking toward the hallway, holding himself back into the role he knew how to play so well. By the time Levi and the others spilled through the door, red from the sun, loud with stories from Mdina, Nico’s smile was easy, practiced, untouchable.

"You guys liked it? I told you, they filmed Game of Thrones there! Did you find all the references?"

Gabi sat where he was, shivering, blood still thrumming through him, trying not to fully tremble.

For the first time, he believed he wasn’t the only one craving something bigger than he could handle.

Chapter Text

Dinner was loud in the way it was every evening; Cam talking too much, Axel snickering, Levi chewing in silence as though enduring rather than enjoying the food. To Gabi, it all felt muffled, a blurred soundtrack behind the single thread of his attention.

He couldn’t stop. His eyes kept drifting, pulled across the table to where Nico sat, forearm flexing as he poured water into glasses, laughter spilling too easily at Cam’s jokes. It was unbearable, watching him perform normalcy as if the afternoon had never happened. As if he hadn’t stared at Gabi’s hardness, hadn’t brushed his arm, hadn’t fed him something warm and awkwardly tender in the silence of the kitchen.

Every time Nico’s gaze went past him, never landing or lingering, Gabi’s chest twisted tighter. He needed him to look back. Just once. To acknowledge it. The ache grew sharper with every second of indifference.

When dinner ended, Nico stood, clapping his hands together.

“Levi, can you give me a hand upstairs with something?”

His stomach dropped. Levi barely hesitated before following. The sound of their footsteps climbing the stairs scraped something raw inside him.

He should have been glad : father and son spending time together like Nico so badly wanted, a moment to bridge the distance that Levi always carried like an armor. But jealousy bit into the skin of his chest nonetheless, merciless. A shameful and sour jealousy. Nico wasn’t his. Would never be his. He had no right. At the end of the day, he would inevitably always put Levi first. And yet.

He pushed through the rest of cleanup in a haze. By the time he slipped into his room, the ache had lodged itself in his throat, throbbing under his adam's apple. Isack had taken his towel and disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water soon filling the silence.

Left alone, Gabi laid back on the bed, heart racing. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the memory flood him: Nico’s hand steady on his arm, the warmth of his body leaning close, the low murmur of his voice, the unbearable sensation of being seen, caught, wanted -maybe.

His hand slipped beneath the waistband of his shorts. Relief surged as he touched himself, soft at first, then faster, rapidly getting desperate. He bit his lip to stay silent, grinding against the memory of Nico’s eyes, Nico’s smell, Nico’s hand flicking the blanket into his lap to hide their little secret.

It was over quickly. He didn't remember coming that quickly ever before, at least not since he had turned fifteen. He laid there panting, shame burning through the release, his body somehow still restless, unsatisfied. He felt in no way lighter, only more consumed, come sticking to his fingers and the inside of his shorts. He grabbed tissues from his nightstand and handled the mess the best he could, praying for Isack to take a while longer in the bathroom.

By the time he did emerge from the shower, toweling his hair dry, Gabi had turned on his side, pretending to be half-asleep. He could feel the weight of Isack’s glance, sharp and almost suspicious, but he kept still, his breathing measured.

“Still feeling sick?” Isack’s voice was neutral, unreadable.

“Mmh,” Gabi murmured, eyes closed.

".. Okay. You'll feel better tomorrow, I'm sure."

The lamp clicked off. Darkness swallowed the room. They remained in silence, thick with unspoken secrets. He didn't remember keeping anything from Isack ever before since the day they had met.

He stared at the wall, already plotting. Tomorrow, he would assure he wasn't feeling any better, so he would stay behind again.

Alone with Nico once more.

He couldn't wait.

-

When the sun rose again, he rehearsed his lie before he even opened his eyes. He made his voice hoarse, let his body sag heavy under the sheets, called out “I don’t feel good, Is...” when Isack nudged him.

It should've been easy; just one more day in bed, one more afternoon with Nico.

He contained a smile when the others’ voices drifted through the house, the clatter of bags and sandals and sunscreen bottles. He had it planned: by the time they left, Nico would come find him, probably aware of what he was playing at, amused and gentle. They’d spend another day in their private little world, the one that yesterday had felt so dangerously close to breaking open.

The light knock finally came, but before everyone had gone anywhere. He held still, ready to play his new favorite game.

Then Nico stepped inside, carrying yet another tray : toast, orange juice, a small dish of papaya, and a little white packet of medicine. He set it by the bed, eyes scanning him in a way that made Gabi’s skin prickle.

“You look way better. I think you're healed now", Nico said softly.

The words landed like stones.

“I'm not” Gabi whispered, trying to summon pallor into his cheeks, a sluggishness into his limbs, even faking a cough for good measure.

But Nico only shook his head. There was no cruelty in it, no anger. Just a quiet certainty. “I think you'll be just fine. What you need is some sun, fresh air and distraction. Go with them. You’ll feel better. The three cities are full of things to do".

Gabi’s throat tightened. "But.. no, I can’t.”

Nico’s hand hovered for a second over his arm. Too close, almost close enough to touch, but then retreated. His smile was that familiar, measured one, the one he wore for strangers. And now for him, too. “I know what you’re doing,” he said gently. “But you can’t".

The sentence broke something in him. Yesterday, had he imagined it all? The warmth, the tenderness, the looks? The way Nico’s voice had lingered just for him? The pulling between them, connecting them with irrepressible force? It had felt mutual, he had been so sure...

But now Nico was drawing the curtain back, reminding him where he stood in his mind : Levi’s best friend. His guest for the summer. A boy, not yet a man.

Nico squeezed his shoulder, light as air. “Eat your breakfast, then go. Don’t waste the day. They're waiting for you downstairs".

By the time the others filed out, coaxing him, tugging at his arms, Gabi couldn’t resist anymore. He followed, hollow, devastated in a way he had never been before.

On the boat to the Three Cities, Levi joked, finally some cheerfulness back on his face, Cam and Axel took pictures, and Isack leaned against the railing to let the wind whip his curls. Gabi smiled when he had to, laughed on cue, took bites of whatever food was handed his way. Like a malfunctioning robot unable to remember what his purpose was.

Inside, he was unraveling.

Every stone street they walked, every cathedral they pointlessly entered, every colorful facade, they blurred together, utterly meaningless. He thought only of the moment his heart had been broken, the tray set by the bed, the words that cut him so neatly open. You can't do this. You can't.

I can't.

He tried to swallow the humiliation with a beer he downed on an old bench of the central place, but desire twisted into despair until it became indistinguishable with his hatred. For himself, for Nico's choice, for Levi bringing him here in the first place.

And as the sun set over Birgu, the sky burning like his whole body, he found himself wishing the light would disappear entirely, so no one could see the wreckage written across his face.

-

Gabi woke before the sun again, as if his body remembered what his mind had decided the night before after a day of devastation : that if he was awake early enough, he might catch Nico again. The house was asleep, everyone behind their own door, the air still carrying the cool dampness of night. He laid in bed for a minute, staring at the ceiling, heart already beating too quickly for so early an hour. It wasn’t nerves.

It was want, raw and unyielding, the frustration that has been growing relentlessly in his ribcage since the first time in the kitchen, since Nico’s hand had brushed his arm like it belonged there.

When he couldn’t stay still anymore, he slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to disturb Isack who laid sprawled in his sheets, his back turned, snoring as usual. He crossed the hall, padded barefoot down the stairs, each step feeling heavier, as if he were sneaking out not of the house but of his own mind. Probably because he was, indeed, out of his mind. Being aware of it somehow didn't make it stop.

The garden was swaddled in the faintest light, that blue-gray hour before dawn fully settled. And there he was, like Gabi had so desperately prayed for.

Nico, stretched out on his mat, spine curved, arms lifted, replaying the scene from a few days before. His body seemed carved out of early light, chest rising and falling as he bent forward, then lifted, every motion unhurried, measured, as if he was alone in the universe.

Gabi stood still at the edge of the terrace, hidden behind the half wall, the same place he had stood the first time. His chest tightened, heat crawling up his neck, not just from desire but from recognition; his heart getting pulled towards the one it recognized as his.

The stretch of his back, the quiet flex of his thighs as he folded into another pose; each gesture pulled Gabi even deeper into that fevered state where want blurred into pain. He remembered the dream so vividly it made his skin prickle, how Nico had leaned into him, how real it had felt, how his body still ached with the memory of something that had never happened.

This time, he didn’t stay hidden.

This time, he walked across the grass, barefoot on the dry blades, until he lowered himself onto the lawn a few steps away. He didn’t say anything. He just sat, knees pulled up, arms slung loosely around them, watching. Nico threw him a look and went back to his session, the silence punctuated only by his steady breaths and the rustle of the garden waking with the wake of the cicadas and the birds starting to chirp.

For a long while, Nico pretended not to see him. Gabi stayed nevertheless, watching with no less interest.

At last, he shifted out of a pose and sat back on his heels, rubbing his palms together as if to brush off the remainings of his sleepiness. He turned his head just slightly, eyes finally finding Gabi's.

“You’re up early again,” he said, voice low, edged with the rasp of someone who hadn’t spoken yet that day.

Gabi swallowed, "Still couldn't sleep".

Something flickered across Nico’s face; maybe recognition, in tune with Gabi's own heart. Maybe resignation. He didn’t press it, but only reached for the towel lying by his mat and dragged it across the back of his neck. “Still not feeling well?” he asked, finally facing him, studying him from head to toe. It was turning into a habit, Gabi thought. He didn't hate it.

He shook his head, staring down at the grass between his feet. “No. Actually… I feel worse.”

The word sat heavy between them. Gabi wasn't insinuating a fever or an upset stomach, and they both knew it.

Nico’s eyes lingered, reading him like a book in perfect silence. The world seemed to pause around them, the faint sound of waves in the distance, the first birds calling from the olive trees. Gabi felt pinned under his gaze, exposed and dissected.

Nico exhaled, a slow sound, and turned his face toward the horizon where the sun was beginning to press a pale line of gold against the sky. “I thought so,” he said softly. There was no judgment in his tone, only a kind of cautious empathy. He sat on the grass next to him, close enough to smell.

Gabi shifted in the grass, restless, aching. “I don’t… I don’t know how to make it stop", he admitted, surprising himself with the confession. The words had slipped out like they were waiting for this hour, this light, this look from Nico. To be entirely honest, he didn't want to make it stop, but the other man didn't have to know.

“You can't make anything you feel just stop,” Nico stated simply. He stretched his legs out in front of him, folding his arms across his knees, mirroring the boy without realizing it. “You just… learn to live with it. Everyone has their own burdens".

Gabi’s heart pounded so hard it made him dizzy, pulsing in his skull. "Well, I dont want to".

Nico turned his head back to him, eyes heavy with something Gabi couldn’t name. “Neither do I.”

The words clung in the air between them, raw and unguarded.

Neither do I.

For a heartbeat Gabi thought he’d imagined them, that his hunger had conjured the words in his mind. But Nico’s eyes gave him away : darkened, completely unshielded, before he turned them toward the sea again as if the horizon could swallow the admission whole and hide it forever.

Gabi’s throat tightened. He wanted to ask questions, to demand clarity, to beg him not to retreat into the armor of charisma and meaningless conversations he always wore around the others. Instead, what tumbled out was, “What were you and Levi doing last night?”

Nico glanced at him, wary, then gave a small shrug that seemed to cost him a great effort. “I told him it was about his German passport. Truth is, I just wanted some time alone with him.” He let out a slow breath, his hands lacing loosely together on his knees. “We ended up looking at his baby pictures. I keep an album, I take it everywhere with me, always".

The ache that bloomed in Gabi’s chest felt almost unbearable. “Always?”

“Always,” Nico echoed. His voice carried a stubborn edge, as if bracing for judgment, then softened, frayed. “It’s all I’ve got left of his childhood, the few moments I could get from it. His first steps, the little kart I got for him, the drawings he used send me from Seattle when we separated with Hailey...” He pressed his hand against his mouth, rubbed at the stubble on his jaw, "I think he enjoyed it, maybe he'll tell you about it".

Gabi pressed his palms into the grass to steady himself, still dizzy. The image of Nico with Levi, of their two silhouettes bent over faded photographs, stabbed him with a grief that wasn’t even his to claim. Not jealousy, not at all. Just an unbearable yearning to reach across the years and give them back the time they had lost. They both deserved that much.

“You’re trying,” he said, his voice rough with tears welling up.

Nico shook his head, a humorless smile flashing across his face. “Trying doesn’t erase the last twenty one years of his life. Doesn’t make me appear on birthdays parties or Christmas' eve. He needed me then. He definitely does not need me anymore".

The weight of his statement hollowed Gabi out. The ache pulsed, merciless, as if it would split him open, as if it was his to bear. How he wished he could bear at least part of it to make the pain easier on their side.

He urged his hand on top of Nico's, extending his arm to feel his warmth. Nico took his hand away almost instantly.

He rubbed his palms together, as if brushing off the conversation along with Gabi's touch, and looked at him with a kind of concern that only twisted the knife deeper.

“You should go out today. Take your bike and explore on your own, for once. You should try and meet someone. A boy, a girl, doesn’t matter. Have a drink, even a little fling... that's what summer is for when you're twenty one."

The words landed like stones cracking on his skull, heavy and final. They were meant to be kind, Gabi knew that much, meant to steer him away from this dangerous hunger building between them and take back control on his life. But what Nico deemed as kindness felt like exile.

“That’s not what I want,” Gabi said, his voice catching in the wind. He hadn’t meant to sound so bare, so exposed, but there it was, trembling in the morning already warm air.

Nico’s expression softened, though he didn’t dare look at him fully, surely because he knew eye contact might unravel them both. He exhaled slowly, shoulders curving forward under an invisible weight. “I know,” he murmured. “But you don't always get what you want in life, Gabi. I would know.”

His blood pulsed with rage. He wanted to argue, to scream that what he wanted mattered, that this wasn't like anything he’d ever felt before. But Nico was already moving, unfolding from the mat with a fluid grace that made him feel like a toddler throwing a tantrum that the rest of the world deemed it utterly pointless and ridiculous.

“Breakfast?” Nico asked, his voice gentler now, a quiet peace offering.

Gabi shook his head. Peace would have to wait, if it ever came at all.

“No".

For a second, Nico studied him again, the mask slipping enough to reveal what looked like disappointment. Or maybe relief, Gabi couldn’t tell. Then he nodded, accepting it, and walked back towards the house. His shadow stretched long across the grass before dissolving at the threshold.

Gabi sat, frozen and shaking even though the air was already starting to feel suffocating on the island.

Then he stumbled up, grabbed his bike, and did exactly what Nico had advised : he left by himself, pedaling at full speed. The air hit sharp in his lungs, the wheels screeching against the stone roads, his heartbeat higher than it had ever been.

By the time he reached the beach, the horizon was blinding with sunlight. Thankfully, it was still early enough for him to be the only human being on sight. He dropped the bike carelessly onto the sand and collapsed beside it. The roar of the waves drowned everything but the sounds of his tears, shaking him to his core when he sobbed.

He buried his face in his arms, overwhelmed and powerless to hold it back. Never in his life had he felt this way, he was sure of it. It was all too fast, too consuming, like being caught in a riptide. He would probably drown of exhaustion trying to fight it.

Nico’s words echoed in his skull: you don’t always get what you want in life.

For Gabi, it turned out that he had never actually wanted anything before, because as much as he had met disappointment in the past, it had never left him this hollow.

Chapter Text

The following days flew by in a blur of sun and overwhelming chatter. Time felt heavier, as if dragging its feet through wet sand. He tried -really tried- to shake it off. To somehow forget about how he felt. He forced smiles at breakfast, followed along on excursions, listened to the boys' banter and let himself laugh when something genuinely amused him here and there, But the ache lingered, quiet but constant, like a bruise you can’t help pressing with your thumb.

Several times, he thought about leaving altogether. Booking the next flight back to Oxford or even Brazil, inventing some flimsy excuse about family matters or sudden responsibilities. But the truth was he couldn’t afford that last minute ticket, and even if he could, he had no idea how he would explain himself without betraying his own lie. To Levi, to Isack. To Nico. The idea of vanishing without a word felt impossible, and yet staying was becoming unbearable.

When the group decided to spend a night in St Julian, it felt like a chance to reset. The city buzzed with energy, streets spilling with cafés, neon lights glinting off nightclubs, music already thumping from bars everywhere around even though it was only late afternoon. Cameron and Axel were in their element, chasing the noise, scanning for the places that promised the most fun. Levi seemed lighter too, drawn into the current despite himself.

Gabi followed, letting the liveliness of the crowd wash over him. He watched his friends slip seamlessly into the rhythm of the place, ordering drinks, teasing one another, picking a bar, then another one, hopping quickly to find the best cocktails, the best music and the best looking girls. They wouldn’t head back to Gozo tonight : they’d party, crash somewhere cheap on the main island, and make the most of the night until the sun rose again.

He felt an hesitation grow inside of him : a night away from the house meant he wouid not get to see Nico until the next day, and part of him clung to that absence in an absurd belief that having him in his close perimeter somehow made the longing easier to manage. But he didn’t protest. Instead, he nodded along, letting their excitement carry him forward.

It wasn't like Nico was going to miss him anyway.

As the night thickened, the streets of St Julian turned molten with artificial lights and heat. The other boys smoothed their shirts and heavily sprayed cologne borrowed from Axel’s bag. Gabi watched them, a little detached, caught between the thrill of something new and the rock still lodged in his throat. The bars spilled into one another along the waterfront, each louder and brighter than the last. The boys bounced from one to the next, fueled by the neon, by cheap cocktails, by the sheer novelty of being young and free in a place that pulsed like a heartbeat. They picked a club based on criterias he couldn't fathom, and he just blindly followed.

He caught himself thinking of Nico anyway, wondering if he was in the kitchen at that very moment, stirring something on the stove, just in case they changed their mind and decided to return for the night. Wondering if he noticed his absence, if he thought of him at all. The thought made his chest ache in ways the music blasting couldn't possibly dull.

Levi shoved a fruity smelling drink into his hand, dragged him towards the dancefloor, and he went willingly. Maybe this was exactly what he needed: noise, strangers, the press of bodies, anything to drown out the quiet ache of the past week.

The party had started well before their arrival, it seemed. He kept following, moving as he was expected to, laughing when Levi tried to teach him a stupid dance move in the middle of a crowded floor then letting Cam tug him into group photos he knew would be blurry and ridiculous looking. For a few hours, he felt almost back to normal. The pain was still there, but it was wrapped in music, disguised by motion, coddled in human contact.

And yet, every time he caught his breath, every pause between beats, his mind betrayed him: Nico’s hand on his forehead, Nico’s voice telling him he couldn’t have what he wanted, Nico’s body stretching in the garden light. Even here, even surrounded by noise and strangers, he carried him like a shadow.

The club was a cavern of light and bass. Strobes cut across the crowd in sharp bursts, painting faces for a split second before erasing them back into the dark. The music was relentless, the kind that shook through his ribs and made chatting around impossible. The boys waded in as if they belonged, pushing towards the center where the bodies pressed together in one mass of sweat and movement.

Gabi found his way through the crowd sipping on his drink, the burn of vodka sweetened by something too sweet he couldn’t place. At first, he felt out of place -too tall, too stiff, too conscious of his own limbs. But the energy around him turned infectious. Levi threw an arm around his neck and shouted something he couldn’t hear, Cameron spun Axel in a ridiculous mock waltz and Isack bumped his shoulder against Gabi’s. "I'm right here mate, relax", it said without words. Slowly, his stiffness unraveled. He let himself move, not with any grace but with abandon, carried by the beat and the anonymity of the crowd.

It didn’t take long for strangers to notice him. A girl with pink glitter sprinkled across her cheekbones tugged at his hand and made him spin her before vanishing into the shadows. A man with wide pupils leaned in too close, whispered something against his ear in a language he didn't speak but left the heat of breath against his skin. Another pressed a shot into his hand and toasted wordlessly before tipping it back. Euphoric, he threw his head back and swallowed in turn.

He let it all happen, dizzy with the sudden attention. It was flattering, intoxicating, almost enough to make him forget.

Almost.

Because every time someone’s hand lingered on his arm, every time a smile caught his eye, his mind betrayed him with the thought of Nico’s hand instead, Nico’s smile, Nico’s body stretching with impossible grace in the garden light.

He tried to let loose and let himself be swallowed by the wildness of the night. That’s what Nico had advised him to do : meet people his age, have fun, live a little. And yet the idea left him painfully empty of excitement. Whoever touched him lacked the sandalwood smell he adored so much.

The music has blurred into one endless, pounding beat, the kind that made him feel like his skull was hollow, vibrating from the inside out. He has had way too much -too many shots handed to him by Cam, too many sips from Levi’s glass, too many gulps of whatever Isack pressed into his hand with a grin that said don’t think, just drink, enjoy yourself.

At first, it felt good -freeing- to let the current of bodies dance him around. The dance floor was crowded, hundreds of strangers glinting with sweat and neon, limbs colliding, laughter piercing through the music. Someone bumped against him, then lingered: a man, blonde, taller, his breath hot in Gabi's ear, his hands finding his waist as though they belonged there.

He stiffened. “No,” he muttered, pushing the hands away, shoving his shoulder back to carve out space. His vision blurred when he moved too fast. The man smiled in retaliation, too bold, too sure of himself, and leaned in anyway, lips brushing against his cheek, and aiming lower. Gabi shoved again, harder this time, but the alcohol in his system made his limbs heavy, the look of it unconvincing. The man’s grip returned, fingers sliding at his hips and steadying him on his feet.

For a long and confusing second, Gabi let it happen. His head fell back, eyes closing, and he thought: I should enjoy this. The ache will go away if I do. I'll forget about him. Finally.

He tasted the stranger’s mouth - bitter alcohol, smoke, nothing familiar to him- and for the briefest instant, he successfully tricked himself into liking it. But too quick, it turned unbearable. Wrong. The kiss was too rough, too greedy. Instead of soothing, it scorched. And behind his closed eyes, Nico’s face appeared sharper than ever, carved into his mind, impossible to erase.

With a sudden force surging up his spine, he pushed the man off. “Stop,” he slurred, his voice cracking more from desperation than alcohol.

Before the blonde could answer, a blur of movement cut through the neon haze: a furious fist hitting the stranger’s jaw in a sickening crack. The man stumbled back, dazed, his grin wiped clean.

“He fucking said stop!” Isack snarled, chest heaving, ready for another blow.

Gabi snapped back to himself, grabbing Isack’s arm. If he hit again, the guy would probably pass out.

“Stop! Stop, please,” he gasped, pulling his friend back before the moment exploded into a full brawl. His grip was desperate, his words tangled between shame and fear. They were going to be in trouble. He had caused so much trouble.

The stranger raised his hands in surrender, muttered something that tried to sound like a threat, but quickly withdrawned into the sea of dancing bodies, vanishing as quickly as he had appeared.

The damage was done. The kiss lingered like acid in Gabi’s mouth, and Isack’s hand still trembled with rage under his grip.

They stared at each other in the strobe light, Isack looking for something in his eyes, probably trying to decipher if he was okay or not. He was not. Without another word, Gabi pulled him toward the exit, stumbling into the street air that reeked of piss and beer, where everything was quieter but no less suffocating.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened-"

Isack stopped him on his track to more apologies "Sorry about what? He was forcing himself on you, you weren't doing anything wrong. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I am". He was not. "I just need some fresh air". This was all his fault.

"Yeah, me too. Putain il m'a defoncé la main avec sa machoire de connard là, fais chier", Isack kept on rambling words Gabi would never understand, but he just nodded along until a sudden punch to his gut pushed me to his knees, puking all over the pavement.

He couldn't hear anything coming from Isack anymore, just let him hold him back so he didn't end up laying in his own vomit until it somehow, after an eternity, stopped. Gabi took a big gulf of air, and sat back against a wall, panting.

They sat in the alley for a long time.

Sometime past three in the morning, Levi, Cam and Axel spilled out onto the street, flushed and giggling, sweat glistening on their faces. They were visibly impossibly drunk, draped over each other, already talking about how starved they were. Levi scrolled on his phone, trying to locate the hotel they had booked last minute.

Gabi still leaned against a wall, head spinning fairly less, but the ground still tilting under his feet. He thought the cool air would sober him up, but it only made him feel emptier, lonelier. Strangers brushed past, their laughter cutting like glass through his shame.

As they walked toward the hotel, he tried to come to terms with how the night had offered nothing but a sharper edge to his longing. No matter how much he tried, Nico was still there, lodged beneath his skin, impossible to escape.

Chapter Text

The ferry ride back felt like an odyssey back from Hell. The sea was flat and endless, rather calm, but Gabi felt like he was two seconds away from vomiting for the whole journey nevertheless. His head throbbed with every wave against the hull, his throat raw from too many shots, his clothes still reeking of cigarette smoke and sweat from the club, making the nausea worse.

But the second they stepped off onto Gozo, something inside him loosened. The island filled his lungs with a breathe of fresh air after suffering the suffocating neonlights of St Julian’s and its narrow crowded streets. He breathed in salt and dry earth, and for a moment, he could almost convince himself that the last ten hours hadn't happened.

When they pushed the front door open, the smell of frying garlic and bread made his stomach grumble, and there was Nico, barefoot in the kitchen as always. Gabi nearly stumbled at the comforting vision. His heart clenched with a kind of relief he had never felt before; like coming home after a long shift, or waking up from a nightmare to realize the world is still intact.

They gathered around the table, plates filling absurdly quickly with eggs, roasted tomatoes glistening with olive oil, slices of cheese and fresh bread still warm from the oven. Gabi ate like he hadn't in days, soothing his upset stomach still empty from vomiting all over the pavement. It felt like the Sundays of his childhood in São Paulo; his mother humming in the kitchen, the radio playing low in the background, children having fun in the streets as soon as the sun was up. He wanted to say it out loud. To tell Nico that he felt like home, like coming back to safety after being in danger. Instead he just ate, grateful for the silence that the others religiously observed to get over their collective hangover.

The atmosphere shifted as coffee started pouring. Axel was loud, as always, telling the table about the girl he had hooked up with at the club. He mimicked her eastern europe accent, reenacted their fumbling first kiss with exaggerated gestures that made Levi groan and bury his face into his hands while Isack shamelessly held his hand up to high five, grinning.

He wondered if Isack would have been up to the same things if he hadn't been interrupted by Gabi's little incident.

Nico smiled accross the table, shaking his head in faked reprimand. He sipped his coffee and said, almost too casually:

“That’s what being young is all about, after all. I'm glad you guys had fun".

The words lodged themselves in Gabi’s chest. What being young is all about. He thought of a sixteen year-old Nico, not nearly an adult but already holding his baby in his arms. Was this the end of his youth, before it could even properly begin? Did he ever get to be reckless, to lose himself in music and alcohol, to stumble home laughing with friends? Or was that door shut before he even realized it was there?

He couldn't stop the questions from multiplying in his mind. Who had kissed him first? Who had made him feel wanted, clumsy, interesting and unexperimented all at once? Was it Levi's mom? Was she his first love? Did he ever fall in love again after they separated or was there no time left for that? He tried to imagine Nico fumbling through desire the way himself was now, skin too hot, heart too fast, afraid of looking ridiculous. He couldn't. The image of Nico sitting across from him felt impossibly whole, steady and right as if he had always been exactly this version of himself.

The ache grew unbearable again. He kept his thoughts silent, chewing slowly, pretending the taste of bread in his mouth was enough to keep him anchored.

Isack seemed different that morning. He didn't tease, didn't push him around the way he usually did. Instead, he was gentle. He passed the butter before Gabi even asked, refilled his glass of juice when it was only half empty, nudged the salt closer with a small smile. Once, when a crumb got stuck in his sleeve, Isack brushed it away almost tenderly, like an instinct.

Every gesture made his stomach twist tighter. All he could think about was the way Isack’s face had looked in the club -jaw clenched, eyes burning with fury, his fist connecting with the blonde man's cheek. He’d seen the kiss. He’d seen Gabi let it happen at first, than change his mind. The sudden tenderness felt like a mirror shoved in his face, forcing him to see himself as Isack was : scared, pathetic, desperate enough to let someone else’s mouth press against his just to end up panicking and not able to push him away on his own. By the end of their brunch, shame was running hot through his veins, sticky and impossible to wash out.

He excused himself and flew to the bathroom. Under the shower, he cranked the water hotter than he could stand until his skin turned red. He scrubbed his arms, his chest, his neck, the night still clinging to him, the smell of someone else’s breath still lodged in his hair. He let the water run until the steam filled the whole room, until the mirror was clouded and his own reflection disappeared.

Only then did he step out, wrapped in a towel, dizzy with heat and nausea. He let his whole body fall forward on his bed and closed his eyes.

The house was hushed when he emerged. The boys were sprawled in their rooms, caught in the heaviness of an early afternoon nap, curtains drawn against the bright sun. The silence almost sacred. Isack was sleeping soundly in the bed next to his even thought he hadn't heard him come upstairs at all. The towel had loosened around his waist, leaving him bare. He jumped into a pair of shorts and left his chest alone, his skin stinging too hot for a shirt. He opted for a swim in the pool, since fresh air wouldn't be an option in the middle of the afternoon.

In the living room, Nico was awake. He too was half naked, sweat glimmering all over his back. He was painting, a roller dragging slow, careful strokes of a pale yellow color over a wall. A bucket of paint rested on the floor, drops speckling his bare feet.

“Couldn’t leave it as it was,” Nico said without turning when Gabi hesitated in the doorway. His voice was light, but there was definitely something underneath it - something private, a justification meant only half for him. He knew Nico way better than Nico would ever realize.

Before he could second-guess his intuitions, he stepped forward, picked up the spare brush, and dipped it into the bucket, forgetting his project of jumping into the pool in an instant. The two of them worked side by side, the air smelling sharp of paint and making it harder to breathe, the sound of bristles whispering across plaster. The silence was comfortable at first, peaceful even. Gabi almost felt useful like this, almost needed, in this small domestic task.

But then Nico sighed, long and low, and said, “You’ve been quiet this morning".

Gabi’s throat tightened. He didn't trust himself to answer.

“Nothing wrong with a little quiet,” Nico continued, dipping the brush in more paint, "but you look preoccupied".

The words slided under his skin. He took a deep breathe, inhaling the paint.

"I kissed a man in St Julian", the words escaped before he could stop them.

Nico simply nodded, as if he knew already. "Did you enjoy it?"

He swallowed loudly, feeling tears prickle at the edge of his lashes "No."

Nico sighed again, this time more agitated. Perhaps even troubled. In a calm yet uncharacteristic voice, he asked : "What seemed to be the trouble?"

He tried to tell him the truth whole and honest. He tried to say :

"The trouble was that he was not you".

Instead, what did came out was smaller, rawer, but carried the same truth.

"I can't stop wanting it".

Silence again -thick, suffocating. Gabi felt the weight of his own words crashing back into him, and for a second, he wished he could pull them out of the air and swallow them whole. Nico paused, his roller stuck mid-stroke. He did not look at him, not yet. He took the time to think, which only made Gabi rever him more. When he finally turned, eyes heavy, paint flecking his fingers, he looked at him for a long time, pinning him in place. And then he declared, softly, almost like a mercy:

“I know".

It was not an answer. But somehow, it unbolted the lock in his chest and freed the tears that had been threatening to spill for the whole night. I know. I understand. It's okay that you can't stop. Through the tears, he let his eyes meet Nico's to make sure that was what he was trying to say.

Nico smiled so faintly it was barely noticeable, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, caressing with his thumb. With his other hand, he let his paintbrush hit the floor and carefully brushed a tear falling down his cheek. "It's okay Gabi, you're okay".

The words undid him. He folded forward helplessly, chest colliding with Nico’s, sobs shaking out of him like he’d been holding them for years. At first, Nico stood still, startled, but then his arms wrapped around him, solid and grounding. One palm pressed between Gabi’s shoulder blades, the other cupped the back of his head, cradling him like something fragile. The desire burning out between his ribs dried up for a minute, leaving space for restful comfort. He clung harder, face pressed to the warm skin of Nico’s neck. Through the blur of tears, he thought he felt the faintest brush of lips against his hairline, fleeting as a dream. He sobbed harder against the older man, putting his arms around his waist to anchor himself. He didn't want to try and make it stop anymore.

He would be fine even if Nico didn't feel the same. He would be fine with wanting him from afar and deal with his feelings on his own, as long as he wasn't made to try and suppress them anymore.

"Please let me want it, I'm not asking anything else from you", he hiccuped, his face half hidden in Nico's neck.

Nico stroked the back of his neck with his thumb, once, then twice, then offered another kiss up his temple this time. So quietly Gabi could have hallucinated it, he said :

"Okay".

Chapter Text

The embrace lingered in Gabi’s mind long after it was over. Something had shifted again between them, not resolved, not erased, but softened, as if Nico had freed his own wanting along with his. That single gesture, that permission, was enough to breathe life back into his tired lungs.

The afternoon was still warm, sunlight dancing across the turquoise ripples of the pool, too tempting to resist. Gabi cut through the water with easy strokes. His body felt lighter than it had in days, each lap rinsing off a little more of the heaviness he’d been carrying. When he surfaced, droplets sliding down his hair and shoulders, he caught sight of Nico kneeling in the garden, hands deep in soil as hecarefully attempted to keep a young hibiscus alive. The sight made Gabi grin without shame -something about Nico’s quiet patience, his care for fragile living things, only more things to adore about him.

Their eyes met every now and then. Just some glances. Nothing prolonged, nothing dangerous or unnecessarily meaningful. Nico would raise his brows, as if to ask silently, "enjoying yourself?", and he would answer with a smile before diving back under. Just the simplicity of existing near each other, each absorbed in their own element.

In that glorious moment -water and sunlight and quiet glances- Gabi realized he was finally able to breathe again.

When the boys woke up from their naps, the house felt different. Or maybe it was just him. The air seemed clearer, the walls no longer closing in on him.

By the time the sun started to fall over the landscape, dinner was ready and he had put no hand in its preparation, enjoying the pool for the whole afternoon. The meal consisted of simple individual plates Nico had pulled together with his usual ease: roasted vegetables, grilled fish, bread and tomatoes. They all crowded around the table, the air thick with chatter and laughter. For the first time in what felt like forever, Gabi felt part of it all.

He leaned into the rhythm of the group, even slipping in a joke here and there, mimicking Cam's thick American accent to make Isack laugh, trying to use their foreign slang in the right context. Levi giggled at his end of the table, filling Gabi with joy at the familiar sound he felt like he would never hear again.

The estrangement that had gnawed at him for days seemed to dissolve under the warmth of their shared laughter. He ate well, joked more, and for once, when he looked around the table, he didn’t feel like an outsider watching through glass. He moved through the evening easily, even catching himself humming a song under his breath while rinsing his glass in the sink.

Later that night, after Axel and Cameron had decided to call it a day, he found himself in the living room with just Isack and Levi. A deck of cards appeared from nowhere, and before long they were sprawled across the coffee table, playing round after round of UNO, Isack demolishing them both.

They played late, the banter growing softer as the house grew quieter. Isack teased Levi for cheating, Levi retaliated with a terribly accurate imitation of Isack getting upset, and Gabi laughed so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes. Between the shuffle of cards, he realized just how much he had missed this, their comfortable connection. Knowing everything about each other.

Even Isack’s quiet attentiveness, the way he checked in with Gabi without words, felt less like a weight now and finally more like comfort. Gabi leaned into it, not with guilt this time, but with gratitude.

By the time he finally stretched out in bed, it was so deep in the night the cicadas were asleep. Nico was still there in his thoughts, of course -always there, like an itch from a mosquito bite that refused to fade. The need for him buzzed beneath Gabi’s skin, restless and unyielding. But it couldn't drown him anymore. It didn’t strangle his joy. He let it be as it wished to be; an ache in the background, while he held onto the sound of laughter and the weight of an embrace.

The sheets were cool against his skin, the air smelling faintly of pale yellow paint and Isack's aftershave, and for the first time since arriving, he slipped under sleep’s surface without a fight.

-

The house was unusually quiet that morning, not because the boys were still asleep but because, for once, they each wanted their own slice of solitude. Over breakfast, the decision unfolded naturally : they'd go on their separate ways for the day.

Levi declared he would stay home with his book, stretched on a lounge chair by the pool. Isack, restless as always, mapped out a route to circle the entire island on his bike, and Axel immediately jumped in, eager for the challenge. Cam, still caught up in the haze of his nightclub encounter, announced he was taking the ferry back to St. Julian to look for the girl that wasn't leaving his mind. Gabi could only think that he understood the feeling perfectly. The energy at the table was strangely calm, everyone immersed in their own plans and the collective need for some peace away from the agitation.

When Levi asked what he was going to do, he knew exactly what to answer :

"I'm going to the Mixta Cave, I'll draw the landscape from there."

He gad heard whispers of the cave from travelers in cafés and seen videos all over his nosy virtual algorithm and the view seemed spectacular. All he wanted was to sit there in silence, high above the sea, and try to catch its lines and colors with his pastels. Just the idea of it made his heart swell with joy. He imagined himself alone with the sky, the cliff, the blue of the water sprawling endlessly at his feet, maybe finding in that vastness some relief for the storm that had been tearing through him since his arrival in Gozo.

But Nico, clearing the dishes, looked up sharply at the mention of the cave.

“You're going on foot?” His voice was calm but there was worry crippling underneath. “I’ve been there, the trail isn’t kind. It's very easy to trip and crack your skull on the rocks, you shouldn't go alone."

He set down the plate, drying his hands on a towel as he studied Gabi once again -the start of a habit, he thought- "Can you drive?"

Gabi shook his head, "No, no licence yet..."

He swallowed at the silence that followed, a prickle of shame, as if he’d failed some hidden test. Nico sighed, though not in judgment but more in quiet calculation. After a pause, he said simply:

"Then I’ll take you. It's way safer by car."

His tone left no room for protest.

His pulse stuttered. The thought of being alone with Nico again was both terrifying and exhilarating, a temptation he hadn’t dared hope for after what they had just gone through. He could only manage a weak nod, afraid his voice would betray too much. Nico gave him one of his prefabricated smile before turning back to clear the table, as if nothing unusual had just been agreed upon.

Nevertheless, Gabi felt the air shift around him, humming with possibility. The others scattered, each toward their own adventure for the day, while he held on to the knowledge that his was about to be placed in the hands of a man he would have gave his whole being to hold.

He retreated to his room, slamming the door in his haste, uncertain whether it stemmed from excitement or dread. As he packed a full backpack of drawing tools and hiking essentials, he kept circling back to the same question : was Nico truly worried about the trail, or was this just a pretext to spend some time alone with him? He desperately tried to believe the former option, that Nico’s concern was purely practical; but a louder, less tame part of him nursed the possibility that Nico had chosen him, just this once. The thought made his hands tremble as he picked out his good running shoes and tucked in his box of pastels and favorite sketchbook. He had feared, all vacations long, that he would carry those tools home unused like dead weight. The perspective of finally putting them to use was somehow was less exciting than spending the afternoon walking along Nico and admiring the view he had dreamed of together.

When he stepped out, bagpack slung over his shoulder, the midday sun already bright in the garden, he passed Levi already lounging by the pool. Book in hand, sunglasses resting low on his nose, his best friend gave him only the faintest nod. Gabi felt the air tighten between them yet again, a subtle pressure that made his chest tighten. He supposed it was only natural Levi would resent this unprompted outing, as it meant another stolen hour with the father they were all here for him to get to know in the first place. He could imagine Levi wanting that time too, to ask for it, to demand it, but he didn't, and barely even gave him the chance Nico was quietly begging for. The thought stung. But he’d promised himself not to meddle again, so he just offered a careful smile, and turned his back.

By the time he reached the driveway, Nico was already waiting, and Gabi had to stop for a second to process what he was seeing : the car was an impossible machine, sleek and gleaming under the sun. The kind of car he had only ever seen on tv, and thought no one could possibly afford them. He recognized the Porsche logo from a poster his cousin had in his room growing up back in Sao Paulo, looking brand new. He wondered how Nico had gotten it all the way from Monaco to Gozo without a single scratch. Sliding into the passenger seat, he was amazed by the leather, the tightness of the cabin, the way every line of the vehicle promised speed.

When the engine roared to life, it hit him low in his chest, and to his own surprise, he felt it his heart go faster. The vibration, the growl -it awakened something he had no idea he could ever crave.

Nico caught the look on his face and grinned like a child, eyes flicking between the road and Gabi’s amazed reaction.

"Oh you're in love with this car, aren't you?"

"I had no idea I would like that," he answered genuinely, "I don't even have a licence!"

Nico's smile got up to his ears and he chuckled in what sounded like fondness. At least that was what Gabi wanted it to be so desperately.

"Love at first sight then, maybe you're a driver in some parallel universe".

Gabi imagined himself at the wheel of a roaring machine, speeding along the curves of a Formula 1 track like Nico used to. He was surprised at how pleased he actually was to picture it, he who he had never been contended by much else than making art. He tried to play it off for the principle, but he couldn’t deny the thrill. He’d never thought of himself as someone who could get hooked on machines, yet here he was, pulse racing at the sound of an engine.

Nico shifted gears smoothly, the car leaping forward with effortless force, and the house behind them shrank from view. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, Gabi felt the world open wide, the road a promise, with no idea but high hopes for what it would bring.

The road narrowed as the car climbed higher into the hills. Nico drove with a calm mastery that made the machine feel like an extension of his body, his hands resting loose on the wheel yet every movement precise. Every time he shifted gears and the engine growled, Gabi felt the vibration run right through him. He leaned back against the leather seat, stealing glances at Nico’s profile, the firm set of his jaw, the way the sunlight caught in his hair, the subtle smile that tugged at his mouth whenever the car hit a clean curve.

It was ridiculous, how much he enjoyed this. He had never cared for cars before but with Nico at the wheel, the idea of speed, of control, of danger and elegance folded into one, suddenly seemed utterly magnetic. Impossibly hot. He caught himself imagining Nico in the cockpit of a Formula One car, that same focused expression, the same hands guiding something so powerful it could have killed him if he miscalculated a turn by a centimeter. His stomach tightened. He was now certain that later, in the privacy of his bed back at the house, he’d take out his phone and search for Nico’s highlights, watch the man he was falling for fly at impossible speeds, and see for himself what glory he had brought to the world doing it.

The asphalt gave way to dust and gravel. Nico downshifted smoothly, and the roar of the engine mellowed into a low hum as they rolled onto the dirt road. He parked at a wide shoulder where the land dropped steeply into wild bushes and rocks.

“This is as far as the car goes,” Nico said, pulling the brake. “The cave’s not far. Just a short hike."

When they got out, the air felt different : sharper, thinner, tinged with salt and thyme but also more oppressive, the sun relentless above their heads. He laced up his running shoes tighter, grabbed the strap of his heavy bag and followed Nico along the worn footpath.

It was, in truth, not a difficult hike at all. A little uneven, the cliff edges visible, but nothing close to the dangerous trek Nico had hinted at. Excitement crawled up his spine. Nico had lied to spend time with him. Or maybe just to make sure he was safe-, which in a way, would have felt even better. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to puncture the moment.

Instead, he broke the silence in a smoother manner:

“So… Formula 1, how does it even work? I mean, not the cars, but the rules. I know nothing about it."

Nico looked briefly surprised, then pleased. “You really want to know?”

“Of course,” he said genuinely.

As they walked, Nico began explaining away. His voice was measured, patient, yet carrying that undertone of excitement he couldn’t entirely mask. He talked about qualifying rounds, grid positions, pit stops timed to the second, the constant push and pull between risk taking and strategy. Gabi listened like every word was gold, filing away details about tire choices, overtakes, aerodynamics. He couldn't understand half of it but Nico's voice got more and more deep with passion by the second.

“And in the car?” Gabi asked softly, when Nico finally paused, “How does it feel?”

Nico smiled, eyes cast down at the path. “Like being fused with a storm. You don’t just drive the car. You feel every vibration, every twitch in the wheels, the dirty air from the car ahead filling your lungs even through the helmet... and you react to everything way before you even think about it. It’s… addictive, really. I have no idea how I got the mental strength to call it quits after so long."

The words hung between them. Gabi let the silence stretch, his heart thudding. He thought of Nico behind the wheel just minutes ago, the sound of the engine, the surety of his movements. He thought of what it must have been like to live inside that rush for years, and then walk away from it. He didn’t know how Nico had survived to leave something he was so deeply fervent about. If Gabi ever had to give up on his art, he would probably perish from withdrawal not long after starting to try.

But he didn’t ask. He needed to keep this moment as perfect as it was; this quiet walk, Nico’s voice painting a world he knew nothing about but would learn by heart if it meant he would get to know him better.

Chapter Text

The trail ended abruptly, nature sharp and unpredictable as ever. One moment the path was hugging the limestone edge, dust crunching beneath their shoes, and the next one the cliffside opened into a dark hollow, the Mixta Cave yawning wide before them. Sunlight poured in through the natural archway, bouncing against the walls so that the stone glowed in honey. The air inside was cool, carrying a faint mineral scent, a great relief after the heat of the walk.

But it was the view that stopped them in their tracks.

Through the opening, the island spilled into the horizon -steep terraced fields tumbling down toward the turquoise water, patches of burnt green and gold stitched together in the meadows in desperate needs of some rain. The sea shimmered like a living sheet of glass, restless, endless, impossible. The cliffs in the distance rose sharp and white against the sea, as if cut with a blade.

“Holy shit..." Gabi whispered, excitement growing at the tip of his fingers.

This wasn’t a landscape, it was a natural cathedral. He felt suddenly very small, the way he sometimes did under the vastness of São Paulo’s night sky when the city lights allowed a few stars to sneak through. But this was louder, more present, and even more holy. For a minute, he just stood there, staring at the immensity offering itself to him.

Nico didn’t interrupt. He leaned one shoulder against the rock, watching quietly, his sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. If Gabi focused hard enough, he could feel the warmth of the older man's eyes set on the back of his head, but even that couldn't make him turn away.

A few tourists were already there, clicking pictures, their voices echoing off the walls of the cave. They laughed, adjusted their hair for pictures and held up peace signs against the vastness of Creation, and then, as quickly as they had arrived, they left the cave, more concerned with finding enough internet to post on instagram than taking in the view. He judged them in silence. How could they stand here, in front of this, and pose like their own image was more important? This view wasn’t just something to capture and leave behind. It was something to kneel to.

He dropped his backpack on the ground and lowered himself to sit cross-legged to the cave floor. The stone was rough under his thighs, cool under his fingers. He carefully pulled out his sketchpad, careful not to shake his little tin of pastels too hard in fear of it rattling too loud and breaking the atmosphere. For a moment, he just sat there, paper blank in his lap, his fingers trembling with anticipation. Then, slowly, he began to sketch the horizon line, the sharp cut of sea against sky, the jagged strokes of the cliff. He picked his colors with care, holding each pastel between two fingers to compare it to the actual view.

His world narrowed. The unbearable chatter of tourists blurred, the scent of stone and salt deepened, his hand moving on instinct. He worked fast, filling the page with colors, layering blues upon blues, grinding gold against green to capture the fields in the distance, smudging with the side of his hand until the skin was stained all over. Every so often he looked up, memorized a line, a shift in the shadows, then bent down again, the pastel scraping against paper in a rhythm that calmed his nervous system better than any relaxing techniques Levi ever slid his way before finals.

Behind him, Nico discreetly moved closer but stayed quiet. He sank down against the wall, his legs stretched out, arms folded loosely across his chest. He didn’t try to speak, didn’t intrude. Just let him disappear into his art. In the back of his mind, Gabi processed how good that made him feel. How powerful it felt to be seen as who he was and respected in what he needed even when he probably looked insane like this, his whole body bent over his sketchbook, furiously coloring with his mouth half open in focus.

For him, time dissolved. The ache of the hike left his calves, the burn of the sun lifted from his skin. All that existed was the cave, the page, and Nico's quiet breathing close to his ear.

And then it was done. Finally, he let his last pastel go and his hand trembled in exhaustion. For the first time in what could have been an hour to a year time, Nico spoke, low and gentle :

"This is an absolute masterpiece, Gabi."

The voice startled him. He hadn’t even noticed Nico leaning even closer to him, his jaw nearly brushing his over his shoulder. He peaked quickly and found the older man gazing at the sketch, head tilted, mouth softened in a way that made his stomach tighten. He sat back, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He felt alive in a way he hadn’t since arriving in Malta.

Or in a way he hadn’t in years.

"It's pretty basic work... a bit of layering, shadows... I could still perfect it but I'd need more tools."

"This is basic work? Come on, you're insanely talented".

"I mean, I'm-" he started, ready to justify himself for reasons he didn't get himself, to explain that he knew he was good but not good enough to make anything meaningful out of it so why even bother?

“I mean it,” Nico interrupted, nodding at the page. “You’ve got an eye. Your drawing makes every detail jump out, and the colors... how did you even get them this accurately?"

Heat rose to Gabi’s cheeks. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, trying to hide his flattered smile. He failed.

“Nothing?” Nico huffed a laugh. “Cooking, pottery, drawing… and the way you talk about music makes me think you'd master that too. You make things, with your bare hands, and they're beautiful. Don't take it for granted, it's a gift."

The praise made something in Gabi’s chest expand so fast it almost teared his ribs apart. He wanted to bask in it, to let it sink into every pore, but the weight of truth dragged him down again. Nico was being nice. He looked back at his sketch, suddenly aware of how fragile it was, how pointless.

“It doesn’t matter, though,” he said softly.

Nico’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because I can’t… do anything with it. Not really. You don’t make a career out of this, you don’t make much money, if at all. You don’t make your parents proud with this.” He pressed his thumb against the paper until it left a smudge, his voice tightening. “That’s why I study something I hate. Do you know what that’s like for me? It's torture, but it’s the right thing to do. My parents...” His throat closed for a second. He forced the words out. “... my parents love me so much. They did so much for me my whole lives. I can’t be selfish because of some gift, like you say."

The cave swallowed his voice, bouncing it back to him, mocking his fragile voice. He kept his eyes on the sketch so he wouldn’t have to see pity in Nico’s. His fingers trembled with leftover adrenaline, smudging the edges of his cliffs to perfection.

Nico fell silent for a long time. Long enough that Gabi risked another glance. The blonde was staring not at the sketch anymore but at him, gaze steady, unreadable. There was no pity there. Something heavier, maybe. Something like recognition. He finally shifted, laying the roller of his voice against the quiet.

“You sound like me,” he said sternly.

Gabi blinked, “Like you?”

“When I was your age, yes."

Nico leaned back on his palms, distancing himself and leaving a painfully empty space between them. Suddenly, he was looking out at the endless blue again instead of at Gabi. His profile was sharp against the light of the sun slowly setting, carved in elegance as much as in exhaustion.

“My father decided long before I had a say in anything that I would be a racing driver. And not any driver, but in F1, obviously, the pinnacle. He used to tell me that, actually : "the pinnacle, Nico. That’s what you’re made for. I'll tolerate nothing less." His jaw tightened around the memory, hardening his voice “It wasn’t an hypothesis or even a dream. It was… destiny, in his book."

Gabi swallowed, didn't dare say anything. Instead, he lapped at every drop of vulnerability Nico would let flow his way.

The older man let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head and going on :

"And I loved him. God, I wanted to make him proud more than anything. But I was also terrified of him. Of his temper, his reactions when things didn't go his way. If I came home after being a fraction of a second too slow on track, he would look miserable for the rest of the month, and make me feel so guilty about it. He would cancel plans because there was "nothing to celebrate", he said. Sometimes said plans were my birthday".

His words fell heavy in the cave. Gabi held his breath, afraid that moving might shatter the thin armor Nico was barely wearing anymore but was so desperately clinging to by stubbornly still looking away.

“My mother,” he continued, voice softer now, “she was a saint. Warm, gentle, so loving. She made the world feel safe, even when it wasn't. She was the one who reminded me I was just a boy sometimes, and not the machine I was pushed to be. She was my sanctuary.” He paused, eyes unfocused, as if the memory of her presence hovered here, carried by the sea breeze. Something in the air let Gabi guess for himself that Nico's mother wasn't part of their world anymore.

“Maybe that’s why… when Levi was born, I thought... I was convinced he’d be better off with just his mother. With someone gentle and safe. I told myself I couldn’t be a father, at least not a good one. Not then and probably not ever. Because if the only model I had was my own father, what would stop me from turning into him? From breaking my kid by being convinced I was doing the best for him, too?"

A single tear rolled down his cheek before he could stop it from forming. He wiped it away roughly, with an angry back of his hand. “So I left him with Hailey I thought it was the right thing to do. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. I don’t know anymore. It was my choice and I have to live with it."

The admission cracked something open between them. Gabi’s sketchbook lay forgotten in his lap. All he saw now was Nico : the strong, untouchable man who had cooked for him, cared for him, carried himself with elegance and charmed strangers like breathing, laid bare and vulnerable, haunted by choices that still bled onto his life decades later.

And for the first time, Gabi thought: he isn’t untouchable at all. He's just like me. Lost and trying to figure it all out, still.

Nico cleared his throat, his eyes wet. "All I'm trying to say is... parents just want what's best for you, but they're not necessarily right. They just worry. Don't make yourself something you're not for their sake or you'll miss out on so much like I did."

Gently throwing his sketchbook away, Gabi pushed his legs forward to close the distance. Here, in the damp quiet of the cave, with tourists coming and going without noticing the crack in his murmured voice, Nico seemed so desperately human. He had never seen anything more beautiful, the landscape be damned. If sketching the view was a quick and easy task, recreating such magnitude would be a fool's hope. He could never do it, even with a million years and pastels.

His palms felt clammy, but he pressed them against the cool ground to ground himself before he shifted even closer, their knees fully touching. Tentative, searching, he reached out. His fingers brushed Nico’s hand first like a question, then rested more firmly on top of it. Finally, Nico let their fingers intertwine between them, half-hidden in the shadows of the evening settling, half-lit by the slant of sunlight still pouring in from the entrance.

“You’re not like your father” Gabi whispered, his voice thick, his accent stronger under the weight of emotion.

Nico turned his head, meeting his eyes at last. Something flickered there, fragile as glass -a devastating mix of shame and hope. He didn’t pull his hand away.

“You’re warm,” Gabi went on, his words gathering strength. “You’re thoughtful. You care so much it hurts. I see it, even when Levi doesn’t want to. Even when he pushes you away. I see it every time you cook for us, every time you ask if someone’s needs more food or their clothes washed, every time you-” His throat closed up. He inhaled sharply, trying again. “You gave me so much comfort when I didn’t think I deserved it. That's what good persons do. That's what you do. You would have been a good father because you're a good person, through and through."

The word echoed in the hollow cave, and Gabi wished he could take them back and as soon as it left his lips. Not so he wouldn't say them at all because Nico deserved to hear all of it; but simply so he could give them more thought and say them in a clever way. But Nico seemed to hear them just right, the way his heart had intended them. He looked back at him, eyes burning, a tear drying half forgotten on his cheek.

They didn’t move. The breeze whispered through the cave entrance. A seabird called somewhere far below. Tourists had stopped coming and going for a while now.

Nico’s fingers shifted under Gabi’s, not pulling away, but curling slightly, enough to acknowledge the touch once more, and hold on to it tighter.

They didn’t need to speak anymore. The silence was heavy but not suffocating, charged but somehow freeing. A mutual understanding, fragile and real, hanging between them like a thread pulled tight but unbroken.

He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, his ears, his fingertips where they touched Nico’s skin. And though desire still buzzed through him like a fever, this moment wasn’t about it. It was about something rawer, something deeper: the knowledge that he was allowed to care for this man, to hold some piece of his pain for him, if only for a little while.

So he sat with him, their hands clasped on their joined knees, staring out at the sea that stretched endlessly ahead. They let the night fall over the cave ineluctably, the sound of their breathing singing along the waves'.

By the time they separated and started heading back to the car, it was completely dark outside. The air was cooler, carrying the smell of sea salt and dust on their path.

Gabi followed Nico along the narrow trail, his sketchbook safely tucked under his arm, his fingers still remembering the warmth of Nico’s skin on his in the cave. His body felt heavier, every step careful yet disconnected, as if he wasn’t truly there but stuck in the cave, refusing to leave it and the memory of their fingers intertwined. He couldn't stop replaying the scene again and again, of Nico’s confession, of the way his voice had broken, of the way he had allowed himself to be held in silence. He hardly noticed the world around him anymore.

The drop to their left plunged down to blackness, the sound of the sea crashing faintly against the rocks below, the only source of light coming from the almost full moon above. He tried to appreciate the view, the mystical ambiance offered to him on a silver plate by mother nature herself, but his mind was elsewhere no matter what he did to catch it.

“Careful, it’s steeper here,” Nico called softly from just ahead, his voice low and assured. He nodded, but his gaze had already drifted toward the stars beginning to prick through the velvet sky.

In less than a second, it happened. His foot slipped on loose gravel, and the ground shifted under him. For one sickening instant, the ravine opened beneath him like the greedy mouth of a monster ready to swallow him whole. His heart slammed against his ribs as he flailed for balance, and failed.

And then Nico caught him.

Strong hands gripping him by the arm and waist, yanking him back just a millisecond before he could topple over the edge. The force of it knocked them both off their footing, Nico's back falling heavily on the floor, his body catching Gabi's in his fall.

They found himself pressed chest to chest, breathing hard, Gabi's pulse racing so fast he thought he might faint. Nico’s grip was still fierce, almost desperate, one arm locked around his waist, the other clutching his forearm as if he had no intention of letting go even though the fall must've hurt him. They were safe now, but the older man's hands weren't going anywhere, holding for dear life.

They froze like that, too close, too intimate for too long to be the sole consequence of Gabi's mishaps. He could feel the heat of Nico’s body through his thin shirt, and his ragged breath caressing his lips in the darkness. Their faces hovered millimeters apart, so close he could see details he had never seen of any other human being before : the light brown roots at his hairline, the wrinkle set in the middle of his eyebrows, the finesse of his eyelashes, the small scar adorning the bridge of his nose.

The world remained suspended; the night sounds, the sea below, even the wind seemed to hush, waiting for something Gabi couldn't dare to hope for.

Nico’s eyes flickered downward, just once, toward his lips. It was so fleeting he almost doubted it at first, before he did it again, unmistakable this time: the pull, the temptation breaking through his perfectly curated mask.

His breath got caught in his lungs. His lips parted. Later, he would have no idea if he had leaned in first or if Nico did, only that the unbearable space between them finally, miraculously disappeared. Their kiss landed with the force of everything unsaid, hungry for more before it was even over. Gabi reached for Nico's hair, holding a handful in his fist like a lifeline. He opened his mouth greedily, pulling the blonde even closer, urging him to let his tongue meet his. He moaned shamelessly when he finally did, tasting his mouth with fervor, unable to control his own teeth when they brushed Nico's tongue and caught it in-between them, threatening to bite.

He could've swallowed Nico whole, just to savor the taste of him and the sounds of his ragged breathing against his own mouth. Nico's hands left his waist to find his face and hold it like a treasure, his left thumb gently stroking his cheek when the kiss slowly started to fade. Gabi whined in displeasure, tried to get the other man to deepen it again, to get even closer. He was desperately deluded in the belief that somehow, Nico could sink under his skin and satisfy the itch that had been settling there since the day they had met.

Unfortunately for him, he remained trapped in his own mortal flesh, taking a deep breathe when their lips disconnected. Accepting defeat at last, after so many days of denying what could not possibly be denied, Nico let his head rest on his collarbone, inhaling his scent. Gabi hoped he could smell the desperation in his sweat and would never stop chasing its perfume just like himself was always looking for a faint smell of sandalwood everywhere he went.

The night wind cooled their flushed faces as they finally broke apart, the sudden distance setting Gabi's nervous system in a state of agony. Nico drew in a sharp breath, pulled back with certainty, and cleared his throat as if the sound alone could bring him back to reality. Gabi knew nothing could ever take him away from this place, this memory. His body would leave this trail but his mind would remain there forever.

“Come on,” Nico said quietly, voice steadier than it should’ve been after such a moment, “We need to get moving. There are wild animals here at night."

Nico made sure he was holding Gabi by the wrist on the rest of the way. Their footsteps echoed against stone, the sound of cicadas filling the silence where Gabi could've sworn he hadn't heard a single one while they were kissing. He kept as close behind as possible, the heat of Nico’s body still clinging to him, dizzying, bringing comfort and desire in a disturbing fusion of feelings. His blood had at least the decency to not flow straight into his crotch, or at least not yet.

But the trail demanded his whole attention in such darkness. The rocks were loose in places, the edge too close to the ravine. His thoughts kept on wandering dangerously, secretly hoping he would stumble again so Nico would be there to catch him a second time.

They finished the hike in silence. When the car finally came into view, gleaming faintly under the moonlight, Gabi exhaled shakily as if he’d been holding his breath the entire descent. His body had left the cave, and the trail, dissociating itself from his fantasies forever.

Nico unlocked the Porsche, slid into the driver’s seat, and for a long moment just sat there with both hands resting on the wheel. He got in beside him, wiping the sweat from his palms onto his shorts, his chest still aching with hope for something more. Another kiss, surely. A passionate makeout session in the backseat, maybe. Nico pushing into him and breaching his body like he owned it, mayhaps.

Nico didn’t start the engine. His eyes stayed fixed on the dark road ahead. When he finally spoke, his voice was different, careful, as if every word carried unbearable weight on his throat :

“You...” he started "You know we can't. For Levi's sake. For your sake."

The softness and the pain in his tone broke Gabi more than open cruelty ever could. Nico was hurting telling him this. He too was fighting his desire, except he was stronger than Gabi would ever be and would be the one to build the wired fence between their conjoined hearts.

"I'm so sorry, Gabi. Please don't think I didn't want this, because God knows I did", he murmured, his eyes still fixed on the windshield.

He turned the key and the engine purred low, headlights spilling onto the empty road, the car not moving forward. He sat there with both hands resting on the wheel, eyes unfocused, staring down something only he could see.

Gabi's chest burned in pain. He wanted to protest, to argue, to make Nico understand that his sake was him and him only. But the image of Levi, of his gentle and loving father crying at the thought of not being good enough for him and so desperately trying to get his love back, came back to his mind. If he ruined this for Nico, he could never forgive himself.

“I would really appreciate," Nico went on, not letting him any space to breathe, "if we could leave this memory behind, as pleasurable as it was".

Gabi nodded, but his whole body rebelled against it. His mouth trembled, trying to form words, but nothing came. The car felt too small, too tight, the silence pressing in on his chest until he thought it might crush him. His head buzzed, blood running hot into his skull, a flow of panic overwhelming his system.

Nico finally shifted the car into gear. The motion was deliberate, final, like the snapping shut of a book that should never be reopened. They finally joined the road, the engine humming low and steady, a poor disguise for the storm raging inside both of them.

Gabi turned his face to the window. He didn’t bother hiding the tears when they came; thick, heavy, spilling down his cheeks until the skin was raw from the saltiness. He wanted Nico to see them. He wanted him to know just how much it hurt, to understand that this wasn’t some foolish boy’s crush but something so much bigger, something that consumed him whole.

And Nico did see. His eyes flicked towards him more than once, lingering on the trembling shoulders, his cheeks reddened and wet. His knuckles tightened on the wheel, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t offer empty comfort or tried to get him to stop. He simply let the boy break beside him, loud and raw, carrying both of their burdens alone while the road stretched endlessly ahead.

For Gabi, it was agony. But also, as bitter and deranged as it could be, a comfort. Even in rejection, Nico made space for his pain, let him unravel without judgment or useless chatter. He let Gabriel be, always.

By the time the lights of the villa appeared in the distance, his chest ached from crying, air struggling to get in and out. He didn’t even wipe his face before they pulled into the driveway. Let Nico see, he thought. It should've been a bitter kind of thought, but the relief of being allowed to feel and let himself be seen with no repercussion was greater than petty resentment.

And Nico did see, until he stopped the car and the lights went off in the pitch black driveway.

Chapter Text

He didn't sleep.

He laid perfectly flat in his impersonal guest bed, staring at the ceiling poorly illuminated by the moonlight. Every detail of the kiss replayed in his restless mind, with enough intensity to drive him mad with yearning; the warmth of Nico’s mouth, his teeth clashing on his, the gentleness of his hands holding his face. His chest hurt like he’d swallowed a stone. When dawn inevitably came, his body was heavy and his eyes swollen, but he still couldn’t let himself rest.

By early afternoon, the villa stirred again. Cam stumbled back through the gate looking like a soldier returned from war, collapsing beside the pool. His hair was sticking up, his shirt half-open, his dramatics cranked to full.

“I couldn't find her,” he announced, throwing an arm over his face, “I checked every corner of St Julian, asked everyone in town, and nothing! No one has seen her! She could’ve been the one for me but now it's ruined just because-"

He kept going, words dripping with anguish, hands flailing around the sunburnt edges of his angular face.

Gabi stopped listening. He sat in silence in the grass, his sketchbook closed at his side. Cam knew nothing about pain, he thought bitterly. He would never know what it was like to finally touch the skin of the person that had been clearly waiting for him all his life, only to be asked to please erase the memory from your brain forever.

Cam kept on wailing on about fate and the universe's unfairness. He felt like laughing in his face, or shout, but he didn’t have the energy. He just let his exhausted limbs sunk deeper into his chair, allowing the sun to burn his unprotected shoulders, the pool’s reflection stabbing his eyes. His sunglasses couldn't take the force of the sunlight, and neither could his closed eyelids beneath the lenses.

Then Nico appeared. Not a word about Cam’s theatrics, not a glance towards Gabi. His tone was brisk, falsely cheerful, fake and nauseating.

“Okay guys, we’ve got work to do today".

Cam groaned, claimed he was "vulnerable,” at the moment but Nico remained immovable. Within half an hour, they were all back in the garden but this time with gloves, buckets, and heavy tools. The wall along the terrace had begun to crumble, Nico explained; if they wanted the villa to hold, it had to be patched quickly.

Cam complained loudly, dragging stones like they weighed a hundred kilos each. Gabi said nothing. He carried, lifted, mixed cement, pushed the wheelbarrow until his arms trembled. The heat scalded his neck, sweat stung his eyes, his palms burned with fresh blisters even under the thick gardening gloves. But he welcomed the pain like an old friend, letting it fill his empty ribcage. Physical strain was better than sitting still and stuck in place, better than letting his mind wander back to Nico’s mouth on his.

By dusk, the wall was patched, uneven but solid. Cam had abandoned the project hours ago, sulking in the shade, rapidly getting comforted by Axel. Gabi stayed until the end along with Levi and Isack, silent, body aching, refusing to let himself stop until they did. If being the last man standing was his only victory, then so be it.

Nico eventually straightened, brushed the dust from his hands, and said simply:
“That’s enough, I think. Looks good to me."

Gabi wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, staring at the wall. Ugly, rough, a scar instead of a repair. Probably the ugliest and most meaningless work he had ever brought to life. But it held, and that was the only point of all this.

Like him, it was scarred, still standing, but just barely.

Dinner was quiet. The table felt emptier than usual, even with Cam filling the air with his endless rambling. Nico served the food, Levi picked at his plate as usual, Isack inhaling everything within reach to compensate for all the exercising he was doing in the pool all day. Gabi barely touched his own. The fork scraped against porcelain a few times, then rested useless in his hand. Isack pushed dessert his way, at some point.

"You want mine? I'm full."

Nico’s eyes flicked toward him just once, unreadable, but he said nothing.

Later, they gathered in the living room. A movie played, something light Axel had insisted on to cheer his best friend up. Gabi barely saw it; his gaze was fixed on the television screen but his mind replayed the cave, the trail, the car ride. His heart clenched until he convinced himself it was going to stop beating altogether. Then Levi’s small head tipped sideways, resting against his shoulder. For a long moment, he froze. He wanted to shrug him off, recreate some distance, but then the weight of his best friend settled against him. Warm, trusting, painfully familiar. Like a reminder carved directly into his ribs: this was why. This was why Nico had pulled back, why he had begged him to forget. Levi needed his father whole, not tangled in impossible desires for someone who would complicate everything. Someone he barely even knew.

He relaxed into the contact, somehow. Still, his stomach twisted painfully but he didn’t move until Levi stirred, murmured something in his sleep, and Nico finally came to lift him gently away. He wished he was the one looking frail and comfortable in Nico's embrace, but understood why he couldn't be. Why he could never be.

That night, he tried to sleep. He shut his eyes. He begged himself to rest. Because he desperately needed it, firstly, and because it was the reasonnable thing to do, secondly.

But instead, a dream came: Nico’s hands gripping his waist, Nico’s mouth on his own, Nico loving on him without guilt. Nico sucking on his neck and taking him on the backseat of his Porsche. Nico promising him he could stay here with him, forever. He jolted awake, sweat damp on his neck, the sheets tangled around his legs.

The torment of it was unbearable. Nico was the flame burning inside his chest, the musky aftertaste in his mouth, the bruising feeling on his skin. His absence left him raw, aching, in withdrawal of something he never had the occasion to even get used to. That night, it felt impossible to endure anymore. His lungs pulled shallow, panicked breaths, his fists clenching the sheets like they might hold him together. But nothing would. Nothing except him.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Barefoot, he gracefully crossed the hall. His knuckles hovered over Nico’s door only a second before he tapped -barely audible to the rest of the house.

A pause.

The door opened after what felt like an humiliating amount of time. Nico stood there, hair mussed, eyes heavy with sleep, jaw slack with confusion. Wearing nothing but soft looking cotton shorts. He looked so much younger like this, softer and unguarded. So much more like the version of Nico who had cried in the secrecy of the cave and less like the version who grinned with his teeth and joked around at the diner table trying to sound sleeker than he was.

"Gabi?" he murmured, voice thick, probably convinced he was still dreaming.

Gabriel, on the contrary, was the only version of himself he ever knew how to be.

His chest heaved, a sob he hadn’t planned tearing out of him like a flood threatening to drown him. He launched himself forward, arms wrapping tight around Nico's waist, face pressed into his chest. His body shuddered in a silent cry, words stuck in his throat. All he could do was cling, praying Nico wouldn’t push him away this time.

He buried his face in his neck, clutching him like a believer holds a saint. The older man stroked his back in slow circles, murmuring something low, meaningless, soothing nevertheless. The embrace started gentle, rooted in comfort. Gabi let himself be held, inhaling Nico's scent. His senses slowly awoke then, turning the contact into something firmer, rapidly consuming. Their bodies pressed flush, his pulse racing too fast, his breathing suddenly shallow against Nico’s skin. His trembling turned into urgency, his hips shifting against Nico’s, his need laid bare without shame. The blonde man's breath caught and got stuck in his swollen adam's apple, awareness dawning at the press of the boy’s hardness through thin fabric.

This kiss came like an evidence. One moment Nico’s hand was stroking Gabi’s back in comfort, the next his lips had captured his, tender for a few delightful seconds, then deepening as the flood rushed in. Gabi kissed back hungrily, like a starved animal finally allowed to feed, fingers tangled in golden hair, pulling towards himself, keeping him close like a prey. Except he was the one putting his survival on the line; his fate in Nico's hands.

They stumbled backward until the back of Nico’s knees hit the bed, tumbling down together. Gabi landed sprawled across his chest, straddling him, their mouths locked in desperation. His breath was feverish, each moan swallowed into Nico’s mouth like they were his.

Nico’s hands roamed almost hesitantly over his body, smoothing over his back, his ribs, then under his thin shirt to find hot, bare skin. Gabi arched up against him with a cry, the sound so raw it made Nico’s restraint crumble even further. His thumb found a hardened nipple, brushing over it, and he nearly buckled, gasping his name against his lips. He had never even been sensitive around this area but somehow, with Nico, it was begging to be touched.

Clothing came away in fragments : his shorts shoved down, Nico’s loosened, both of them bared just enough to handle their needs. Not a care in the world for what would look esthetic or appropriate, too immersed in raw sensations. Skin against skin, sweat slicked and trembling, probably red from the amount of friction they made themselves endure. Gabi found himself under Nico, just like in his dreams, grinding up against him shamelessly. The raw contact was blinding, sending fire straight through his body. Nico groaned low, a sound he swore he would remember until the day he died. It hurt a little, nothing between their bodies to ease the glide, but it didn't matter when sparks of pleasure took over.

“Please…” he whispered, wrecked, rocking against the man hovering above him, “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Nico answered with a kiss, devouring, claiming. His hand slipped lower, finding Gabi’s cock, wrapping smoothly around it, stroking slow then faster, in rhythm with their thrusting hips. He was rapidly losing patience, either because he felt close to the edge or because he couldn't stand not taking him to said edge fast enough. Gabi cried out as quietly as his remainings braincells allowed him to, voice breaking, nails scraping down Nico’s back hard enough to leave marks. He hoped they'd turn into scars and keep him here in Malta forever, where he belonged in Nico's arms and his bed.

The room filled with the sounds of panting, of sweat easing their chaotic back and forth and the faint creak of the mattress. Gabi was gone, lost, his whole world narrowing to the pressure of Nico’s strong hand on his hips, making his body slide against his, allowing him to do nothing and let his whole being be used, the heat building unbearably up his core. He buried his face in Nico’s neck, breathing in sweat and sandalwood, biting down to stifle another helpless moan. He was biting too hard, almost tasting blood, but Nico did not push him away. His own control was crumbling, his cock sliding against his in the mess of precum and sweat between them. Each thrust drove another groan from his throat, another plea from Gabi’s. A song they composed together for each other.

It happened fast : Gabi’s body stiffened violently like a cramp, a final sob wrenching out of him as he spilled hot and wet over their joined chests, shuddering in Nico’s arms. His whole body clenched, the sensation dragging his lover with him, his own release tearing through him with a choked gasp, his come mixing with Gabi’s across their bellies, their thighs, the sheets. At last, Nico was finally an artist too, contributing in their shared masterpiece.

They collapsed together, trembling, their chests heaving in sync. Gabi clung to him, fingers still twisted in his hair like he feared being pulled away, because he did. Nico pressed his forehead to the boy’s temple, lips brushing his damp skin in something almost like a kiss, though softer, more sorrowful. A reverence.

For a long time, they didn’t move a single limb. Just held onto each other, the storm slowly quieting in their exhausted bodies and minds.

When Nico finally stirred, it was with gentle, practiced care. He eased Gabi onto his back, forced his stubborn hands to let go of him and without a word, disappeared into the master suite bathroom. He came back in less than a second holding a damp towel, and Gabi sighed in relief when his warmth rejoined the bed. Slowly, with the care that was usually only used for porcelain, Nico wiped him clean : the stickiness on his stomach, the mess between his thighs, his touch steady and practiced. He then cleaned himself up in silence, with less consideration, before tugging his pajama pants back up.

Gabi laid there, watching him with heavy lidded eyes, utterly spent, lips parted, curls plastered damp to his forehead. He let himself exposed and didn't bother covering up. Nico was allowed to see and take everything he needed from him.

By the time the towel was discarded to the floor, his eyes had fluttered shut. His breathing deepened, body going slack against the sheets. Sleep claimed him instantly, exhaustion dragging him under before he could beg Nico not to carry him back to his own bed.

Chapter Text

Gabi stirred to the sensation of warmth against his skin -not from the sun, but from soft lips brushing along his jaw, the corner of his mouth, to the hollow of his throat. His lashes fluttered open to find Nico’s face so close, golden in the dim light of dawn, hair tangled from sleep and making love, his eyes soft with a look he had never seen before.

“Morning,” he whispered, his voice still husky. His hand smoothed over Gabi’s chest, down his side, in a lazy caress.

Gabi blinked, dazed, caught between the memory of last night and the shock of still being here. A smile tugged at the edge of his lips despite himself, and he shuffled closer, wrapping his arms around Nico in an embrace too tight to be a simple good morning. Nico chuckled low in his throat, kissing his temple.

“Sorry to wake you that early but the others are going to be up soon".

The words stung as Gabi was harshly brought back to their reality, but his tone was gentle, and then he added, “Wanna have a shower before that?"

He nodded too quickly, almost headbutting the older man, eager and still clinging to him as Nico coaxed him out of bed.

The master bathroom was so much better than theirs, bigger and disposing of a large italian shower. Nico gently led him inside while the water warmed up and slowly started to fog the whole room. The water cascaded over them as they stood shoulder to shoulder beneath it, relaxing their sore muscles. Nico worked a sweet smelling shampoo into Gabi’s curls, careful fingers massaging his scalp so good he nearly made him melt against the tiles. He tilted his head back in delight, eyes half-lidded, entranced by the domesticity of it all.

When they switched places, he fumbled awkwardly with the bottle, spilling more soap than necessary onto Nico’s shoulders. He tried to work it through his hair, then his chest, down his arms, but ended up laughing nervously, overwhelmed by the intimacy of having that majestic image of a man bare in front of him, for his eyes only. Nico smirked at the mess, patient as ever, and covered Gabi’s hands with his own. It's fine, he said without words, I can wash myself just fine.

Somewhere between rinsing and teasing, Gabi’s gaze drifted downward. The sight made his stomach twist in anticipation, heat rushing into his face. Acting on impulse, clumsy but determined, he dropped on his knees and leaned in, kissing just above Nico’s hip before daring to go lower. He hadn't been planning on it getting into the shower, still sore and tired from the events of the night, but couldn't resist to such a sight, especially knowing how fleeting his moments with Nico could be. In the petrifying possibility of his lover changing his mind again, Gabi had to feast on everything he could while he still had time to do so.

He took Nico's still soft but slowly raising to interest cock in his mouth tentatively, like a young man tastes his very first glass of wine -thirsty but unknowing. After only a few seconds, the reality of his precarious situation hit : he had never touched another man in this way before, and even though it all sounded rather instinctive and smooth in his mind, it definitely wasn't. He gagged too quickly, taking not even half of Nico into his mouth, knees biting into the tiles and jaw aching, frustration clouding his expression. Nico immediately stilled him with both hands, tilting his face back up with the gentleness of someone who knew better.

“Let's not rush this”, he said softly, a smile in his voice despite the seriousness of the words. His thumb brushed over Gabi’s cheek, as the younger man tried to take it into his mouth to compensate for the larger subject of his frustration, “Don’t hurt yourself for me, we'll do this another time".

Another time. A wildfire lit in Gabi’s chest. His mild embarrassment melted into eagerness, his lips finally finding Nico's teasing thumb to suck quietly on it with a smile. He nodded, cheeks burning, and Nico leaned in to kiss his damp forehead before taking his hand away and finding the towels.

The kitchen was awaiting for them in the pale morning light, birds stirring outside the open green shutters. Gabi gracefully chopped fruits while Nico whisked eggs, the two of them moving in a rhythm that felt almost rehearsed. Every so often, Nico’s hand would brush his at the counter, or he’d lean in too close to reach something from the shelf, lips brushing Gabi’s cheek before either of them could stop it. Not like they would have wanted to stop it anyway.

He basked in it, soaking up every stolen touch, every half-grin Nico couldn’t quite suppress. His heart ached with the sweetness of it, the illusion that they were alone in the world, building a morning together like lovers did. Like he was simply enjoying a sunny morning in his house, on his island, living his real life.

But even through the warmth of that fantasy, he could see the cracks : Nico’s eyes darting to the door whenever he leaned in too far, the guilty look on his face everytime the shutters made a noise that sounded like steps coming their way. In Gabi's clouded mind, it made the affection even more intoxicating: forbidden, fragile, but real nonetheless.

The first sound of footsteps on the stairs was the last straw that made the spell shatter entirely. Nico straightened instantly, his adorable grin wiped clean, shoulders squaring as though he’d just put a heavy armor back on. He turned from Gabi's side to the stove, flipping eggs with a focus that bordered on theatrical.

By the time Cam and Levi wandered in, yawning and rubbing their eyes, it was as though nothing had happened. Nico greeted them casually, slid plates onto the table, cracked a joke about Levi’s bedhead looking exactly like his. Gabi didn't think so at all.

It was like watching someone get into a train and rapidly vanishing from his sight as it accelerated. He could run after him, as fast as his feet would allow him to, and it still wouldn't be enough to catch him. He couldn’t decide if the ache it left was worse than the yearning that had left him starved these last few days, or better, because at least now he knew what it felt like to be loved by Nico.

The day went by lazily, the cicadas starting their rhythmic song around the villa and the sun regaining its peak to weigh on their shoulders. Isack dived in the pool again and again, determined to "perfect his landing", and kept going for the best of an hour before he eventually got bored of it. Gabi groaned when the relieving monotonous splashes on his burning skin stopped.

"Keep going Is, you're a great human sprinkler".

“I'm bored, I need to move,” Isack declared, stretching his arms with a groan. “I can't waste the whole day in the pool. Who’s up for a ride?"

Axel groaned loudly from the sunbed, his body sprawled like a ragdoll over it. He didn’t even bother opening his eyes. “Not today man, I’m dead."

Cam, slouched on the next sunbed with his phone in hand, scoffed. “Yeah, no chance I’m sweating it out on a bike right now. I’ll pass.” His thumb flicked restlessly across his screen, his jaw tight with frustration.

Isack rolled his eyes, "So you'd rather spend your whole day trying to find your girlfriend on tinder?"

“Don’t start,” Cam muttered, sounding defeated.

Then Levi’s voice came, quiet but assured : “I’ll come with you.”

Isack perked up instantly, flashing him a grin “Seriously? Nice! I'll get the bikes."

Levi glanced toward Gabi, almost shyly, as if they hadn't been each other's person these last two years, before adding : “You're in?"

The invitation lit something inside him that he hadn’t felt in a while; a flicker of uncomplicated joy. No worries, no doubt twisting at the edges of his simple pleasures -just Levi wanting him around again.

“Yeah,” he said without hesitation, already pushing his body up to get his good sneakers "I'd love to."

And less than five minutes later, the three of them pedaled out of the villa’s driveway, the sound of wheels crunching on gravel merging with the faint hum of crickets. The air smelled of thyme and salt, and as they descended toward the coastal path, Gabi let the warm breeze slap his cheeks, cooling the fire that had been slowly burning under his skin all day and the one before that.

They reached the far end of the island, where the sea stretched open and infinite. A small ice cream stand sat crookedly on the roadside, a humble shack with a hand-painted sign and an umbrella barely holding against the seaside wind. An old lady was keeping it, looking awfully bored on a chair that looked as ancient as she did. Isack immediately hopped off his bike at the sight.

“Yes, perfect,” he said, scanning the handwriten flavors board with greedy eyes.

Levi parked his bike more carefully, leaning it against a low wall before turning to Gabi "What are you getting? My treat."

“Mango,” Gabi answered without even looking at the sign. He loved everything and anything mango since he was a child.

Levi chuckled. “Okay, classic Gabi. I’m going for lemon. Is?"

"Chocolate and pistachio, can I get two balls?"

"I don't know, maybe they'll drop when you're old enough."

Gabi bursted in laughter. Isack looked confused for a minute before his torn-between-languages mind made sense of the joke. Gabi wiped a tear of laughter at the side of his eye.

They settled onto a stone wall overlooking the sea, their legs dangling over the edge, ice creams in hand. It melted overwhelmingly quickly in the heat, dripping down their fingers, and soon their clothing, but none of them really cared.

“This island is insane,” Isack said between licks, gazing at the water, “I think Gozo's so much better than the main island."

Levi nodded, “Yeah. Malta’s beautiful, but I like the quiet better."

“What about you? What did you like best?” Isack asked, turning toward him.

Gabi licked the remains of his ice cream off his fingers slowly, thinking. His heart was still heavy from the previous night, but in this moment, the simplicity of sitting with them dulled the ache. “The cave,” he admitted honestly. “That was my favorite. I could’ve stayed there forever.”

Levi gave him a warm, knowing look, one that almost made his throat tighten again. His best friend thought he knew him by heart, and less than two weeks ago, it would have still been true.

They kept talking, bouncing from one detail to another : the fireworks of Sliema, the hidden bays, the bread they’d bought from that amazing bakery in Valetta. The conversation shifted, naturally, toward what came next: going back to Oxford.

Isack leaned back on his elbows, the sun catching in his dark curls, “I have so much stuff planned for this year, I'm already in three whatsapp groups for parties in September. You think we’ll even have time to study?”

“Speak for yourself,” Levi teased. “I’m not failing my last year just to get drunk every weekend.”

“Come on,” Isack grinned. “There’s gonna be girls everywhere."

Levi smirked, nudging him instead of answering "I think Gabi needs to party more than me. I have a girl in my mind but he still hasn't found a girlfriend this year again. Unless I don't know about it?"

The question was clearly meant as a joke, lighthearted, but something inside Gabi twisted. The night with Nico was still haunting his thoughts, and lying suddenly felt unbearable. Maybe he didn't have to lie all the way, though.

He took a small breath, steadying his voice, "No, I haven't found anyone... it won't necessarily be a girlfriend, by the way."

The silence that followed was brief but electric. Levi blinked, confused, then his face quickly softened in a reassuring half smile, a small nod that told Gabi nothing had changed between them after this new development.

But Isack-

Isack’s reaction was different. His eyes lit up, bright and unguarded, a spark of something almost too raw to name. Something Gabi couldn't quite make sense of.

To fill the silence, he muttered : “Just thought I’d put it out there,” trying to sound casual, though his pulse was thundering in his ears.

Isack suddenly smiled wide, genuine, his chocolate stained mouth curving up like sunlight breaking through clouds. “That’s… cool, man. No problem with that."

Levi clapped him on the shoulder, a grounding gesture "Well, you knew that, right?"

And as much as he did know it wouldn't be an issue, a small window of doubt was comprehensible, he thought.

They stayed like that for a long while, the three of them side by side, the waves crashing below, the sweetness of ice cream lingering on their tongues. Gabi savored it, this small pocket of peace, a sweet memory he knew he’d replay in his mind, long after their trip ended.

The sand was scalding hot under his feet, the grains clinging between his toes as they spread out their towels on the beach. The afternoon sun hadn’t lost its bite, but the water glimmered cool and inviting, a wide stretch of liquid glass broken only by the gentle swell of waves. Isack tossed his shirt aside without hesitation, jogging toward the water with a grin.

“First one in the water!" he called over his shoulder, though neither Levi nor Gabi made any move to follow. Levi simply shook his head, already unfolding his towel with neat precision. Gabi sat down, hugging his knees loosely, his eyes following Isack as he dove headfirst into the sea.

The splash echoed, droplets catching the light like crystals on the boy's face when he emerged again, curls slicked down against his forehead. He pushed them back with both hands, chest rising and falling with the effort of pushing himself upwards in the water. When he came back to shore, he shook his head vigorously, scattering water in all directions. His curls, half-tamed and glistening, started to fall back into shape as if water could only make them wilder.

Something tugged at Gabi’s attention then, something discreet but insistent. He had always seen Isack as energetic, confident, sometimes even a little irritating in his boundless enthusiasm. But that day, he noticed more: the way his olive skin seemed to glow under the sun, how healthy and strong his body looked, how effortlessly he carried himself. Young, vibrant. Surprisingly attractive.

It startled him, that realization, like catching sight of a painting you’ve passed a hundred times before but never truly looked at. Maybe it was the timing. Maybe it was just because he had finally let himself say it aloud, that he was into men too. That he wasn’t afraid of his friends discovering it somehow. And now that the words were out in the world, it felt like his eyes finally had permission to roam and look for what they wanted.

For a moment, he lingered on that thought, letting it turn over in his mind like a smooth stone. But just as quickly, another image pushed through, uninvited and yet all-consuming.

Nico, again.

The memory of his lips in the crook of his neck, the weight of his body pressing him down on the trail. The gentleness in his large palms when he had touched his face like something sacred. The way his cock had felt in his mouth the night before: heavy and perfect, filling his throat with the taste of him. Gabi’s body tightened with the memory, his blood rushing fast, too fast, until his pulse pounded low in his stomach.

Nico's scent filled his nostrils as if he was actually there lounging on the towel alongside them; that irresistible of sandalwood and salt that clung to Nico’s skin. The scent that had made him dizzy with want and was still imprinted on his own clothing. He hadn't thrown his pajama shorts in the wash, obviously. Until he got another taste of Nico, he couldn't afford the luxury of getting rid of the last remains of his scent anywhere. The world around him dimmed as the fantasy took over, the waves and laughter on the beach from a few tourists around fading to static compared to the vivid feeling of Nico moving above him, licking his skin, whispering his name directly into his ear and between his thighs.

Heat gathered there, under his navel, shamefully obvious to anyone looking close enough. He shifted uncomfortably, hugging his knees tighter against his chest. Fortunately for him, Levi and Isack weren't looking close enough at all, the latter immersed in a sandcastle Gabi hadn't noticed he had started building, and Levi-

“Hey” Levi’s hand nudged his shoulder gently, dragging him out of the haze. “Are you listening? Look, that's the exact desk I wanted for my room in Oxford, it's so much more practical than the one I have! You want one too? I'm using my dad's credit card, so. Don't worry, he said I could."

It took Gabi a second to process, his mind still foggy with lust. He nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Sure. Nice desk."

Levi smiled, satisfied, and turned his attention back to his phone to order the desks Gabi already couldn't remember anything about.

By the time he dared to glance down again, the arousal had drained away, leaving him oddly uncomfortable, his hardness softening with no one to take care of it. He let out a slow breath, relieved. The fantasy could fade here, swallowed by the ocean breeze. For now.

Chapter Text

The ride back from the beach was lazier than their usual outings. The sun had dipped lower and the three bikes rolled steadily in a loose line, Levi leading, Isack right behind him, and Gabi at the rear, enjoying the view.

The salty breeze rushed against his face, drying the sweat on his temples and ruffling the pages of the sketchbook tightly strapped to his backpack. The rhythm of pedaling, the steady grind of the wheels on the road, should have cleared his head, but it didn’t. His mind wandered back and forth between the ordinary simplicity of the day spent with his best friends, and the unbearable intimacy of last night, how bad he craved for more of it.

Every time his eyes caught the outline of Isack’s back, strong legs moving effortlessly, he remembered the force with which Nico had grinded his hips against his, pinning him to the mattress. He tried to breathe deeper, tried to let the motion of biking root him in the present. Levi’s laugh carried back on the wind as he teased Isack for almost ending up in a wall. The small, ordinary sound tugged Gabi back, if only briefly, and he let himself smile in response.

By the time the villa came into view, the orange sun dipping toward the horizon, his limbs were pleasantly tired. They rolled their bikes onto the gravel driveway, the crunch of tires against stone announcing their return. Cam and Axel were still lounging by the pool, their voices lazy with heat, the clink of glass beer bottles suggesting they hadn’t moved much all day.

“Finally,” Axel called, squinting against the light of the sun settling, "thought you’d died out there or something".

“You wish” Isack shot back with a grin, hopping off his bike.

The familiarity of it all -the banter, the lazy voices, the smell of chlorine from the pool- settled over Gabi like a blanket. The ordinary rhythm of the house, despite everything boiling inside him, had a way of tethering him back to everything he was grateful to experience.

Nico appeared on the terrace, looking rested. He leaned against the stone railing, surveying them with a mix of amusement and nervosity Gabi recognized to be the expression he wore whenever he tried to get a good moment with Levi to work.
“Dinner later,” he called, his voice carrying easily, "and movie night after. You guys should go take your showers before I use all the water to cook."

The announcement was met with cheers from Axel and Cam, but for Gabi, it was something else. The anticipation lodged itself in his chest like an electric current. A movie night meant sitting in the dark, bodies close, moments of proximity stolen under the excuse of watching something else. It meant the possibility of Nico near enough for his skin to remember the touch it craved so badly.

He swallowed the rush of excitement and bent down to untie his shoes, hoping no one saw how tightly his hands were trembling.

Dinner passed in a blur, Gabi unable to focus. The table was lively: Cam still sulking and throwing in sarcastic remarks, Axel poking fun at him to lift the mood, Levi animatedly telling them about the little ice cream stand and how odd it was that no tourist was queuing for it even though they were the best ice creams he ever had. Plates clattered, the smell of grilled vegetables and salmon lingered in the air. He picked at his food, pushing it around more than eating, the chatter around him blurring into background noise.

Every so often, his eyes slid to Nico. The blonde man seemed at ease, leaning back in his chair, responding with short, dry quips to try and make them laugh. Nothing about him gave anything away, nothing betrayed the memory they had created together. His mask was seamless again, and Gabi wondered how he could wear it so effortlessly while he himself felt raw, as if his entire skin had been stripped off. It was a genuine surprise to him how no one, even his closest friends, could guess the turmoil inside of him.

They helped with the dishes, asking questions about the movie they would watch but Nico was unwilling to answer. Someone dimmed the lights in the living room, Axel dragging blankets onto the couch, and Nico fiddling with the projector until the opening credits lit up the wall in flickering color. The others piled onto cushions, half-sprawled with bottles of soda and snacks within reach.

Gabi slipped into a spot at the end of the couch, almost trying to disappear into the cushions. Obviously, Nico had picked a racing movie. The title flashed by, engines roared across the screen, and Levi groaned in half-interest before Nico, with the faintest smile, told him he might like it more than he thought.

"It'll remind you of the paddock, sohn."

The sound of cars filled the room, fast and loud, but Gabi wasn’t watching. Not really. The moment Nico sat down near him, not right beside him, but close enough that their knees almost brushed, his entire awareness narrowed to that presence. His heart beat in his throat, his adam's apple threatening to rip the skin there.

On the screen, a driver was fighting for his life on track. Before he could stop himself from doing what he had told himself he wouldnt do since the first day in Gozo, he had his phone out, thumb tapping silently to search for clips of Nico’s races. His chest tightened as grainy footage of a younger Nico filled the muted screen, helmet under his arm, suit tight on his body, walking towards a car with a focus that looked so much like the version of him that he knew. Gabi could barely breathe, scrolling, enlarging the photos, every nerve of his system vibrating with a fascination he couldn’t hide. He had promised himself he wouldn't look up Nico on the internet, to see him as a person and not as a celebrity. At first because it was what Levi wanted, and then because Nico as a person was way too interesting and magnetic to even care about superficial things like his career. But staring at the clips of him brushing the walls in Monaco, holding a trophy over his head in a green suit that enhanced his lean body and getting out of crashes intact, he was utterly fascinated.

That was when Nico shifted. In the dark, subtle as a whisper, he leaned closer.

His profile was painted in pale light and unstable shadows coming from the projector. Every shift of his jaw, every tiny furrow between his brows when the cars roared across the track, probably bringing him back to the life that had been his for so long; it all landed in Gabi’s bloodstream like a jolt. He tried to keep still, to appear casual, but the phone trembling in his hand betrayed him. He scrolled again, deliberately slow, as if that would disguise the way his breath hitched when another photo of Nico in his race suit filled the screen, looking close to his actual age. "Nico Hulkenberg on his last race, december 2024". He swallowed. Only a few months ago, Nico was saying goodbye to everything he had sacrificed so much for.

He didn’t notice right away that Nico was watching. Not the movie, but him. He only realized when his peripheral vision caught the subtle tilt of his head, then the almost imperceptible glance toward his phone. Heat crawled up his neck, but he didn’t put the device down. If anything, he scrolled to another picture, feigning nonchalance, daring Nico to see and do something about it.

Their knees brushed, lightly, then again when Nico didn’t move away. The contact was not much, barely there, but to Gabi it felt like a reminder of their shared secret, a promise that hadn’t yet shattered. "Another time", Nico had said. His pulse raced, but not in the same way it had during their stolen kiss or their messy love making. This was subtler, slower, a current running under the surface, discreet but impossible to ignore.

“You really like that suit, don’t you,” Nico murmured at last, his voice so low it was almost entirely drowned by the sound of the movie.

The words slammed into Gabi’s chest. He turned his head, their faces closer than they should have been, and whispered back, “I’d put this one as my lockscreen if I could.”

Nico’s eyes, in the dark, gleamed with something sharper than amusement. For a heartbeat, his mask slipped, his mouth curved, not in mockery but in something dangerously close to delight. He leaned in, closer still, just enough for Gabi to feel his breath ghost across his cheek.

“Careful,” he murmured, "Say things like that and I might start believing you."

Gabi swallowed hard, the words rushing out before he could stop them. “I want you to. I mean it. I mean everything."

Something flared in the older man's gaze, raw and genuine, and for a fleeting instant it seemed like he would bridge the space between them, right there in the middle of the busy living room. Gabi could almost taste the inevitability of a new kiss. His entire body went tense, waiting. Delusional.

But then Nico’s eyes flicked past him, toward the couch where Levi was slumped against the cushions. The younger boy’s breathing had evened out, soft and steady, his head lolled to the side, fast asleep. A pang of guilt cut through the moment. Nico blinked, the sharpness in his expression vanishing behind the familiar shield of restraint he always wore close. Entangled with the guilt, Gabi could distinguish in Nico's look the disappointment of Levi not being interested in the movie at all. Another failed attempt. Gabi could have warned him, if he had judged him worth of explaining his plan in advance; there was no way it was going to work. Levi despised everything related to racing at all, and never spoke of it, probably because he didn't see in it what had been more important than his childhood. Gabi could understand that, as much as he understood the pain Nico carried on his shoulders and his inability to find ways to soothe it.

Nico didn’t pull away completely. For a minute, they sat in the half light, the weight of the unsaid pressing down on them. He could smell a faint citrusy note in Nico’s cologne -something he had never worn until then-, the warmth radiating from his skin, the quiet rhythm of his breath syncing with his own. It felt like drowning, together of this sinking ship of a sofa.

Then, with a suddenness that hurt, Nico shifted. He stood up, his movements almost casual, but Gabi could feel the distance like a door slamming shut.

"We need more snacks" Nico announced softly, as if it explained everything when no one had even asked, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Left in the dim room, Gabi clenched his phone in his hand, the still image of Nico in his racing suit burning into his retinas. His heart thudded painfully, every nerve stretched between the ache of wanting and the cold reminder of why he couldn’t have more. Levi stirred against the cushions, and Gabi forced himself to lean back, forcing his face into neutrality as if nothing had happened at all.

But inside, the moment replayed over and over, gone with the possibilities that had hovered in the air and then evaporated.

The rustle of Nico’s retreating steps lingered long after he’d vanished into the kitchen, swallowed by the soft hum of the refrigerator and the muted clatter of cupboards. The absence pressed in around Gabi like a void, louder than the movie blasting on screen. His phone dimmed in his hand, the screen goong back to black, but he didn’t move to wake it. He couldn’t bear to see the frozen image of Nico in the suit anymore, it would be like staring directly into the sun.

Levi shifted again, mumbling something incomprehensible in his sleep. He watched his best friends' eyelashes flutter, his peaceful expression, and guilt wormed its way under his ribs in turn. This -this serenity- was what Nico was fighting to protect. And what was he doing? Begging for some attention, craving what was never intended for him in the first place, again. He was taking Nico away from the sole purpose of this trip: help him connect with his son again. He was making his journey more difficult by being greedy and selfish, and Nico had struggled not to let him until he had made him cave, knocking at his door in the middle of the night like a maniac.

He leaned back against the cushions, swallowing his saliva to ease the nausea crippling its way through his throat.

When Nico’s footsteps finally returned, he forced his breathing into steady rhythm, mimicking calm. He opened his eyes just in time to see the man reappear with a bowl of chips and a couple of sodas, his expression neutral again, the mask settled neatly back in place. Gabi could only hope that his was half as convincing.

Nico set the snacks down with deliberate care, as though even the way he placed a bowl might betray his little act. He didn’t look at him, not directly, but Gabi caught the faint twitch of his jaw in the blue light of the television. It was the only crack in the armor.

The movie roared with a crash scene, lights flashing across their faces and making Levi groan in his sleep. Gabi tilted his head just enough to glimpse Nico who had settled farther away in the room on a lonely chair, in the strobing light: the curve of his profile, the shadow of a stubble along his jaw, the concentration that wasn’t really on the movie but on holding himself perfectly still.

He chewed at the inside of his cheek, suppressing a sigh, because it was ridiculous, all of this, but Nico was terribly good at it.

The chips stayed untouched. Gabi kept sneaking glances, not to torture himself but to memorize Nico's stature in this softer state: his bare forearm resting against the sofa, the way he leaned back but not enough to fully relax, the quiet little sigh that slipped from him during a lull in the film. Maybe he should still try to draw him, just to make sure he couldn't replicate his beauty. Just to keep a souvenir of their shared summer, and keep it hidden in his sketchbook for the rest of his life.

The movie ended late, the boys drowsy as they stretched out from the couches. Levi was the first to head up to bed, Axel and Cam dragging themselves after him, sharing thoughts about the movie. Isack was snoring on the other side of the couch, no one having the heart to wake him. Gabi, restless and unwilling to let the evening go just yet, offered to help Nico with the cleaning.

He carried bowls and glasses into the kitchen, letting the clatter of porcelain fill the silence. Nico followed behind with empty soda bottles, pushing the door with his foot. For a moment, it was just the two of them, the house heavy with the kind of silence that comes only after a long day spent together.

Nico rinsed the plates, and when Gabi passed him a sponge, he flicked a bit of water onto his arm with a grin that didn’t belong to the serious, collected man he had pretended to be all evening. His lover was back, embracing their solitude to reveal himself.

“Hey!” Gabi whispered, laughing softly as he grabbed the sponge back. He flicked water in return, a small spray that caught Nico on the cheek.

Nico chuckled at that, a real laugh, low and warm, and nudged him with his shoulder. A glimpse of childlike playfulness sparked in his blue eyes, only for him to see. He leaned into it without thinking, getting even closer, his own laughter bubbling out like it belonged there, in Nico's home away from everything he ever knew.

They had slipped into a pocket of time that didn’t belong to anyone but them. Nico lightly caressed the back of his neck when he passed behind him to put the clean plates back in a high closet. Gabi shuddered at the touch.

"So, what did you think of the movie? I think it's safe to say that Levi hated it..."

Gabi pouted a little, feeling Nico's disappointment in his fakely lighthearted remark.

"He's not really into cars or racing... But I liked it, personally. I could imagine you instead for the whole thing."

Nico snorted, "You were scrolling the whole time! Is that a thing you do, by the way? Just type my name in google and scroll?"

Gabi felt his cheeks heat up, which rarely ever happened but of course Nico could trigger that kind of reaction, "No, it was the first time. I got curious watching the movie."

"Liked what you saw?"

Gabi turned to face Nico's satisfied smirk, perfectly aware of what his answer was going to be. "Liked" was an euphemism, as he would probably be dreaming about Nico in his suit that night, perhaps even explore himself in the shower thinking of it.

He shook his head playfully, getting back to cleaning glasses. Nico kept his eyes on him, settling on the counter with his hand supporting his chin to enjoy the view more comfortably. Gabi let him wait, hoping for him to make the first move for a long awaited kiss.

And then he noticed movement in the doorway.

Just a shadow; the faint outline of someone standing at the bottom of the stairs. Gabi’s chest tightened as his eyes adjusted enough to recognize the broad shoulders and dark curls.

Isack.

The figure lingered only for a heartbeat before withdrawing, footsteps muffled as he retreated up the stairs. No words, no confrontation, just the silent proof that he had seen or heard something he shouldn't have.

Gabi’s smile had disappeared entirely, his hand frozen halfway to the dish rack. Nico didn’t notice, thank God he didn't. He went on drying the glasses, humming softly under his breath like their whole world wasn't being shaken upside down.

He looked slightly confused when Gabi put the lass glass down and excused himself, not even offering one last look his way.

He contained himself from running up the stairs, quietly praying for Isack to be too tired and confused to have retained anything from their encounter. When he slipped into the bedroom, the room was dark, only the faint light from the window outlining Isack’s shape in the bed opposite his. His breaths were long and deep, already back to sleep.

Expect he wasn't. If he had been, he would've been snoring.

Gabi laid down carefully in his own bed, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe Isack was going to say something.

He didn't.

Gabi couldn't sleep.

Chapter Text

Morning seeped gently into the room, colliding with the storm taking him apart from the inside. He had been awake the whole night or at least it had felt like it -eyes forcefully closed, lying on his side, listening to Isack’s breathing. He didn’t dare move too much, didn’t want to disturb and face him, yet his own chest was tight, pinched in an unbearable sting, waiting for the moment his friend would finally stir. He could feel it coming, like the ticking of an invisible clock.

When Isack shifted, stretching under the sheets with a quiet groan, he spoke first, trying to sound casual, as if nothing heavy lingered between them. Just in case it could convince them both.

“Morning.”

Isack’s reply was muted, barely more than a sound, before he pushed himself up and padded towards the bathroom. His back was glistening in sweat, and his hair damp, his cheeks a shade darker than they usually were. He must have been awfully hot. Gabi wished he could say the same, frozen in anxiety. The sound of water filled the space almost immediately, steady and unrelenting, as Gabi sat up on his bed, staring at the tacky pattern on the curtains. He kept replaying the night before, the flicker of movement at the stairs, the uncertainty around what Isack had seen or heard. He rehearsed a hundred scenarios, making up excuses, justifying himself in an imaginary trial with his best friend as the judge. His palms itched, uselessly rubbing against his thighs.

By the time Isack returned, his hair dripping droplets of water on the floor and a faint sheen of water tracing down his neck, he had built and dismantled the whole thing again and again, but somehow remembered nothing. His throat felt dry, words sticking inside in useless goo.

Isack sat on the edge of his own bed without ceremony, putting on his shorts skillfully under his towel without revealing anything. His expression was oddly calm as he looked up, directly into his eyes.

“Is everything okay with Levi's dad? I didn't want to assume but it seemed like he was bothering you, last night. Sorry I didn't help, I was so out of it."

The question landed without any trace of malice, but it cut deeper for its genuine concern. No accusation, no raised voice, just loyal protectiveness covered under the false pretense of curiosity.

For a breathless moment, Gabi’s chest locked up. He could almost hear his own heart echo in his ears. He forced himself to shift, reaching for his sketchbook lying by his pillow, fingers fidgeting at the bent cover as if the gesture might steady him. He tilted his head, feigning nonchalance.

“Oh no, he's not bothering me. I’m trying to help him patch things up with Levi,” he said, the words sounding almost too smooth in his own ears, “I can see he's trying but his ideas are a bit... you know. I was just telling him racing movies won’t do much good. I'm interested in it though, I had no idea I would be."

He let a faint, wry smile curve his lips, as if to make it a harmless, throwaway observation. Sprinkle a little truth in there, he thought, to make it more believable. Against all odds, it seemed to do the trick.

Isack’s gaze lingered a little longer, processing before he finally made a low, thoughtful sound.

"Yeah, for sure. Levi can't stand racing stuff. It's so weird that his own father doesn't get that, since it's literally his fault."

The words hurt. Nico didn't deserve such apathy. He was only trying to share with them the thing that had made him happy for so long, the talent he had cultivated his whole life at the price of his own happiness sometimes.

Isack put on a clean shirt, and simply as that, started humming a song Gabi recognized from the radio. That little sound shouldn’t have meant much, but it settled in him like an anchor, dragging everything heavy down with it. Isack wasn’t pushing, wasn’t cross-examining him or doubting his words. That unwavering trust, so natural and gentle, should have made Gabi cling to it with gratitude. Instead, it twisted in his stomach, guilt gnawing through his guts.

He shouldn't push it, but still he did :

"I think... Nico's a good person. And we wouldn't be here if Levi didn't want to give him a chance at all, so I want to help. I think with a little bit more effort from both parts, it could work."

Isack stopped his little humming at that, and made a face. Deep in reflexion, he made some sort of hissing sound Gabi had pinpointed as a weird French habit.

"You're probably right. I do like Nico, he's a good lad, and he's fun to be around, but... I don't know, there's something so fake about him. It's like he's trying to look perfect all the time and it creeps me out a little. And I know for a fact Levi hates that so yknow... not my circus, not my monkeys. I'll respect whatever decision he takes by the end of the summer."

Gabi's heart crumbled a little, deeply hurt by the words that weren't even meant for him.

There's something so fake about him.

But it wasn't fake. It wasn't the kind of facade a celebrity puts on themselves to please the audience or make more money. It wasn't put up in order to deceive or manipulate. It was deep rooted fear and anxiety, a genuine need to do good and be liked that Nico had developed to survive and it killed him that he wasn't able to explain it to Isack and defend his lover fiercely with all teeth out.

To protect Isack's trust, he had framed Nico as something he wasn't : an actor. A manipulator, trying to put them all in his pocket like Levi had accused him of that night on the roof. And himself was painted as the naive one, oblivious to his tricks. A stupid lamb trying to help the wolf make all things better instead of being wary like Isack was. The lie sat on his tongue like iron, but he swallowed it down because the alternative was saying things he would regret.

Like, for example, that if there was anyone trying to put someone in his pocket, it would be him desperately clinging to Nico to keep his scent marked on his skin at all times.

Resigned, he murmured : "Yeah.."

The smell of toast and freshly brewed coffee drifted through the house when they came down to the kitchen. Plates were already laid out, fruits sliced neatly as usual, eggs steaming in a pan that had been moved off the burner but still radiated warmth. It was Nico’s doing, without a doubt.

But Nico wasn’t waiting for them to share breaskfast as usual. From his spot at the corner of the table, Gabi had a full view on him crouched halfway up the staircase, sleeves pushed back to his elbows, one knee braced against the step as he tightened something into place with a screwdriver. A piece of wood must have came loose, and he was handling it like a man on a mission. It didn't look like he really knew what he was doing, but at least he looked good doing it. Gabi contained a smile.

The others dug into breakfast with cheerful noises, oblivious to Nico's efforts or at least uninterested. Gabi, however, kept stealing glances, barely tasting his food. There was something magnetic in the sight of Nico working : the way his learning along the way showed while he still radiated confidence, the way his body moved like he could bend the world to his will if he just concentrated long enough to figure out how. From the corner of his eye, Gabi tracked every small adjustment, the flex of his wrist, the way he tested the step’s firmness with the careful press of his weight. How bad Gabi wished he was that step.

No one could even notice his eyes wandering around Nico's stature, but his awareness was anchored to him like on a lighthouse in a storm. Even when Levi cracked a joke that got Axel spill his orange juice from his nostrils, his gaze rapidly slid back to the master of his attention. It felt like Nico’s presence filled the room even though he wasn’t at the table. And his absence, the lack of his laughter and wise remarks around the table, made the meal feel oddly incomplete.

The plan for the day fell into place almost on its own. It was Axel who brought it up first, idly scrolling through his phone.

"There's a beach on the coast where you can rent boats. Like, small ones you can drive yourself. We could take one out for a few hours, go swimming in some new coves?"

Isack’s eyes lit up instantly, and Levi jumped on the idea with barely restrained enthusiasm.

"Dibs on driving the boat!"

Nico had come down from the stairs by then, wiping his hands on a rag hanging from his pocket, brows drawn in clear concern.

"Guys, driving a boat isn’t a game,” he said evenly. “The sea’s not the same as the road. You have to watch for currents, for rocks under the surface, for idiots in their own boats around yours-"

Levi cut him off with an easy grin, leaning back against his chair with a proud little smirk.

"Come on dad, I’m a good driver, never had any issue on the road. You should know : I got it from you.” He said it half-teasing, half-serious, knowing exactly which string to pluck. "If they allow people to drive it, it must not be that dangerous, right?"

The words hung there like bait, impossible for Nico to ignore. Levi was fiddling with his father's feelings by drawing a comparaison with him and he knew it. Gabi's jaw tightened, as Nico's worked in silence, as if he wanted to argue, but the flicker of pride in his eyes betrayed him. He tried to cover it with a sigh, shaking his head, but having already surrendered.

“Fine. But you need to be extremely careful, yeah? You promise?"

Levi smirked, triumphant, "I promise, thanks dad", and the matter was settled.

They moved quickly; swimsuits, towels, sunscreens getting thrown in sports bag, all the preparations buzzing through the group with the lightness of an adventure waiting to happen. It was only when Gabi slipped away to grab his things from upstairs that his phone buzzed.

A number he didn’t recognize.

"Please keep me updated when you're on the boat. I know Levi won’t."

His heart jumped before he could even process it clearly. Nico. How the hell was Nico texting him? The message wasn’t commanding, or stern but plainly anxious, almost pleading under its polite surface.

Gabi’s fingers hovered for a moment, then typed back gently:

"Don’t worry. I’ll let you know"

He hesitated, biting his bottom lip, typing and untyping, until he sent a second message to complete the first one. Simple, but -he hoped- meaningful.

"❤️"

He made a face as he pressed Send, regretting it instantly. Nico would probably think it was too much, and cheesy. He had just made himself sound obsessed and weird. He sighed, defeated. No way to take it back now.

By the time they were gathering at the door, Isack loud with anticipation, Gabi lingered a step behind. Nico stood on the front porch, watching them leave, arms crossed and shoulders tense. Gabi caught his eye just before getting on his bike, and on impulse, he winked; quick, nervous, painfully awkward. What was wrong with him today?! Nico’s wave back was timid, his adam apple bobbing visibly in anxiety. As if he was letting a piece of himself sail away with them.

And in more ways than one, he was.

Chapter Text

The sun was already rising high when they reached the small harbor, turning the water into shards of gold and blue. Gabi squinted, readjusting his sunglasses. The others bustled ahead, Levi handling the rental, Axel taking pictures and Cam sulking a little less now that adventure was on the horizon. Isack was already taking pictures of the boats lined up, his voice animated as he pointed out which ones looked the fastest and the most expensive. Gabi hung back a little, phone loose in his hand, heart beating faster than it should be for something so small. He snapped a picture of the dock, nothing special, just ropes and sun-bleached wood, and sent it to Nico with a short caption :

"Made it to the harbor :)"

This was way better than his first text, he thought. The reply came almost instantly:

"👍🏻! Text me once you’re out on the water."

Gabi smiled down at the screen, careful not to draw attention. He crouched, as if retying a shoelace, and typed quickly:

"I will but you worry too much!!"

Another instant reply : "I do because you guys won't..." And then another : "I wish I was there to keep you safe."

The words made Gabi’s stomach flip. He read them over and over for a solid minute, his fingers hovering over the keyboard before he gave in to a smirk, daring:

"To keep us safe… or just to get an excuse to see me in my swim shorts more? 😁"

This time, the delay was longer, like Nico had stopped to weigh the possible impact of his words. If Gabi knew anything about him, he did. Another vibration, sending chills down his spine before he could even read the text.

"Let's say that's a nice bonus 😉"

Heat rushed to his face. He snapped another random picture, this time of Levi gesturing toward their boat, to hide his grin. Pretending to be busy with photos made it easier to mask just how hooked he was on every little vibration from his phone. Each reply from Nico felt like its own secret pulse beneath the noise of his friends, a lifeline binding them even as the sea opened before him.

Their boat wasn’t large at all, and old looking: white paint chipped in places, motor humming with an engine cough when Levi tested it, but to Gabi it looked like freedom. He climbed aboard carefully, bag slung across his chest, while the others shouted over one another about who would sit where. Levi claimed the driver’s spot without question, Axel sprawled dramatically on the bow like he owned the sun, Cam following, and Isack crouched near the side, already checking how clear the water was and reaching for it like a small child begging to fall over. Gabi lingered by the rail, phone still in hand. He tilted it just enough to catch a picture of the boat rocking against the waves, then sent it:

"We’re leaving now. Levi’s the captain!"

Nico’s answer was swift : "Stay close to the center of the boat if you can. Less chance of falling in if he gets reckless with his driving."

No emoji this time. The concern, sharp and tender at once, filled Gabi’s chest with warmth. He slid the phone back into his shorts pocket when Levi started going faster with a confident grin, waves breaking outward as the boat really lurched into motion. Wind rushed at them immediately, tangling Gabi’s hair, whipping through his shirt. Salt sprayed his skin, cool and refreshing under the heavy heat of the day.

The island rapidly began to shrink behind them, cliffs and churches fading into the bright horizon. Laughter rose around him, Axel mocking Levi’s “captain" behavior, Cam hollering as if they were on a roller coaster. Gabi joined in, smiling, but all the while he felt the phone burning in his pocket, a silent promise waiting for the next moment he could steal away from the present to write to his lover again. It was all about the thrill of carrying a secret with him on the open sea, the quiet intoxication of knowing that somewhere back on shore, Nico was picturing him in sunlight, in his swim trunks, in motion, and wanting to be there with him.

The hours blurred together in sun and turquoise water.. Levi kept the boat moving from cove to cove, always eager to steer. It was lively on board, noisy, filled with bursts of laughter and young men enjoying the remainings of their freedom. Embracing the feeling of being twenty one and not much more responsibilities than caring for themselves. But under it all, Gabi’s phone kept vibrating softly against his thigh. Each time he snuck a glance, Nico was there, asking, checking, replying. "Still alive?" "Remember to drink a lot and remind the others to do the same." "I've seen that cove before, with a guide you can explore the inside, it's amazing." Gabi answered dutifully, pretending to scroll Instagram when he was typing as fast as his thumbs allowed him to under the shade of his hand.

Finally, curiosity took over, and he asked: "And what are you up to?"

The reply came quick again: "Working on the house, as usual. Fixing stupid little things. Wandering around. Bored out of my mind without you guys here."

Without me, Gabi corrected silently in his head, smiling down at the words. He stretched out on the side bench, the sun heavy on his skin, the others laughing about Levi remaking the king of the world scene from Titanic. For a moment, he hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen, heart hammering like a drum. Then, he pulled his phone lower, tilted it just enough, and snapped a picture: his torso bare, abs outlined in sunlight and glowing with drops of water and sweat, the fabric of his swim trunks clinging damp against his skin, bulge soft but still prominent. He stared at it for a long second. Then sent it. Minutes ticked by in waves and chatter before his phone buzzed again.

"…Gabi." Nothing else, but he could feel the heat behind it. Nico’s voice murmuring it in his ear.

"Too much?" he typed back, pulse racing.

"No. Just be careful. God, you’re reckless!" Another pause. "But you have no idea what that does to me."

He grinned, biting his lip, the thrill like champagne bubbles rising inside him.

"Except I do know 🙃"

For a few more minutes, they went back and forth, not quite explicit, but charged; Nico’s willpower pressed against Gabi’s audacity, like a string pulled taut between them. He was about to type something even bolder when Isack suddenly plopped down beside him, too close for comfort, smelling of salt and home.

“Who are you texting so much?” Isack asked, settling on his side. Gabi froze, screen going black in his hand.

"My mother,” he lied smoothly and with a smile, surprising himself but praying not to be giving anything away, “She wants updates. She worries.”

Isack hummed, apparently satisfied, then leaned back, eyes closing against the sunlight. Within minutes, his breathing had slowed into the steady rhythm of a relaxing nap. Gabi exhaled shakily, slipping the phone into his pocket. The air around him felt heavy, charged with a secret he was terrified yet thrilled to be carrying. The cove where Levi finally decided to kill the engine was quiet, the water a sheet of glass framed by high cliffs that looked perfect for diving. Axel jumped from the boat first, yelling as he hit the water, and Cam followed reluctantly. Isack dove from the boat's highest point, making the whole thing shake. Levi sat perched at the wheel like he owned the sea.

Gabi slipped in last, easing into the cool embrace of the water until it closed around his shoulders. Salt kissed his lips and stung his eyes, the world above muffled into distant voices and splashes. He floated on his back, staring up at the endless blue, letting it seep into his bones. For the first time that day, he allowed himself to think about something else than Nico; about everything around him. He had never known this kind of luxury before, not really. His parents were comfortable back in Brazil, without a doubt, but Oxford had only been possible because of scholarships, and even there, he was always aware of how different his life was from Levi’s. Now, here he was: in Malta, bobbing in a cove on a rented boat, tasting a world he could never have imagined if not for Levi’s friendship. He had been blessed and had been taking it for granted lately. He tried to soak it in: the sun warming his face, the cool weightlessness of the sea around his relaxed body, he tried to remind himself that moments like this weren’t permanent, and that maybe he should simply be grateful instead of spending so much time worrying about stupid emojis, winks and secrets.

But inevitably, his mind drifted back. Back to Nico’ words. Back to the thought of him alone in that house, bored and restless, wondering about him.

When he finally pulled himself back on board, dripping and shivering slightly despite the heat, his phone had vibrated in his absence. He sat down on the bench, towel draped loosely over his shoulders, and unlocked the screen. It was a picture this time. Carefully, he unlocked it away from any possibility of a prying eye. His breath caught, sharp, too loud in his own ears. Nico, bare chest damp with sweat, hand low on his stomach, towel thrown aside. The framing left nothing to the imagination. He hadn’t just looked at Gabi’s photo: he’d answered it, completed the thought, per se.

"Had to take care of it myself since you decided to tease."

Gabi’s body went molten in an instant, heat rushing from the pit of his stomach to every inch of his skin, a million times hotter than the sun. His knees weakened even though he was laying down, his vision swimming in fantasies. He wanted to faint, to scream, to dive back into the water just to cool the fire that shot through his veins. He bit his lip until it hurt, tasting blood, pulse thrumming so violently he was sure someone would notice. No one did. Levi was busy showing Axel how to turn the wheel, Cam laid flat sunbathing, Isack’s head lolled against the side, still asleep. So he stayed here, phone burning in his hand, his whole body trembling with the secret weight of it and a high so potent he thought he might never come down from it.

The house hummed with the aftermath of the day -boys coming home throwing their stuff everywhere and complaining about the lack of a ready-made diner on the table. To Gabi, it was nothing but a distant disturbance.

Despite his best efforts, he had been thinking about Nico for most of the day, his body craving to get him back in his perimeter sooner than later. As soon as he threw his backpack on a random spot of the living room, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Hands trembling, he unlocked it.

"Upstairs.", it read. This and nothing else.

His blood ran cold, then slowly started boiling in his veins. He mumbled something about rinsing off, barely catching Levi’s teasing remark with a distracted nod, and slipped away like a ghost. The stairs and the corridor stretched on impossibly long, the fading light casting shadows that pooled in the corners of the wall like dark blue ink. His pulse thudded in his ears, in his throat, a rapid drum that seemed dangerously audible.

Nico’s door was slightly ajar. Gabi pushed it open, and the air inside hit him first: warm, pleasingly scented with Nico’s shampoo and sandalwood. Nico stood on the balcony, hair damp, a loose shirt clinging in damp folds over the curve of his torso. Gabi swallowed, smoldering with the memory of the earlier messages, and felt himself falter.

“Finally,” Nico murmured, his voice low, rough, laced with a kind of heat Gabi had never heard before.

Before he could respond, Nico’s hand was on his wrist, pulling him on the balcony and closing it behind them. Their bodies collided in silence, chests pressing together, hidden from the rest of the world by nothing but old green shutters. Fingers slipped under the hem of his still humid swim shorts, tentative, teasing, sending chills through his spine.

Downstairs, Axel’s voice carried faintly, probably pouring some drinks and joking around as Levi’s soft chuckle followed. Every sound rang in his ears like an alarm, fear of getting caught tightening around his chest where Nico was holding him, hungry and urgent. His lover's hand gently covered his mouth as he trembled, pressing him against the wall, their foreheads brushing, breaths mingling in silent gasps. He barely contained himself from licking at the warm skin pressed on his lips, desperate for a taste.

“You little tease” Nico whispered against his ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, “I almost had a heart attack receiving that picture."

Gabi wanted to chuckle, or to moan, but all he could do was shiver into his chest. They moved in a stolen rhythm, aware that a single noise could unravel both of them entirely but that making love on a tight balcony surrounded by the sound of the boys downstairs wasn't even remotely an option. He let Nico's lips descend into his neck, kissing where his pulse beat with fervor. His warm tongue followed the curve behind his ear, and this time a high moan escaped his throat.

Then the stairs creaked behind the shutters. A voice, casual but sharp, suspicious: “Gabi? What do you want for diner?”

Levi.

They froze in unison. Nico leaned in, teeth brushing his ear once again, his hand pressing a little harder over his mouth. This time, he closed his eyes and let the tip of his tongue explore Nico's life line.

“Tonight, yeah? When you're a hundred percent sure they're all asleep."

For a moment, Gabi thought he might combust from the mixture of relief and frustration boiling in his stomach. The shutters opened again, and the world outside the room resumed its existence, unaware of the storm that had just passed just a few meters away from it.

Chapter Text

He hardly tasted his food. His stomach wasn’t in it, as his mind wasn’t either. His whole body was caught in one relentless current, dragged towards what he was certain would happen once darkness fell, once the villa quieted down and Nico’s door opened just for him again.

His thoughts ran riot.

He wasn’t a virgin at all, not technically. He’d fumbled through his fair share of girlfriends in high-school back in Sao Paulo, a couple of flings during parties, messy half-drunken explorations of a teenager eager to prove himself. But this was different. This was a man. This was Nico. He had never touched another man before him, never imagined he’d want to so badly it made his blood rush the wrong ways in his system. His first time with a man, first time being made love to, would be with him. That thought alone was enough to make him dizzy.

Tonight, Nico would mark him. Not with anything physical, not with plain skin, hands, mouth, but with his presence, with weight, with the fact that once they would cross that line, there would be no turning back. Giving himself to Nico like this would mean something permanent. That he would carry him forever, like a brand under the skin, and that in return he’d belong to him in a way no one else ever had. And finally, the older man would belong to him too.

The middle of the night couldn't possibly come soon enough.

Then Nico spoke, cutting through the thick haze of his thoughts like a hot knife.

“Levi,” he said softly, pushing back his chair when the meal was over. “Help me with the dishes tonight.”

He shouldn't care. He knew it was a good thing, that Nico had to take every chance he got to close the gap with his son before the summer ended, and that the initiative wouldn't come from Levi. Still, it pinched, sharply but privately. The dishes were their thing, since that first dinner in Gozo. Their secret pocket of intimacy, a little shared ritual, water on their hands and murmurs smuggled in between clinks of plates.

He swallowed the sting. But when they rose and moved to the kitchen together, Gabi lingered. Isack ran upstairs to shower, still sticky with salt, followed by Axel and Cam. He sat there for a minute longer, then slipped up from his chair and padded quietly toward the archway of the kitchen, keeping out of sight. He held his breathe, the sound of his own exhales making the dialogue he wanted so badly to hear more difficult to grasp.

The voices carried to him, soft but distinct, and he listened like a thief stealing a precious moment that didn't belong to him at all.

“You did great today, bringing everyone back safe” Nico said, and even without seeing it, Gabi could picture him: his sleeves rolled up, his hands steady in the suds.

Levi chuckled under his breath, a sound laced with pride, though thinner, sharper at the edges. "You should've seen me out there, I was a natural."

"I'm sure,” Nico answered immediately. Warmth in his tone, unwavering. Pure pride from a loving father. “I never doubted it. You were always instantly good at everything you tried. I'm so proud of you."

There was a silence, then Levi’s voice -quiet, but bitter. Almost spitting. Gabi wasn’t used to hearing such insinuations in his best friend's voice.

"How would you even know?"

The pause that followed nearly split Gabi in two. He held his breath again, clutching the doorway, begging silently: Tell him, he thought. Tell him everything. Tell him what you told me back in the cave, that you stayed away because you were scared, because you thought it was love to let someone else be gentler than you knew how to be. Give him what you gave me. Please.

Nico’s voice came, softer.

“Because you told me. Maybe you don't remember it well but I was always calling and texting to know what you were up to, right?"

Levi said nothing. Only the faint scrape of a dish, the dull thud of it being dried, then put down too roughly on the rack.

“I know it’s not enough,” Nico added after a moment. “I know a kid needs more than words on a screen. At the time…” His voice faltered, then steadied again, “…at the time, I thought it was the best I could do."

That was it. Nothing else. Just the surface explanation, barely the tip of the iceberg. Nothing like the deeper confession, the tender and raw story Gabi had been trusted with.

He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. The prayers in his head curdled into frustration. With nothing but this, Levi would keep his distance and the ice wall between them, he knew as such. If these last two years spending most of his time alongside Levi being his confident had taught him anything, this would never be enough to convince him that Nico actually cared.

“Done,” Levi announced suddenly, voice clipped, final.

Exactly what Gabi had expected.

The sound of a towel dropped. The squeak of bare feet on tiles. He barely had enough time to slip back down the hall before Levi exited the kitchen, moving past him with no suspicion, no glance. His heart hammered. The frustration lodged itself under his ribs, hot and heavy, even as he forced his steps casual, as if he hadn’t just been eavesdropping on a conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with him.

Expect it did because both men's hearts were on the line and alongside them, his.

The house had gone quiet hours ago, but Gabi couldn’t get a minute of rest.

He had tried, turning and tossing, fixing his eyes on the shadows crawling across the ceiling, focusing on Isack's snoring like a white noise, but the anticipation inside him made his entire body hum like a live wire. Earlier, restless and worried, he had padded down the hall and knocked softly at Levi’s door. Maybe his best friend would be awake, maybe they could talk about his conversation with Nico. But when the door had creaked open just enough to peek inside, the room was already dark. Levi was out cold, sprawled across his bed with his arm draped over his face, breathing steady.

Tomorrow, Gabi promised himself silently, easing the door shut again. They'll talk tomorrow.

He had went to the bathroom instead. The bright light was merciless, glaring against the tiled walls, but he stood under it anyway and peeled off his clothes piece by piece. His reflection in the mirror was a little unfamiliar: flushed cheeks, eyes bright, lips chapped by the heat and nico biting them. His body didn’t feel like his own, not with the way his blood thrummed and his skin tingled, hyper-aware of what the night might bring.

He stepped into the shower and twisted the knobs all the way, scrubbing himself hard under the hot water until his skin bloomed pink. He lingered between his thighs with nervous, shaky determination, as though sheer thoroughness could make him worthy of Nico’s touch. Then he paused, staring down at himself. A thought struck him, embarrassing but insistent: he didn’t know how to wash himself fully down there. Wasn’t that something men did before making love together? Should he try? He did anyway, clumsy and awkward, rinsing himself as best he could, cheeks burning even though no one was watching. The sensation was unpleasant, going up to his navel and making him nauseous. Surely because he wasn't used to it, he thought. With Nico taking care of him, it would be a completely different feeling.

When he stepped out, steam clinging to his skin, he reached for the small bottle of aftershave buried in his bag, the one he almost never used because he didn't like smelling too strong of anything. He dabbed it gently along his neck, his chest, and the insides of his wrists. The sharp, clean scent filled the air, making him dizzy. He’d never done this for a man before. Or for anyone, really. Never wanted to. But tonight everything had to be perfect for the only person that had ever made him want it.

The waiting stretched on endlessly. He climbed into bed, pulse still racing, and tried to stay still. Across the room, Isack shifted and muttered in his sleep. Every sound kept Gabi on edge. He laid flat on his back, staring into the dark, counting the beats of his own heart. It wasn’t until Isack’s snoring finally settled into a steady, heavy rhythm that relief washed over him.

It had to be now.

Carefully, he pushed the blanket aside and slid out of bed. His cock was already standing half hard in his pajamas just from the thought of where he was going, and what he was about to do. He crept barefoot down the hall, the wooden boards cold under his feet, each step silent on the floor yet thunderous in his ears.

When he reached Nico’s room, he didn’t even knock properly, his hand failing him. Just a tentative tap, almost pleading. Like he was nervous that Nico wouldn't open the door for him, and that his promise from earlier would be an empty one.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then the door cracked open, and Nico appeared: hair messy from turning and tossing in bed, but his eyes wide open. He hadn't slept for a minute either. Something in his expression sharpened at the sight of Gabi offering himself, vulnerable and eager.

Neither of them said a word. Nico stepped back, holding the door wider, and Gabi slipped inside. The door closed behind them with a quiet click.

And then they were against each other, all restraint gone. He pressed his warm body to Nico’s chest, breathing him in, mouthing at his neck like a starving man. Nico’s hands found his waist, slid up his back, tugged him somehow closer. He pulled on his hair lightly, making Gabi unlatch from the skin on his neck to share a boiling kiss. His mouth was hot, urgent, stealing the air from Gabi’s lungs. They stumbled to the bed, the sheets rumpled from waiting, and fell together onto it in a tangle of limbs.

Gabi barely had time to think before Nico started moving down his body, kissing his stomach, his hips, then his thighs. The hunger he shamelessly displayed was startling -raw, desperate for more. Gabi’s breath caught when his lover's impatient hands put his pajamas pants down, not bothering to get them out of the way entirely, and his mouth closed around the tip of his length.

The sensation was overwhelming. The wet heat, the pressure, the way Nico’s tongue moved with experience. Gabi gasped loudly -too loudly- and clapped a hand over his mouth. Nico took him deeper, unbothered by the bulge pressed against the inside of his cheek. He moaned and the sound vibrated up to Gabi's lower stomach, making his body arch against his will. He tried to last, putting every single effort on the lkne, but his body had never known anything like this. Pleasure shot through him too fast, too sharp, and within seconds he was spilling into Nico’s mouth, helpless, his legs trembling over the older man's shoulders.

His arched body collapsed back against the pillows, chest heaving, face burning. Mortified. He had ruined everything.

Nico pulled back with a smirk, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. His eyes glinted in the obscurity, a wicked spark in them making Gabi’s stomach flip and his spent cock pathetically twitch against his navel.

“So hot,” he murmured, voice roughened by the efforts of his throat, “It’s fine. You can come twice, baby."

Gabi flushed harder, his body still twitching with aftershocks. He swallowed, trying to steady his voice. Baby. Baby. Nico was calling him his baby.

“I… yeah, I will, if you think I can.” His words came out small, shy, almost swallowed. After a beat, he added, painfully genuine “You're my first, so..."

Silence.

Nico froze. The smirk vanished from his face entirely, replaced by something unreadable. He pulled back slightly, eyes searching Gabi’s, as if trying to make sense of what he’d just heard.

“…What?” he said at last, low and disbelieving.

Gabi’s throat went dry. He forced himself to meet his ice blue gaze.

“I’ve never… not with a man, at least. You’re the first man I've been with."

Nico exhaled sharply at that, dragging a hand through his hair, visibly close to pulling. He sat back on his heels on the soft matress, putting a sudden and painful distance between them. His chest rose and fell in uneven bursts, frustration clear in his expression.

“Christ, Gabi,” he muttered, “I thought.. you… God, with the way you... the things you say...! I thought you’d done this before.”

Gabi shook his head, lips parted, unsure if he should feel ashamed of his inexperience or proud of his capacity to make it seamless. His heart hammered in his chest.

Nico groaned, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were full of something tortured.

“I can’t,” he said finally. His voice was raw. “I can’t be your first.”

The words hit like a slap.

Gabi blinked, stung straight into his heart.

“What? Why not?”

His lover shook his head again, too violently.

"Because I can't!. You don’t understand. Everything you want from me, the way you’re looking at me right now... it’s… it’s too dangerous. For God sake, you're barely a man! If I do it, I’ll ruin you.”

His voice broke on the last words.
Gabi stared at him, wide-eyed, breath caught in his throat. He had never wanted anything more than to be the very ruin Nico was so afraid of creating.

And now, instead of being given what he needed, he was being held at arm’s length, right at the edge of everything he craved.

He sat up, the sheets tangled around his hips, shivering from the lack of their shared warmth. Nico was keeping his distances, his chest heaving, fine traits tightened with conflict. For a long beat, they stared at each other, breathless.

Gabi moved first. Crawled closer. His hands slid up Nico’s arms, onto his shoulders, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to anchor himself. His lips brushed Nico’s jaw, soft and pleading.

“You won’t ruin me,” he whispered. “You’ll make me yours. That’s all I want.”

Nico’s jaw clenched. His hands hovered at Gabi’s waist, all too aware that one wrong move would tip them over the edge.

“You don’t understand,” he rasped.

“But I do,” Gabi insisted, pressing a desperate kiss to his mouth, tasting his hesitation, trying to lick it away. His heart pounded, his cock stirring back to life against Nico's lower stomach, aching for more. He pushed forward, urging the older man back against the mattress, trying to climb into his lap, to give himself to him in a way he wouldn't refuse.

“Please, listen to me", he pleaded "I’m ready, I want this, I want you-"

“Gabi.” Nico’s voice cracked. His grip tightened, fingers digging into his waist.

Gabi kissed him again, harder, needy. “I don’t care if you ruin me. What if I want that? I need that. Mark me, make me yours, please Nico-"

Before he could finish his thought, Nico moved. Swiftly, decisively, he flipped their positions and pressed him down into the mattress, his body hovering above his, pinning him without malice but with an unmistakable kind of authority. Gabi froze, breath caught in his throat. Nico’s eyes bore into his, dark and burning, his hand splayed firmly across his chest to keep him still.

“I need you to listen,” Nico stated unshakable, “I said no.”

The word reverberated through the room. Not harsh, nor angry but final.

Gabi blinked up at him, chest rising and falling slower and slower under his palm. His throat worked, aching with all the words he couldn’t force out. His eyes stung, with tears of frustration he struggled not to let out, another failure to add to his list for the night.

Nico softened slightly, leaning down until their foreheads touched. His voice gentled.

“Not tonight. Not like this. I won’t take something from you that you can never get back, not when you’re that impulsive. You don’t even know what it’ll mean for you in a few years, or even a few weeks... You... I won’t do that to you.”

For the first time all night, Gabi stopped pushing back. His body slowly relaxed against the mattress, synching his breathing with his lover's. He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.

“Then… can I at least stay?”, he nearly begged, his voice quiet, almost childlike. He hated hearing it. “Just stay here with you.”

For a long moment, Nico said nothing. Then he shifted, easing some of the weight off, and nodded : “Of course you can."

Relief spread through his system, soft and painful all at once. He turned his head into the pillow as Nico released him, allowing him to curl closer, to fit himself against the warm solidity of his body. Strong arms wrapped around him, steady and protective, holding him there.

“Try to get some rest", he murmured into his hair, "We’ll be up before sunrise. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Gabi smiled faintly into his chest, his heart still heavy with longing but somehow soothed by the promise. Was Nico making it all up to appease him, or was this planned? He pressed his face into the scent of him, the heat of his skin, and let himself drift in fitful sleep, half dreams haunted by yearning and disappointment.

Chapter Text

He opened his eyes to the softest brush of lips against his forehead. He blinked, and for a moment, he couldn’t place where he was, but then he saw Nico leaning over him -already dressed in a plain t-shirt and shorts, smelling clean and fresh. His voice was low, hushed, almost conspiratonial.

“Morning, sleepyhead. Come on, we need to hurry if we don't want to miss it."

Gabi blinked again, eyelids still heavy with sleep, but the tenderness of that kiss had lit a spark in him that no grogginess could dim.

"Miss what?” he whispered, voice hoarse.

Nico smiled faintly, putting a finger to his own lips with a smirk.

"You’ll see. Get ready while I pack."

He straightened, moving with quiet efficiency across the room. Gabi pushed himself up, heart beating faster. The way Nico moved in the faint pre-dawn light, every gesture sure and unhurried, sent a shiver of relief through him. He pulled on some shorts and a shirt Nico had sent his way, inhaling his scent on them, and washed his face in the bathroom. When he returned, Nico was slinging a small backpack over his shoulder.

"You look good in those", he smirked, "but don't forget to take them off as soon as we come home or we'll be screwed."

They slipped out of the house in silence, the air still cool in the sun's absence. The island was still asleep, the sole sound of waves clashing against the cliffs to fill the silence. Their bikes were waiting at the side of the porch, Nico mounting his in a graceful movement that Gabi could only try to recreate.

The ride was almost surreal. The narrow roads of Gozo unfolded before them in pale blues and grays, the sky slowly paling at the edges. The wind carried the saltness of the sea, the fragrance of wild thyme following them along the way. His chest ached with anticipation; not just for the mystery of where Nico was taking him, but for the sheer intimacy of being led by him into this secret hour, just the two of them while the rest of the world slept.

After a short but more challenging than expected climb, Nico slowed and veered off onto a smaller path. He dismounted, gesturing for him to follow.

“This way.”

They pushed their bikes along a rocky trail to do the last stretch on foot between low stone walls and sparse fig trees. Then, suddenly, the land opened up before them. A sheer cliff edge, dropping into a vast expanse of sea. The horizon stretched endlessly, a dark line against a sky just beginning to blush with the faintest trace of pink.

Gabi stopped, breath catching. It was magnificent.

Nico set the bikes aside, dropped the backpack, and sat down cross-legged near the edge, patting the ground beside him.

"Come here."

He sank down, still stunned by the view.

"How did you even find this place? How are we the only ones here?"

Nico smiled, looking proud of himself. His gaze fixed on the horizon.

"I arrived in Gozo a month before you guys did, to get the house ready for the summer and settle a little, so I would know the good spots in advance. I learned the roads, started fiixing the house and found places that I thought Levi might enjoy...” His voice tightened slightly over his son’s name, but he bravely pressed on: “I found this spot on one of my rides. I thought... I’d bring him here to see the sunrise together. Thought it would be a great memory to bring home..."

Gabi's heart beat agonizingly slow, hurting alongside Nico's. The older man exhaled, a short, quiet laugh with no humor in it at all “But he doesn't want anything to do with me."

He turned, watching Nico’s profile getting brighter as the sun slowly appeared, the worried lines at his temple, the weariness that he couldn’t perpetually mask.

“Why bring me?” Gabi asked softly.

Nico finally looked at him then, eyes unreadable in the growing dawn.

"Because I couldn’t keep it to myself. A place this beautiful… I had to share it with someone. And you…” he trailed off, shaking his head, "I knew you'd appreciate it. You listen and you see things that no one has ever seen before, about me. I knew you'd understand the greatness of this moment. That you wouldn't waste it."

Gabi swallowed hard, his throat tight. The sky flared brighter now, streaks of orange catching fire along the edge of the world, gilding Nico’s face in light. He thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful, not the scenery, but the man sitting beside him, his walls lowered, his mask gone. He was right: Gabi would never let this moment go to waste. It would live in his heart and his memory forever, even after he laid under the earth in a hundred years.

It must have been five in the morning or so, the sun escalating higher and higher but so slowly it matched the quiet rhythm of their breathing. A string snapped from his heart, making him blurt out :

"Why won't you make love to me? I wouldn't waste that moment either."

Nico sighed, not in annoyance but in exhaustion. Gabi wished his lover knew how much he understood his frustration, even though he was the one inflicting it to both of them.

"Exactly for that reason, Gabi. You are... you feel things so strongly, you're so passionnate..." he explained, his eyes fixing themselves back on the horizon, "But you don't realize how badly you could get hurt. I shouldn't even have let you get that far, I'm just being selfish but you and I both know it's not right."

The knife twisted in his heart, the failing organ painfully pulsing in a vain attempt to stay alive through its agony.

"It feels right", he whispered in the immensity of the sea.

Nico put his large palm on the back of his hand splayed on the rocks, gently caressing it with his thumb. Gabi felt a single tear spill from his eye.

"In a few years, or even in a few months, you'll meet a great guy back in Oxford. He'll be your age, fun and good to you. And then you'll be glad you waited just a little bit more so he could be your first instead. I promise."

As painful as it may be to admit, Gabi believed him -at least part of it. It wasn't totally absurd to him that he could meet someone new, someone kind and pleasant he could share his daily life with. But the simple act of imagining it made his throat heavy with nausea again, dizziness taking over his system. That hypothetical man, as gentle and exciting he sounded, would bring nothing but misery. He would fit perfectly in Gabi's boring, pointless and pathetic parody of a life, stuck in a city he hated studying for a career he despised before it even started. They would go on rainy dates and Gabi would shiver the whole time, more focused on the awful sensation on wet jeans clinging to his legs than on making conversation. They would support each other during exams and it would only remind him of how miserable he was spending so much energy and time on something that didn't interest him for a second. They would fuck in his stupid twin bed right next to Levi's and Isack's room and he would put a hand over his mouth, not to quiet down the sounds of his pleasure but those of his pain, because it would remind him of how one day a blonde man on an island made him see stars then rejected his love.

For sure, he could believe that to be a realistic option. Sharply, he took his hand away to wipe the tears starting to gather in his eyes.

"Sure, I'll be so fucking glad."

"Gabi..." Nico murmured "Please don't take it that way... I'm just looking out for you-"

"But I don't want you to!" he lashed out, ruining the view and the moment, wasting it exactly like Nico had feared he would, "I want to make my own decisions, I want to get two minutes of happiness even if it doesn't last, is it really that much to ask?!"

For a moment, Nico remained silent. He opened his mouth, then closed it, surprised by his outburst. Gabi sniffled, glad he had the guts to even have it at all.

"No, it's not too much to ask", he softly stated, not trying to touch him again "I just worry that you'll come to regret it."

"Maybe I will, but what if I don't? What if I just come home happy that at least one thing in my life happened the way I wanted it to?"

Nico looked like he was weighing his words, trying to make sense of it. After a minute, he stopped looking like he was going to answer. Gabi didn't mind, the important part being his pain being heard and not fixed. Eventually, he put his head on his lover's shoulder, immersed in his scent and his warmth; where he belonged, and they watched the sunrise in silence.

They rode back in peaceful quiet, the dawn brightening into morning gold. By the time they reached the house, the air was rapidly warming up, cicadas already stirring up in the fig tree. The boys would be up soon; the spell of their secret hour was closing.

Nico leaned his bike against the porch rail and turned back to him. For a heartbeat, Gabi thought it was over, that they’d just slip inside without another word, Nico putting the mask back on for the day. But then, his lover hand found the back of his neck, familiar and warm, drawing him in.

The kiss was tender, unhurried, nothing like the heated fumbling of the nights they had shared before. Slow, deliberate, as if Nico were pouring a secret truth into him without speaking it out loud. Gabi’s knees almost gave in. His chest swelled with a need that felt too big to contain.

In that kiss, they read through each other. Nico had heard every word he’d spilled up on that cliff, every fear, every plea, and he was answering them with a gentleness that could only belong to an angel.

When Nico finally pulled back, Gabi stayed close, lips tingling, breath shallow.

“Will you make love to me now?” he whispered, way too bold for a young man trembling inside.

Nico’s low chuckle brushed against his mouth. He shook his head, eyes glinting with that maddening fondness he carried around him and him only.

“I can’t believe you sometimes,” he murmured, "You're relentless."

“Just say yes,” Gabi pressed, half a plea, half a dare, pushing his soft cock against Nico's under his own pair of shorts that probably still smelled like his laundry detergent on the outside and arousal on the inside.

Nico’s thumb swept once along his jaw before he stepped back, breaking the spell. Gabi's breath stopped, choked by the gap between them.

"Not now, the others will be up soon. You need to change and go back to your room or Isack's going to notice you weren’t in your bed all night.”

Gabi opened his mouth to argue, but Nico caught it with a firm look, softer than a command, but heavier than a simple request.

“If you can be patient…” he hesitated, and the pause made Gabi’s pulse roar in his ears. “... later. Maybe."

That word -maybe- lodged itself in his chest like a spark catching fire. He heard it not as hesitation but as a challenge. A line in the sand, daring him to cross it.

He only gave a slow nod, lips curling despite himself. “Later, then.”

As he slipped inside, bare feet whispering against the cool tiles, Gabi’s resolve had already taken root. He would not wait politely for some vague “later.” If Nico thought he could resist, he had another thing coming for him.

Chapter Text

When he woke up again, it was almost eleven.

The house had settled into a lazy rhythm after breakfast without him, each of them once again finding their own orbit for the day. Levi merged with the armchair by the living room's window, his book cracked open before the clink of dishes even stopped, his body folding into that familiar posture he held for hours back in Oxford. Axel and Nico drifted outside, tools in hand, the two of them bent over a loose plank on the terrace. Isack followed right on their heels, eager to help, springing forward whenever Nico asked for something. His joy in being useful was almost boyish: he beamed when Nico handed him a screwdriver, shoulders straightening at the smallest “good job, mate". Gabi tried not to let jealousy get the best of him, and not to spit in Nico's face that Isack found him fake, that he didn't understand him at all, so don't bother praising him. He swallowed his venom, entirely too aware that it was coming from a dark place inside of him he profoundly despised.

Cam stretched noisily in the doorway, announcing to no one in particular that today was his day, the day he would finally track down the girl of St Julian. Gabi almost admired him for that -his stubbornness, his pure refusal to accept defeat. He wished he could channel that same motivation into something else than in an absurd infatuation. Because he knew exactly what he was going to do with his day: he wasn’t going to read, wasn’t going to fix wood, wasn’t going to chase strangers through the streets of Gozo. He was going to stay close to Nico.

Test him. Push him.

And eventually, make him break.

That would be his little personnal game for the day, and as convinced as he was that he would end up victorious, playing would still be plenty of fun for sure.

It started in the smallest, most deniable ways. In the narrow hallway upstairs connecting the rooms, he didn’t move aside quickly enough, so his shoulder brushed Nico’s chest as they passed in opposite directions, Nico going for a quick freshen up in his room and him simply following around, making sure he could tease him relentlessly. He muttered “sorry,” but he didn’t lift his gaze, didn’t hurry away.

In the kitchen, filling a glass of water, he lingered longer than necessary, waiting until Nico came in to rummage for a measuring tape in the drawers. Grabbing the occasion, he put the glass to his lips and drank the whole thing in one go, his adam's apple bobbing in rythm with the sounds of his swallowing. Their eyes met only briefly, but in that half second, he swore he saw it: a flicker of awareness, the tiniest twitch at the corner of Nico’s mouth before he unlocked his gaze from his throat and turned back to his task.

When Nico crouched over the garden table to mark a plank of wood, Gabi leaned on the edge just beside him, bending down too low, too close, as if he had any real interest in pencil lines and measurements. He didn’t, not today. What truly caught his attention was the way Nico’s forearm flexed, the way his knuckles went pale around the pencil. Every detail fed him and his fantasies. He smirked quietly, masking it by taking another sip of water. Nico sighed under his breath.

It was thrilling, mostly because these gestures would have been so easy to explain away. To anyone else, they would look like clumsiness, curiosity, pure coincidence.

But Nico knew. And Gabi knew he knew. That was the game: the space between the obvious and the undeniable, where only the two of them lived.

The heat of afternoon settled in his bones heat and draped over the house like a heavy curtain. He leaned into it, stripping off his shirt with an exaggerated sigh of relief and tossed it onto the nearest chair. His skin gleamed with a light sheen of sweat, stomach tightening as he stretched deliberately, vertebrae clicking in place. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Nico pause in the middle of whatever he was doing on that lucky garden table. Just for a second. It was subtle, you’d miss it if you weren’t hunting for it. Gabi didn’t miss it. He smiled to himself, teeth pressing into his bottom lip.

Later, when Nico crouched low by the terrace to tighten a hinge, he squatted beside him, their knees brushing. He leaned closer than necessary, asking pointless questions about which tool was which. He put his hand on his arm, pretending to stabilize himself to reach for a screwdriver. Nico didn’t pull back, just tightened the hinge with more force, letting out a small grunt, his jaw tight.

At diner, Gabi slid into the seat beside him, choosing it deliberately since they were the first ones seating down. Their knees bumped under the wood. He didn’t apologize. Didn’t move away. The contact buzzed through him, the red thread connecting both of their souls tugging on his heart. He could feel Nico’s body heat, his solidness right there, even as he calmly kept eating as if he hadn’t noticed the pulling in chest. For a minute, Gabi wondered if he could be the only one feeling it.

It felt absurd, after everything that had happened. Nico looking deep into his eyes with longing, the eagerness he had displayed for him and his body, the loving kiss he had given him on the porch... He could definitely feel it too: that they were meant to be, somehow, someway.

Above all, Nico wasn’t only allowing him to touch him anymore. He was looking for proximity himself, barely showing resistance, and clearly more for his own sake than for Gabi. Subtle signs of resistance that were more indulgence than rejection. It fueled him more than any open invitation ever could.

As the evening settled, the rhythm had turned unmistakable. It was no longer random brushes of skin or stolen glances: Nico had joined the game and was playing along, toying with rules only the two of them could follow. Gabi pushed, Nico pulled just enough to keep a line drawn, but not enough to end the game altogether. They would keep playing until Gabi won, and they both knew that much.

When he perched on the armrest of Nico’s chair, his thigh pressing against his shoulder, Nico gave his leg a quick squeeze before shooing him off with a muttered, “Relentless brat.”

The squeeze was firm, a warning, setting fireworks in his ribs. Grinning, he shot back: "You love it."

Nico rolled his eyes. But his lips twitched, betraying the pointless little act he was hiding himself behind. His irritation was purely faked. Gabi thrived on it. The fact that Nico didn’t shut it down outright like he had only a night ago meant everything. Gabi had been heard. He knew what he wanted and Nico wasn't trying to convince him he didn't anymore.

The atmosphere somehow remained light and playful, Nico taking advantage of the other boys spending the night stargazing in the garden to stay inside and be amused by Gabi’s antics, willing to let him dance around the edges as long as he kept it subtle. Gabi went in and out of the house, gathering more drinks, a snack, going for a piss, finding more and more excuses to go back to him. They were conspirators in silence, weaving a tension bright enough to glow in the cracks, but hidden well enough that Levi, Isack, and Axel had went about their day without a clue.

His skin felt electric, every nerve tuned to Nico’s presence, every glance between them a reminder: none of them had the power to stop the motion.

He threw himself onto his bed, bouncing a little on the mattress as Isack flopped onto his own across the room. The house was quieting down, dishes washed, doors shut, the distant hum of the sea outside carrying into the night. It should’ve been the kind of silence that pulled him right into sleep. Instead, his body thrummed with a restless vibration he couldn’t switch off. His mind wouldn’t stop replaying the morning on the cliff, Nico’s lips against his forehead, the porch kiss and the promises.

He pressed a palm to his chest, felt his heart hammering. Tonight, he thought. It had to be tonight.

Isack, unaware of the storm ravaging everything inside him, rolled onto his side and started chatting as if it was just another night, a random Tuesday in Oxford.

“So, tomorrow, I thought maybe we could go explore that cave Nico mentioned, the one you can get to by foot but only in the morning? We could bring sandwiches, make a day of it. You're in?"

He hummed distractedly, eyes glued to the ceiling. Isack kept going, voice warm and hopeful, threading little plans together; walk that route, discover that beach, maybe finally get to teach Gabi how to row properly. He heard every word but couldn’t take any of it in, the flow of words dripping down his ears. He was immersed too deep in his own reel of images: Nico’s hands holding him down, whispering "not yet" in that voice that sounded more like control than rejection. The ache in him coiled tighter with each thought, his whole body tuning to the rhythm of waiting for Nico’s door to open to him again and pull him in. It had to be tonight.

Somewhere along the way, Isack blabbering on in the background of his already loud imagination, his irritation sharpened. Why wasn't it stopping? Couldn’t Isack see that none of this mattered compared to his inner turmoil? To Nico? To the flame burning between them? How could his very own best friend not even notice that his whole world has been turned upside down and that there was no going back? Gabi felt different, changed from the boy he was before, turned into a young man with needs and dreams. How could he be the only one realizing it?

The words were out before he had time to filter them:

“Is, please, do you ever stop talking?"

The silence that followed was heavier than a semi truck. He turned his head, instantly regretting this awful display of bitterness. Isack blinked at him from his bed, eyes wide, hurt flashing before he smoothed it over with a shrug that was too casual to be real. Isack wasn't the kind of man that would ever let someone know they had hurt him. He was too proud, and too afraid of looking weak. Too loyal to the people he loved to fight back. Gabi wished he wasn't, because maybe being put in his place would lessen the guilt that was already crippling through his veins.

“... Yeah, sure. Sorry. Goodnight, then.”

His throat closed. He so desperately wanted to take it back, but the damage was already done. Isack turned off the light of his nightstand lamp and rolled away, tugging the blanket over his shoulders. The quiet little sniff that escaped the covers after a few seconds cut deeper than any accusation.

Gabi laid there frozen, unable to explain to himself what had just transpired. What the hell was he doing? Isack had only wanted to spend some time with him, to connect, and he had pushed him away like he was nothing, -or worse: like he was an enemy. All because he couldn’t stop obsessing over Nico.

Minutes passed, stretching into an hour, the room dim but for the faint glow of the full moon. Isack’s breathing eventually softened, slipping into the rhythm of sleep, then the usual snoring. Gabi stayed still until he was sure, chest tight with remorse.

I’ll make it up to him tomorrow, he promised silently. I’ll fix it. Tomorrow.

But tonight… this night belonged to someone else.

Carefully, he swung his legs out of bed, heart pounding loud enough he was convinced it could wake Isack and the whole house along with him. He grabbed the shirt he’d laid out, slipped it over his head, and padded barefoot across the floor. At the door, he hesitated, looking back at Isack’s curled-up figure, the guilt heavier than a stone in his stomach.

But then he eased the handle down, slipped into the hallway, and closed the door behind him. His pulse surged. Each step toward Nico’s room felt like walking out onto a ledge: terrifying, thrilling.

Inevitable.

Chapter Text

He paused outside the door, his hand hovering just above the dark wood. He could hear his own pulse pounding in his ears, louder than the faint hum of the ceiling fan inside. His knuckles finally rapped against the door, soft, tentative, but with a rhythm that betrayed the nerves.

He didn’t have to wait for long. The door cracked open almost instantly, as if Nico had been waiting right behind it all along. The older man leaned lazily against the frame, wearing only a loose shirt and the same shorts he had lent him in the morning, the warm light of his nightstand lamp spilling over his shoulders. His mouth curved into a playful smirk, but his eyes gave him away: they were warm, ready, fond of him in ways no one ever was nor would ever be.

“You, again?” he sighed exaggeratingly, pretending exasperation, “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I do know” Gabi whispered back, already pushing past him, his addicting scent hitting him on the way like a drug, “And you knew I’d come.”

Nico shut the door softly behind them, shaking his head, but with no real intention in it.

“I should send you back to bed. You’re going to get us both caught.”

“Don't start,” Gabi said firmly, his voice low but shaking with want and the need to be taken seriously for once, "You can't send me back to bed, I'm not a kid."

Nico’s smirk faltered into something heavier, the kind of look that stripped all playfulness down to truth. He studied him with his icy blue eyes for a long second, then sighed:

"You're right, I'm sorry", and gestured toward the bed, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Make yourself at home, then."

All the air surging into his lungs in a shocked inhale got stuck in his throat. It was now. Eager to please, he climbed onto the mattress, sitting there on his knees like he belonged there, like he’d been waiting all his life for this one moment. Probably because, without knowing it, he had. That’s when his eyes caught it: the nightstand, neatly arranged with a few things. A small bottle of lube, a single strip of condoms. Even a folded towel, looking soft and carefully placed. Nico was more than ready: he had thought of everything with care. Heat rushed through him so hard it made his chest tighten.

“You…” his voice broke with the weight of it. He dragged his gaze back up, pupils blown wide, “You want this as much as I do", he declared, more for himself than for Nico.

His lover shrugged, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed pride for his own preparedness and full admission.

“I like to be ready for trouble. And you, Gabi… you’re nothing but trouble.”

Nico joined him on the bed, nudging him to lay down under his chiseled chest, his hands finding their rightful spot on both sides of his head to trap him under his body. His eyes staring right into his split him wide open. His whole body throbbed with the realization that his lover was going to take care of him. That he could stop thinking right now, stop fearing what might happen or what he could be perceived as, at least for a moment. All he had to do was give himself over and let it happen. He exhaled in relief. The feeling of being exactly in the right place at the right time with the right person settled through his nervous system, erasing any trace of anxiety that could have survived the rush of the moment.

He licked his lips, breath shaky, and whispered, “I won't be anymore, if you give me what I want."

Nico's lips got closer, kissing just his forehead. Gabi let out a quiet whine, exasperated by the lack of the contact he craved.

“Patience,” Nico murmured, pressing another kiss on his cheek -soft, grounding, infuriating. “If we’re doing this… we’re doing it right.”

Gabi shivered, every nerve threatening to explode like fireworks. He wanted to argue, to insist, but the sight of Nico's careful preparations in his peripheral vision kept him quiet. His need screamed, but for the first time in his life, he wanted to trust someone else more than himself.

Nico's lips captured his in a heated kiss, Gabi opening his mouth almost right away to give him full access. Their teeth collided, tongues caressing each other in exploration. The older man's hand cupped the back of his neck, thumb stroking gently along the nape in a way that both soothed his nerves and set them on fire.

“You’re shaking,” Nico murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate right through him “Are you anxious?"

“No,” Gabi breathed, almost choking on it, “I’m not. I just-...” he stopped, trying to find the words, then broke off with a frustrated laugh, burying his face against Nico’s shoulder “I just want this so bad".

Nico’s chuckle was deep and reassuring against his ear. He kissed his lobe tenderly, sending shivers from his skull to his toes.

"That’s exactly why we're not going to rush things. Let me handle it, yeah?"

Gabi wanted to argue that rushing actually felt like the right option, but then Nico’s hand was under his shirt, splayed across his stomach, warm and grounding. Every muscle jumped under that touch. The shirt was gone barely a moment later, peeled off with unhurried care, as Nico started kissing down the sharp line of his collarbone, the hollow of his throat, the curve of his bony chest. Each kiss was administered maddeningly slow, little claims with no hurry, as if they had all the time in the world.

“Open your legs, baby" he instructed gently.

Hei obeyed instantly, his body reacting on pure instinct even though his legs trembled as he stretched them out on the soft sheets. Nico followed swiftly, kneeling between his thighs, hands roaming his torso like he was mapping it for his own memory. When his lips closed around a nipple, tugging gently, Gabi gasped aloud and clutched at his hair like his life depended on it.

“Fuck...! Nico-"

His lover only hummed, moving lower, tasting every single inch of skin. When his fingers finally slid beneath the waistband of Gabi’s shorts, pulling them down with patient precision, he nearly came from relief alone.

His cock was already straining, flushed and aching. Nico wrapped his hand around it with such tenderness he almost growled of frustration, begging to be handled less like porcelain and more like the hungry young man he really was. Nico stroked once, twice, then leaned down to kiss the sensitive tip, tongue flicking over the bead of pre come almost dripping down the length. Gabi moaned before he could retain the noise, putting his arm to his teeth to make himself quiet down.

“Easy,” Nico whispered, voice tinted with amusement, “We’ve barely started.”

The lube clicked open before Gabi could even process that the bottle had been grabbed. Cool liquid poured into Nico’s palm, then warmed between his fingers before he touched him again. One slick finger circled his entrance, teasing, but not pressing in.

Gabi whined, hips jerking upward, "Don't tease..."

Nico shook his head, firm as ever: “This isn't teasing. I'm making sure it feels good for you, trust me."

He leaned down, kissing him deeply once more as the first finger slid in in a slick noise. The intrusion burned -sudden, sharp- but Nico’s tongue in his mouth and his hand steady at his hip anchored him, pinning him in place. Within a minute, the discomfort eased into a strange fullness, an undiscovered sensation that made his whole body tense. He had never played with himself like this, in fear to do it wrong.

“See?” Nico coaxed softly, “that’s better already."

Another finger joined, slower and deliberate. Gabi gasped into his mouth, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into skin. The stretch made his thighs shake, but then Nico curled his fingers just so and black and white spots exploded in his field of vision.

“Puta merda...!” he whimpered, his voice cracking, “What the fuck was that?!”

“Just you,” Nico answered, lips brushing his ear and licking at his lobe with just the warm tip of it, “discovering how good I can make you feel."

He kept working him open, gently creating a gap between the fingers and pushing deeper, until Gabi was a writhing mess beneath him. Sweat slicked his hair to his forehead, his arm bruised from his constant biting at the fragile skin there. Every nerve screamed for more, his cock leaking helplessly against his stomach with no relief.

“Please,” he begged, hardly able to form words anymore, “Please, Nico- I need you, I can’t -fuck, I can't wait any more-"

But Nico didn’t relent, ignoring his pleas. He kissed the corner of his mouth, whispered, “Patience, baby. I’m going to make you come just like this first, you need to loosen up a bit more."

Before he could protest and try to explain that he couldn't possibly come this way -that the only way he could finish was with Nico locked inside of him- his lover's fingers curled again, pressing into that spot inside him until his whole body arched off the bed. He cried out, muffled against Nico’s shoulder, as the orgasm ripped through him fast and hard, painting his stomach in hot spurts.

He collapsed back against the sheets, chest heaving, vision swimming. His cock twitched even as it softened, overstimulated and sensitive.

Nico pulled his fingers free carefully, wiping them with the towel already waiting, and kissed his temple.

"Good job Gaby" he whispered with a smile, “Don't worry, you’ve still got another one in you."

And somehow, in his haze, Gabi believed him fully. His brain switched off entirely then, convinced that Nico was going to take care of him better than he ever would himself. His magnificent, caring and perfect lover would make him discover pleasures he never could've dreamed of. He was going to touch him just right again, in all the right places and say all the right things until he was nothing but a puddle of tired limbs under him, strucked down by exhaustion.

He was still recovering, his chest slick with sweat, when Nico rolled a condom down his own length. The sound of the wrapper tearing, the faint snap of latex, made Gabi’s pulse skyrocket again. He was too dazed to even be embarrassed at how quickly his cock was hardening again. Nico had been right: his body wasn’t done yet.

In an exhausting effort, he bit his lip to stop himself from begging Nico to take off the condom and let him feel everything. He knew himself to be clean, but didn't need to spoil the moment with hearing Nico explaining that he wasn't, or couldn't be sure of it, since he probably had so many encounters before Gabi. So many people who had gotten the privilege to explore his body way before they even met, licking and kissing a skin that he wished could only belong to him.

“Ready?” Nico asked, careful, almost reverent.

His hand brushed Gabi’s cheek, thumb smoothing over damp skin as if it could quiet the chaos inside him.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Gabi blurted, writhing under him. His fingers dug into Nico’s shoulders, needing something solid to hold on to. “Please, I'm ready, I can take it.”

Nico kissed his forehead with more grace than the moment called for, and lined himself up. The blunt head of his cock pressed against his entrance, slick with lube and hot under the latex. Gabi shuddered violently, torn between panic and hunger.

Then Nico pushed in, by just a glorious inch.

Gabi gasped, the stretch a raw burn that made his thighs clamp instinctively around Nico’s hips. His whole body went rigid, nails scraping across Nico’s back.

“Breathe,” Nico murmured against his ear. “Relax. Don’t clench. You’re doing so well.”

He kissed Gabi again, swallowing the whimpers that broke from his throat, and waited until the tightness eased just a little before pressing in deeper. Another inch, then another, so agonizingly slow that Gabi thought he’d lose his mind.

The sting faded gradually, replaced by a dizzying fullness that knocked the breath out of him.

"Deus, meu deus" he gasped, half in awe, half in pain.

“You can take it,” Nico soothed, though his own voice was rougher now, strained with effort to contain himself. His arms trembled as he held himself back, every muscle taut with restraint, “Fuck, look at you… you’re perfect, baby.”

When he finally bottomed out, Gabi cried out softly, completely overwhelmed. He’d never felt so full, his body welcoming the intrusion as best as it could. He was being claimed in the most primal way, exactly as he had dreamed it for so many nights since his first one in Gozo. Nico was carving his presence into the deepest part of him, where no one else had ever been, where no one else could ever reach.

He clung to him, shaking, pleading again" “Move,” he commanded hoarsely, not an ounce of authority in his voice despite his best effort, "I swear I'm ready".

But Nico only rocked shallowly at first, tiny movements designed to help his body adjust. He whimpered at the torture of it, arching against him, trying to force more out of the contact. His swollen cock rubbed against Nico's lower abdomen, covering it in precum.

“Slow down” Nico insisted, pinning him gently back against the mattress. His hand spread over his chest like that first night when he had refused himself from Gabi, firm but tender, holding him steady, for the same reason: “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Gabi swore, eyes wild, pupils blown wide like an addict, “I promise".

Finally, Nico relented, drawing back just enough to thrust deeper again. The movement made Gabi choke on a sob, unable to quiet it down this time, the burn fusing with an electric kind of pleasure. Nico found a rhythm, slow and careful, angling himself so every push pressed against that spot inside that made Gabi’s vision blur.

“Fuck, right there, don’t stop,” he keened, legs wrapping around his waist, dragging him in even closer. His head tipped back, throat exposed, moans spilling unchecked now. Damned be the other young men sleeping across the hall; they would never experience something so mind altering as this.

Nico’s lips found his jaw again, his throat, his ear, murmuring praise between kisses and aborted hickeys. He probably didn't want to leave any proof behind, but Gabi craved it desperately.

“That’s it… you’re so beautiful like this, Gabi… taking me so well… good boy.”

The words set fire through him, dragging another whine from deep in his chest. His cock was trapped between them, leaking freely, every thrust sending sparks down his spine.

It was too much. Too intense. Too grandiose.

He buried his face against Nico’s neck, muffling his cries by biting into the boiling skin as his body trembled on the edge again. He was going to come twice in a row, just like Nico had promised, and the thought only pushed him further over the edge.

The pressure coiled inside him like a tsunami. Every thrust sent him spiraling higher, his body clenching helplessly around Nico sounding more and more entranced himself, dragging groans out of him that made the air between them barely breathable.

“I- I can’t...” Gabi gasped, nails biting along Nico's back. His whole body arched again, even higher, his thighs trembling in effort, “I’m gonna! Nico!"

“Let go,” Nico murmured, his voice low and steady, as if giving him permission. Would he be able to hold it if Nico told him too? Probably not, but he liked to believe he would be capable of doing anything the older man asked of him.

“I’ve got you. Let go for me, baby."

That was all it took. Gabi shattered, his orgasm tearing through him so violently it stole the air from his lungs. He cried out, back bowing off the mattress one last time as hot release spilled between them, slicking his stomach and Nico’s chest.

Nico didn’t stop. He pulled him to his chest and rocked him through it, thrusting slower now, but even deeper, letting the tight spasms milk every drop of pleasure until Gabi was left boneless and wrecked beneath him, whimpering weakly. Letting him no time to process it, Nico took his shaky hand in his and brought it to his lower stomach, pressing it there, a very slight bulge difforming the skin.

"You feel it? That's me, inside of you."

Gabi moaned with his mouth wide open, like in a transe. He could barely think, barely breathe. The sole feeling of the bulge under his fingers made his eyes roll into their orbits, overwhelmed by the concept of feeling Nico so deep inside. He was certain his body couldn’t take more, yet the steady drag inside him kept him wide open, sensitive to every pulse and shift. His head lolled back on the pillow, eyes glassy, lips still parted as he panted.

“You’re so perfect,” Nico whispered against his temple, kissing the sweat-damp hair there, “So perfect, Gabi. You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

Gabi hummed softly at the words, clinging to him with what little strength he had left. He felt Nico’s rhythm falter, grow uneven, the restraint unraveling at last. The mask was broken and, hopefully, thrown away forever.

Then Nico buried himself deep one last time, groaning into his neck as his own climax ripped through him, realeasing them both. His whole body shuddered with it, every muscle taut as he spilled into the condom, holding him close as though he could sink into him entirely. Gabi heard himself whine, vaguely thinking of not getting to feel Nico's come spilling inside of him.

For a long moment, the room was filled only with their ragged breathing and the barely noticeable sound of their heartbeats pounding against each other’s chests. Nico didn’t move right away. He cradled him like a doll instead, pressing gentle kisses wherever his lips landed: shoulder, collarbone, cheeks, as if to soothe the storm they had just unleashed.

When he finally pulled out, it was with careful hands and whispered apologies, making sure Gabi was cushioned by the soft towel he’d prepared. He tied off the condom, set it aside, and immediately reached for him again, gathering him back into his arms. Gabi resisted for a couple seconds, feeling desperately empty.

Nico put a strong hand on his ass, caressing the skin there, and he eventually melted into the embrace, exhausted but blissed out, cheek pressed against Nico’s chest. His body still hummed, overstimulated, but his mind felt quiet for the first time in days.

“Good job baby” Nico murmured, stroking his back in slow, grounding circles with a hand and still holding his rear with the other, "You were amazing."

Gabi shut his eyes, letting the words sink deep. He didn’t know if it was the mind-blowing sex or the tenderness in the words said, but he believed him.

A smile ghosted over his lips, small and tired but genuine.

“I think I'm going crazy because of you,” he whispered, his voice rough, “but it's worth it."

Nico chuckled softly, kissing the top of his head. He wasn't taking him seriously, probably for the better.

They stayed like that until sleep dragged Gabi under, his body still curled against Nico’s, having finally found the place he belonged after twenty one years of wandering.

Chapter Text

He was awoken by a foreign kind of soreness -an ache deep in his body that made him wince before he even opened his eyes. But then, right away, came the warmth: a solid chest under his cheek, an arm draped protectively around his waist and the steady rise and fall of Nico’s breathing.

It hit him in a rush. Last night hadn’t been a dream. It had been real and he got to keep that memory with him forever.

He blinked groggily, adjusting to the pale light creeping in through the curtains. His body was spent, used in ways it never had been before, and yet he couldn’t stop the small, smug grin that tugged at his lips. He belonged here, right here, pressed into Nico’s side, smelling the traces of his own aftershave and sweat still clinging to his skin.

Nico stirred, as if sensing his thoughts. His hand slid lazily up Gabi’s back, fingers tracing idle patterns for a minute.

“Morning,” he then rasped, voice still thick with sleep.

Gabi tilted his head up, his grin widening.

“Morning”, he said, and kissed the edge of his jaw. Then, with a mischievous spark in his eyes, he whispered, “I’m really sore.”

Nico chuckled, quiet and warm, his gaze softening even.

“Sorry, I was as careful as possible,” he said, a spark of worry passing through his blue eyes.

“You were perfect,” Gabi murmured, nestling closer.

He so desperately wanted to freeze time, and keep this version of Nico, gentle, unmasked, entirely his, forever.

But reality seeped in fast. Nico glanced at the clock on his nightstand, then sighed. “We have to move before the others wake up, it's already past eight..."

“I know,” Gabi cut in, trying to sound casual, and failing.

The thought of sneaking back, of slipping into his own bed and pretending none of this happened, left a sour taste in his mouth. He didn’t want to hide. He wanted the whole world to know Nico was his. But he knew why it would never be an option, and it helped him not to feel like a kicked puppy; not by much, but enough.

He forced himself upright with a groan, stretching tired muscles. Nico sat up too, reaching to brush Gabi’s hair back, his touch lingering.

“We’ll find our moments,” he promised softly, "I promise I'll find time for you."

Gabi’s chest squeezed. He hated it, but at the same time, the secrecy made last night burn even hotter in his memory.

Their secret. Their game. Their love.

Before slipping out of bed, he leaned down, kissing Nico slow and lingering, like he wanted to pour every ounce of defiance and longing into it.

“I can be patient,” he whispered against his lips, though the mischievous gleam in his eyes said otherwise.

Nico smirked knowingly, brushing a thumb over his jaw, "We'll see about that."

With that, Gabi slipped quietly out of the room, padding down the hallway back to his own bed, his body aching, his heart pounding and his mind already racing ahead to when he could get Nico alone again.

His body hummed with soreness, with memory, with an energy that absolutely refused to dim. And yet here he was, alone in his bed, pretending he had slept there all night for Isack's sake. The mattress felt cold, empty of Nico's warmth despite the hint of sandalwood clinging to his skin. He comforted himself with it, burying his nose in his sleep shirt to smell it better, to feel the taste of Nico still lingering on his lips better.

But the pain didn't feel as cruel as it usually did, because he wasn't chasing chimeras anymore. Nico was now his and he was Nico's. There was no pretending, no backtracking possible. Now he could carry the secret all day, and it would warm his heart instead of weigh on his shoulders.

He was still grinning to himself when Isack stirred in the other bed, yawning and stretching.

“Morning Gabi,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Morning,” he replied, faking sleepiness and trying not to sound too giddy before remembering what had transpired between them last night,

"Is, I'm sorry".

Isack looked confused for a few seconds, his brain slowly putting itself back to work.

"Sorry about... Oh. Yeah, that. Yeah, forget it, it's forgiven. You must have been really tired."

"I was, but it's not a good reason to snap at you", he answered, genuinely meaning it.

"It's all good mate, it happens to everyone. Okay, breakfast time, Cam promised he'd do pancakes if we had enough eggs."

By the time they all gathered in the kitchen, the house was already buzzing: Cam was flipping pancakes with exaggerated flair, Axel chopping fruits alongside him, Levi sat at the table with a book cracked open, and Nico leaning casually against the counter, sleeves pushed up, a mug in hand, just observing.

It should have looked ordinary. It did look ordinary. But Gabi caught the difference instantly. There was a looseness to Nico’s stance, an ease to the curve of his mouth when he glanced at Cam’s clumsy tentatives to flip the pan or Axel’s muttered complaints about the knife (which clearly was the wrong choice for fruits). Even Levi, usually the only one who could coax real smiles out of him, wasn’t fighting against a wall of detachment today. Nico laughed, actually laughed, when Cam nearly dropped a pancake onto the floor. The sound was so different than the one Nico usually served in public, Gabi had no idea how no one was noticing it but him.

He sat down, his heart flipping over itself. He wanted to stand up and announce it: See? See how happy and relaxed he looks when he's mine? When he lets himself love me? But of course he remained quiet, savoring it all in private.

At some point through breakfast, Levi noticed too, though maybe not in the same way. His deep blue eyes lingered on his father longer than usual, studying him, his brows frowning faintly, like trying to decode the sudden shift. Gabi bristled at first, protective, but then Nico caught Levi’s gaze and-

“You’ll burn a hole into my skull if you keep staring like that, sohn” Nico drawled, sipping on his coffee.

Levi blinked, thrown off guard, then looked away with a scoff that didn’t quite mask his flush.

"Was just wondering how I turned out this handsome with those genes."

A sudden silence settled around the table. Isack looked up from his overfilled plate, searching for the right way to react. After a few seconds, Nico bursted in laughter, the corner of his eyes wrinkling in glee.

"I wonder that same thing everyday!", he exclaimed, patting his son on the back.

The rest of breakfast rolled out in this strangely new, wonderful way: everyone in their usual roles, but now gravitating about a more real and playful version of Nico, less like a shadow haunting the edges of the room and more like the sun that he was. And every time his eyes brushed against Gabi’s -even just for a second, barely fickles- Gabi swore he could feel last night’s heat running between them like a live wire.

Once the plates were cleared, the group drifted into their own rhythms as usual: Levi curled back into his book, Cam announced he was going for a run, Axel offered to help Nico with some repairs outside, and Isack lingered, trying to rope Gabi into helping him with a project he was supposed to spend his summer on but hadn't. Gabi could've told him that he obviously hadn't joined Oxford's ranks in musical engineering because of his diligence as a student but thanks to his genius in music and raw skills, so he shouldn't need any help, but he had already been rude enough to his friend so he happily contributed.

The rest could wait. The whole world could wait. What mattered was this: Nico was different now. They were both different now. And Gabi, for the first time since arriving in Gozo, felt like he could breathe.

The day stretched out lazily, the kind of mediterranean afternoon where no one seemed motivated to do much else than stay home and busy themselves with whatever was available there. The house settled into the scrape of tools outside where Nico and Axel hammered away at some loose shutters, the occasional shuffle of Levi turning a page inside and the faint patter of Isack muttering to himself while listening to something in his headphone; some rapper he liked's new album, he said.

Gabi wandered between them all, restless in the best way. Normally, the hours felt heavy on Gozo, weighed down by all the things he couldn’t have and all the tension pressing between his ribs. But that day was simply easy. He had Nico’s taste lingering on his lips still, his scent clinging to his skin, and the memory of last night still burned so bright inside him it lit up everything else.

When he drifted outside, he found Nico on a ladder, sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms taut as he leaned to secure a loose wooden beam wile Axel secured the ladder. Sweat clung to his temples, darkening strands of hair, and Gabi had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from staring too openly. Nico, however, still spotted him lingering.

“Don’t just stand there Gabi, grab me those nails on the table!” he called out.

He bent to fetch them, but his gaze betrayed him, flicking back up to Nico’s profile. The older man didn’t miss it. From his perch on the ladder, he glanced down, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at his lips before he returned to his task. It was the kind of look that made his stomach drop and his whole body heat, the kind of look that promised this new thing between them wasn’t some fragile illusion he had nurtured in his head.

They were a thing. A real thing.

He forced himself to toss the nails at Axel, who caught them with a muttered thanks, oblivious. He walked away grinning like an idiot, the image of that flirty smirk seared into his head.

By late afternoon, Cam returned from his run, cheeks flushed, demanding a rematch of the push-up contest that had occured two nights ago. Isack joined in, Levi rolled his eyes but drifted out to watch, and somehow Gabi found himself in the middle of it all. The air filled with laughter, groans, playful shoves at alleged cheaters and their fake push-ups. Even Nico came over, drying his hands on a rag, and stood off to the side with his arms folded, watching with the kind of half-smile that made Gabi’s heart soar.

He didn’t have to do anything. He didn’t even have to touch him. Just knowing Nico was there, relaxed, not hiding behind his usual mask, felt like a victory Gabi wanted to savor forever.

Eventually, he lowered his lean body to the floor and showed them how to achieve a proper pushup, with two hands, then only one, hovering above the floor without even brushing it with his floor. Gabi wished he could capture it with his phone to rewatch it again and again for the next seven years or so, but that too had to remain a fantasy.

Later, when the sun started sinking, the boys collapsed onto the porch with bottles of soda, Cam bragging loudly about his “record” while Isack tried to convince the audience he had been cheated of the title. Levi’s sarcastic commentary made Axel snort soda through his nose.

Nico joined them, popping a beer open and settling on the porch in a relaxed stance Gabi had never seen him use in public.

“There’s a festa in the village tonight", he said in a casual tone that cut through the chatter like a spark.

Levi tilted his head, curiosity flickering, “A what?”

“A festa,” Nico repeated, mimicking the maltese accent quite successfully, “it's a local celebration. It's quite simple, there's music, food, fireworks most of the time. They celebrate every saint so it happens quite often. You guys want to go?"

Levi hesitated, scanning around the group, each boy looking eager than the last, then gave the smallest nod.

“Yeah. Sure, sounds fun."

The group buzzed with excitement, Cam already imagining how much food he could sample, Isack projecting himself as the new dj setting fire on Gozo.

Gabi leaned back against the wall, his pulse thrumming. He hadn’t seen Nico propose anything openly playful like this since their first outing on the main island, and he hadn't even counted himself in at that moment. He had taken a leap of faith, and Levi had said yes. Just like that. Like he had been dreaming of for a whole month spent on the island getting ready for them to arrive. Finally, one of the plans Nico had made in his head to spend time with his son would happen. Gabi beamed with joy, trying to conceal it as much as he could. It should have stung, the idea of sharing Nico with anyone else, but instead it sent a wild thrill through him. His lover deserved it so much.

"I'll find time for you", Nico had promised. And Gabi knew he would.

Chapter Text

The festa was already in full swing when they reached the square. Strings of colored lights hung crisscrossed above the narrow street, buzzing faintly against the deep navy sky adorned with stars. Long wooden tables overflowed with plates of pastries and grilled meats, and children darted between legs with sparklers in their hands, their laughter chiming above the hum of voices and the beat of live music spilling from the small stage. A small band was playing there, only four musicians with guitars and an odd looking cello, but the sound resonated throughout the square like a full orchestra. It smelled like churros and fireworks; a distant memory of the summers of his childhood.

Gabi fell in love with the atmosphere instantly.

He trailed close to the others as they found a way through the crowd, his eyes wide, trying to take in everything at once. The rush of people, the loud music and the heat reminded him of Sao Paulo in so many ways; the best ways. This was messy, loud, alive. It felt like the island itself was breathing through every person there, his lungs filling in shared joy.

And Nico-

God, Nico looked right in his element. He moved with easy familiarity, nodding to locals he probably had learned to know for the last two months, stopping to exchange greetings in quick Maltese. The uncomfortable looking stiffness in his shoulders was gone, no guarded expression hiding behind polite detachment. He looked lighter, like he belonged here, like he was part of this place and not simply passing through it.

Gabi felt his chest swell with pride, as if Nico’s ease was his own accomplishment. He wanted to be the reason Nico laughed like that, threw his head back at some joke from an old fisherman, eyes crinkling at the corners. He recognized the owner of the tiny restaurant on the shore and the old lady from the ice cream stand, conversing and scolding little kids running through the crowd too fast, like a big family finding any reason to celebrate together.

Music picked up, acoustic guitars weaving into a rhythm that made the cobblestones seem to sway. A small group of young women pulled Levi and Cam into a circle, their faces breaking into awkward grins as they tried to keep up with the steps. Axel was dragged in next, his protests drowned in laughter. They dragged them around, making them dance like puppets more than dancing together but looked satisfied with just that. Gabi hung back, watching, until Isack nudged his arm.

“Come on,” he urged, grabbing his wrist before Gabi could refuse, “we're looking like buzzkills!"

And then they were pulled into the circle too.

He awkwardly stumbled through it, his body too aware of itself as usual, his thoughts still stuck on Nico, who was watching from the sidelines with an amused smirk. But then the music carried him, Isack spinning him once before Gabi pushed back, laughing, and they both gave in to the rhythm. Under Nico's reverent eyes, he couldn't look ridiculous.

It felt like nothing else than a playful moment at first, two friends having fun, twirling each other in exaggerated moves, their laughter blending with the music. But for some obscure reason he couldn't quite decipher, his instincts were leading him to a path he had never crossed before regarding Isack. Something in his eyes was different, a spark that was never there before illuminating his dark brown irises. For Gabi, it was just harmless fun, a way to let the energy in his veins spill out. For Isack, it was something else. His grip lingered a fraction too long on his hips, his eyes too intent when they locked with his after a twirl. Something that had never been there before, was blossoming in his best friend's heart. Gabi prayed every saint he could gather in his mind that he was only imagining things.

And then, it happened.

The girls circling to try and separate them to pick their favorite to dance, Isack’s hand brushed his arm, fingers pressing over the faint bruise that his own teeth had left there to keep himself quiet while Nico was making love to him. Gabi’s body went rigid for a fraction of a second -too late. Isack had felt it under his fingers, the scar bumpy and blue. He frowned, confusion and concern clouding his round features. When the music lulled enough for them to step out of the circle, he leaned in, voice filled in worry:

“What was that? On your arm?”

Gabi’s throat went dry. He forced a shrug, poking at the scar to show how harmless and insignificant it was.

"Oh, I bumped into a closet in the kitchen earlier, must be that."

Isack didn’t look convinced. His brows knit, lips parting like he wanted to press the matter, but the music surged again, cutting off the moment. Gabi plastered on a grin and spun back into the dancing crowd before Isack could question him further. His heart hammered, but he refused to let it ruin the night. He wouldn’t let it. Not when Nico was watching from the side, his gaze a tether that kept pulling him back in his perimeter no matter how far the circle spun him.

He downed a drink of something sour-smelling offered by a beautiful brunette, and got kissed on the cheek in exchange. He giggled, a taste of freedom on his tongue toppled by lemon. Intrigued by his openness, more young women gathered around him, offering more of the citrusy drink they called lumincetta. He swallowed, got kissed on the cheek, again and again until he couldn't stand right anymore.

Looking amused and painfully unbothered, Nico came to his rescue and led him to a chair, Gabi's head spinning. Nico ruffled his hair like he was a little kid ready to fall asleep between two chairs and under his big jacket at a party. Probably because it was looking a lot like it, he thought.

"Sit a little, yeah? The fireworks are going to start."

Before he could form any kind of answer, Nico was gone, maybe retrieving the others like a prairie dog gathers sheeps in the mountains.

Later, after fireworks painted the sky with bursts of gold, red and green, and the air turned cooler with the sea breeze, the group made their slow way back to the house. Cam carried a bag of pastries, Axel teased him about eating them all before morning, Levi looked pleasantly tired, and Isack walked in silence, his expression unreadable.

Gabi was sobering up, thankfully easily.
The taste of lemon and youth still on his tongue, he knew he’d find his way back to Nico before the night ended.

The house was patiently waiting when they returned.

The windows glowed softly in the light of the single lamppost in the the narrow street, the faint hum of cicadas blending with the distant echo of the festa still spilling down the hills. The boys’ laughter trickled off one by one as they crossed the courtyard, quieter now, lulled by the easy exhaustion that follows a good night out.

Inside, the air was cooler, carrying the scent of burnt fireworks through the open shutters. Shoes were kicked off without care, shirts untucked, hair damp from the humid air. Levi dropped onto the couch, immediately claiming he’d never danced so much in his life and probably never would again; Cam rummaged through the bag of pastries in the kitchen for a late snack, his voice rapidly muffled through a mouthful of cream. Axel turned on all the fans upstairs, the familiar white noise filling the house.

Gabi watched them move around the dimly lit living room with a fond sort of detachment. His head was pleasantly light, a sour tang of lumincetta still clinging to his breath. Everything felt a little slower, softer, the world slightly blurred around the edges but still bright in its very core, like his focus had narrowed to the small flame of Nico. Isack disappeared upstairs, mumbling something about needing to shower off the sweat and dust. Cam followed not long after.

Nico who was comfortably laying down on the couch close to Levi, clearly enjoying the warmth. He listened to his son ramble about the festa, nodding here and there, but his eyes -Gabi swore they flicked to him once, brief but deliberate. Enough to send heat crawling up the back of his neck. It lasted half a second, if that, Nico quickly redirecting his focus and warm gaze towards Levi.

It was late. The kind of late when words started to slur even when one didn't have anything to drink. He lingered, filled a glass of water then downed it, cleaned up everyone's mess in the entryway, took his time until Levi decided to get to bed in turn. Left alone with Nico at last, he smiled to himself.

“Don’t stay up too late, you need rest if you don't want to be hangover tomorrow” Nico said quietly, just for him.

Gabi smirked, his voice low and lazy, “I didn't have that much to drink."

Nico’s mouth twitched, somewhere between a smile and a sigh "Oh, really? You seemed to enjoy all those little glasses... I understand, they were offered by some lovely girls..."

"Jealous?", he grinned, hoping to be right.

"Oh no", Nico dismissed his fantasies, getting up from the couch, "It was really entertaining to watch. I loved seeing you having fun, you look beautiful when you let yourself go."

His mind was trying to find something clever to answer, but the effluves of lemon poisoned his train of thoughts. He opened his mouth right when Levi's voice resonated in the stairs :

"Dad! Can you come fix my windowsill please? It broke again!"

"Coming, sohn!", Nico called out instantly.

Gabi just stood here, watching the older man disappear down the hallway, the soft sound of his steps in the stairs. Eventually, he got up with a groan, his body heavy, and rejoined his own room.

Isack hadn't taken his shower yet, still fully awake, and felt like talking as ever. Gabi's head was spinning, coming down from all the excitement and alcohol. His body dropped on his bed like a rock.

“Hey,” Isack said, flopping down on his own bed, “that was fun tonight, uh? I didn’t know you could move like that.”

Gabi chuckled lazily, “Neither did I.”

There was a pause, long enough for them to feel it stretch.

“Do you ever think about what you’ll do after this summer?” Isack asked suddenly. “Like, when we go back.”

Gabi blinked, caught off guard and his brain struggling to work at its usual pace “Back to Oxford...?"

“Well, yeah? Last year in college, don't you have things you want to achieve? Things you'd like to... maybe, change?"

The question shouldn’t have felt heavy, but it did. For a moment, Gabi saw it all again: London’s gray skies, the dull echo of cold classrooms, the way the noise in his head would fill back up the moment he got back. The monotonous routine of a student, studying, working, sleeping, barely any time to have fun or even eat. Most of the time, he sneaked pastries from the cafe on his shifts and waited for the week end to have time for actual cooking. He saw Levi and Isack everyday but they only managed to fit fun moments together in the tight space between lectures, homeworks, commute and grocery shopping.

He didn’t want to think about it. Any of it. Not now. Not as long as the summer was still going. Not as long as Nico was still there, sharing a space with him.

He shrugged. “I’ll figure it out on the go."

Isack smiled, small and genuine, “You always do", and then, even softer “You looked so happy tonight. I like seeing you like that.”

Something in his tone made Gabi’s stomach twist. Too gentle, too sincere. Too close to Nico's tone to be comfortable between best friends. He couldn’t hold his tender gaze for long.

He turned away, half joking to lighten the air, "Careful Is, you’re gonna make me blush.”

Isack laughed, but it sounded fragile, uncertain. For good reasons, probably.

"I'll take a shower, I'm sweaty."

"Yeah, I'll go after you."

When Isack disappeared into the bathroom, he laid still for a second, listening. As soon as he could hear the water running, he was out of bed again, his heart pounding with that reckless thrill that came from knowing exactly what he was about to do.

Nico’s door was already closed, but the light was still on, soft amber spilling through the thin crack at the bottom. He knocked once, barely loud enough to be heard.

The door opened almost immediately.

Nico stood there in clean sleep clothes, hair slightly damp from his own shower, looking tired but too surprised to be happy about his visit.

“Gabi, not right now. The others are not asleep yet" he warned him quietly, worry diforming his fine traits.

Gabi smiled, lopsided, the alcohol making his voice higher than he would've liked it to be "It's fine, I just want a goodnight kiss before I join you later."

He took a step closer, the warmth of the room pulling him in. The scent of soap and sandalwood filled the space between them. He reached up, fingers brushing the edge of Nico’s collar.

“Will you give it to me?", he asked, looking up to Nico's anxious gaze, his arms still encircling him in a tender hold.

“Of course."

This time, Gabi was quicker to close the distance. They kissed slowly, with intent, the taste of lemon on his tongue brushing on Nico's, his hand finding their rightful place into his blonde hair. This was just the beginning of the night, he thought, as he would be back in a few hours to share the deepest point of the night with his lover again. The kiss ended when the water stopped running in the bathroom, the sudden silence alerting them of the threat of getting caught. Nico opened his eyes again, blinking a few times like waking up from a dream.

Gabi hesitated. His lips trembled in the quiet. The alcohol was loosening his tongue, and his heart -his stupid, impulsive heart- and he took the leap before his right and clever mind could stop it.

“I love you.”

The words fell out between them, soft and startled, his eyes widening when he realized what he had just done.

Nico didn’t answer. He didn't move, or even blink.

Gabi stepped back.

“Hm... goodnight,” he stuttered, and before Nico could answer, or humiliate him further by not doing so, he was gone, disappearing down the hallway, pulse hammering in his ears.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the house went quiet again, as if it had been holding its breath all along.

Chapter Text

The room was blindingly bright, and his skull throbbed like a heartbeat behind his eyes. The faint taste of lemon still coated his tongue, now tasting rotten - nothing but a cruel reminder of the night before. He groaned, dragging the pillow over his head, as if he could block out not just the light but the memory itself.

The words played in his mind over and over like a damaged vinyl.

I love you.

He’d said it. Out loud.

And Nico had stood there, silent.

The only sensible thing to do next surely was to bury himself alive in the garden. How could he have been so stupid? The alcohol was only partly to blame -the rest was entirely on him. His weak, reckless heart always sprinted miles ahead of his brain.

He laid there for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, the fan’s slow rotation slicing the air into fragments of sound. The house was quiet, too quiet; the kind of silence that made every creak and breath sound accusatory. It was still early, but Isack wasn't in a deep sleep enough to snore anymore.

“Estúpido" he muttered into his pillow.

He turned over, face pressed into the cool side of the sheets, and replayed the moment again: the way Nico had looked at him, still and unreadable. The way he had smiled like an idiot, trying to play it off, and then fled like a coward.

He wanted to believe he’d imagined the whole thing, that he’d dreamt it, but Nico's gaze was engraved in his mind. The burn of his cheeks, the tremor in his chest, the hollow ache in his gut all confirmed that it had been real and would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Had he meant it, in all of its immensity?

The question floated in his mind, impossible to ignore.

He thought about the way Nico’s hand had felt against the back of his neck that first morning, warm and grounding. The way he always spoke to him: calm, sure, like he carried the entire sea inside of his chest. The way his laugh softened the air around him. The way he had made love to him -patient, reverent, as if he were something sacred. Impossibly gentle and steady all at once.

It wasn’t just desire anymore. It wasn’t just the thrill of being wanted. He had it all, and he couldn't get enough of it, the hunger was still there, getting more and more prominent instead of receding, satisfied of having gotten fulfilled. With Nico, he felt alive. Not in the frantic, impulsive way he used to chase, not like a fire burning out too fast, but like something had shifted in him, some heavy stone settled in his ribs rolling away to let the light in. Nico made him feel like he could be more than just what he’d been told to be. Like life could be simple and still matter. Like there was more to it than achieving more and more until you died.

That had to be love. Nothing else made sense. Somehow, that realization only made his shame worse.

As real as it was, their love would still be impossible.

Nico wasn’t his. Not really. Not ever. He simply was not the type of man you could have. He was the tide: he came, he went, and he returned if he wanted to; not when he was called. Gabi had seen enough of his soul to fully accept it. And right now, Nico's first wish was to be with Levi, and to fix what had been broken between them. Not to worsen their situation with a love he could never sustain, at least not in this life.

So Gabi did the only thing that made sense, and avoided him.

He skipped breakfast. When he heard voices downstairs -Levi and Cam arguing over the coffee machine, Nico giving some dry comments in between, as a father should -he waited until they moved to the terrace before sneaking to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and some well needed aspirin. Even that brief sample of Nico’s voice had made something inside him twist.

He could smell him everywhere in the room: a trace of sandalwood, the one that clung to the hallway, the living room sofa, the bedsheets still unwashed from the day before. It was taunting.

By noon, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed his bike and left, not bothering to tell anyone where he was going. The air outside drowned him like a baptism -a sudden inhale of hot hair, the cicadas screaming in the olive trees as he pedaled down the dirt road. The wind pushed against his face, making his eyes water, his shirt sticking to his back.

He didn’t stop until the sea appeared, endless blue, blinding under the relentless sun. The magnificient view they had admired the sunset together what felt like an eternity ago was still empty, only two fishermen mending nets far in the distance. He dropped the bike against the rocks, peeled off his shirt, and walked straight into the water.

For a while, he just floated there, staring at the sky.

Everything felt smaller here in the lazy flow of the sea: his thoughts, his feelings, his ever growing shame about them. The waves wouldn't mind whatever he could have said or done. It graciously let him float in its warmth, salt coming up to his lips, infinite and forgiving.

His mind wouldn't unlatch from Nico -his smile, his quiet strength, the way he carried himself with confidence without ever seeming unnaprochable. Gabi had spent his whole life trying to fill some invisible mold, to fit someone else’s definition of success, of worth. Nico had said he knew exactly what that felt like, and how deeply he regretted bending to someone else's expectations. Would Gabi meet the same cruel fate, in a decade or two? Would he despise what he would've achieved by then, hungry for another path he didn't take? Would he resent himself for not listening to Nico then, not trusting his gut and follow him in his journey to become the best version of himself?

But only existing around Nico had ever made him feel this way; like this could actually be an option.

Maybe that was what love really was. Not the burning passion or the relenting anxiety of it, but this: wanting to do better because someone had seen you, really seen you, and hadn’t looked away. Because maybe he had more to offer and Nico had seen the potential.

He smiled faintly, water lapping at his chin.

If Nico was scared and didn't want to see him anymore, he understood. Maybe he would’ve been afraid, too, hearing these words from his mouth so soon. But it didn’t make his feelings feel any less real.

He stayed in the water until his skin wrinkled, and the sun shifted lower in the sky. His headache had dulled by then, replaced by something quieter and steadier -a strange sort of peace.

He inhaled the salty air and closed his eyes, praying the waves would take him away to a world where he wouldn't have so many decisions to make.

It only took a few seconds for his body to dry under the tireless sun. He laid on the rocks, the skin of his back unprotected against their roughness but unbothered by the pain. He closed his eyes and was considering to stay here forever when he heard footsteps crunching behind him.

For a second, he thought he’d imagined it - that his mind had conjured Nico out of pure longing. But then a shadow stretched across the rocks, and when he turned around, there he was.

Nico stopped a few meters away, hair pushed back from the sea breeze, shirt sleeves rolled up and the afternoon light soft against his already sunkissed skin. He looked at Gabi the same way he always did when he wasn’t quite sure whether to smile or scold.

“I knew I'd found you here” he said, "You're really predictable, Gabi."

His voice carried easily over the sound of waves, calm and even. A safe haven in the storm.

Gabi blinked, pushing himself upright, heart already racing, "I guess I am. Are they looking for me too?"

“They are but they've never been here," he gestured toward the rocky edge of the cove, "so..."

Gabi smiled, the evidence of it all filling him with joy "So only you could find me."

“It seems so", Nico confirmed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Silence stretched between them for a few moments, filled only by the soft hiss of waves against stone. He stared at the horizon, hoping it could swallow him whole. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to face what he’d said last night -not when Nico was looking at him like that, so gentle, so unbearably kind, facing his pathetic fantasies.

“I figured you might be… embarrassed,” Nico said finally, walking closer until his feet were at the edge of the water, “But you don’t have to be.”

The words landed like pebbles in Gabi’s chest, rolling along his ribs.

His tone was warm, forgiving - which made it all so much worse. It was the tone of someone wiser letting him down softly, someone who had already decided where the boundary stood and wouldn't let it budge even when a young and impetulent soul was unable to follow the rules.

“I know what it’s like,” Nico continued, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the waves, "to be young and to feel something so big it eats you alive. You think it’s the end of the world, that you’ll never feel anything like it again.” He paused, his voice softening. “But you will. It'll pass.”

Gabi laughed under his breath -sharp, humorless. “So that’s what I am to you? Something that’ll pass?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to, I get it.” He turned to look at him, anger and shame tangling in his throat, "But you don't."

His feelings not being reciprocated didn't come as a surprise to him, but he couldn't handle the older man patronizing them, the warm tone feeling like a teacher condescendingly explaining perfectly logical things to a child.

“I do,” Nico said quietly “...more than you think.”

Gabi shook his head, “When you fell in love with Hailey twenty one years ago, did that just pass too? Is that why you left?"

The question hit its mark. Nico froze, his expression flickering: surprise, then something heavier, older. A relentless and familiar kind of pain. He sighed, crouching down beside Gabi on the rocks.

"Have you met Hailey before?"

"Just once”, Gabi’s voice cracked despite his effort to keep it steady, "She's really nice."

“She is,” Nico’s gaze drifted toward the sea, far away. “But we were sixteen. Thought I was the luckiest man alive when we started dating... She was so lovely. Free in a way I could never be. I thought if I loved her hard enough, I’d become like her. But of course I had a career to focus on, and then things took a wild turn when she got pregnant."

He smiled timidly, though there was no joy in it.

“We thought we’d conquer the world together, handle it our way. But life doesn’t care about what you think you'll do at sixteen. I was already racing, traveling too much, and she... she didn’t belong to that life. I tried to make her fit into it anyway, and that didn't go well at all, especially once Levi was born."

He let out a low breath, running a hand through his hair. “By the time I realized what I’d done and how stupid I had been, she was already gone. I had been a terrible boyfriend and an even worse father. I loved her, Gabi. God, I did. But some things just aren’t meant to work out, no matter how much you want them to. I wasn't ready then, I didn't know anything."

He looked back at him then, staring directly into his eyes.

“Sometimes the timing’s wrong. Sometimes we’re wrong. Back then, it was both. Today... today it's the context playing against us, nothing more... But it's still wrong."

Gabi’s throat tightened. He understood every single feeling Nico was spilling out, without wanting to admit it to himself.

“It doesn't feel wrong” he whispered, like he had that night in Nico's bed when he refused to make love to him.

Nico didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The silence said everything. He felt the same.

Gabi blinked fast, but the tears came anyway, hot and humiliating. He turned away, pressing a hand to his face.

“I hate this,” he muttered. “I hate that I can’t just... I can't stop. I love you, I can't stop."

A hand touched his shoulder, firm and steady. When he looked up, the older man's expression had softened again, the same quiet tenderness that had carried him all summer back in his ocean eyes.

“Hey,” he murmured, thumb brushing the corner of his eye, catching a tear before it could get the chance to drop, “You still don’t have to stop. You just have to live with it until it passes, and so will I. And... we still have the rest of the summer, don’t we?”

Something in his tone - gentle, almost conspirational -made Gabi’s chest loosen. After all, they went still sailing through this storm together. Suffering as one, the red thread pulling their hearts towards each other stronger than ever.

Nico stood suddenly, offering his hand. “Come on. You’ve been moping long enough. Care for a swim?"

Gabi stared at the hand for a moment, then took it. The water was almost warm, the heat barely comprehensible. They dived together, sighing in relief as their burned skin cooled off. Nico splashed him first, and he retaliated with twice as much force, laughing through the salt spray. Soon, they were chasing each other like kids, breathless and drenched, the weight between on their shoulders briefly dissolving in the sunlight.

When Nico dunked him under and Gabi came up sputtering, the air between them was charged again -not with guilt, not with pain, but something simpler. Joy. Complicity. Want.

It didn’t erase what had been said. It couldn't change the truth.

But for now, it was enough.

They still had the end of the summer.

Their laughter ran out after an eternity of playing around in the water. Salt clung to his lips, to the strands of hair plastered to his temples, and the sun pulsed high above them, bright and merciless. He was still half immerged in the water, his shirt floating around him like a jellyfish, when Nico sank to sit nearby, the hem of his shorts darkened by the tide. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sound of the waves folding onto themselves filled the silence, rhythmic, hypnotic.

Gabi’s heartbeat was still erratic from the rush of chasing him through the shallows. It felt absurd that such a simple thing - chasing each other, splashing, laughing together- could feel this natural, as if the whole morning had been carved only for them. But after all, it always felt like that when Nico was around: the world shrinking to nothing but the space they shared, everything else dissolving.

He watched Nico wipe a hand across his wet hair, the gesture unthinking, entrancing in its simplicity. Sunlight painted golden lines along his shoulders and the slope of his throat. Every movement, every blink, every sigh seemed deliberate. Gabi wanted to be the reason behind each one; his lover trying to seduce him with every move.

When Nico turned, he caught him staring.

“You’re quiet,” he said quietly, like a secret.

He swallowed.

"I just… I don’t want this to end.”

Nico smiled that patient, bittersweet smile that always made Gabi’s stomach twist.

"Everything ends,” he said, “or else nothing would ever really matter."

The words stung. Too wise, too measured, too calm. Gabi pushed himself closer, water dripping down his chest, mixing with the salt of his skin. His heart raced faster with every inch.

“Then let's make it matter, right now."

Nico blinked, startled, but didn’t move away when he climbed up above him. Drops of sea water glimmered on his collarbones; his pulse visible in his neck.
"You make me crazy,” Gabi whispered, leaning in until their breath tangled, “I want you so bad."

Nico’s hand came up instinctively, cupping his face, thumb brushing along his cheekbone.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured.

“Then say yes,” Gabi said, and kissed him.

The kiss wasn’t a careful one, neither was it patient. It was all teeth and salt, the sea clinging to their mouths. Gabi felt on fire again, the warmth of the rocks radiating through his knees, the weight of Nico’s hand in his hair keeping him tethered to something real. The rest of the world fell away. Only the pulse of the tide, his heartbeat, the roughness of the rocks and the sounds of Nico’s breathing remained.

Nico broke the kiss first, drawing in a shaky breath. “Gabi…”

He didn’t let him finish. Instead, he pressed their foreheads together and whispered, pleading, “Please Nico, please."

The air went still. He could feel every detail of his lover's hesitation, the tightening of his muscles, the moral line drawing itself in the tiniest gap between their bodies. He knew the answer before Nico spoke it into reality.

“Not here” he said gently, voice hoarse with desire, “You’d be too uncomfortable."

“I wouldn’t,” Gabi whispered, defiant, "I’m not made of sugar. I can handle some rocks and no lube."

That made Nico laugh softly, but it wasn’t mocking; it was tender, oddly sad, like someone watching a star fall knowing it would never reach the ground.

“You have no idea what you're talking about, baby."

“Yes, I do,” Gabi said, pushing his torso forward in a pityful act of bravery "Stop telling me what I want or what I mean, I'm not a child."

For a long moment, Nico didn’t dare speak. He only looked at him, past the wet hair and the flushed cheeks and the trembling hands, into the feverish mix of innocence and desire that made him who he was. Then he exhaled, long and defeated, and pulled him into his arms.

The embrace was deep and grounding. Gabi pressed his face against his neck, breathing him in, the scent of salt and sandalwood overwhelming everything else. Their bodies fit together in the most maddening way: perfectly, inevitably, like two notes in the same chord, singing a song no one would ever get to hear.

“Let me at least…” Gabi started, his words muffled against Nico’s skin. He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. The intent was written all over him, in the tremor of his fingers and the softness of his voice. But Nico just hushed him, brushing a thumb across his lips, shaking his head slightly.

“Not here” he said again. “Not right now. Later.”

Gabi felt the weight of disappointment settle in his chest, but beneath it -underneath the frustration, the ache, the hunger- there was something else. Gratitude, maybe. Or simply love, too big and too terrifying to name. Because Nico wasn’t rejecting him; he was protecting him from getting hurt. Something Gabi himself had no care for at this very moment.

Still, when Nico kissed him again, slower now, deeper, he felt every nerve in his body light up. The world tilted, blurred. He kissed back like he wanted to memorize the shape of this moment: the taste of him, the roughness of his palms, the deep sighs caught between their mouths. The sea lapped at their legs, drawing patterns on the rocks beneath them. When they finally broke apart, both breathing unevenly, the sun had shifted westward. The tide was climbing higher. Nico stood first, offering a hand.

“Come on,” he said softly, "let's head back."

Gabi took his hand and rose, barely able to stand up unassisted. For a heartbeat, he thought he might cry again, for no clear reason. Maybe because this, too, was ending, like everything beautiful does.

They walked their bikes up the hill in silence, the air shimmering with the approaching evening heat. The road home stretched ahead, sunlit and endless. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he let the silence speak for him; the quiet hum of tires against gravel, the soft echo of the sea behind them, and the slow, sinking feeling that no matter how much he tried to hold on, the summer was fading under his fingers too fast for them to hold onto it.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun poured through the open doors of the garden, painting the tiles in shimmering ribbons of light. The house was quiet again. They stepped across the warm floor, shoes forgotten, their feet brushing over the patterned rug by the living room doorway. The air was scented with sunscreen, pool water, and the earthy tang of the garden just beyond.

"I texted Levi as soon as I found you, told them to stop looking", Nico declared, reading his mind like a habit.

From the bay window, he caught sight of Cam and Axel, heads tilted back in the pool, the water dripping down their shoulders as they laughed together, their voices carrying over the gentle splash of water. Levi was sprawled on the couch with a book open across his chest, asleep, oblivious to the world. For a moment, the serene domesticity washed over him, doing nothing but highlighting the tension coiling in his chest. In a perfect world, he could've stayed there forever, coming home with his lover to his best friend peacefully napping on the couch.

Nico’s hand brushed briefly against his as they passed through the living room, deliberate and grounding. The touch wasn’t much, just enough to make him even more aware of the heat building under his skin, the way his pulse was suddenly turning uneven again. He tried to focus on the casual sight of the boys around the house, on the easy rhythm of their afternoon, but Nico’s presence made the air between them crackle in a way that was impossible to ignore.

They made their way into the kitchen, the small and old space always feeling like a private world carved out of the larger house just for them. Nico set a pitcher of water on the counter and reached for ice cubes in the freezer, the sharp clink of ice against glass loud in the quiet. He leaned against the edge, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as he gathered lemons from the fruit bowl.

"Do you know how to make iced tea?"

"I'm willing to learn", he answered in a heartbeat.

He sat on the counter, watching intently. Nico moved with grace around the kitchen, his shirt lifting slightly when he reached for sugar on the top shelf. Although he pretended not to feel Gabi's dark eyes staring at him, he knew he could feel them.

Gabi swallowed, caught between wanting to step back and observe and his urges to join him, to press himself against Nico in that dangerous, delicious way he both feared and craved. His hands lingered on the marble countertop, feeling the cold stone seep through his palms and into his veins, grounding him even as his mind spiraled elsewhere.

“You know,” Nico said, slicing the first lemon with a soft efficiency that made his pulse thrum, “if your ass doesn't leave the counter soon, I'll spiral with thoughts of everything I could do to you over it."

Gabi flushed, heat rising to his cheeks, his chest tightening with need at the words. He didn’t speak, didn’t need to. The unspoken desire hung between them like smoke, thick and intimate, curling around their bodies. He could definitely imagine himself pressed against that counter, Nico’s hands firm on his hips, the smooth marble cool beneath his thighs, the world shrinking until it was only the two of them, the hum of the refrigerator and the distant splash of water from the pool.

“Gabi?", Nico's deep voice brought him back to reality, "Could you boil some water, please?,” he asked lightly, almost casual, but the undercurrent of amusement in his tone was enough to make his knees weak.

Gabi’s lips parted, his throat tight. He wanted to argue, to beg Nico to just take him right there, but he knew better by now. Instead, he focused on filling a pot with water, the sound of it warming up on the stove, the tart scent of the lemons rising sharply as Nico pressed the slices into the pitcher. It was mundane work, but every moment of contact with his lover turned ordinary acts into a charged, intimate dance.

They worked in unison, quietly teaching and learning how to make something as sweet and familiar as iced tea.

“Here,” Nico said softly, finally handing him a glass.

Their fingers brushed, the smell of lemon and mint filling the small gap between them. The hum of the refrigerator, the cicadas outside, the muffled laughter from the pool -all of it faded until there was only this, the silence between their mingled breaths.

He set the glass down. He didn’t even pretend to drink.

The moment hung suspended, fragile as the glass. He didn’t know who moved first -maybe both of them did -but suddenly Nico’s mouth was on his again, and the world tilted. Nico still kissed him like he was precious, like a soulmate should kiss. Gabi pressed closer until his back hit the counter. The edge bit into his spine, grounding him even as everything else dissolved. His fingers found the edge of Nico’s shirt, clutching at it helplessly, needing the reassurance of skin beneath fabric. Nico made a low sound, more breath than voice, and Gabi felt it against his tongue. They were hungry for each other in a way pure physical contact could never entirely satisfy.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing unevenly, Nico’s thumb brushed over his jaw; slow, deliberate, possessive. There was fondness in his eyes, and warmth, an unhideable tenderness that made Gabi’s stomach twist.

“You’re going to kill me one of these days,” Nico murmured.

“The feeling's mutual” Gabi whispered back before he could stop himself.

Nico laughed quietly of that soft, incredulous laugh that always made Gabi want to kiss him again. But there was restraint in it, a subtle shift that told him they had to slow down now. Not because Nico didn’t want him, but because he did.

The realization only made it worse.

Gabi’s mind betrayed him -images blooming behind his eyelids faster than he could stop them. He saw himself laid out right here on the cold counter, saw Nico’s hands on him, the half-open doors, the sunlight catching the glass of the pitcher. The thought alone made his skin prickle, his breath catch. He wanted it too much. He didn’t even have to say it, since Nico must have seen it written all over his face.

Nico’s smile faltered. Then he shook his head slightly, still slightly miling, but with that knowing glint again, affection and warning.

“Go ask the others if they want tea,” he said gently, though his voice was roughened at the edges.

It was meant as an out. A reprieve. But Gabi heard the unspoken part of it too: before we get caught in an impossible situation.

He wanted to protest. To stay right there, close enough to feel the heat radiating off Nico’s skin. But he didn’t. Instead, he nodded, turned away, and tried to breathe through the storm still twisting in his chest.

The house greeted him again in its drowsy quiet. The sound of the pool filtered through the open doors: voices, a splash, the lazy flick of water against tile. He crossed the patio barefoot. Cam lifted a hand in greeting without pausing his sentence; Axel didn’t even look up.

“You guys want iced tea?” Gabi asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Cam said, looking suspicious "Where the hell were you?"

"Hanging around", he shrugged "I don't know why everyone got so worried, to be honest."

It seemed like his answer was satisfying, the two friends getting back to their conversation.

Levi was still asleep on the couch, the book now slid to the floor. His chest rose and fell slowly, a thick lock of blonde hair stuck to his forehead. He looked absurdly peaceful, and Gabi wished he would be more often. He lingered a moment longer, as if the sight alone could anchor him back to reality and all the reasons why he would have to get back to his life after this. It didn’t.

He climbed the stairs quietly, one hand grazing the banister to steady himself. The air upstairs was warmer, heavier. The hum of cicadas outside the window pulsed like a second heartbeat. His thoughts racing like Nico used to do.

He didn’t know what to expect when he pushed open the door to their shared room. Probably Isack napping too, composing music on his laptop or reading a manga as usual.

But Isack was not reading, not scrolling through his phone or his laptop. He was sitting on his bed, motionless, his gaze fixed on the wall.

He didn't move when Gabi entered the room -didn't even blink.

His gaze was fixed somewhere on the wall, unfocused, the muscles in his jaw tight. The air in the room felt stale, like it hadn’t been breathed in for hours.

Gabi hesitated in the doorway.

“Hey,” he said, soft at first, then a little louder when there was no response.

"Is, you okay?”

Nothing. Just the faint buzz of the cicadas through the half open window and the soft whir of the fan above their heads. He took a few tentative steps closer.

"I'm sorry I got you guys worried, I just went for a bike ride..."

Still no answer. The unease that had been simmering under his skin since the beach began to crawl higher, colder. He stopped at the foot of the bed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Isack,” he said, trying again, his voice almost pleading now, “Talk to me, please."

Isack’s head turned at last, but when their eyes met, he flinched. There was no warmth there -none of the easy affection, and quiet understanding he’d come to rely on with Isack. Instead, something cold and angry passed into his gaze.

“What is there to talk about, exactly?” Isack asked finally, voice low but steady, cutting into his skin cleaner than shouting ever could, "What a great bike ride you just had, maybe?"

Gabi froze. His mind stalled, half formed sentences flickering uselessly on his mind like a broken record.

"What are you talking ab-"

"Don't." Isack’s voice cracked from the visible effort he was making to keep himself under control, teeth clenching, “Don’t play dumb with me, Gabi. I saw you.”

The words dropped between them like a stone into water, splashing everything around with boiling water. His heart stopped for a second.

“...You saw...” he echoed, almost in a whisper, his throat suddenly dry and unable to say any more.

“Yeah.” Isack stood abruptly, his movement sharp enough to make the bed creak, "On the beach. With him.”

The room tilted. Gabi’s pulse roared in his ears.

"But-"

“I spent the whole summer cycling around this stupid island!", Isack went on, talking over him now, his voice gathering speed, shaking slightly, “I know every road, every cliff, every stupid cove by heart now! I went out to look for you because I was worried, and I thought "oh, you know what, I'll check that cool beach I found last time because Gabi would love this place!", he laughed at himself, a hollow and bitter sound, “Guess I was right. You seemed to be loving that fucking place."

His mouth opened but no words came out. His chest felt too tight, all the air replaced with poison. The nausea came in waves - of shame, of disbelief, of the horrible fear of exposure. He swallowed hard, his adam's apple aching.

“Isack, it’s not... it’s not what you think.”

“Ah yeah?” Isack’s eyebrows rose, “Then please, enlighten me. What is it, exactly?"

Gabi took a step forward before realizing how futile it was. His fingers twitched helplessly at his sides.

"It’s not... I didn’t mean for anyone to find out this way..."

That only made Isack laugh again -sharp, humorless, his anger showing in his tight jaw.

"Oh yeah, you didn’t mean for us to find out, that makes it so much better!"

“Please,” Gabi whispered, but the word came out broken and barely comprehensible, "..please don’t-”

“Don’t what?” Isack’s eyes gleamed, bright with pain. Betrayal. “Don’t tell Levi? Don’t ruin your little secret? You think I want to?” He took a step closer, the air between them taut as wire.

"You think I want to break his heart annoucing him that his so called best friend is fucking-"

He stopped himself, exhaling through his teeth, running a hand through his hair.

"Putain Gabi, what the hell are you doing?”

His heart was hammering so violently it almost make him kneel in pain.

“I don’t know,” he said truthfully, miserably. “I don’t know! I just... I just.."

“You just what?” Isack snapped, “You just decided to mess around with your best mate's father?! Who does that?! Betray your own best friend for a cheap fuck!"

“It’s not like that!” Gabi’s voice cracked this time, desperate, too loud for the quiet house, "You don’t understand..."

"What's there to understand?!" Isack shot back, disbelief on his reddened face.

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to that single impossible question. Gabi’s throat worked soundlessly. How could he explain something that could never fit into words? That feeling of gravity, of inevitability, of being seen and undone and rebuilt all at once, the way Nico made everything feel meaningful in an otherwise dull monotony.

How could anyone ever understand the immensity of what he had provoked in Gabi's heart?

“I love him,” he said finally, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I love him, Is. I tried not to, but I do."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Isack stared at him like he’d been slapped. Then his mouth curved not a smile at all, but something brittle and incredulous.
“You love him,” he repeated, each word heavy with disbelief, “Do you even hear yourself?”

Gabi felt his face warm up, shame and defiance tangling in his chest.

“I know how it sounds but-”

“You don’t,” Isack cut in sharply. “You don’t realize how insane that sounds at all or else you wouldnt be saying it."

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone..." Gabi’s voice came out small.

Isack let out a long breath, part scoff, part surrender,

"But you will."

In his tired eyes, Gabi could see he already had.

“Is..."

"Don't”. The word landed like a slap. Isack’s eyes were glossy now, the anger giving way to something much rawer, visibly much harder to bear.

The silence that followed vibrated like glass about to shatter.

When Isack spoke again, his voice was hoarse, tears glistening in his eyes, barely contained.

“I’m not going to tell him. It’s not my place. But if you’re even half the good person I thought you were, you’ll tell him yourself. Because what you’re doing-” He swallowed, eyes glinting, "It's wrong, Gabi. It's really fucking wrong."

He brushed past him then, the movement sudden and rough enough to make him stumble back. Gabi caught his wrist on instinct.

“Please,” he whispered, his fingers trembling, "Please don’t hate me for this."

Isack turned his head slowly. His expression was cold, but his voice revealed the truth in his heart.

“I don’t,” he said flatly, “That’s the problem.”

And then he was gone.

The sound of his footsteps in the staircase echoed like a countdown to Gabi's downfall. The front door opened, then slammed shut. A moment later came the metallic clatter of a bike chain, the scrape of wheels against gravel, and the fading rhythm of tires rolling down the hill toward the sea.
Gabi stood there for a long time after the sound disappeared in the horizon.

After a while, now convinced Isack was not coming back anytime soon, he sat on the edge of the bed, hands hanging between his knees, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

The echo of Isack’s voice still echoed in his mind. He had barely moved since the door had slammed behind him; even the walls felt like they were keeping a careful distance, waiting for him to crumble.

He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. The fight, the shame, the pain he had inflicted on one of the persons he loved most in this world. The nausea made it difficult to even breathe. It was lodged somewhere behind his ribs, a disgusting lump of guilt and bad adrenaline that wouldn’t dissolve no matter how much air he tried to draw in.

He looked down at his hands. They were still dry from the sea, salt drying on his skin in thin white traces. The smell of the ocean clung to him, mixed with that faint, unmistakable hint of Nico’s cologne that had sunk into his shorts.

His phone buzzed once on the nightstand, the sound making him flinch.

A message from Nico.
"Is everything okay?"

He wiped his palms on his shorts before answering.
"Just exhausted, I'll take a nap ❤️"

He typed, deleted, retyped. Erased the heart, added it again, erased it, added a dot instead. He stared at it for a long moment before pressing send.

Seconds later, an answer already.
"Good, get some rest."

Pure affection, a kind of tenderness that felt completely undeserved in that very moment. He put his phone face down and collapsed back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The light coming through the shutters had turned gold and thin, slanting across the floorboards. Somewhere outside, a cicada buzzed particularly loud.

His heartbeat slowed down eventually, the nausea still overwhelming. His mind refused to stop circling the same thoughts; how easily Isack had seen right through him, how quickly everything had come undone. How the best summer of his life would end on the worst autumn of his life, if it even happened at all.

He wouldn't tell, Isack had said. But he expected Gabi to do it , if he believed himself to be a good person.

The words burned. He probably was not a good person anymore. Maybe he never was. Could this single event, this particular decision ruin a whole life of trying to do the right thing? Of being a good son, a skilled student, an empathetic friend? Had he wasted it all by putting his own urges first, for once? For actually asking out loud for what he wanted, as depraved and abnormal as it was? Would have Nico let him do something that would destroy lifetime efforts, just like that?

Maybe that was what his lover had meant that night, when he refused to be the first man to make love to him. What Gabi had refused to hear then. What he still refused to hear now.

He turned onto his side, curling up like that could make the world smaller, quieter. Sleep surprisingly came, but in fits, short, feverish bursts where the sea rose around him, and Nico’s voice tangled with Isack’s, both speaking words he couldn’t make out, in pain and anger.

When he opened his eyes again, the sky outside had turned a deep purple and the house had shifted into its evening ambiance. Somewhere down the hallway, he could hear Axel laughing softly, the everlasting splash of water maybe Cam joining him in the pool again for a beer before diner. Levi’s voice drifted downstairs, calm, conversing with his father.

He laid there, perfectly still, trying to fall back asleep when footsteps passed by his door. A knock. He didn't move a single limb, wishing he wasn't there at all. The door slowly opened and instantly, a faint scent of sandalwood betrayed Nico. The older man entered the room quietly, checking on Gabi pretending to be sleeping still and gracefully putting his plate down on his nightstand. And as discreetly as he had entered, he disappeared again.

Hours passed.

In and out of sleep, the feverish paranoia grew in his system. At some point, the sky now dark, the door across the hall opened on Isack. He came in without turning on the light, as Gabi kept his eyes closed. The air between them felt taut, a string pulled too tight. He could hear his movements, anticipating every single one by pure habit, the soft thud of shoes being kicked off, the creak of the mattress, a long exhale.

He wanted to say something, anything, but the words stuck to his tongue like sand. What could he possibly say? Beg for forgiveness, or for an escape. Please don't make me confess. Let's leave this place, go back home and forget it ever happened.

Except he could never forget what had happened here, on this island, in this house, and in his heart.

After a while, Isack shifted again, the blanket rustling. Nothing more. Just the rhythmic sound of two people pretending to sleep.

When Gabi’s phone vibrated again, the sound was sharp in the silence. He jolted upright, fumbling for it before it could buzz a second time. The screen glowed in the dark. The clock read past one in the morning.
"Are you feeling sick? You slept all evening..."

His heart started pounding again, hard enough he had to press a hand against his chest to steady it. He hesitated before opening the message, afraid that even the act of reading it would feel like a betrayal. Of course, he opened it anyway, and another one came.

"Should I wait for you tonight? It's okay if you still need rest."

He contained a pained whine.

He stared at the blinking cursor, his throat dry. The thought of sneaking out again filled him with longing and dread. He could picture the soft lamp light of Nico’s room, smell that sandalwood he couldn’t shake off his skin. Feel his gentle hands on him, soothing and caring.

But Isack was only pretending to sleep, and would know where he was going. There was no way he could go to Nico and not blurt it all out to him anyway.

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He put the phone down face-first on the nightstand and stared at it like it was a ticking bomb.

Minutes passed. The screen went dark again.

He rolled over, pressing the pillow against his mouth to muffle the sound of his breathing. He wasn’t sure what hurt more: the thought of going to Nico only to shatter his world or of not going and betray him with his silence.

When he finally reached for his phone again, the message was still there, waiting.

He stared into the dark, Isack’s breathing slowly steadying across the room, and the whole house seemed to hold its breath with him; waiting for him to make up his mind.

And then his feet touched the floor before he could process his own thinking.

The only sound came from the cicadas outside and the hum of the fridge downstairs, a pulse of life that made the silence even heavier. He didn’t dare use the flashlight on his phone -he knew the way well enough by now. Each step to the door was measured, each creak of the floor a threat. He half expected Isack to open his eyes, to turn on his side and judge him out loud for leaving like a thief. But Isack didn’t move. He breathed, heavy, almost exaggerated, as if he wanted him to know he was awake and aware, but not doing anything to stop him.

The woodfloor of the hallway creaked in disbelief under his feet. He reached Nico’s door, and stood there longer than he would have been willing to admit. The message rang in his mind: should I wait for you? Simple words, weightless if they weren’t carrying everything between them -the fear, the longing, the relentless push and pull. Should I wait for you?

Was there anything left to wait for?

This time, he didn't knock and simply entered like he belonged there. The room smelled terribly familiar by now, detached from the rest of the house by this particular scent that belonged to Nico and him only. The window was open, letting in a stripe of moonlight that lay diagonally across the sheets. Nico was sitting up in his bed, looking tired, a glass of water untouched on the nightstand. He had been waiting again.

“You came,” he said softly, as if afraid to scare him back into the darkness.

He nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He tried to smile, to look normal, and it felt like pretending you could still swim back to the shore when you had already drowned. Nico studied him for a second, his eyes adjusting to the dim light, and then he reached out his hand. He didn’t think, crossing the room and letting himself be pulled close, down into the familiar warmth of his chest. The thin sheets welcomed him back in their softness.

Nico’s palm rested on the back of his neck, steady, tender, reassuring in the way only he could be. Gabi breathed him in like a jug of clean air after being shoved underwater. His whole body trembled, not from desire this time, but from sheer exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, muffled against Nico's shoulder.

“For what?”

“For… everything.”

Nico pulled back slightly to look at him then, his hand still on his nape, thumb brushing the curve of his jaw.

“There's nothing to be sorry about, baby."

Gabi shook his head, distraught to be the one having go break the news. Maybe Isack confronting them back at the beach would have been less painful after all, bandaid ripped and skin bleeding under it, all at once instead of this torture.

"You don’t understand.”

"Of course I do", Nico said, caressing the curls in his nape, "but you still shouldn't feel sorry, it's all on me. It was my choice, and I won't let it hurt you."

The words hit him like a bulldozer.

It was my choice.

I won't let it hurt you.

Nico's eyes were terribly genuine, his blue irises looking for answers in his, trying to soothe his worries. Gabi wished he could keep it that way, at least for tonight. Maybe forever. He so desperately wanted to freeze this moment -the lamplight, the quiet, the illusion that they still had time, that nothing had broken yet. Nico still convinced that they could get out of this unscathed. If he immersed himself in his eyes deep enough, he coukd almost believe it too. Together, they existed in another space-time, where only the two of them mattered under the scalding heat of Gozo. Maybe for tonight, that could still be the case.

The nausea resurged when he tried to force himself into the absurd belief.

He sat up on the pillows, leaving Nico's arms. Their shoulders brushed. Nico’s presence had a gravity to it, a calm certainty that made him ache to go back to the safety of his embrace. Outside of it, he felt filthy, the weight of his betrayal and primal desires getting the best of him too heavy to bear. Nico put his palm on his back, reassuring.

"Gabi, what's wrong?"

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, and talk with a calm voice. He failed to do so.

"Isack knows.”

The words fell between them, the illusion shattered for good.

Nico froze. His hand on his back stiffened, and for a second, he could feel his heartbeat pulsing under his palm.

“What?”

“He saw us today. At the beach...” his voice trembled, "He said he won’t tell Levi, but that I should."

Nico’s jaw tightened. His breath came uneven now, controlled but audibly forced. He looked away again, staring at the window as if the night might offer a way out.

"He won't tell him."

Gabi shook his head, unable to speak. If he believed anything any more, it was that Isack would never go back on something he had said.

Nico rose, getting out of bed. He paced slowly toward the open window, the moonlight carved his profile in silver, making him look older, but even gentler, and impossibly far. For a long time, he said nothing. Only the quiet rustle of his shirt, the sound of his breathing filled the room. Then he turned back, somehow looking calmer.

“Okay,” he said.

Steady, practical, like he was solving a small, ordinary problem. Tears came to Gabi's eyes before he could stop them, hot and humiliating.

"I’m sorry,” he said again, but it came out strangled, barely words at all.

“Don’t be” Nico said softly, stepping closer again. He sat beside him and cupped the back of his head, guiding him gently until their foreheads met.

“Look at me.”

Gabi forced his eyes open through the blur.

“Nothing bad is going to happen to you, okay? I promise. I’ll talk to Levi myself.”

“No,” Gabi whispered, “you can’t-”

“I’ll tell him it was all me. That it was my fault, that I pushed you. You were confused, you're young and eager to please. I'm older and I should’ve known better. He’ll believe it. He doesn't hold me in very high esteem."

“But that’s not true,” Gabi refuted, shaking his head, “it's bullshit!"

“I know,” Nico said, quiet. “But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you leave Gozo with your life intact."

Gabi looked at him, trying to find anger or disappointment in his eyes, but there was none. Only worry, and an affection so deep it hurt to look at. He wanted to scream, to shake him by his shoulders, to make him stop being so calm when everything inside him had turned to chaos.

Instead, he just leaned forward and clung to him, his hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

Nico’s fingers slid through his hair, slow, rhythmic, like soothing a child.

“Oh, really?” he said, his tone teasing, but empathetic, “Too bad, you’ve got me anyway.”

They stayed like that for a long time. The room was impossibly warm, sweat running along his back. His tears eventually slowed. The weight in his chest shifted -not gone, but somehow lighter. He could feel Nico’s heart beating under his hand, reliable and alive, the one solid thing left in the world.

“Everything will be okay” Nico whispered against his temple, “I promise.”

Gabi wanted to believe it. Wanted to let himself fall into that promise and pretend it could hold. He thought of Levi’s smile, of Isack’s silence, of the short days still left of the summer. But for now, pressed against Nico, he allowed himself to forget. Begged himself to fall asleep there and never wake up.

The house remained quiet, indifferent to their turmoil. Outside, the sea kept moving, restless and endless, used to hear about human beings' insignificant troubles.

Chapter Text

He didn’t mean to stay the night.

That was the thought circling his mind as Nico slid back under the sheets beside him, switching off the bedside lamp. The room fell into darkness, pierced only by the halo of the open window and the soothing rhythm of the waves. He had intended to talk, to cry more maybe, then to go back to his room before dawn so no one would notice. But when Nico reached for him, just a hand brushing his shoulder, tentative, wordless, he didn’t move away and let himself be put to bed with care.

The space between them disappeared naturally, like water filling a hollow. He turned on his side, his forehead finding the warm skin of Nico’s neck, the safest place to ever be. His heart was still hammering too fast, and every exhale came like a confession, shaky and uneven.

Nico said nothing. He only draped an arm across his waist, loose but protective. The noise in his mind, the guilt, the panic, the image of Isack’s cold stare imprinted there, faded; not gone but softened by their sole proximity.

He tried to keep his eyes open, convinced he wouldn’t be able to sleep after the night he had. But the weight of Nico’s arm, the familiar cadence of his breathing, the clean sheets -all of it blurred into something heavy and tender that pulled him down. He felt himself drifting against his will, still half trying to resist it, convincing himself he would close his eyes and rest for just one more minute.

By the time the thought was thought, he was asleep.

When he woke up, sunlight had begun to creep into the room, filtering through the curtains and painting soft lines across the sheets. For a moment, he didn’t move. He laid there with his eyes half open, suspended between sleep and reality, pretending the world hadn’t yet started turning again. Nico’s warmth was already gone from beside him, but the imprint on the pillow was still there, a shallow dent and a trace of sandalwood.

The smell alone was enough to summon all the pain back.

He sat up slowly, disoriented by the unfamiliar situation. Anxiety came first, sharp and immediate -the memories crashing back into him like a furious tide. The confession. The tears. The promise Nico had made to him. He rubbed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, but the guilt clawed back up anyway.

From the doorway, he heard the soft scrape of movement, and Nico appeared, barefoot, shirt half buttoned, hair still ruffled from sleep. He greeted him with a small, careful smile.

“You slept well,” he said, not asking.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” Nico crossed the room, the morning light catching on the edge of his jaw. He leaned down, brushed a kiss against Gabi’s forehead -light, too casual for a day as somber as this one, “You needed it.”

Gabi closed his eyes for a second, inhaling his scent, fixated on the feeling so he wouldn't forget it later, on a plane to Oxford.

“What time is it?”

“Early enough. Everyone’s still asleep. I’m going to make breakfast.”

He hesitated a second, looking at him as if gauging how much sincerity he could bear.

“And after that… I’ll talk to Levi. Better do it quickly, before Isack runs his mouth."

The words landed softly, but they burned anyway. Surely Isack wouldn't tell. Nico didn't sound too convinced of it.

“Are you sure?” Gabi asked, barely a whisper.

Nico nodded, sitting down beside him and caressing his back in a comforting motion.

“He deserves to hear it from me, away from the others. I’ll ask him to go on a bike ride, we’ll stop somewhere quiet, and I’ll tell him everything.”

Gabi’s stomach tightened.

“Everything?”

“Well, enough,” Nico said, "I'll make you sure not to let slip anything that would make him look at you differently, I promise."

Gabi shook his head.

"I don't want you to do that, he’ll hate me anyway.”

“He won’t.”

“You don’t know that..."

“I do,” Nico said firmly. His hand found his then, thumb brushing the inside of his wrist, "He cares for you way more than he cares for me. If I give him the option to put the whole responsibility on me, he'll take it. Trust me."

Gabi snorted bitterly. He had learned to know how best friend -the only one he ever had- by heart. Levi was a smart man, and an intuitive one too. Through Nico's lies, the pieces would fall together, and everything would turn into suspicion. Nico's efforts would be vain after all.

Or worse, they would work and he would be believed.

“I don’t want you to lie,” Gabi said quietly.

“It’s not a lie if it keeps you safe.”

“The purpose of a lie doesn’t make it less of a lie."

Nico smiled genuinely, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. Fond of everything Gabi had to say, eager to scrap the surface of his mind always.

“I guess you're right. But some lies are merciful.”

He stood then, stretching a little, reaching for his shirt. The movement was unhurried, domestic, like this was any other morning, as if they hadn’t just rebuilt the boundaries of their lives in whisphzrsbjust a few hours before.

Gabi watched him button his linen shirt, slow and precise. The sunlight caught on the small scar near his collarbone, probably a racing injury Nico would never have the time to tell him about. There was no time left for anything anymore but simple apprehension.

“Stay here,” Nico said, turning back to him, “Rest a little longer. Isack knows where you are anyway, so might as well."

Gabi gave a small, humorless laugh, "Please, don't remind me..."

“Sorry, us Germans have a reputation for being too blunt. Hope you don't hate it."

"I'd never hate anything about you."

He tried to smile to put more weight, more meaning into his words, but his chest was too tight. Instead, he asked, voice shaking again :

“What if /he/ hates you?”

Nico stopped in the doorway, hand on the frame, and looked back. The morning light framed him in gold, his expression unreadable but overwhelmingly calm.

“Then it’s my turn to live with it,” he said simply, “You’ve carried enough worries for me.”

He left before Gabi could say anything else.

The house welcomed Nico downstairs, slowly waking up. Gabi could hear familiar sounds downstairs -the clinking of pots, the shuffle of feet, the murmur of a morning radio.

He sighed, unable to decide how he should try and enjoy his last minutes of pretend peace before everything shattered. A yawn took over his whole body, shivering in exhaustion. On Nico's pillow, his night shirt and shorts were neatly folded, daring him to do something of them.

And so he did.

In a hurry, he undressed, then put them on as his own. Inhaling Nico's scent, comforted by the soft material, he let himself fall back into the mattress, satisfied. He stayed there a while, the shirt up to his nose like a lovey, staring at the ceiling, his mind running in circles. Every minute felt heavier than the last.

He thought of Isack again, of the way he had looked through him, angry and hurt, like the person he was looking at wasn't the one he had learned to know for two years. That look haunted him more than the words ever would.

He eventually stood, resigned, and put his own clothes back on. They felt wrong on him now, too tight, too rough, too plain. The view of the garden was ethereal in the morning light -Levi’s towel still draped over a chair, Cam’s favorite floaty drifting on the pool, the fig tree shadows swaying on the tiles. It was all too normal, the house unaware or uncaring of the storm that was preparing to hit it.

When he finally went downstairs, Nico was at the counter, slicing a mango. The smell of coffee filled the room. He looked up when Gabi appeared, the ghost of a smile across his face.

“Hungry?”

“Not really..."

“Eat anyway,” Nico said gently, “You’ll feel better.”

He talked like he always did -relaxed, composed, the world’s edges blunted by his slight german accent. Gabi sat at the table, trying to act like the air wasn’t vibrating with tension.

The others began trickling in soon after. Levi first, hair a mess, rubbing his eyes, followed by Cam and Axel who immediately started bickering about who got the best looking croissant. Isack came last. His gaze passed over Gabi once, flat and quick, before he grabbed a cup and sat at the far end of the table.

His heart sank. Nico caught the glance between them, but didn’t say a word. He just reached for his mug, then rapidly turned to Levi, eager to rip the bandaid.

“Hey sohn,” he said lightly, “You up for a bike ride later? Just the two of us?”

Levi looked surprised but oddly pleased by the proposition, in his own guarded way.

“... Yes, sure."

Nico smiled at that. On any other day, in any other circumstances, he would have been so happy to get this answer. To spend a moment with his only son away from the others. Unfortunately, he had waited for the worst possible moment to gather the courage to ask.

Gabi’s stomach twisted again. He stared down at his plate, unable to eat anything. Nico’s hand brushed his back discreetly as he passed behind him to clean up - a fleeting gesture, invisible to anyone else, a promise or maybe a farewell.

The sun was already at its highest point when Nico and Levi left, the sound of their bikes fading down the road until it was swallowed by the sea breeze.

He stood by the window long after they were gone, the house around him filling again with ordinary sounds. He pressed his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes.

Whatever happened on that bike ride, he was losing someone today.

He wished he knew which one he wanted to keep the most.

Cam and Axel left for the main island to buy souvenirs for their families. For a second, Gabi thought Isack would stay behind with him. That maybe they could talk this out, fix it somehow. But Isack gladly followed, pretending he needed souvenirs too. Gabi had a perfect view on his opened luggage in their shared room, already full of trinkets he would give to his family when they visited him in Oxford for his birthday like they did every September. They asked if he wanted to join, and he politely declined. He hadn't gotten anything to gift away from his trip. Not like he would be able to see his family anytime soon anyway.

Somehow, the trio were the firsts to come back. They loudly threw their backpacks on the floor and opened fresh soda cans to cool off, Cam rambling about the amazing restaurant they had stumbled onto, and Isack remaining perfectly silent on the couch.

The sound of their return came before he saw them. Two pairs of tires crushing the gravel, then the metallic groan of bikes dropping against stone. Gabi froze at the kitchen window. It was almost evening now, the air heavy from a perfectly windless day. His hands were damp from washing dishes that didn’t need to be washed. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t done anything the whole day except pace and rearrange and fold, waiting for this very sound.

They were back.

Nico got off his bike first. He looked tired, almost aged - the expression of a man who had used up all his words. There was something about the way his shoulders slumped as he leaned the bike against the wall that made Gabi’s throat close. He wanted to run out there, to put a comforting hand on his chest, to let him talk through his pain. But then Levi got off his own bike. He didn’t even look back at his father, dropping it on the gravel with a violent clatter and walking back to the house, his stride short and fast. In a second, he caught him looking through the window.

The screen door slammed open.

“Is it true?!” Levi’s voice filled the whole space before Gabi could even turn around to face him.

He blinked, hands still wet, soap sliding down his wrists.

“What...?”

His voice broke on the word. He sounded pathetic.

Levi was already in front of him, breathing hard, eyes wide - Nico's eyes, but a darker blue now looking much threatening. He grabbed Gabi by both shoulders and shook him once.

“Is it true? You know very well what I'm talking about."

Behind Levi, Nico appeared in the doorway. He didn’t say a word, just looked straight into his eyes -that look, that plea- and he understood before Levi spoke again what he was supposed to answer.

“Tell me it’s not,” Levi went on, his voice cracked now, more boy than man, “Tell me he's lying.”

His mouth opened but no sound came out. He saw Nico’s face -pale, drained-, saw the small shake of his head, begging please.

Please play along.

The air was poisonous. Cam and Axel had followed in, uneasy, hanging back near the kitchen door; Isack stayed on the couch, arms crossed, face unreadable in the fading light. Not looking at anyone.

“Levi,” Nico started, stepping in carefully, “don’t-”

“Don’t what?!” Levi spun around on him, “Don’t make sure you didn't forget some details?!” his voice broke again, even more, “You couldn’t just leave him alone?! You couldn’t just-..."

He turned back to Gabi, his grip tightening. Still no word was coming out of his own throat.

“Say something. Please. Tell me he didn't really do that."

Gabi stared down at Levi’s hands on his shoulders, the white of his knuckles. The impeccable smell of fresh laundry always clinging to Levi hung between them, absurdly bright and familiar. Any other day, it would've been the most comforting thing in the world. His lips trembled. He didn’t know what to say, which truth to choose. If he lied, Levi might see right through him. If he didn’t, he’d destroy Nico’s life forever.

He tried to speak, but it came out as nothing but a sound -a faint, broken breath.

“I..."

Nico stepped closer. “Levi, enough. You’re scaring him.”

Levi shot him a look that made Gabi’s heart stop. He had never seen his best friend's eyes so full of hatred before.

“Scaring him?! I'm the one scaring him now?!"

He let go of him long enough to point at Nico, anger vibrating through his muscles, his whole body tense.

“You're the creep! You used him! You used me!"

“Stop,” Nico said, his voice suddenly sharp, commanding, "We can talk this out-"

Levi laughed, a short, ugly sound that had never came from him before.

“There's nothing to talk about, absolutely nothing, Nico."

A devastating look went through Nico's eyes. After twenty one years of a fickle and frail relationship, Levi finally wasn't deeming him worth of being called his dad anymore.

Gabi pressed his back against the counter, trying to breathe. The scene felt like it was happening in another language, words and movement he could see but not process. The lemon on his hands burned his skin. He wanted to vanish, crawl under the tiles, dissolve into the quiet.

“Levi..." he whispered, so softly that it barely registered to himself.

Levi turned back to him, eyes wet.

“Why didn't you tell me..."

Gabi looked over his shoulder, met Nico’s gaze. That look again: begging, desperate, silent. Let me take the blame. The worst has already happened.

And despite all his efforts to open his mouth and do it, he couldn't.

He didn’t nod, didn’t shake his head, didn’t say a thing. He just stood there, eyes filling with tears, chest tightening until it hurt to breathe.

Levi’s grip returned, more desperate this time.

“What do you want to do? I can get us back home right now, I'll do it, okay? Pack your things, we'll leave tonight, yeah?"

Silence.

The kind that fills a room like smoke, suffocating everything. He didn't move a finger, a single tear rolling on his cheek.

Nico’s voice came again, softer, pleading: “Levi please, it doesn't have to be-"

“Shut up!” Levi snapped, “Just... shut up.”

The words hit Gabi like he was the one on their receiving end. He felt them poisoning the air in his chest, not because they were aimed at him, but because of the way Nico flinched.

Levi’s hands dropped from his shoulders, finally. He stepped back, shaking his head.

"Why do you keep looking at him like that?"

Cam murmured something under his breath, maybe trying to calm him, but he wasn't listening. His whole body shook. Gabi saw it, saw the way his anger and disbelief fought each other, desperately trying to understand what was happening, what had been happening behind his back this whole time. He knew Gabi too well. It was only a matter of seconds before he read him like a book.

And still, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe properly anymore.

He thought: this is the end. Of him and Nico. Of the summer. Of the only meaningful friendships he ever sustained. Of his life as he knew it.

Of everything.

Levi’s chest rose and fell in uneven bursts. He looked between them as if searching for something -anything- that would make sense, but everything in the room had already tipped out of reason.

“You knew,” he said finally, quieter now, turning to Nico, "You knew exactly what it would do to me. And you still-... You brought us here for this, right? "Invite your friends", you said! It'll be more fun! You forgot to tell me they were the interesting part for you!"

“That's not true, I didn't tell you to take them for any other reason than you having more fun here."

Nico’s voice was calm, in complete inadequation with the tornado going through the living room. He crossed his arms over his chest, mask on, protecting fiercely the minuscule patch of dignity he still had in his son's eyes.

“Don’t.” Levi tried to control the flow of tears in his voice, but there was steel behind it, “Don’t try to control the story now. You don’t get to talk to me like I’m still... like I’m your son.”

Something in Nico’s face faltered again, just for a heartbeat. Then he straightened, like someone regaining breath after a blow. He would not let that mask go even if it had to kill him.

“You will always be my son", he declared, almost robotic. More than Levi, he tried to convince himself of it, to get comfort in the facts, everything he still had going for him.

Levi’s laugh was a sound of pure disbelief, tears rolling down his face.

“No. I’m not. I never was."

The words landed with a weight that made Gabi’s knees weaken. He wanted to scream, to step in between them, to undo what he’d caused. His voice wouldn’t work.

Nico tried again, desperate, and desperately not letting it show.

“You are. Whether you want to be or not.”

“Then fucking act like it!” Levi’s shout shook the glasses on the counter, “You don’t know the first thing about being a father! You were never there when I needed you, never-.. never once! You think you can just come back after twenty years because you retired and your life is boring now so you need a new hobby?! Buy this stupid house on this stupid island to get me to spend the summer, take my friend's with me and fuck them?! Fuck you! Mom was right about you, there's only one person you care about and it's yourself!"

The silence that followed was a living thing.

Cam looked at Axel, his anchor, but neither moved. The air felt so heavy it might’ve been water, filling up the house and drowning everyone in sight.

Nico cleared his throat, looking at a fixed point on the wall, passing a hand in his blonde hair.

“Let's... let's all take a breathe... Gabi needs-"

“What does he need?” Isack shot back, cutting him off, “You think you know what he needs now?”

“I'm just saying he looks anxious, I think we should all take a step back and-"

"Stop doing that!" Levi exploded "You don’t get to do that! You don’t get to pretend you're the almighty wise man in the room! You don't care about him, not any more than you care about me."

Gabi wanted to tell him he was wrong. That Nico did care -maybe more than anyone ever had, for both Levi and himself. But the words still wouldn’t come. His lips parted and only air came out. His chest hurt. His vision blurred.

He felt Levi’s hands again, grabbing him, shaking him as if trying to pull him back into the world.

“Say something, Gabi, for God’s sake!”

That did it. Gabi felt the world tilting, sound fading to a ringing blur. His throat burned. He reached out to the only person left in his dark field of vision.

"Isack, please-”

The floor swayed. The kitchen light tilted, yellow and spinning.

Levi was not looking at him anymore, but his hands on him remained, making him sway on wobbly legs.

Then Nico’s voice again- distant now, fraying.

“Levi, careful! He’s-”

The rest didn’t register. The sound came like underwater noise, all muffled and distorted, the shouting fading into a dull roar.

His knees gave way to the world dropping out from under him.

He barely felt the impact.

His last thought before everything went dark was that maybe it was better this way - to not be a witness of what he had done for even one more second.

Chapter Text

The world had shifted.

It wasn’t dark, not completely -that half-light before nighttime, the kind that makes every color look uncertain, purple, blue, pink and grey. His head hurt. His chest even more.

At first, he couldn’t remember where he was, still half immersed in sleep and the nightmares that came with it. Then the murmur of voices came back to his ears -distant, overlapping, muffled through walls and closed doors. The smell of lemon lingering in the air along with something metallic.

He didn’t move. Just listened, tried to get a glimpse of everything happening around.

Levi’s voice, in the next room, raised but not shouting anymore. Drawers opening, the dull thud of luggage being pushed against the walls. Then silence. Then again, hurried zippers. A breath that sounded angry.

Somewhere down the hallway, Isack’s voice, quieter and measured, the way he spoke when he was trying to sound composed. Probably to his mother, since she was the only person he called in French. The single semester of French Gabi had penibly went through his first year of college wasn't enough to help him decipher anything.

“Oui, demain soir. Ouais, un peu plus tôt que prévu... Je t'expliquerai. Tu peux m'envoyer un peu d'argent pour le bagage en soute? C'est en supplément, j'ai pas assez... ok... merci maman. Ouais, je te rappelle quand on arrive à Oxford. Bisous, je t'aime."

The only words Gabi could compute were enough for the news to crush him like stones. Oxford. Demain. Tomorrow.

They were leaving. As soon as the next day.

He sat up slowly, the room spinning for a second. The bedspread was creased, sheets still warm from where his body had rested for too long. He pressed his hand to his forehead, trying to force his thoughts into some kind of order, but they slipped apart like sand.

He was leaving. Away from Nico.
Leaving, and letting him take the blame for everything.

The thought made his stomach twist. He couldn’t possibly imagine it -walking away from this house, this island, Nico left behind, waiting for a forgiveness that would never come. His relationship with his only son he loved so much ruined forever. He couldn’t stand the idea of it; it would destroy both of their lives forever.

Footsteps. Then the soft creak of the door.

Isack.

He came in quietly, closing the door halfway behind him. He looked different. His curls were messy, eyes puffy from either tears or lack of sleep. Still, his voice was gentle.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

He simply nodded, numb.

Isack walked over, crouched near the bed like he would to a sickly child.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine,” he lied.

His throat was raw, voice catching on the word. He was nothing but fine, but how could anyone understand his inner turmoil but Nico? They were going through this together, just painfully separated by some walls and lies.

Isack hesitated, then reached out and touched his arm. The contact was careful, like he was afraid he might break under it. In his defense, Gabi did feel like it was a possibility.

“You scared us,” he said softly, “You just… went down.”

“I’m okay,” he repeated.

Isack studied him, as though deciding whether to believe it.

“If you feel okay enough,” he said after a moment, “you should pack. Levi’s mom booked us tickets. We’re flying back to Oxford tomorrow evening.”

“Tomorrow,” Gabi echoed.

The word didn’t sound real. Maybe he was now doomed to only be able to talk if it was to repeat whatever people had said last, like a stupid parrot.

“Yeah..."

They both fell silent.

Gabi watched him; the kindness in his gestures, the way he kept his tone steady, careful not to sound accusatory. It struck him then that the anger he’d seen earlier in his eyes, that flash of something and betrayed, was gone now.

Or maybe it had just been buried.

He wondered what it meant. Was Isack pretending it never happened? Did he not believe what he’d seen, what Gabi had confessed? Or was it something else; a deeper denial, the kind that comes from loving someone so much that you can’t bear to see what they’ve done or who they truly are even when they tell you upwards?

The thought hollowed him out.

Because he did love Isack: just not the way Isack wanted. He loved him like you love the first person who really saw your potential, who knows your worst and stays anyway. Like a brother, like a mirror. But not like that. Not with the kind of eyes that Isack had for him.

And knowing he would have to hurt him again -really hurt him, this time, make his point accross- made his chest ache so much he could barely breathe. Isack stood.

“I’ll let you rest. Try to eat something later, okay?”

Gabi nodded again, though his throat felt too tight to speak again. When the door clicked shut, the quiet returned.

He sat on the bed, staring at the half-packed suitcase by the closet. The house was breathing around him -slow, heavy, exhausted from all the shouting and heartbreak it had witnessed that day. From outside came the faint sound of crickets, the rhythm of waves crashing against the rocks below.

Three days left of summer.
And he was getting them.

He got up, folded his clothes with slow, automatic movements, rearranged his things for the sake of it, putting them back into his suitcase to go home. Would it still feel like home then? Or would Gozo haunt him under the pouring rain of England?

By the time the house fully went dark, everyone was asleep or at least pretending to be. He laid on his side, eyes wide open, watching the shadows move across the ceiling.

When he was sure Isack was aleep, he reached for his phone, opened the message thread, and stared at the last thing Nico had sent : the selfie they had taken at the beach, before everything went downhill. He caressed the screen with the inside of his thumb, their smiling faces taunting him.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time before typing. He decided to be straightforward, as it always seemed to work out with Nico.

"Could I please abuse your kindness just one more time?"

He sent it before he could think too much about it.

Then laid back, the light of the screen fading on his face, and waited.

The garden was darker than he remembered at night, as if the grass had thickened for offer them some privacy. The air smelled of damp soil and smoke, and somewhere beyond the hedge, the sea whispered a secret the island never stopped telling.

Nico was already there, waiting under the fig tree, his shirt wrinkled, looking disheveled. Gabi stood a little farther away, and for a while neither of them spoke. Wondering if there was anything to even say, anything that could soothe the pain of it all.

When he finally talked, Gabi’s voice was low and careful, threatening to break. He explained his plan, the decision that had taken root somewhere between his fear and his feelings for everyone involved. He spoke in fragments, as though each word cost him breath. Nico listened without interrupting, his face unreadable in the moonlight. Once, he reached out, his hand hovering near his arm, then stopped himself, as if even that gesture might break the thin thread keeping them together.

When he was done talking, Nico didn’t answer right away. He just looked at him for a long moment, and there was something in his eyes -nor surprise or approval, but pure acceptance, as heartbreaking as it may feel.

“All right,” he finally said, “I’ll handle it."

He smoothed Gabi’s cowlick from the side of his face with the gentlest touch, the kind one would use on something so damaged it was already halfway gone.

“Wait here,” he murmured.

And then he turned back towards the house, vanishing into the halo of light spilling from the terrace door.

Gabi laid down on the grass, his hands behind his head, and stared at the night sky. The stars felt closer tonight, but too close, almost unbearable. He tried to memorize the sight of them, each one like a pin on the map of this place he had learned to love more than he ever meant to. He thought of the first morning he had seen the sea from this garden, of the sound of Levi’s laughter echoing through the open windows, of Isack’s voice calling him from the kitchen to make sure he never went hungry, of Nico’s hands working clay, of the blue bowl that would stay in this house long after he left it, a token of his existence in a place he would never see again.

Everything, all of it, fit right there, in the smell of summer, the low hum of life that had become home. And now he was saying goodbye to it all, in silence, one heartbeat at a time.

When Nico came back, he didn’t need to elaborate. Instead, he simply nodded. It was settled, Gabi trusted him with everything he had -unfortunately not a lot.

“Come,” the older man said then, reaching for his hand.

They walked through the narrow path that led down to the sea. The night wrapped around them like a blanket; the air was thick with jasmine and rosemary. Gabi followed without asking where they were going, since it didn’t matter. Every step taken together was a small victory he was determined to enjoy in its humble glory.

They reached the edge of the island, where the sand roads turned to rocks and the waves licked at their feet. The sea was true to itself: endless, magnificent, and indifferent. Nico sat down first and threw his shoes away, letting the foam wash over his ankles. Gabi joined him, close enough to lean on each other.

For a long time, they let silence do the talking.

Then Nico said, almost to himself:

“It's impressive, isn't it? How no matter if you think you went through it all, life still has surprises for you."

He didn’t answer. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, everything inside him would spill out, and he was not willing to find out in what form that may be. Instead, he turned to his lover, studying the outline of his face, the sharp curve of his jaw, the tired grace of a man fighting to remain soft in a world that wouldn't stop throwing daggers in his back.

“I wish…” he began, then stopped.

The sentence was too heavy to finish.

“I know,” Nico whispered back.

The silence that followed was full, not empty nor cold, but alive with all the words they didn’t dare say. Or didn't need to say. Nico reached for his hand, and Gabi let him. Their fingers intertwined naturally, like they had always belonged that way.

When Nico pulled him even closer, he didn’t resist. The world blurred around them; sea, sky, time itself. There was only warmth, sharing air, and the tender ache of something ending before it even got to bloom.

He thought of how, years from now, he would remember this night: not as a mistake, but as the only moment he had ever felt entirely accepted for who he was.

When the first light of dawn brushed the horizon, they were still there. Nico’s hand rested over his chest, steady, protective, a promise he didn’t know how to keep.

He turned his head slightly, whispered into the space between them; maybe to Nico, maybe to the island, maybe to himself for once:

“Thank you.”

And the sea, in its slow eternal rhythm, seemed to answer.

They walked back to the house in silence, hand in hand, the night still damp with the scent of salt and jasmine. The first hint of dawn had begun to pale the horizon, softening the world around them. Every step felt too loud, every breath a reminder that these were their last moments together.

Inside, the house was in deep sleep. The air was heavy with the quiet of bad dreams, of things left unsaid and those that shouldn't have been said at all. Gabi moved carefully, afraid to wake anyone, as if not being caught could soften the pain of what he was about to do.

He returned to his room, where his suitcase waited already closed on the floor, his whole world inside. A few clothes, his art supplies, a book Levi had lent him and that he hadn't opened the whole summer, and a four leaf clover pressed in his wallet, a gift from Isack. Nico waited in the hallway to carry the heavy suitcase all the way to the car. His presence alone steadied Gabi in a way nothing ever had before. Without him, he would have never gotten the courage to do something like this.

Before leaving for good, he looked around one last time. Every detail of the house felt sacred now — the constantly open windows, curtains trembling in the sea breeze, the omnipresent smell of sunscreen and warm oven. He wanted to keep all of it in a little jar, to freeze the air itself and take it with him for good luck.

He stopped at the kitchen table. In the dim light, was the mug Levi had left there after their last breakfast, a crumpled napkin, a few grains of sand caught in the wood. He took out the letter he had written earlier, folded neatly in half, and placed it in the center.

It read "to Levi and Isack" -to the brothers he loved so deeply, and had hurt just as profoundly.

Inside, he told the whole truth. Every word of it.

He told them that Nico had done nothing wrong. That it had been him, all him. That he had fell first, and harder. That what had transpired was not a manipulation, far from a crime, but something neither of them had meant to happen, and yet could not stop. Inevitable.

He told them how sorry he was, that he loved them both too much to let them carry the burden of his mistakes. That he simply did not have the heart to watch it happen. That one day, when time had worn the pain down into memory, he hoped they could forgive him.

He begged Levi to give his father another chance, his fool of a father who had done nothing wrong but let a young soul distract him from the only thing he initially cared about: reconnect with him, and finally be there for him.

He asked Isack to please understand. That in another universe, in a parallel reality, they were happy together. But not this one. In this one, destiny had picked someone else to be his first love, and even through this storm, he couldn't make himself regret it.

He straightened the letter carefully, weighed it down with the salt shaker, and stood there for a moment, his hand hovering above it -as if letting go of it meant letting go of them. In a way, it did.

Then he turned to Nico.

“Let’s go,” he whispered.

They loaded his suitcase into the trunk of Nico’s car. The engine hummed softly, the road empty in the cool air of dawn. Neither of them spoke. He looked out the window as they drove away, watching the sea appear and vanish between olive trees, the island unfolding and receding like a dream he was painfully waking from.

When they reached the ferry, the sky was bright. A single family of tourists were waiting alongside them, sharing a very early breakfast. They boarded quietly, and he stood at the railing while the boat pulled away. The house, the cliffs, the fields -all of it shrank into the horizon. He thought of the laughter, the meals, the mornings on the terrace. Every memory turned to ache.

Nico joined him and slipped a hand into his. Neither looked at the other. The sole contact was enough.

They reached Malta close to an hour after. The port was waking up, Valetta slowly stirring too. A car was already waiting for them, engine running. Nico must have arranged it earlier, thought of everything, just as Gabi had expected. The driver politely greeted them, shaking Nico's hand briefly before handing him the keys.

They rode in silence still through empty streets washed in gold. Their hands found each other again, small, unconscious gestures of comfort. Gabi thought they must look like newlyweds on the quiet ride to the airport before a honeymoon, except theirs was the opposite: not a beginning, but the gentlest possible ending. A soft landing to a terrible fall.

At the terminal, the air was cold, air conditioning blasting, so different to the constantly warm house of Gozo. The glass doors slid open with a sharp hiss, and suddenly the noise of the world rushed in -rolling suitcases, flight announcements, the chatter of strangers.

Nico stopped near the board, examining it for a minute.

"Got it. São Paulo, gate 16. Better hurry up, it's leaving soon."

Gabi simply nodded. No need to say more.

They checked his luggage together, Nico handling everything like the professional in traveling that he was. Gabi leaned his head against his shoulder, Nico stroking his hand with his thumb tracing invisible circles on his skin.

When the announcement came, it felt too soon. Gate 16. Boarding for Sao Paulo open.

At the security gate, Gabi turned to face his lover one last time. Nothing seemed worth of being their last words. Everything that mattered had already been said, or had never needed to be said at all.

Finally, he murmured :

“I love you."

Nico’s eyes softened. He cupped his face in both hands, leaned in, and kissed him one last time; slow, unhurried, like the world would stop just for them. When he pulled back, his voice was the quietest he had ever heard it.

“You know.”

And he did know. He knew it as surely as he knew the smell of the sea, or the warmth of sun on his skin.

He pulled himself away then, forcibly making his own legs work against their will. He didn’t look back until the very end, when Nico was only a shape behind the glass. He raised his hand, waved; a small and helpless gesture.

And then Nico was gone, swallowed by the crowd.

On the plane, in the wide leather seat of a business class he felt he didn’t belong to, he pressed his forehead to the window. Below him, Malta shrank into a tiny scatter of gold and blue. He watched until there was nothing left to see but the horizon, and his reflection faintly mirrored in the glass -a boy who had learned too soon what it meant to love, and to lose.

He closed his eyes.

In less than three hours, he'd be in Munich for his layover. No time to properly rest or breakdown.

Then, back in São Paulo, he told himself, time would do what it always does, and heal his sorrow.

It would dull the edges, smooth the ache, turn everything that had happened into something he could one day remember without breaking.

But for now, as the plane climbed even higher, and the sun rose over the clouds, he cried quietly, and let himself feel it.

Chapter Text

Time had done what it always does.

Days had turned into weeks, into months, and just like that, it had been a year.

Some nights, when the sea was particularly agitated around the bay of Monaco, Nico would wake and for an instant believe himself back on Gozo, struggling not to fall asleep after years and years of a strict sleep schedule to wait for his Gabi. The illusion would last only a second, a fragile shimmer, before collapsing into the hum of the sea beyond the cliffs. Then came the familiar stillness -the one that made him so acutely aware of his own breathing, his slow pulse, the way absence had its own taste, bitter in the back his mouth.

He had learned to keep moving through it. That was the hardest part. Grief, he discovered, didn’t crush you all at once; it eroded you quietly, piece by piece, until you began mistaking its shape for your own.

Losing Hailey, then Levi, had been very different. It had happened gradually, so slowly he hadn't even realized it at the time. Convinced that they were still there, that he still had time to do better for them, that he could always come for the next birthday, the next graduation, the next hockey game, until he couldn't. He had caused his own loss then, and lived in denial of it until it exploded in his face. A whole other kind of pain, that he never had to get accustomed to because it had grown around him naturally like poisonous roots.

Losing Gabi, however, had been a brutal awakening. One day, he had something meaningful, alive, and precious in the palm of his hand. The next, it was gone. Not simply farther in distance, easily accessible again if he wanted to. No possible way to twist his mind around it, to deny the facts or pretend like it was still fixable.

Just gone, forever.

He kept himself busy. Work had returned in slow trickles, even in retirement : events to attend, meetings with sponsors he somehow still had to represent until the contracts expired, a day at his ex team's factory to give advice to the rookies... In those rooms of glass and hypocrisy, someone would always ask "How's retirement?" and he would say peaceful, because it was the easiest lie to tell. What else could he say? That not being a racing driver had felt freeing for a minute before his dreams for the second half of his life were crushed by his own carelessness, falling in love with the wrong person at the wrong time and having to live with the consequences?

He had loved Gabi; loved him with a gentleness he hadn’t known he still possessed. And losing him -letting him go- had been the only right thing left to do. He knew that. He told himself that every day, but grief couldn't be soothed by logical arguments.

When he managed to sleep, in the beginning, he would dream of Gozo -the landscapes, the low buzz of cicadas, the taste of salt on Gabi’s lips. He would wake with the memories still pulsing through him, unbearable in their precision. He would lie there and think,

This is what I get for being too late.

For most of his life, Nico had believed love was a finite thing: that you were given one great love story and if you messed it up, it was over. Hailey had been that for him once, and when he ruined it, he decided that would be his punishment: to live unscathed, half-awake, safe in his self built forteresse of loneliness.

Gabi had undone that conviction with something as small as a glance.

And then he had messed that up too.

He tried not to think of that morning at the airport; theirlast kiss, the tremor in Gabi’s voice when he said I love you, his own joke of an answer, unable to say it back because it would've shattered his calm apparence entirely. He remembered watching the gate swallow Gabi up, watching the curve of his shoulders disappear, and feeling something in him collapse with it. He had driven back to the ferry in silence, the sea blindingly blue on both sides, the sky mercilessly clear.

He hadn’t cried until he was home, back in Monaco. The Gozo house had felt hollow, stripped of light, unable to receive his pain. Gabi’s scent still lingered in his sheets, in the pillowcase he hadn’t washed for the whole summer, eager to find his lover's trace on it every night. He had found one of Gabi’s sketchbooks under his bed when he tidied up the house: unfinished drawings of the island, of Levi reading, Isack in the sea, of the landscape from the Mixta Cave, and none of him. He’d sat on the floor and turned each page slowly, afraid that closing the book would make the memories vanish completely.

Eventually, he closed it anyway.

Fall came as a relief.

Levi hadn’t spoken to him since leaving Malta. He’d gone back to Oxford, avoiding every message and every call from Nico. The silence between them stretched like a wound refusing to heal, despite Gabi's last and brave effort to help through his letter.
In late September, he finally decided to take the matter into his own hands booked a flight.

He found Levi in a café near the Thames, hunched over a book, the collar of his rain coat pulled high. The sight of him - somehow older, thinner, more self-contained -filled Nico with both pride and guilt. When their eyes met, Levi hesitated, then nodded toward the empty seat across from him. It was enough.

They talked for hours. In fragments, at first, like people crossing a bridge that might collapse. Levi asked about Gabi, obviously, his voice oddly neutral: Was the letter saying the truth? Nico simply said yes, didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. Levi looked away, jaw tight, then said:

"I figured he wouldn't have left if it wasn't."

And they didn't mention him again after that. The conversation continued its course, eased by the confession. Not necessarily comfortable or natural, but still enough.

When he left the café that afternoon, Levi hugged him. It was brief, awkward, but it steadied something inside him. On the way back to his hotel, he stared at the rain streaking down the window and thought,

Maybe it’s not too late to be a dad after all.

In October, Levi mentioned in passing that Gabi had finally returned a call.

It had lasted eight minutes. Gabi had confirmed he was back in São Paulo, living with his parents again. They had been disappointed, of course, but he still sounded lighter. He said he found a job as an assistant in an art studio, sharing a creative space with a spray painter or something along those lines. He said he hoped Levi and Isack were okay, and that he missed them dearly. That was all.

After that, Levi and Gabi exchanged the occasional message, a few photos, then silence again for a while. It apparently satisfied both of them. Space was necessary; sometimes distance was the only kindness you could offer.

Winter arrived, and with it, the ache of the holidays. Monaco felt unbearable that time of year, all glitter and pretense. So when Levi mentioned celebrating in Seattle with his mother, Nico surprised himself by suggesting he might come too, just to spend a day with him there. He half-expected rejection. Instead, Levi said he could probably even come to Christmas diner. Mom won’t mind, he said, if I'm the one asking.

Hailey hadn’t changed much. She opened the door with that same cheerful warmth that used to undo him. The air smelled of cinnamon and pine. For a moment, standing there, he was sixteen again, walking back into a life he had long since ruined. She welcomed him with a smile, maybe a bit forced but he was grateful all the same.

Dinner was quiet, yet easy in an unexpected way. They avoided the old wounds. They talked about Levi’s classes, about her job as an accountant, about the rainy weather of Seattle. After dessert, Levi showed him a picture of himself as a child -sitting in Nico’s lap, helmet too big for his head- in a nice frame on the mantel. Hailey laughed, shaking her head.

"He used to insist on sleeping with that helmet, you know” she said, and Levi rolled his eyes but smiled.

The sound of their laughter melting together felt like forgiveness taking shape, at last.

Later, after she went to bed, Nico and Levi sat by the fire, nursing mint tea gone cold.

“I'm sorry for what I said in Gozo,” Levi declared out of the blue.

"That you were never my son?" Nico answered, remembering perfectly how sharp the pain had hit him straight in the chest.

"Yeah. I should've never said that. In my defense, I thought you had groomed my best friend, so..."

"It's in the past now, don't worry. But I really want you to hear again that I always loved being your dad. I wasn't really good at it, for sure... but it's the thing I'm the most proud of."

"Really?", he sounded hopeful, unsure, and it broke Nico more than any rejection ever could.

"Really. I... Levi, I love you so much. You know that, right?"

His son looked like he was weighting his words for a minute, considering the truth behind them. He looked into his eyes, meeting their own reflection, brighter blue but just as deep.

"Yes dad, I know. I love you too."

That night, in the guest room, he basked in the warmth of the first Christmas in two decades that hadn’t felt like punishment.

By spring, they had built a cozy rhythm of calls and messages. Levi’s tone was softer now, sometimes even affectionate. When he said he wanted to visit Monaco for spring break, Nico spent the whole week leading to it cleaning his apartment like a man expecting company for the first time in forever. Probably because he was. He imagined showing him the city -the promenade, the harbor- but when Levi arrived, he seemed uneasy with the noise and polish of it all, just like when he was a kid. So they stayed in. Cooked together, read, watched old films. Simple things between a father and his only son. Nico enjoyed every single minute of it.

One evening, they stood on the balcony watching the sea bleed into night, sipping tea again.

“Do you really like it here?” Levi said.

“I do. Maybe it's just because I'm used to it."

Levi nodded in understanding.

"Maybe we can go back to Gozo this summer, so you get the sea and the sunny weather and I get peace and quiet."

Nico swallowed, taken aback. Go back to Gozo. The house was probably falling apart, after a year with no maintenance from its owner. But it was surely still standing, ready for the summer they were supposed to have all along. Just the two of them.

"Sure, I'd like that."

Summer came with its familiar hum of engines and heat. Nico received an invitation to Silverstone, and instinctively asked Levi to come. He expected hesitation; but he got a grin instead.

"Sure, why not?"

The day of the race was a blur of noise and sunlight. The smells of the paddock hit him like déjà vu, terribly comforting. He saw Levi’s face light up as the cars roared past -pure wonder, unfiltered.

For once, he wasn’t haunted by what he’d lost; he was simply there, sharing the world he loved with his son. When Levi asked questions -about aerodynamics, gearboxes, pit strategies -he answered, grinning all along.

“You sound like you actually care!" he teased.

Levi shrugged.

“I guess I do.”

Later, as they stood near the paddock, Levi said, sounding genuine:

“It must’ve been hard to quit.”

“It was,” Nico admitted.

“But you did it.”

“I had to, at some point."

Levi studied him for a moment, eyes narrowed against the sun.

"Who said?"

Nico smiled.

“Well, me. As much as I dreamed of joining a top team or being a world champion, one day you have to accept that some things just won't happen. Sometimes they're just not meant to be."

Levi didn’t answer, but the look he gave him was kind. With time, he seemed to understand more and more the decisions Nico had taken throughout his life, no matter if he agreed with them or not.

It struck him then that maybe, finally, they were okay. Not perfect, but okay. Something honest and real. And that it was enough.

When August returned, so did they on the island.

He hadn’t set foot on Gozo since last summer. The ferry ride felt like a pilgrimage -every rock, every shimmer of water charged with memory. Levi stood beside him on deck, hair tousled by the wind.

“Feels different,” he said.

“Yeah" Nico replied simply.

He didn’t say how the air itself seemed haunted, how every curve of the coast carried a ghost.

The house was waiting for them at the end of the gravel road, shuttered, sun-bleached, patient as ever. Dust had gathered thick on the windowsills; a thin film of salt clung to the glass. He paused, one hand on the frame. Levi brushed past him.

"Smells terrible in here."

Together, they opened all the green shutters.

They spent the first day cleaning, airing every room, and unpacking. In the evening, they cooked together, ate on the terrace, and watched the sea darken.

They spent the first week just like this, taking their time for everything. Sometimes, Nico would walk down to the cliffs at dusk, listening to the wind, and think of Gabi somewhere across the world, maybe looking at the same horizon. He wondered what kind of art he was making. If he ever thought of him. Most of all, he hoped he was happy.

He told himself he had made peace with it. That the past was sealed, the wound closed.

But on some nights, when the sea glowed under the moon and the cicadas hushed for a breathless second, he still thought he heard his lover's voice calling from the garden.

The days began to fold into each other, like last time: sunlight, sea, a constant scent of garlic and basil in the kitchen.

It was a quiet life, the kind that asks nothing of you except that you stay long enough to truly enjoy it.

Levi woke early most mornings, went for a swim before breakfast, came back still dripping to escape the heat for a minute. Nico would watch him from the terrace, a mug of coffee in hand, still surprised by how much he liked this new rhythm -the absence of performance, of guilt, of needing to be anything other than what he was : a simple man, a loving dad. For years, he had imagined his fatherhood as something he had failed beyond repair. Now, in this late chapter, it had begun to feel way easier, almost natural: two men coexisting, slowly learning to love each other the right way. He now knew how Levi liked his eggs, that he wouldn't sleep without a comforter even in the summer, and that he had a thing from that girl from college. He cherished every information like a treasure, never forgetting any detail.

They cooked together most nights; their little ritual. Levi chopped vegetables, Nico handled the meat, and music -usually something jazzy -played low in the background. Conversation wandered easily between them now. They talked about books Levi was into, about people they had known, about racing and movies and politics and everything in between. Sometimes Levi would bring up Gabi, carefully, as if testing the air. Just here and there, telling stories.

“He texted me last month,” he said one evening while slicing tomatoes.

Nico looked up, surprised. Every mention of Gabi's name lit up his heart like a Christmas tree.

"Ha, really?"

“Yeah. Just to say hi. He sent a picture of a painting he sold. It was good. Really good.”

There was pride in his voice, but something wistful too.

“I’m glad,” Nico said softly. “He’s… he’s found his place, apparently."

“Maybe,” Levi echoed, then smiled faintly, “He deserves it.”

They left it at that. Some silences were better left untouched.

By the second week, the house was the most peaceful place he had ever lived in. The clinking of plates, the hum of fans, the slow surrender of afternoons to the sun. He worked in the small office sometimes, pretending to answer emails, though he mostly watched the sky change over the fields. Levi would nap on the couch, in between two bike rides.

One evening, after dinner, they sat outside on the terrace, the sea murmuring below. The air smelled of thyme and salt. A kind man in the village had offered a guitar earlier that week, in exchange for Nico fixing his car. Levi tried the cords a little, experimenting with the sound. He strummed lazily, half-tunes, nothing coherent, but it filled the air with warmth.

“I didn’t know you still played,” Nico said.

“I don’t, really,” Levi answered, “Just… sometimes. When I feel like it. I have one laying around in Oxford."

"To pick up girls, uh?"

"Dad..." Levi eyerolled, playful.

Nico smiled. “You’re good.”

“You’re biased.”

“Maybe. I still mean it.”

A pause. The sound of the cicadas rose in the silence, gentle and unhurried.

“Do you ever miss it?” Levi asked suddenly.

“What?”

“The racing. The life you had before.”

Nico thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“Not really. I miss the speed, mostly. But not the lifestyle that came with it."

Levi nodded.

"I bet."

He leaned back in his chair, gaze lost somewhere in the dark horizon.

“I really used to think I’d never forgive you.”

Nico snorted, amazed by his son's capacities to be so blunt and yet so gentle with it.

"I bet."

He looked at his son then, the traits that were his first, and felt something inside him unclench.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For letting me try again.”

Levi strummed another chord, soft and uneven.

“You’re not so bad at it, dad."

The following days passed in their quiet, luminous sameness. They drove to the village sometimes, bought fruits, fresh bread, and some wine. Some tourists recognized Nico here and there and he would smile politely, shaking hands, as if greeting ghosts from another life.

Once back home, the afternoons stretched long. They swam, cooked, talked, slept, did it again. And sometimes, when Levi wasn’t around, Nico wandered the garden alone. He’d sit by the fig tree where he used to watch Gabi sketch. He would close his eyes and let the wind brush against his face, warm and dry, carrying the comfortable memory of laughter that no longer existed. When the air shimmered at dusk and the horizon turned to gold, he could almost feel him there: Gabi, barefoot in the grass, smiling at him as if nothing had ever gone wrong.

Those were the moments that still caught him off guard: the sudden tenderness of remembering without pain, somehow.

They were making dinner together, Levi telling him everything about Isack and his new girlfriend, laughing at the photos he had received of their vacations in Greece. The house smelled of garlic and lemon. Music played low from the speaker, barely there because they got tired from spending the day down in the village, overwhelmed with tourists chatter.

Then came the knock.

It was soft -three gentle taps- but it carried through the kitchen like a vivid pulse. Nico frowned, turned off the stove.

“Were you expecting someone?”

Levi shook his head.

“Probably that guy with the car that keeps breaking down” Nico chuckled, wiping his hands on a towel.

The knock came again, more certain this time.

He went to the door. And for a moment, his mind refused to register what he was seeing.

Gabi -looking older, tanned, his hair longer and tickling loosely at his nape. A few colorful tattoos on his arms, lines and shapes Nico didn’t distinguish. He looked steadier, as if time had built something solid around him. But the eyes were the same; bright, alive, searching for his.

“Hey,” Gabi said, a nervous smile on his lips.

“Can I come in?”

The world seemed to narrow to that single point: the doorway, the boy, the man, the year that had passed between them like an ocean.

Nico couldn’t speak. His chest ached with the sudden rush of everything unsaid. He thought of Levi in the kitchen, of the fragile peace they had built, of how easily this could undo it all.

Behind him, Levi’s voice broke the silence.

“Who’s there?”

Nico didn’t turn to him. Couldn’t.

Gabi glanced past him, saw Levi approaching, and straightened his shoulders. Ready for battle. Or surrender.

Levi froze when he reached the door. For a terribly long second, no one spoke. The air itself seemed to hesitate. Then Gabi smiled again - even smaller this time, apologetic.

“Hi, Lev."

Levi looked at him for a long moment, and then, to Nico’s astonishment, he said, quietly,

“Hi, Gabi. Come in.”

Chapter Text

When Gabi closed his eyes and let the sea hum in his ears, the whole year came back to him in spurts. A series of blurred impressions: colors, smells, textures. Sweet mango and saltwater. Linen hotel sheets and the relentless pull of jetlag on his body. The metallic taste of airplane coffee. Nico’s adorable tentatives at Portuguese. The repetitive song of trains and ferries and taxis. The curve of a skyline seen from a balcony somewhere in Buenos Aires, the reflection of city lights on Nico’s of glasses -the same pair he pretended he didn't need but wore everyday since Gabi had told him he looked so good with them.

He never would've thought that a single year could hold so much. Or that this love, their love, once so sharp and desperate, could turn into something vast and gentle, stretching across time like sunlight through water.

Nico had said, “Let’s just go where it’s warm first,” and Gabi had sighed in relief because he was definitely not eager to go anywhere cold, still slightly traumatized from the English rain. They took Levi to the airport at the end of the summer and waved goodbye, ready for their own adventure to start.

Brazil came first; loud, raw and alive. Rio in fall had been a fever dream of pure heat, constant noise, and messy love making. If they had kept their respectful distances in Gozo for Levi's sake, they still had bridges to mend and had found the best way to do so was joining their bodies together as often as humanly possible. At some point of the trip, they left their hotel and picked a new one just so they didn't have to endure the shame of telling the staff they had broken their king size bed, and potentially traumatized their whole floor.

São Paulo in November was nothing but humidity and human motion. The air was thick with exhaustion from the year behind, colors more vibrant than they ever were. Gabi took Nico through every corner of his childhood: the bookstore on Rua Augusta, the narrow alleys of Vila Madalena, the chaotic local market that smelled of fried pastels and ripe papayas. He took him to his arts studio and introduced him as his lover to his fellow artists. Nico patiently listened to his rambling about every single art piece he ever made there, looking at him more than at the pieces.

His parents were cautious at first, for obvious reasons. His mother focused on him, analyzing his reactions to everything Nico did or said. His father, colder, studied his lover with questions and direct conversations. Nico said little, but enough, his warm smile and good manners seeming to please his now in-laws. He praised Mrs Bortoleto for how delightful her cooking was in a slow, accented Portuguese that made her grin. Later, she told Gabi quietly that the man had kind eyes.

Their time in Brazil was pure rediscovery. He sketched constantly, afraid of losing a single frame of it in the blur of his memories. Nico wandered the streets with his camera, fascinated by the chaos: dogs sleeping on the pavement, children playing barefoot in the rain, free art everywhere on the walls. At night they danced, sometimes at a small bar with live samba, sometimes back at the apartment balcony with no music at all, watching over the city. They talked about everything; the past, the years they both had wasted being afraid, the ways love changes shape when it’s given time to grow. They shared secrets they had never shared with anyone before, and he treasured every single of them.

From there, they went south. Argentina welcomed them with cooler winds. Buenos Aires was another rhythm entirely: languid and melancholic. They stayed in San Telmo, where every street corner had its own musician. Gabi painted on the balcony in the mornings, and Nico read beside him. Every so often he’d look up just to catch him staring. The air smelled of roasted coffee and rain on stone when they made love, skin sticky with paint.

There was one evening when the city lights turned the sky violet, and Nico said,

“Do you ever think we were supposed to meet here instead? Or anywhere, in better circumstances.”

Gabi shook his head.

“No. I think we met exactly how we were supposed to."

They kept traveling to make sure.

From the noise of Buenos Aires to the silence of Cape Town, where they stayed in a traditional house near the coast. Early mornings there were colder than they had expected but the ocean looked unreal, oddly silver. Gabi painted waves until he lost count, then tried to write poetry about them. Nico would take long walks, disappearing down the beach until he turned into just a dot in the distance. He said it was the only way he could think clearly, and Gabi believed him. He had no issue with his lover wandering away, as long as he always came back with a kiss.

Sometimes they spoke of Levi. Carefully, like handling something fragile, but so precious. Nico had worked hard to rebuild their relationship, and Gabi was terribly proud of him -proud of both of them. By then, Levi had finished his exams, started a new job in his dream company, and texted both of them separately, but consistently. One as a father, the other as a now long distance best friend. Gabi sent pictures of his travels, but never included Nico in them; Levi knew exactly who he was spending his whole time with but there was simply no need to remind him.

They celebrated Christmas separately: Gabi in Sao Paulo with his family, and Nico in Seattle with Levi and Hailey. One day, maybe, they would celebrate together. Gabi didn't mind either way, as his lover was more reliable than a lovesick boomerang.

January and February were meant for resting, as they lounged in Nico's appartment in Monaco. They visited Levi in Oxford, and Isack refused to see him. He would try again, he thought. He could be patient.

In April, they went north again. Helsinki was still wrapped in snow, a city of silence and light. They rented a cabin outside the city, surrounded by pine trees. There were days when neither spoke for hours, both content to let the quiet fill everything. Gabi would watch Nico sit by the window, wrapped in a sweater, looking out at the falling snow with a kind of wonder that made his chest ache in affection. He personally spent most of his days melting in the hot tub with a view, too brazilian to handle the cold temperatures. At night, they’d light the fireplace, drink hot wine, and start talking again. Nico told stories of his own childhood then, and they made Gabi tear up -sometimes in laughter, sometimes in heartbreak.

Then, they felt like Italy and booked everything last minute. Rome was messy - too crowded, bursting with life and history. They stayed in the only apartment still available in the whole city, so small their laughter seemed to bounce off the walls. Every evening, a violinist played in the street below their bedroom window. Gabi sat on the edge and drew the scene every night, again and again. Nico teased him, saying he was obsessed, but the desire burning in his eyes betrayed his real feelings towards his lover's punctual bizarreness.

By July, they arrived in Switzerland. They rented a cabin near Lake Lucerne where the air smelled crisp, and the world seemed to slow down. They spent their afternoons hiking, evenings cooking simple meals, and nights lying side by side, tracing each other’s stories across skin. Nico called him querido, his portuguese still clumsy but impossibly tender. Gabi called him meu amor, only his, the only love he had and would ever know.

When he sold his first series of paintings that same spring, he used the money to buy Nico a swiss watch.

“You keep losing track of time,” he said.

Nico laughed.

“Maybe I like it that way?"

But he wore it anyway, proudly on his arm along with Gabi on leisure walks.

Now it was August again, and like a fatality, they were back in Gozo.

The island was quieter than he remembered, as if it too had aged a little in their absence. Or maybe he had just gotten used to constant agitation these last few months. The house smelled of salt and dust and the fig tree outside the window was heavy with fruits awaiting for them to pluck them off.

They had arrived a week ago, and already Gabi felt the familiar rhythm of the island seeping back into his system: the lazy mornings, the constant call from the sea, the way the wind carried the faint sound of church bells every hour.

Levi would join them in a few days to share yet another summer together. Their third on Gozo, and their first as this odd kind of family, the kind that would never make sense to anyone hearing such story for the first time. Somehow, somewhere, they had found their balance in this unique state of things.

But today, it was still just Nico and him. The air was thick with the scent of rosemary and Gabi was trying to capture it in a painting.

Nico joined him in the garden, carefully placing his angular chin on his shoulder, kissing his cheek.

"Would you be willing to abandon this masterpiece for an hour or two?"

"Right now? Why?"

"Guess you'll have to follow me to find out" Nico said, grinning into his neck.

Gabi was never saying no to start with.

They drove through the familiar roads, windows down, music loud in the speakers. The headlights cut across dry fields, the hum of the tires steady against the rocky road. When they reached the beach -their beach- the last light of day was at its peak. The sand was burning hot, the sea murmuring in slow breaths. As usual here, they were alone. They left their shoes by the car and walked barefoot to the water’s edge, indifferent to the heat that had turned into their comfort zone.

For a long while, they didn’t speak, and simply enjoyed being there. Gabi thought of that terrible evening two years ago, when everything had felt like it was ending.

If only he had known that everything was only starting.

“I missed this view,” Nico said softly.

“I missed this quiet,” Gabi replied.

Nico poured white wine into two small cups he’d brought and handed him one. They sat side by side, their knees touching, the horizon stretching in front of them.

“I thought of this place every day for a while,” Nico confessed, “Even when I didn’t mean to. Especially when I didn’t mean to."

Gabi made a noise of agreement, convinced Nico could understand his every sound.

“Me too. It's like every road led back here."

Nico smiled, looking out at the water.

“Out of everywhere we've been, I think this is my favorite place."

Gabi felt the words like warmth spreading through him. He reached out and touched Nico’s wrist, the one wearing the silver watch. A small, silent thank you. The sea hissed softly against the sand. He got up, stretched his arms, walked to the water so it could tickle his sore feet and cool his body down.

When he looked back again, Nico was kneeling.

At first, it didn’t register. Nico was just there, one knee on the sand, his hair catching the of sunlight in pure gold. Then came the small velvet box in his hand, his fingers trembling slightly as he opened it before him. Inside was a ring like he had never seen before; silver with a thin vein of gold running through it, uneven and magnificent.

“I had it made in Italy,” Nico said quietly, “I wanted something that looked like us."

He couldn’t speak. His breath hitched. The world blurred -not from surprise, but from everything that flooded back at once: years of waiting for something without knowing what, then longing, and hope, and pain, the mornings and nights, the way Nico looked at him now, steady and tender and unafraid. His.

“I don’t have a speech,” Nico went on, “You know I’m terrible at those. I just know I want to keep doing this. All of this. With you. I've never been so happy and it's all because of you, Gabriel. You... my life was a mess, I was a good for nothing retired driver, so unhappy I could barely look at myself in the mirror... and today... God, I'm the happiest man alive and my only fear is that it could stop one day. I want to keep choosing you everyday, forever. Will you let me..?"

Gabi’s face was wet before he realized he was crying. He tried to speak, and failed. A sob went through before he finally let out:

"Never call me Gabriel again!"

Nico chuckled, the sound anxious. Just in case, he tried:

"Is it...?"

"Yes! Of course yes, you idiot!"

Nico exhaled, relief breaking into a soft laugh. He slid the ring onto his finger, his hand trembling still. It fit perfectly.

They stood there, the sea playing the music that'd play in their memories forever. He buried his face in Nico’s chest, inhaling the scent of salt and sandalwood and the man who had, somehow, become his everything.

“I can't believe it” he murmured.

“I love you", Nico answered.

They stayed long after the sun had disappeared, the horizon glowing faintly in memory of it. The waves reached closer now, immersing their bodies too busy melting into each other. Somewhere, far away, a ferry horn sounded.