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Chapter Text

Aldo truly hated his next door neighbor. They lived in an old building where the walls were very thin and he could hear everything that went on in the adjacent apartment. Of course, Aldo knew that meant his neighbor could hear anything he did but, as that wasn’t anything to write home about, he didn’t worry. He’d always been quiet. But Aldo was tormented by overhearing every single argument that went on next door and had done since the summer. He couldn’t wait to move out!

His neighbor was an unpleasant, arrogant man. Although he was terribly fit and handsome in a classical sort of way, it hardly made a difference to Aldo. The man had never acknowledged his presence before when their paths had crossed and he was always snipping at his boyfriend, Goffredo, whom Aldo rather liked. He had gotten to know him a bit when he’d moved in with his boyfriend at the end of summer; they always spoke to each other when they passed in the hall or on the stairs, and the pair would occasionally share a cigarette or two if they happened to meet outside. And Goffredo was lovely. He was unfailingly kind in a rather quaint, old-fashioned way; he was charming and funny. And Aldo couldn’t help but find him very attractive as well; he was exactly his type, anyway! Goffredo was a big man, he looked about Aldo’s age, but he was a bit taller, twice as broad, and thicker-built, with dark unruly curls, a scruffy beard and adorable thick-framed glasses. That, coupled with his country-mouse sweetness, meant Aldo’s heart hardly had a chance to resist. He just seemed like the nicest guy– Aldo didn’t think he’d ever known him to swear, even in all those arguments!– and he couldn’t deny that that did something for him.

Aldo, as he aged, had discovered he had quite a penchant for folksy, traditional manners. Of course, he’d dated a fair amount of assholes in his day (there were a few boyfriends in university who were particularly memorable on that score) but he’d lost the taste for that by his thirties. Now, Aldo liked a good, clean guy who he could get a little dirty. He found a touch of naiveté charming; he enjoyed making a guy blush when he flirted with him or get a bit flustered as he took him to bed. He thought Goffredo would make an ur-example and he almost felt bad imagining all the ways he could bring color to those cheeks. But when Aldo occasionally felt a pang of guilt for eyeing the man so hungrily, he reminded himself that the Bible said nothing about the sin of coveting your neighbor’s boyfriend.
--
Aldo’s hatred for the other man next door received an immeasurable boost one evening as he was cooking dinner, trying not to listen to them argue. Well, his neighbor was arguing, but Goffredo didn’t seem to be fighting back yet. Goffredo’s boyfriend was berating him with a ferocity that made Aldo feel a bit sick.
“Jesus! You’re lucky I don’t leave you, Fredo!” the man exclaimed in a tone of revulsion. He couldn’t hear what Goffredo said in reply.
“You don’t need to thank me, you just need to lose some weight– you’re disgusting! But you know you’re not even trying and yet you still think you deserve to get fucked by me? Do you know how hard it is for me to touch you when you look like this!?”
Goffredo said something in a low tone that might have been an apology. Aldo didn’t know if he felt more horrified or enraged at that moment. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine why Goffredo stayed with that man.
“Oh grow up! Stop crying, for fuck’s sake. Go clean yourself up. Go smoke a cigarette or something, then maybe you won’t eat like a fucking pig! Come back when you’re ready to talk about this like a grown up!”
That was the last Aldo heard from his neighbors and by the end his hands were shaking. He took a deep breath and turned off the stove; he’d entirely lost his appetite now. Instead, he grabbed his coat, pulled on his boots, and went out for a bit of fresh air to clear his head.
It was a relief to get outside of his claustrophobic apartment, but Aldo couldn’t stop thinking about the men next door even once he’d escaped the confines of the building. Regardless of his own fondness for Goffredo, Aldo didn’t think he could bear to hear anyone spoken to like that. He didn’t understand, frankly, why his neighbor didn’t just end the relationship if he wasn’t attracted to his partner? ‘That’d free him up for the rest of us, maybe,’ he thought selfishly. He knew that Goffredo would have no trouble at all finding a new boyfriend and one that respected him at that! But Aldo wasn’t narcissistic enough to think it had to be him, although he certainly wouldn’t’ve minded…

He was just about to light up a cigarette when he heard the door behind him open and he turned to see Goffredo hurrying out. The other man was looking downcast at the pavement and didn’t seem to see the other man until he nearly walked right into him.
“Oh shoot! Aldo, I’m so sorry! I’m such an idiot!” he said as their eyes met. Aldo could see his eyes were red, like he’d been crying, and a wave of resentment built up again.
“Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault,” he replied calmly, reaching out a reassuring hand to grab Goffredo’s arm. The man flinched at his touch and Aldo let the hand drop slowly, selfishly savoring every millisecond his fingers brushed over Goffredo’s soft blue wool coat.
He held up the pack in his other hand and offered him one. His companion nodded and Aldo lit both at the same time, ducking his head close to the other man’s and making him think rather too much about how soft Goffredo’s lips looked.
“So, um, how are you? How’ve you been?” Aldo said clumsily after a moment, desperate to not let him slip away, “Uh, I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while…”
Goffredo wouldn’t meet his eyes as he answered.
“Fine. Good. Y’know, just busy with– with work and everything,” he said and sniffled. It was clear to Aldo, with everything he knew, that the man was still trying not to cry. ‘Well, I can’t ask him that!’ he thought, despondently.
“Are you doing okay? Are– are you getting sick?”
“No– it’s just, uh, the weather. It seems like it got cold all of a sudden…”
“Yeah, of course…” Aldo replied, gazing at the man with unreserved concern, “Look, uh, I hope you’re all right and I just want you to know that if you ever need anything, I’m right next door. I– I don’t mean to overstep– I know you’ve got a boyfriend and I don’t want to cause trouble, but if there’s ever any way I can help out…” he trailed off, feeling awkward now that he’d let it all spill out, “You’ve got my number right?”
Goffredo met his eyes now. It felt like an eternity before he responded.
“Yeah, yeah I do. Thank you,” he said simply, “Gosh! You’re not from here, either, are you, Aldo? You’re friendly– you’re, ah, sweet. Talking with you feels like being back down South. You’re a real decent guy, Aldo Bellini.” With that, Goffredo said his goodbyes, stubbed out his cigarette, and went back inside.

Aldo didn’t return until a few hours later that night, choosing to walk aimlessly rather than subject himself to God knows what from the adjacent apartment. By the time he did go back in, all was silent next door.
--
Aldo was heading homewards to Garbatella on the bus one Saturday, just as classes let out. He could tell because all at once, it was crammed with teenagers and Aldo cursed himself for choosing a line that went past a school at midday again. He had to tuck away the book he was re-reading (Gramsci’s 'La Questione Meridionale') and listen to the chatter of his fellow passengers instead as he hung onto the handrail. There were snatches about exams, about essays, about good teachers and irritating ones that threw Aldo unwillingly back to his own school days.

His secondary school years had not been particularly happy ones, having been exiled to his extended family in Calabria by his overworked and rather emotionally stunted parents and forced to get his Italian up to fluency in a matter of months before he was thrown right into classes. Then, of course, he had the added trouble of being far too obviously gay in the early aughts, no matter what he did or didn’t do. Even his grandparents, bless them, couldn’t help but call him ‘piccolo Checca’ when they thought he was out of ear shot. Although none of it was that different from his experience of middle school in New Jersey, it still stung to travel across an ocean thinking he could reinvent himself only to end up in the same boat as before. Despite his best efforts, he could only ever be the twink that God made him.

While he brooded, the bus began to slowly empty out again as students left by twos and threes. Eventually there was room enough for him to pull out his book again and escape the reminiscences, ‘Thank God!’ he thought. Just as he had read a few pages, a voice he recognized but couldn’t quite place caught his attention.
“Hey, Aldo!” it called out,
He looked up and turned to see if the greeting had been for him.
“Aldo!” he heard again and this time he saw that it was Goffredo who’d spoken and was moving slowly down the bus towards him, weaving his way through the other passengers. Aldo gave a little wave, book still in hand, when he noticed him.
“How are you, Goffredo? Did you just finish up at school?” he asked warmly when the man was next to him at last. Aldo knew through the walls that he was a teacher of some kind and assumed that he must’ve gotten on with the wave of students. He nodded, the hint of a smile on his lips.
“Mmm, and geez, am I glad to be done with the week! These kids, these kids!” he said shaking his head,
“Oh? What’s wrong with them?” Aldo queried, curiously. He’d never actually spoken with Goffredo about his job before.
“No, no, nothing’s wrong, it’s just that they don’t do the work sometimes and all of a sudden, it’s my fault that they’re confused! Mah! What can you expect? They’re just kids,” he explained. Aldo could only laugh. He did certainly remember that part of being young too.
“Would that all my students were like you, though!” Goffredo continued, gently taking the paperback Aldo still clutched in his hand, “What made you want to read Gramsci?”
“It’d been a while,” he replied simply,
“You’re reading this for pleasure, then? You’ve read him before?”
Aldo nodded.
“You little scholar, Bellini!” Goffredo exclaimed, sounding delighted, “Did you first come across him in school, then? At university?”
“Well, yes. I studied philosophy– much good it did me– but I’ve always kept the interest.”
He shrugged, yet the other man still insisted on looking impressed, much to Aldo’s embarrassment. ‘It’s nothing wondrous, anyway,’ he thought.
“Why on Earth would you choose philosophy? Did you ever want to be a teacher?”
“Oh God, no!” he exclaimed, before blushing, “No offence intended, of course! I just don’t have the right temperament for it, is all…”
Goffredo laughed.
“None taken. I understand! It isn’t for everyone!”
“I just liked reading,” Aldo confessed, “If they would’ve paid me just to read and write and I never had to teach classes, I’d happily have been a philosophy professor, but it doesn’t work that way. If I’d been born 50 years earlier, I might’ve been a priest, who knows?” He shrugged, “I’ve always been looking for answers.”
“I understand that,” the other man replied, “I’ve had the same thought sometimes– I always liked the scaffolding, the tradition, the ritual of it all– but, I mean, these days it’s hard to want to closet yourself just to serve the dang Church!” Goffredo rolled his eyes.
“Well put,” Aldo answered, dryly, beyond amused that even in saying that, he refused to outright damn the institution, “I think you’ve found a much higher calling, anyway. Even if you are wrangling slacking teens half the time!” They both smiled at that.
“Oh, but the other half they’re wonderful– I wouldn’t change it for the world!”
He and Goffredo talked back and forth at a rapid fire pace for the next half hour as they travelled from Bravetta to Garbatella. His companion reverted back to Gramsci and 'La Questione Meridionale' after a little while and, with them both being Southerners (Goffredo by birth and Aldo by adoption), it provided ample conversational fodder until they were almost home.
“Oh, it’s been so wonderful to talk with you, Aldo! We’ll have to get coffee sometime– although I have no idea when I’ll be able to, I’m just so busy with everything right now… I’m sorry!” he said sincerely and the more Aldo looked at him, the more exhausted he seemed. There were dark circles behind his glasses and his face looked pale. Whether that was from pressures at school or at home, he didn’t know, but Aldo hoped he’d get a reprieve from one or the other soon enough.
“Take your time, it’ll be Christmas vacation soon. It’ll keep till then,” Aldo assured him, hoping to keep the man from giving himself another thing to stress about. Goffredo smiled at him gratefully.
“You’re lovely!”
“It’s nothing,” he replied, his chest tightening.
Aldo was able to keep up his nonchalant facade for a few minutes longer, but it grew more and more painful to make small talk. All he could think about was what he had been overhearing at night throughout the week and then seeing Goffredo in front of him looking so unwell and so tired became unbearable at last. He lied and said he was getting off at the next stop, wished his neighbor a good day and said he hoped he got a chance to rest soon, before escaping a few stops early.
--
Aldo continued to hear his neighbors arguing over the next few days, but the worst incident by far happened several days into that spell. It was evening, mid-week, and about dinnertime, so Aldo was in the kitchen again. The day had been cold and damp and he’d decided to make pasta e fagioli; something hearty and simple to help warm him up now the sun had gone down. His neighbor first turned the conversation into a fight, exclaiming loudly and sarcastically enough for Aldo to hear through the wall:
“Fuck, Fredo, why do you always eat like you don’t know where your next meal is coming from?”
There was a long pause before he heard Goffredo reply, but this time he heard it clearly; his voice was raised,
“Oh, c’mon! Don’t say that to me! You know, you know–”
“Jesus! You don’t need to get so defensive, it’s just a joke! You’re not a little kid any more, you could learn to eat like a civilized person any time you like. Nothing’s stopping you!” his neighbor cried out with a laugh. Goffredo replied something in too low a tone to hear and Aldo couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He had liked hearing Goffredo finally defend himself! And he wondered just what it was about that insult that had been too far? There had been many more far worse to Aldo’s mind. And why did his partner– his grown-up partner– insist on calling him a child all the time?
But then he was jolted out of his thoughts by another angry outburst.
“Stop calling me a liar! I’m being honest with you! You know I’m trying– I just don’t have the time! It’s nearly end-of-term and I’m so busy with work, you know that! I don’t have any ‘free time’ right now, I can’t just shrug it off to go to the gym with you– if I don’t get things done, my students will suffer!”
“Wow, is that really the only thing that matters to you? You can’t do this one thing for me? Don’t I take care of you? Do you even want to be with me at all?” his boyfriend shot back. And he had the nerve to sound hurt, the self-righteous prick!
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that! I– I’m just stressed, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Goffredo answered, chastened. His voice was tearful and placating and Aldo could barely make out what he said. There was a good deal said in low tones back and forth, then he heard Goffredo again.
“Please, baby, I’m sorry– I’ll do better! I’ll make it up to you, please, just let me make it up to you…”
Aldo turned off the gas and abandoned his soup in disgust. In any case, it’d be just as good tomorrow and he had no appetite after hearing all that. He went and threw himself down on the sofa with a book in an attempt to forget it in vain, putting headphones on just in case they started shouting again but it was a needless precaution. He couldn’t make out anything else from next door until later that night when he dragged himself to bed, but what he heard then made him feel even more wretched than before. There were sloppy, wet sounds and low moans of pleasure– Goffredo’s, his boyfriend’s– and Aldo felt nauseous imagining that lovely, open-hearted man sleeping with someone who could barely tolerate him. He wondered again why either one stayed together when they seemed so ill-matched before pulling a pillow over his head and trying desperately to ignore the thought of them until he finally drifted off into fitful sleep.

Chapter Text

After that restless night, all Aldo wanted to do by the end of the next day was collapse into bed when he got home. He had to resist that urge because he had a scheduled call with Thomas that evening and Aldo wouldn’t miss one of those for the world. It had been incredibly hard to go from living alongside one of his best friends to speaking for an hour or two once a week, if he was lucky. If he wasn’t, he could go for a month without hearing from him. Thomas was a man of many talents, but regular texting was sadly not one of them; his preferred method was phone calls or nothing. Aldo didn’t begrudge him his busyness, though; he was coming up to his own end of term at Cambridge and working on the final proof of his book, among other things, so it only made sense that he couldn’t always spare an hour on top of it all for Aldo. But this call would be the first in over a month and Aldo couldn’t help how much he missed his friend. He worried about him as well, too. Thomas always had a tendency to neglect his own health, especially when he was busy, and Aldo remembered many times over the past year when he’d barely eat for days and it was only when Aldo put his foot down and mothered him a bit that he’d keep to a reasonable meal schedule. Often what he needed most was just someone to see him and notice how he was hurting. Once Aldo had realized that, back when they were still in university together, it altered something fundamental inside him. Although it had been stressful at times, he missed living with Thomas more than anything. On his own, there was nobody to take care of, nobody to fuss over, and nobody to feed but himself and the lack made him feel oddly purposeless. 

It was 8 o’clock when Thomas’ call came through and Aldo picked up with a smile. 

“Aldo! How are you?” his friend began in English. They always spoke English together, even though Thomas’ Italian was near perfect, and Aldo enjoyed the regular practice. Without it, he knew his conversational skills would get hopelessly rusty. 

“I’ve been well! I’ve missed you, though, I hope you’re all right? How are the hallowed halls treating you?” he replied warmly. 

“Good, good– quite busy, of course, now we’re getting closer to Christmas…”

“I’m sure! I hope your students are all behaving themselves, though. Studying hard.”

“Well, more or less,” Thomas laughed. He was a professor of ethics and moral philosophy, so it was always particularly ironic whenever one or more of his students failed to internalize their lessons. There had been a few incidents when he’d been an associate lecturer at Sapienza, before the move, which were especially memorable on that score. 

“And you’ve been taking care of yourself, eh? You promise me?” Aldo pursued and was somewhat disconcerted when Thomas merely laughed again. 

“You’ve been making sure to eat, amico?”

“Ah… well, not really, I suppose…” he replied at last, reluctantly. Thomas was almost constitutionally incapable of lying which, Aldo couldn’t deny, did come in handy at times. It was always easier to help an honest patient than an evasive one. 

“What’s been making it hard, lately?” Aldo asked, reverting to his old set of questions whenever Thomas’ eating became more of a challenge than usual. His friend took a few long moments before he spoke. 

“I just keep forgetting,” he said in a cagey tone. Well, Aldo didn’t believe that for a second. It was one of Thomas’ favorite cop-outs when he would start denying himself a meal, then two, then the next thing one knew, he’d been fasting for a few days and Aldo had to stop him from falling over when he’d walk up the stairs to their apartment. 

“Let’s get on a video call, eh? I’ve missed seeing your face,” Aldo said firmly. If Thomas was having trouble sharing information, he could at least glean more from his face than he could from his voice alone. Thomas demurred for a moment before Aldo could wheedle him into it. 

“Come on, I’m sure the wifi at Cambridge isn’t that bad. Just let me turn on the video for Whatsapp, I haven’t seen you in ages, anyway!” 

At last, his friend agreed and once the video flicked to life, Aldo understood his hesitation. If his face was anything to go by, Thomas had been ‘forgetting’ his meals with regularity for a few weeks at least; he looked pale and drawn. 

“Now, tell me: what’s been going on?” Aldo asked, concern suffusing his voice and expression. His friend sighed. 

“I don’t know, I just– I guess I’ve just been stressed and…” 

‘And grasping for something you can control,’ Aldo thought, although he didn’t say it. That was all part of Thomas’ usual pattern, too, but he knew what to do. They’d come through a spell like this last winter, too; the only hurdle this time was doing it with 1,500 kilometers between them now. But Aldo was nothing if not determined and, after a few hours on the phone, they had reached a tentative agreement on what to do. 

Thomas consented to let Aldo text him daily, a few times a day, so he wouldn’t ‘forget’ to eat, and in turn, he would reply, letting Aldo know what he had done about the reminder, no judgment. When everything felt like too much, he could text Aldo and he’d be there to talk it over at any time, day or night. It wasn’t a perfect system and there were several obvious weak points Aldo knew he’d need to look out for, but he and Thomas had an exceptionally close friendship founded on a basis of, what to others might seem, oppressive honesty. Except for those few white lies Thomas occasionally allowed himself, he maintained a code of strict truthfulness in his personal relationships and Aldo considered himself privileged to be included in that circle. He knew the ways Thomas might bend the truth with him and he could always tell what lay behind that little deception. They hadn’t been best friends for nearly a decade for nothing. As the week went on, with regular attention, it seemed like things became a bit easier and the next time they called, his face had more color and he said he felt less cold and tired, which Aldo considered an unqualified success. 

Eventually, Thomas got in the habit of calling Aldo every day, even if it was just for five or ten minutes. They would talk about anything– their respective work, the weather, what he or Aldo were reading at the moment, or what Aldo had made for dinner that night– but they also spoke not infrequently about Thomas’ struggles when it had been a particularly rough day. Aldo hadn’t realized how much he had missed his friend before they started speaking every day again. It made the lack in his life all the more apparent and he casually mentioned coming to the UK for New Years so often that Thomas eventually invited him to stay once Aldo was back from his Christmas sojourn in Calabria. He almost resented that he would have to split the time between the two, before feeling guilty. Aldo was not close with his extended family since his grandparents had passed and it had been many many years since he had gone to visit at all, let alone for the holidays, and he knew some of his aunts and uncles resented him for it. The few days he would spend in Cittanova this winter would be his due suffering for the unmitigated joy he’d feel on the plane to London and then the train up to Thomas in Cambridgeshire. Perhaps Aldo wasn’t such a bad Catholic after all, he mused, pairing pleasure with penance in that way.  

--

Two weeks after their last rencontre, Aldo found himself on the same bus as Goffredo again. This time, he got on only a few stops from home and the pair chatted as they walked back together. Goffredo was still busy with school, of course, and he looked no less ragged than when Aldo had seen him earlier. Now, he looked even more exhausted, if that were possible, his skin taking on an almost grey pallor and he shivered under his coat, although it had been unseasonably– almost concerningly– warm that whole week. When Aldo asked the other man, with some concern, whether he might be getting sick, Goffredo laughed it off. 

“No, no– I just haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all,” he said with a shrug. That didn’t allay his concerns at all, however. Before Aldo had climbed aboard the bus, he had been speaking with Thomas, who was back into his old habits of ‘forgetting’ to eat as the pressure got to him again, and his protective feelings were still fully activated, he couldn’t stop them from flowing over to his neighbor. 

Aldo knew the fighting next door had been ceaseless lately– as good a reason for Goffredo’s sleeplessness as any– and wished he had as honest a rapport with the man beside him as he did with the one fifteen-hundred kilometers away. 

They went inside and began to climb up to the third floor as Aldo weighed the appropriateness of inviting his neighbor in for coffee. When they’d nearly gotten to the top, Goffredo suddenly stopped. 

“What’s wrong?” Aldo asked instantly, as the man leaned heavily on the railing, his eyes closed. 

“I’m fine, you go ahead, I just– just got a bit of a headrush, don’t worry. It’s nothing,” the man said weakly. While that assurance might’ve worked on someone else, it was never going to work on Aldo. 

“Like hell,” he replied, “I’m not gonna let you faint in the stairwell!” 

“No– no, I’m not going to faint,” Goffredo murmured, “This happened earlier, I just need to take a minute, I’ll be fine…”

His resolve hardened. Whether it was exhaustion or whether his neighbor, too, had been neglecting to eat, Aldo was going to help regardless. 

“Okay, we’ll take a minute,” he agreed, “Then I want you to put your arm around me and we’ll go back to mine and I’ll make you some tea.” 

Goffredo looked like he wanted to protest, but after a few words of argument, he gave up. After a little bit, he consented to lean on Aldo (although it felt like he barely put any weight on him) and be led up the last few steps, brought into the apartment, and sat down at the kitchen table while Aldo put the kettle on. He leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed, looking wretched. 

“How are you doing now?” Aldo asked after he’d been sitting like that for about ten minutes. He set the teapot down on the table in front of them and grabbed two mugs. Goffredo opened his eyes. He was still wearing his coat and lightly shivering. 

“I’m fine– I’m sorry to worry you– I’m just fine,” he said. It was obviously a lie. 

“It’s no trouble, really, I’m more than happy to… So, what were you doing when this happened earlier, eh?” he asked in a gentle voice as he poured them tea, hoping for a casual tone and probably failing. He couldn’t turn off the instincts he’d honed living with Thomas for all those years. 

“I just stood up too fast from my desk when I was at work– it was stupid,” Goffredo said softly as he wrapped his hands around the steaming mug gratefully and took a sip. 

“You nearly fainted twice today, I don’t think that’s stupid,” Aldo noted. 

The other man didn’t say anything and Aldo got up to reheat some of the pasta in ragù that he’d made the previous night. He turned on the gas burner and began to stir. 

“Your blood pressure is probably really low– that’s why you’re freezing, too, yeah? I’ll bet you haven’t eaten today, right?” he asked. Goffredo stared at him incredulously.

“What are you, a doctor, Aldo? Here I thought you were a philosopher!” 

“No, but I know what I’m talking about,” Aldo said, refusing to be taken off course, “This used to happen all the time to a friend of mine, usually because he’d skip meals–”

“Do I look like I’ve missed too many meals?” Goffredo said with a snort, staring absently at the table now. Aldo heard too much of the man’s boyfriend in that remark and chose to ignore it. 

“I want you to have some pasta with me,” he continued, “I can promise you it’s very good. And hopefully this’ll keep you on your feet for the rest of the day, eh?” 

“Look, I just forgot about it– it’s nothing, I don’t need anything!” Goffredo protested weakly, 

“Yeah I’ve heard that one before, it doesn’t work on me,” Aldo replied with a patient smile, placing a steaming bowl at both their places, “Go on, eat!” 

It took a bit more coaxing to get the other man to comply, and he looked on the edge of tears when he did give in. With all Aldo had overheard recently, he could easily imagine he was the first person to tell Goffredo he should eat something in a while. 

“So, when will you go on vacation?” he asked later on after they had finished and Goffredo began to talk about leaving, 

“Next week– next week, thank goodness!” 

“Hopefully you’ll start to sleep better, then, yeah? And any time you forget to eat, you come on over, I’ve always got something around,” Aldo said gently, wanting more than anything to help the other man yet knowing it wasn’t really his place. Goffredo smiled gratefully at him and gave his arm a little squeeze before heading out the door. It made Aldo’s heart break a tiny bit. 

Chapter Text

One of the most horrific of encounters Aldo had yet heard came through his bedroom wall later that same night. He had just settled down to read for a bit until he felt properly sleepy when the first muffled noises reached his ears. Soon after he heard the first few words.

“Yeah, you like that–” passed clearly through the adjoining wall, as did, “Fuckin’ slut…” 

It wasn’t Goffredo’s voice. Aldo didn’t know if it would’ve made him feel any better if it was, but it certainly wouldn’t have made him feel worse than this did. The next few minutes he heard nothing else beyond a low background hum that could’ve been moaning before his neighbor’s voice came through again. 

“–such a greedy whore, Fredo– You really missed my cock, didn’t you?” 

There were some more moans and a high, keening whine. 

“Yeah, you know you’re lucky I’m drunk, that’s the only way I could take pity on you like this… If you weren’t such a fat little pig, I might do it more often…” 

Aldo felt sick but he couldn’t make himself stop listening out of a twisted, masochistic curiosity. He just wanted to hear something coherent from Goffredo– something, anything, to reassure him that the other man liked this. Many people certainly would, Aldo knew from personal experience, but did Goffredo? Instead, he only heard more moans, whines, and the slap of skin on skin as his thoughts spiraled, imagining what that kind of dirty talk must feel like if one didn’t want it. After a few more torturous minutes, Aldo had to flee his bed to puke. He dry-heaved pitifully a few times before giving up, no less sick to his stomach than he had been. He went back to the bedroom feeling miserable and, hearing the couple next door still at it, decided to get dressed and seek refuge outside. Aldo heard his neighbor moan something that sounded like “filthy fucking animal” as he pulled on his jeans and a minute later he was out of the apartment.

The cold night air was bracing and the street noise of Garbatella on a Friday felt like blessed silence in comparison. While Aldo still felt ill, he didn’t think he was in danger of throwing up again, and as he took off walking, he lit a cigarette for some sort of familiar comfort. He couldn’t stop thinking about everything he’d heard and feeling sorrier for Goffredo than he ever had before. But this time, he had to wonder if he had any right to. Was it all really something they’d both agreed to and enjoyed? Somehow that thought was harder to swallow than that this was just a wretched permutation of their usual argument. Aldo wasn’t naive; he had slept with a number of men who liked a bit of a fight before or when they were in bed together and many of them liked to hear him say some of what his neighbor had said and more. And Aldo couldn’t deny that, with the right person, he enjoyed it himself as much as he liked to be gentle, indulgent, and full of praise for others who craved that instead. It wasn’t the degradation that concerned him, it was the persistent worry that Goffredo hadn’t signed up for it. He could hardly imagine a worse feeling than inflicting something like that on someone who hadn’t asked him to and he hoped beyond anything that wasn’t the case next door. 

He resigned himself to the fact that he’d never get a satisfying answer to these questions after nearly an hour of walking and, feeling really exhausted now, he began to head home. It was past midnight and there had been no one else wandering the streets besides himself for a while, so he noticed immediately when he heard someone, still a few blocks away from his building. There was someone weeping and, after he came a bit closer, he saw a figure sitting on the curb between two parked cars. It took him until he was only a few feet away to get a look at them. Aldo recognized the curls first, then the worn blue jacket, and eventually even the voice, and his heart sank. It was Goffredo, of course. Even though he had been seeing that man’s face in his mind’s eye for the past hour as he agonized, the moment still caught him by surprise.  Part of him felt he had to say something– but what to say? Yet another part knew he couldn’t say anything! He could never embarrass the man like that! And anyway, what could he do to help Goffredo if he did speak? There was nothing he could do. He knew Goffredo wouldn’t– couldn’t– be honest about what had driven him out, sobbing, into the cold and now was not the time for Aldo to disclose that he could imagine the real reasons perfectly well. So instead he continued home, walking briskly, quietly past without stopping and feeling a terrible ache in his chest.  

--

The next day, Aldo met his friend, Giulio, for a coffee and couldn’t help but pick his brain about the couple next door. Giulio worked as a family lawyer who saw his fair share of acrimonious divorces and Aldo had wanted his opinion on this case for quite a while. 

He explained the particulars delicately, saying just enough for Giulio to understand his concerns, but he didn’t feel like it was his place to share the exact reasons why the couple were in constant tension. 

“And I just don’t get why Goffredo would stay with someone who acts like that all the time!” Aldo concluded, watching his friend’s face earnestly. 

Giulio’s expression was inconclusive. He meditated over Aldo’s story for a minute.

“So it’s not foreplay, you think?” he said at first. Aldo stared back at him and Giulio shrugged, “Well, c’mon, we both know people are into all sorts of things! What if we’d had an ear to our wall back in the day, wouldn’t they have thought the same as you right now? Maybe this does it for them too, hm? Goffredo wouldn’t be the first of your friends to enjoy being shamed, or belittled, or degraded,” he replied with the barest touch of a smile, perhaps in fond reminiscence of the years gone-by. 

“No, it’s not that,” Aldo said in a firm voice, “I doubt this is something he’s getting off on. Just trust me here.” 

Giulio shrugged again.

“Sure, okay. If it’s not that, then what?” he continued, “There are usually reasons people stay in a bad relationship. Self-esteem issues, family issues, financial issues. Especially financial issues. What about that? Has that come up at all in your eavesdropping?” 

Aldo somewhat resented the term ‘eavesdropping’ (he couldn’t help overhearing!) but he answered the question nonetheless. 

“Well, I know Goffredo is a teacher, I don’t know what kind or where, and I don’t know anything about the boyfriend,” 

“Really? What about a name?” 

“I’ve never learned it,” Aldo said and now it was his turn to shrug. Giulio raised his eyebrows.

“Well, he’s never introduced himself, it’s not like I haven’t tried!” he explained, trying not to sound too defensive, “We’ve lived next to each other for almost a year– we pass each other in the hall all the time and he’s never even looked at me!”

“Ah,” Giulio said softly.

“What!?” 

“You dislike this man, Aldo?” 

“Well, of course! Who wouldn’t?” he replied, blushing fiercely.

“Why?”

“Because he’s rude! He’s an asshole and a bully and–”

“And because he’s never said hello to you in the hallway? God, you’re adorably provincial! This is Rome! Who expects to know their neighbors anyway? You sound as angry about that as you do about everything else, you know.” 

“Is that a bad thing to know who lives next door to you? It’s just polite!” Aldo protested,

“Uffa! And you’re still so American!” Giulio exclaimed with a laugh. Aldo stared daggers at him.

“Giulio, I’ve lived here since I was 13 years old, I’ve spent more than half my life here, I am not ‘so American,’” he complained peevishly,

“But you do not deny the other charge, eh?” Giulio rebutted, with sarcastic glee, “Say, where did you live when you first moved here, then, at the tender age of 13?”

“Yes, fine, I was in Calabria with my nonni– fine! I concede the point, you’re right, I’m provincial!” 

His companion laughed, “I’m sorry to tease you, Aldo,” he said and Aldo rolled his eyes.

“No you’re not– you love to tease me! But I forgive you anyway,” he replied, smiling in spite of himself, “I’ll just call you the next time they’re at it so you can decide for yourself if I’m exaggerating.”

“By all means! Welcome me into your world of voyeurism, my friend!” his companion joked with a smile and Aldo laughed. 

“Oh my God, you’re impossible!” 

--

Later that day, Aldo was vindicated, although it was a bitter victory. Giulio’s dinner plans had fallen through so Aldo invited him over to share a meal since, aside from earlier that day, it had been a while since they’d had a chance to catch up. But, just like clockwork, as the friends sat down to eat in the kitchen, they began to hear angry shouting from the couple next door. It followed the usual themes Aldo had become unwillingly familiar with and he managed to surmount his discomfort and eat a few initial bites of the risotto he’d so lovingly prepared. Giulio could only stare at him with his mouth agape. 

“God, you can really hear everything!” he whispered, “Wow…” 

Aldo shrugged, 

“It’s been worse than usual lately,” he explained, matching Giulio’s hushed tone for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. His companion was silent for a few minutes as he listened. The argument was still a back-and-forth spat, (‘You’re lying, Fredo, there’s no fucking way you expect me to believe that!’ ‘I’m not! I swear to God, I’m not!’) but it hadn’t yet progressed to a one-sided tirade. However, Goffredo’s boyfriend was gaining the upper hand the longer they went on and becoming more vicious in his attacks. He wasn’t pleased that Goffredo had taken up their shared time off to work, he didn’t believe it was as necessary as his partner claimed, and what was more, he didn’t understand how ‘sitting on his ass all day’ could make Goffredo so hungry! He began to lay on insults and Aldo could no longer keep eating with equanimity. 

Giulo just stared at him in horror. 

“Is it always like this? You never told me it was like this!” he asked, barely audible as though the couple next door might hear them if he spoke any louder. Aldo paused to consider for a moment, 

“Well, sometimes it’s not as rough, but this one seems especially bad…”

“No, no,” Giulio continued, “Is it always about this? Is it always about his body– about being fat? You never said that before!” 

“It’s always about this,” he said, nodding, “I– It felt gossipy to explain it all earlier, I don’t know, it just didn’t feel right, I mean, I shouldn’t know any of this in the first place!”

His friend stared off to the side, an expression of dismay fixed on his features. It seemed like he heard none of what Aldo had just said before he shook himself out of it. 

“I see…” Giulio said slowly, “I– Can we sit somewhere else? Is there anywhere where you can’t hear them in here?” 

“Oh God! Yes, of course, I’m sorry! Um… we could go sit in the main room, in the far corner where my desk is and it’ll be quieter– it’s just as bad in the bedroom, unfortunately,” Aldo suggested, feeling guilty now for subjecting his friend to a horror he himself had become more desensitized to, “But, um, maybe we should go outside for a bit, if that isn’t too cold?”

Giulio shook his head, 

“No, that sounds perfect,” he replied, grimacing and shutting his eyes for a moment as a particularly disgusting remark passed through the walls. The pair left a few minutes later after bundling on coats, scarves, and shoes, practically running down the stairs to escape the echoes of the fight that seeped into the hallway. They both breathed a little easier once they were outside in the cool December air and the neighborhood’s inoffensive ambient noise. Aldo lit up a consoling cigarette to share once they sat down a few paces from his building. 

“I can’t imagine how you stand that! I’m sorry for making light of it earlier, I understand why you hate that guy so much!” Giulio began after taking a long drag, a slight shiver running through him, 

“No, no, I didn’t explain it. I’m so sorry you had to hear all that, though, that was– well, I wish I could say it isn’t usually as bad as that, but lately…” he trailed off, finding it hard to think with Goffredo and his boyfriend’s voices ringing in his ears. 

“I can’t believe nobody’s said anything to them! It can’t just be you with thin walls, what do the two people across from you possibly think?” 

“Well,” Aldo started, feeling a touch ridiculous to be seriously considering that question for the first time, “Um… There’s an old lady– quite a deaf old lady– Nina, who I’m always terrified of finding at the bottom of the stairs, even though she hates me. She lives directly across from them and then across from me is empty, but I think someone will be moving in in the New Year. They were showing the place months ago,” Aldo recounted. It was a cozy little floor, just the four of them, in a relatively small building, which he had wanted when he’d been apartment-hunting last year but now wondered if he would’ve been better off in a big, anonymous monstrosity in some other neighborhood. 

“God, that’s unlucky,” his friend said, inhaling deeply before passing back the cigarette that was getting down to the filter by now. Aldo took a long drag of his own. 

“Well, maybe I can warn our new arrival. Nina’s no use, she hates all three of us equally for being a bunch of finocchi– even if she could hear any of the screaming– which I’m not entirely sure about,” he said, laughing weakly in spite of himself. That old woman had introduced him to more homophobic slurs than he’d even known Italian to contain over the course of their acquaintance and they’d begun from the very first ‘hello.’ Giulio looked at him skeptically. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it! She’s like a hundred years old, I can’t be that angry if she calls me ‘swish.’ Is she wrong? And it’s not like she’s not gonna be around much longer anyway!” he added, cajoling a smile out of the other man. 

“So will you say anything to them, then? Goffredo and his boyfriend?” Giulo pursued after a few minutes of comfortable silence after they began another cigarette. Aldo stared at him in horror. 

“And say what?!” he asked, aghast, “And then have Goffredo know I’d heard all of that– that– bullshit? It would be humiliating!” 

“Well, suit yourself, it’s only your peace of mind,” Giulio said with a shrug, “But I never want to hear that shit again. Next time, you’re coming over to my place for dinner, is that clear?” 

“Crystal!” Aldo replied. 

After that, Giulo began to talk about heading home before it got too late– tomorrow was Monday after all– and Aldo insisted on walking with him the short distance to the Metro station and waiting together until he was whisked away to enjoy the last little bit of his friend’s visit. By the time he got back to his own building, Aldo’s mood had almost completely recovered from their disastrously interrupted dinner and he was even starting to feel hungry again when he saw that someone had taken their place on the bench, illuminated under the street lamp. Once he got a few paces closer he realized it was Goffredo and as he listened, he could tell he was crying, again. Although he weighed the risk of making him uncomfortable, Aldo couldn’t in good conscience ignore him twice in a row. ‘God, Giulio was right, I am so provincial,’ he thought with an inward sigh before summoning up his courage and addressing the man softly weeping a few feet in front of him. 

“Goffredo?” Aldo said gently, “Are you okay?”

His head whipped up to see who had spoken to him. There were wet tear tracks on his cheeks and a few tissues scrunched in his hands. His eyes were bloodshot behind his glasses. 

“Oh! Aldo! Um… Yeah, yeah, I’m fi–” he tried to say before his face crumpled and he buried it in his hands. Aldo’s chest ached and he sat down beside him on the bench, resisting the urge to put an arm around his shaking shoulders. 

“I’m fine,” Goffredo managed to whisper at last from behind his fingers, breathing in a series of rapid, short gasps. Aldo wanted to give him a minute or two to regain some composure before he spoke because he clearly was not ‘fine.’ 

“What’s wrong?” he asked at last, “Let me– I mean, is there any way I can help?” 

“No, no–” Goffredo answered, looking up again with his tear-stained face. He shook his head and continued with a deep breath, “No, nothing’s wrong I just– I’m just a huge asshole and made a mess of things! I’m out here feeling sorry for myself, don’t worry about me…” 

Aldo looked at him, hoping his skepticism didn’t show on his face, and felt wretched. He repressed the urge to ask him what happened; he didn’t really know the other man anyway and it would seem rude to pry.  

“Are you sure I can’t do anything?”

“Oh, no, it’s not your problem, Aldo, but thank you– really,” he said, grabbing one of Aldo’s hands and giving it a little squeeze, “You’re way too nice to me! I really do want to get coffee with you sometime, I mean it! Just give me another week, once school’s on vacation, I swear!” Then Goffredo smiled at him with his earnest, red-rimmed eyes and Aldo felt like he’d been punched in the ribs.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said weakly, “There’s no rush.” 

Goffredo squeezed his hand once more and then stood up, 

“Oh gosh, you’re a sweetheart, thank you… but, um, anyway, I should get going. It’s late and I’ve got classes in the morning, but I’ll see you around, right?” 

Aldo nodded and the other man headed back to their building. 

“If you ever need anything, I’m right next door!” Aldo called after him before he could stop him. Goffredo turned and waved at him with a smile as he let himself inside, then he was gone. 

Aldo went back in a short while after, feeling angry and helpless. He was glad he and Giulio had left when they did, but he wondered what happened in the intervening hours to send Goffredo out into the cold. What had his boyfriend said to make him reproach himself so harshly? Of course, Aldo didn’t know the whole, or even half, of the story but from what he did know, it was unbelievable to think Goffredo was in the wrong! He still felt queasy as he went about cleaning up from the dinner they never ate, turning everything over in his mind, and he still couldn’t shake the unease as he went to bed that night. He felt horribly complicit, knowing what was going on next door and yet doing nothing. It had never occurred to him to say anything until Giulio questioned him, but now the idea had been raised Aldo couldn’t give it up. ‘Should he say something? But what could he even say?’ he thought in an endless loop as he tried to fall asleep. Eventually the sun rose and Aldo with it, feeling no less rested than when he’d laid down hours before. 

Chapter Text

A week later, Aldo got a text from Goffredo asking where and when he wanted to meet, true to his word. Aldo suggested a cafe in their neighborhood where he was a regular, in part because of its location and in part because of their excellent pastries. He asked Goffredo when would best suit him, however. 

This Sunday, 2 o’clock? he proposed and Aldo immediately agreed. He felt quite embarrassed to be so excited, but he had hardly seen Goffredo at all for the past weeks and he hadn’t heard from him indirectly either, having imposed a strict moratorium on eavesdropping after that night with Giulio. Aldo had become increasingly uneasy with the amount of personal information he had that he shouldn’t possibly know. If he wanted to truly, genuinely become friends with Goffredo, he reasoned, he couldn’t have all the goriest secrets of his relationship unless the man disclosed them himself. And, Aldo hoped, it would help him feel less complicit as well, although it hadn’t happened so far. 

When Sunday arrived, Aldo felt a touch nervous so he got there an hour early with a book, waving ‘hello’ to the woman behind the bar and parking himself at a comfortable, tucked away table. ‘So stupid to feel this anxious, it’s not like it’s a date!’ he thought, ruefully, turning his eyes to his book, although he could hardly focus on it. At about ten minutes to 2 o’clock, his phone buzzed with a text from Goffredo: I’ll be there in a few minutes, should I get a table? Sorry to be so punctual. 

Don’t worry, Aldo texted back, I’m already here. His fingers were trembling and he hated himself for it. By the time Goffredo walked in, he had gotten his nerves under control and could greet him just like anyone else. After a few pleasantries, Aldo went up to order for them, asking for two espressos and adding in a cornetto of his own accord, hoping to share it. He returned and asked Goffredo how the Christmas vacation was treating him. His companion let out a sigh of exquisite relief. 

“Aldo, it’s been so marvellous, you can’t even imagine! It was utter pandemonium in the lead up but it was all worth it for this!”

Aldo grinned, 

“I’m so glad,” he said with undisguised pleasure, “Are you going to be travelling at all for the holiday? You’re not from Rome, right? I thought I remembered…” 

“Yes, yes on both counts,” Goffredo reassured him, “I’ll be gone for nearly a week, to see everyone down in Trivigno, uh, in Basilicata. My siblings will come back as well, the ones who don’t still live in town.” He smiled, “But what about you, eh?” 

Aldo took a breath. 

“Uh, well, I’ll be staying with my uncle’s family and all the cousins for a few days around Christmas, uh, in Calabria. They live in Cittanova,” he explained, “After that I’ll be in the UK until New Year with a friend.”

“Really? Oh, that’s wonderful!” Goffredo said, sounding delighted, “So, you’re a fellow exile! You know, I never thought you weren’t from Rome, if I'm honest,” he said in a complimentary tone which amused Aldo, “But I’m impressed, you can’t hear the Calabrese in your accent at all! I wish I could say as much, my students tease me mercilessly whenever I slip up! If I’m tired I still sound so Lucano!”

Aldo couldn’t help smiling, 

“Well, I was only there for four years before moving away for university– I lived with my grandparents and all the uncles, aunts, and cousins– but I was actually born in New Jersey.”

Goffredo stared at him in shock with his mouth agape, only coming back to himself when a server set down the coffees and cornetto. Then, he looked up and thanked her warmly before turning back to gawk at Aldo. 

“So you’re American?! I don’t believe it!” 

Aldo burst out laughing at his horrified tone. 

“Only originally! I lived there until I was 13, but both my parents were Calabrese and I’ve lived all the rest of my life in Italy,” he clarified quickly, not wanting his potential friend to get the wrong impression. Aldo detested being mistaken for an expat, at any rate.

“Wow,” Goffredo said, awestruck, “I never would’ve guessed– you don’t sound American at all! Do you still speak English fluently?” 

“Nearly fluently, I don’t practice as much as I should– so is that what you teach, then?” he asked, desperate to change the subject, then took a sip of his coffee. The other man nodded. 

“Among other things. I’m also teaching Italian and French this year– at Montale, uh, Liceo Eugenio Montale, for the liceo linguistico.” 

“And do you like it? What age do you teach?” 

“First and second years,” he said with a fond eyeroll, “They can be a handful, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I like the flow of the year; I like meeting a new group of students and seeing their progress– it’s very gratifying, seeing I’ve done my job well.” He smiled, “But what do you do for work, then?” 

Aldo shrugged, 

“Oh God, nothing quite so rewarding– I just work in an office. It’s just emails and spreadsheets and mailing things from one place to another, but I don’t mind, I mean, it gives me enough time to do what I actually enjoy.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“I love to cook– to bake– just put me in a kitchen and I’m happy!” he said, laughing and saw Goffredo grin. 

“Of course! I should’ve figured you’re the reason the hallway always smells delicious! I wasn’t sure if it was you or the old lady. I used to cook all the time with my mom growing up, although I don’t get much of a chance to these days…” 

“I’d love to have you for dinner sometime!” Aldo said, a bit more eagerly than he’d meant to, “Um, that is if your boyfriend wouldn’t mind, of course, I wouldn’t want to cause trouble. But you’re more than welcome to come over any time you want, Goffredo. Maybe we could cook together some time.”

The other man looked at him, still smiling, but more subdued. He wouldn’t meet Aldo’s gaze as he replied.

“I don’t know what Rocco would think, I mean, I’d have to ask. But thank you for the offer nonetheless, that’s really sweet of you…” 

Rocco. Aldo was glad to know his name at last, although it worried him to imagine how that conversation might go, with all his ill-gotten information. Nevertheless, he nodded his understanding. 

“No problem. It’s a standing invitation, you’re always welcome,” he said softly. Then they both paused to sip their coffee which had gotten a bit cold as they had talked and Aldo broke into the cornetto. 

“Share this with me, please,” he implored Goffredo with a gentle smile, “It’s half the reason I come to this place, anyway.” The man looked torn. 

“No, no I’m all right– thank you,” he replied at last. Aldo didn’t want to press. He was saddened but not surprised and tore into it himself. After a moment of uncertain silence, Goffredo spoke again. 

“So, uh, I’m curious, what brought you to Calabria in the first place? 13 is young to be moving overseas!” 

“Well, I came here when my parents split up. They, ah, they had a pretty nasty divorce and needed to get me out of the way for a while so my grandparents– my mom’s parents– took me in,” he said, a bit uncomfortably, “I guess I liked it better here than back in Trenton so I stayed.” Goffredo didn’t need to know he didn’t have a choice in the matter. “I went to university in Rome and I’ve lived here ever since– I’m really rather boring.” 

His companion laughed, 

“I don’t believe that for a minute!” 

“You don’t need to flatter me, I’m quite comfortable with the fact, really,” he joked, hoping his cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt. 

“No, no, you’ve not convinced me,” Goffredo continued, “You read Gramsci for fun! Who does that? Communists– academics–” he said, a twinkle in his eye, “And very, very interesting people, I think! So, which are you?” 

Aldo could only look down, blushing profusely as his throat tightened. 

“But seriously, then, why choose philosophy? I know you said you didn’t want to teach but how did you end up making spreadsheets and sending emails instead?” 

“Oh, God, I don’t know!” Aldo sighed with a faintly self-deprecating smile, “I just settled for whatever paid me enough to stay in Rome– I never had ambitions, you know, I never wanted to do anything, really! I was happy enough to have my own interests outside of work and leave it at that.” 

He was even being honest then! But Goffredo still looked skeptical. 

“So you read to keep sharp and you cook to feed the soul,” he mused, “What else do you get up to, eh? What occupies the days of Aldo Bellini?” 

‘Listening to you and your boyfriend,’ he thought. 

“Oh, well, that! You’ve about summed it up,” Aldo said, still flushed, “But tell me about yourself, then, what made you become a teacher? When did you get the calling to put up with immature teens who ignore their schoolwork?” 

They kept talking like that for a long while. It was the most comfortable Aldo had felt with someone he ostensibly knew so poorly, yet every laugh, every smile he coaxed from Goffredo was an indescribably sweet victory. By their third cup of coffee, he finally succeeded in persuading him to rip off a bite of cornetto and that was the sweetest of all. They stayed there for nearly three hours and by the end of it Aldo thought he might actually know more about his neighbor through thoroughly legitimate means than through his unwilling espionage. As they walked home in the damp December chill, Goffredo had made him promise to meet again in a few days. He agreed with a rapidity that embarrassed him. 

It had been one of the nicest afternoons Aldo had spent in a while and he knew he was already dangerously smitten. 

--

He met with Giulio to do some last minute holiday shopping before they parted for a little while, Giulio to Kildare to stay with his boyfriend’s family and he to Calabria. As they strolled through the market aimlessly, they enjoyed the chance to catch up. 

“So how is Tommaso, then?” Giulio asked before long as Aldo mentioned his plans to visit for a few days around New Years. 

“Ah, well, he’s been fine on the whole, I think,” he began, “He’s been much better now that term's ended but it got a little messy there for a while. Well, you know him.”

Giulio sighed. 

“I remember. But, is there any chance you could get him to see someone, do you think? Or, does he have anyone close in Cambridge who could, y’know, keep an eye out for him?” 

“I don’t know– he has some friends at college, but I don’t know if he’d be willing to open up like that– you know what he’s like. I doubt we’d ever get him to see a professional, even if he wanted to. From what he’s said, the NHS is in such a state these days!” 

His friend grimly agreed. 

“I mean, he and I have been calling everyday for a bit, just to check in,” Aldo continued, “And that seems to help. When I get there I’ll see if we can figure out something better.” 

Giulio sighed again and there was a touch of exasperation in it this time. 

“Look, I’ve no desire to have this conversation again, so I’ll say this and we’ll leave it there, but, Aldo, really, you are not a clinician! You are a very, very good friend but you shouldn’t have to become an amateur psychologist just to be a good friend to Tommaso– it’s not your job to take care of him! It isn’t healthy for you and it isn’t really healthy for him, either; he needs real help! Ma basta così, I’m done now,” he said and threw up his hands to prove it. Aldo knew it wasn’t the time to debate the issue so they moved on to more neutral topics for the rest of the morning and the disagreement fizzled out. 

They began to head back to Aldo’s building after grabbing a coffee in Garbatella and the subject of his neighbors came up after he had tried to invite Giulio in for a bit, which Giulio steadfastly refused. 

“No, no, I’ve learned my lesson. Once you move, maybe I’ll consider it! But I can’t deny I have been curious; how is the unhappy couple these days?” 

Aldo groaned. 

“Unhappy as ever,” he began, “I’ve been doing my best to block it out– I hear the sounds of yelling and not the words now– but, honestly, I’ve just been trying to stay out of the house as much as possible. Sometimes it can be unavoidable.” 

“You know, if you wanted to, you could be even less at home– won’t you let me introduce you to some guys? You two can go out with me and Ray, it’ll be fun! And then, well, who knows? Maybe you’ll have such a good time you won’t even have to go home at all! Come on, you know this isn't like you!” Giulio said with a wink and a smirk. 

Aldo couldn’t help but laugh. His friend had made this offer at least once every time they’d seen each other for weeks. 

“Thank you as always, Giulio, it is very, very generous of you but I just– I just don’t think I want to be dating right now,” he replied delicately. 

“Sure, because you’re too busy being Tommaso’s therapist and listening to your neighbors argue, right?” Giulio teased dryly, “You’re such a martyr!” 

“I haven’t even been listening!” he protested with some indignation, “I– Goffredo and I have actually really started to become friends recently– we’ve been running into each other all the time and I’ve really been getting to know him better…” 

“Oh good! You’ve gained another client already, then?” 

“Fuck off! We don’t even talk about that!” Aldo said, laughing, “It never comes up.” He couldn’t deny that his face felt hot. Giulio groaned. 

“What!?” he demanded, a touch embarrassed. 

“Nothing! Nothing– I’ll keep my thoughts to myself at present I think,” his friend said with, what Aldo felt was, infuriating smugness and he huffed and rolled his eyes in response. 

Just as he was about to give Giulio a hug and say his goodbyes, Goffredo passed them on the sidewalk. Aldo couldn’t help but smile, greet him warmly, and introduce him to Giulio. The three made a bit of polite small talk for a minute before the other man went inside. The second the door closed, Giulio turned to him with a piercing gaze. 

“So,” he began, “That was Goffredo, eh?” 

Aldo wasn’t excited about the slightly accusatory tone but acquiesced nonetheless. 

“Ah-ha, now I understand why you've been off your game! And, look, I get it! I mean, he’s exactly the kind of guy you like, amico.” 

If he’d felt flushed before, Aldo knew his face was scarlet now. 

“You’re carrying a torch for him, aren’t you? Martyr! You always did like to torture yourself a little bit, no? I guess that’s something you and Goffredo have in common.” 

“Giulio!” he exclaimed, indignantly, “That’s not fair! And anyway, I thought you were keeping your opinions to yourself, what happened to that? I liked that!”

“Circumstances changed. Now I’ve met him and, what’s more, I know you well enough to know you’re really into him, Aldino! You really want to be with this guy, don't you?” 

He sighed, knowing there was more truth in what his friend said than he wanted to admit. 

“Just promise me you won’t try to save him, yeah? It's out of your hands, just let whatever happens happen,” Giulio said gently at last with some real concern evident on his face. 

Aldo nodded and promised that he would and then they hugged, said goodbye, and went on their separate ways.

Chapter Text

After the second not-date with Goffredo, Aldo knew his goose was cooked. He enjoyed being with the other man too much to get over it any time soon. They had spent hours chatting over coffee again and every single thing Aldo learned about his new friend made him more smitten. Giulio’s initial assessment had been right, Goffredo was exactly the sort that Aldo would fancy, although he hadn’t known how right he was at the time. It took until their next meeting for Aldo to understand exactly what his friend had seen between them. After that, he had to meditate for a long while on Giulio’s advice to ‘let whatever happens happen’ because his impulse to meddle– to insinuate himself, to homewreck– was powerful. Goffredo was so cute! And everything he learned about the man just made him cuter. Aldo had found out more about his new friend’s family this time– his numerous, boisterous siblings and his parent’s bed and breakfast in the little mountain village of​​ Trivigno down south in Basilicata– which only made him more charming. It was the kind of picturesque upbringing precisely calculated to make Aldo swoon. It wouldn’t have hurt his chances if Goffredo had been a born-and-bred Roman, but Aldo knew it didn’t help that his neighbor was a country boy from a small town. He knew Goffredo had no idea what he was doing as he talked so fondly of growing up with all his older brothers and sisters, of playing with their little kids nowadays, of learning to cook with his mother for the guests at their inn, and of many happy Christmases spent huddled together in the kitchen and Aldo couldn’t help but fall in love with him as he spoke. Giulio hadn’t been wrong, he was torturing himself a bit, yet it was unavoidable! He couldn’t adore Goffredo less now that they knew each other. And Goffredo seemed to really want to be better friends, too! He seemed to like him and Aldo couldn’t resist in the face of all that! He could be friends, in spite of his other impulses; it would be hard but it wouldn’t be impossible to keep things platonic.

Aldo had a chance to prove it to his friends when he saw Giulio again. He went over to the couple’s apartment for dinner with dessert– tiramisu– and wine, as instructed. In a few days, Giulio and Ray would be in Ireland and Aldo wanted a chance to see the two of them before that. It had been a long while since the trio had met up for dinner, anyway. When Thomas had lived in Rome, he’d made sure they kept to a schedule of every other Friday, alternating hosting to keep it fair. That had been the group’s routine for years before Aldo had started seeing either Giulio or Ray. Aldo had many memories of the Englishman asking if things ever became like a lurid tabloid headline when he had to leave early, although he’d always rolled his eyes. After four years, though, the jokes had taken on an almost sacramental quality, and the flow of the meal always felt disjointed without his additions now. 

When Aldo arrived he was immediately roped into the couple’s ongoing discussion and ushered to a seat at their table. 

“So Giulio was just telling me he met the famous Goffredo the other day,” Ray began, innocuously, and Aldo concurred. 

“He said he was very charming,” the man continued and Aldo agreed again, “I’d love to meet him sometime. How long have you known each other?" 

“Five or six months? He moved in next door with this guy Rocco back in August,” 

“Formerly Mr No-Name,” Giulio cut in from the kitchen, emerging a moment later with a tumbler of something for Ray, “And what can I get you, Aldino? Same as always?” he asked. Aldo nodded and his friend disappeared again. 

“So he’s already briefed you, then?” Aldo asked, looking at Ray with a more critical gaze and the other man reddened. 

“He’s told me a bit, yeah,” he replied reluctantly, “But I’d rather hear it from you!” 

Aldo turned back to the kitchen and called out to Giulio in a playfully accusatory tone.

“You’re making him do your dirty work, now? You want to make me incriminate myself, you bastard?” 

A moment later his friend emerged, drinks in hand, with a self-satisfied expression. 

“All right, you caught me,” he admitted, placing a negroni down in front of him, “Now, go on and fess up. You’re in love with him!” 

Aldo paused and sipped before replying. 

“Well, Giulio thinks I’m in love with him,” he said, sarcastically, before he answered in earnest, “But I have no clue. I mean, he makes me nervous! I really, really like him. I think he likes me. I want him to like me. I’ve spent maybe ten hours with him all together, who knows?” He shrugged. Ray hummed and nodded sympathetically while his partner scoffed. 

“Besotted,” Giulio declared with disgust, “It’s tragic to see this happen so young. You were tough as nails when I met you!” 

Aldo had to laugh after that and Ray merely shook his head in fond annoyance. 

“Yeah, and back then, when I was younger and stupider, I was only fucking spoiled brats and confirmed pieces of shit, present company very much included. Love had nothing to do with anything!” he replied acidly, glaring at Giulio, who grinned. 

“Ah-ha, there he is!”

Aldo rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh, “How anyone can stand to live with you is beyond me!” 

“Mmm, exactly like that! And now, if you could look at me like I was dirt like you used to–?” the other man taunted and Aldo couldn’t resist going along for a second as Ray observed them with amusement. 

“You’re doing this in front of him? Really? You fucking pervert!”

“Yes, that’s perfect!” Giulio exclaimed triumphantly, “Thank you very much!” 

Aldo chuckled and took a sip of his drink as the Irishman addressed him more seriously, 

“Look, I’ve been meaning to ask, if you two ever wanted to have the place to yourselves, I’d be much obliged. He’s been like this for weeks and it’s driving me mad!” 

“Sure,” he said with a laugh, “Anytime– God! If Thomas could hear us now, he’d never let us forget it!” Ray shrugged and murmured something about being ‘too English for his own good’ and Giulio blithely called him a prude. But after that, the subject dropped and they moved on to less exciting topics as the evening continued out of deference for their absent friend. 

Dinner was delicious as always (Giulio was an excellent cook for all his foibles) and by the time they cut into the tiramisu, Aldo was counting himself lucky to have escaped more Goffredo-based interrogation before he realized he was wrong. But this time, Ray led the conversation and took a gentler tack, lulling him into a false sense of security. 

“So, what’s he like? You never got a chance to say before someone interrupted,” Ray continued, nudging his partner gently. 

“Well, he’s sweet,” Aldo began after a deep breath, “He’s a teacher; it’s so cute to hear him talk about his students– and he’s such a nerd– we’ve read the same books…” 

That made his friends look between each other knowingly. Aldo tried to be magnanimous. 

“What does he teach?” the Irishman asked,

“Foreign languages. English, French…” 

“And where’s he from, then?” Ray continued, after a moment, barely able to stop grinning. 

Aldo told them everything he had learned earlier that week about the little mountain village of Trivigno, how Goffredo’s family ran a little hotel there, how he had a gaggle of siblings (although Aldo didn’t know the exact number) and a pack of nephews and nieces who he adored. With delicate precision, Ray wheedled out all the most damning information before Aldo even knew what he was saying. It felt so wonderful to talk about with anyone, he didn’t think about how he was confirming all his friends’ suspicions. But soon there could be no more pretense that he wasn’t hopelessly infatuated with Goffredo, he had fully convicted himself.

“And have you had Goffredo over for dinner yet?” Ray asked simply, continuing his interrogation, before his partner chimed in with a more pointed question, “Will you try to woo him that way, d’you reckon? Put on the Ella Fitzgerald and get to work?” 

“I’m not trying to woo him!” Aldo argued, “I’m not trying to do anything– I just want to get to know him better!”

“You’ll get him into bed soon enough, Aldino, you have a gift!” Giulio continued unhelpfully. 

“I’m not trying– I’m not just trying to fuck him!” Aldo protested. 

“No,” he conceded, “If you were trying to fuck him, you’d have done it already and I wouldn’t being hearing about how that stray puppy of a man makes you ‘nervous’! Maybe try screwing his brains out and see how nervous you feel after that, eh? A shitty boyfriend has never stopped you before.” 

Aldo scoffed, 

“Yes, thank you, Giulio, I take your point,” he said drily, “But that wouldn’t work with him, and, anyway, I don’t fuck guys with partners anymore–” 

“When did this happen?!”

“Once my brain developed and I stopped dating dirtbags, genius, but, don’t worry, I’ll make an exception for you,” Aldo reassured him and Giulio chuckled, “But, really, I don’t think Goffredo is a guy who cheats. He’s very, uh, old-fashioned.” 

Ray had been looking between the pair with amusement during their little spat but here he cut in to ask a question again. 

“‘Old-fashioned’ just because he doesn’t cheat? Feels a bit harsh, no?” 

Aldo smiled at that and shook his head before clarifying. 

“Then I guess he’s just old-fashioned generally. It’s not in a bad way, though. I mean, it’s adorable, he doesn’t even curse! I haven’t fancied a guy like that since grade-school. He’s way too good for me!” 

Here, Giulio opened his mouth to say something before his partner shushed him. 

“How’s that?” Ray asked softly. Here, Aldo wasn’t quite sure how honest he wanted to be. 

“I don’t date guys that sweet,” he began, “I’ll date a nice guy, sure, but not someone that nice. No offence intended,” Ray smiled fondly. “And I don’t think he’s in a great situation right now and– has he filled you in on that?” Aldo asked, gesturing at Giulio, before he got ahead of himself. The pair nodded and he continued.

“It’s insane, I mean, he’s beyond patient. I’d have long ago been arrested for murder in his shoes. I don’t think I know anyone good enough for him,” he said with a gentle sigh, completely serious, only for his friends to start chuckling. 

“What?” Aldo demanded, fighting off a smile himself. 

“God, nobody’s fucked you up this bad in years,” Giulio said, “And, anyway, he likes you so much it’s embarrassing. You kept batting your eyelashes at him and you were both blushing like Hell, I thought I was with a couple of fucking teenagers for a minute.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Goffredo seems easy to love,” Ray mused in the brief silence. Aldo sighed. 

“I’ll have to leave if you two keep fucking doing this!” 

He did end up leaving a short while after that because it was getting late, he said, and because they did keep harassing him about his neighbor but the three made a promise to meet again as soon as possible once they had all returned to Rome in January. 

--

As Christmas vacation continued, Aldo and Goffredo met frequently. They ran into each other nearly every day, whether by design or by accident, doing last minute shopping, visiting friends, or simply going on a walk when the weather was clear. Aldo never asked about Rocco and he hadn’t heard anything through the walls from the man, either, which he took as a good sign. Aldo couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed his new friendship with Goffredo and he didn’t want to spark any recrimination on the latter’s part by reminding him about his boyfriend, as selfish as that was. 

Although they were thrown together for a week, Goffredo had yet to take Aldo up on his invitation to dinner until a few days before Aldo was due to leave for Calabria. Goffredo had caught him coming into the building by chance and as they chatted, he asked if the offer was still valid. 

“Of course! When?” Aldo replied, with pleasant surprise. 

“How’s tomorrow? If you don’t have plans already?”

“No, that’s perfect– what do you like? Is there anything that’s a particular favorite?” he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone. Aldo couldn’t deny that he wanted to impress the other man and he imagined that food might just be a safe outlet for that impulse. 

Goffredo shook his head, 

“I’m sure anything you make will be incredible,” he said with a soft smile, “But, what did you usually have down in Cittanova? I’d love to see what you grew up eating.” 

“Happy to oblige, I’ll make a feast!” Aldo replied, laughing gently. 

After a bit more small talk, they parted. Goffredo went out to visit a friend and Aldo trudged up the stairs to his apartment with a whole new pack of anxieties to keep his mind occupied. 

Aldo spent the rest of that day making the last finishing preparations for his trip and shopping for the couple things he would need for the meal tomorrow. The next day he passed for the most part in the kitchen in a state of mild anxiety. Nothing was very complicated and the hardest elements, like the torrone he would serve with coffee, were already done since he’d made plenty to bring down for the family in the week prior. Despite setting himself a few extra challenges just to make his life harder– making pasta from scratch, for one, vetting all the bookshelves to make sure there was nothing too risqué in there and removing quite a bit, for another, and cleaning the entire apartment again, for one more– it still wasn’t enough to regulate his nerves. Over the course of the day, Aldo had worked himself up into as respectable a tizzy as he ever had before. 

What he was most worried about was that once the man was actually there– in his apartment, sitting at his table, eating his food– he would be powerless to hide his infatuation. There had been too many close calls where Aldo noticed himself flirting and reigned it in just in time, but he was terrified that at the table, glass of wine in hand, he risked ruining everything. The last hour before his friend’s arrival was the most nerve-racking. Aldo spent it pacing around, practicing what he imagined would be ‘normal behavior’ and ‘normal conversation’ when Goffredo was there.  

By the time Goffredo knocked on his door– 8 o’clock on the dot, punctual as ever– Aldo had managed to squash down his fears but it all nearly went out the window when Goffredo gave him a gentle hug and ‘kissed’ his cheeks in greeting. ‘God, he’s so Southern!’ Aldo thought as he instinctively did the same, feeling his heart jump even though the man’s lips never even touched him. He rallied, however, and welcomed his guest warmly. He had brought a bottle of wine, so Aldo went to open it and invited Goffredo to take a seat on the sofa. Instead, his friend went over to peruse the over-stuffed bookcases, apologizing for his nosiness as he did so, and Aldo thanked the stars he had given them a once-over himself already!

“I’ve wanted to see your bookshelves for weeks, I knew you’d have some treasures in here,” he explained as Aldo handed him a glass. 

“Rocco mostly used his shelves for storage before I moved in, I think he might have five books total,” he said with a laugh, “But this is much more encouraging!” 

Unsurprisingly, Goffredo’s attention was first drawn to the English language titles– a collection of ratty paperbacks of ‘classics,’ some detective novels from Thomas, and some more academic volumes of philosophy, art history, and theology– which all showed signs of wear. He noted the seven or eight French books with interest. There wasn’t much. Some fiction, some philosophy, and some cookbooks, but nothing he thought would catch Goffredo’s fancy. 

“Do you speak French, too, Aldo? You never said!” 

“Barely, at this point. It’s been a while,” he confessed, “So please don’t test me, I’m afraid I’d give a very poor performance!” 

“Ah, well, we’ll work on it together, eh? I’ll make sure you pass your maturità,” Goffredo teased.  

He moved on to the rest of the collection, browsing through Aldo’s extensive and well-organized section for Italian fiction, nodding approvingly, then onto the nonfiction. Much of that was of an academic bent as well, with a few titles left over from university like the Gramsci, but the majority had been added since then. Psychology, theology, history and, of course, a healthy dose of philosophy which Goffredo remarked on. 

“You sold yourself short, you’re quite the scholar, Bellini! So, you’ve really figured out the best way for man to live, then? You’ve diagnosed all of society’s ills with this stuff, eh?” he teased, taking a sip of his wine. Aldo couldn’t help but laugh. 

“That was the idea but I’m afraid it’s only made me hopelessly neurotic, professore,” he replied, smiling.

“Are you sure about that?” Goffredo prodded, although Aldo wasn’t quite sure what he was getting at.

“Hm?” he said, bringing his glass to his lips.

“You have the same collection as an esoteric Communist bookshop and you dress like a beatnik! You can’t trick me, I know what you are!” his friend exclaimed, chuckling. Aldo stood convicted justly on both points. 

“And everything's so nicely organized, too, I think I could find anything here,” Goffredo continued, running his fingers along the spines of a row, “I’m envious. Our shelves are a mess. I have a corner with everything I’m using right now for class, but anything else is still wherever I shoved it moving in.” 

Aldo was listening as the other man spoke, but his focus was divided between the words and the stray curl that fell into Goffredo’s face as he’d crouched down to look at the books. He noted the strands of grey creeping into his neighbor’s black hair for the first time and with some pleasure. It was the only thing that made Goffredo seem remotely his age, otherwise he might’ve seemed ten years younger. Aldo’s eyes also caught on a glint of gold by the man’s collar as they wandered down his face. Goffredo only called back his attention as he stood up. 

“Wha– Are my glasses smudged or something?” he asked while Aldo tried to act like he hadn’t just been staring. 

“No!” he blurted out instantly, before looking and amending, “Well, actually, yeah. A bit.” 

His guest made a little sigh and handed Aldo his wine before half-heartedly wiping his glasses with his sleeve. Aldo took their drinks and went to sit on the sofa, trying to think of a deflection in the seconds he had. 

“Sorry,” he began, as Goffredo took a seat beside him, “I didn’t mean to– I was just noticing your chain,” he said, gesturing vaguely at his own throat, wanting to commit suicide once the words were out of his mouth. ‘Yeah, tell him you were ogling his neck, that won’t be weird!’ Aldo berated himself, but his friend seemed unperturbed. Instead, he tugged out two necklaces from under his sweater. One was a crucifix and the other looked like a Saint Christopher’s medal. Aldo didn’t know what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been that and he was temporarily dumb-struck. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured after a moment, “I don’t think I’ve ever noticed before.” He wasn’t sure what to say and he wasn’t even quite sure what to think. Goffredo looked at him with surprise, 

“Really? I wear them every day.” 

“Huh! Are you religious, then?” Aldo asked, curiously, before he could stop himself, “Sorry, that was rude! Don’t answer that!” he corrected, mortified. But thankfully, Goffredo laughed it off. 

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m not. My mom is, though. I got these on my first communion and I’ve worn them ever since, if you can believe it!” 

“Of course I believe you. It’s gotta be bad luck to lie with something like this on,” he replied, thoughtlessly reaching out to give a soft pull on the thicker of the two chains. Goffredo flushed red. ‘Shouldn’t’ve fucking done that,’ Aldo reproached himself a second later; it made him think more about things he shouldn’t. The other man only stammered something incoherent and tucked the pendants back under his shirt. An embarrassed silence fell between them for a few moments before Aldo could find something innocuous to say. 

They drank more wine and chatted back and forth for a while, talking about the upcoming holiday, their travel plans, preparations, and all their last minute errands until Aldo took him into the kitchen as he finished up dinner and warmed things through. About ten minutes later, he served up. They began with lagane e ceci with the pasta Aldo had made earlier in the day. It was a staple of the kitchen in Cittanova that he remembered eating a few times a week at least, especially in winter when there was less in season, but he had begun to worry that it was too simple before he saw the smile on Goffredo’s face. 

“Ah, now this is a taste of home right here! I’ve missed this!” he said and Aldo’s heart soared. Of course, he hadn’t thought about that when he chose the dish, but it was a happy coincidence. The pair dug in and right away he knew he’d done his job well.

“Oh, wow, this is fantastic! It’s just the same as we do it in Trivigno, too– but, where the heck did you get this pasta, I’ve never found a place that made lagane this well in Rome!” 

Aldo’s cheeks flushed at the praise. 

“Well, actually, I made it…” he admitted, a bit reluctantly, knowing it would only bring on more praise that would deepen his blush, “I mean, it’s not like it’s all that complicated, anyway…” 

“Shut the front door! No way! You made pasta for me!? What am I, the Pope? Aren’t you leaving tomorrow?” Goffredo exclaimed, in delighted astonishment. Aldo couldn’t help but feel a dose of smug satisfaction at his friend’s open appreciation.  

“Would you laugh at me if I said it was to impress you?” he asked with a coy smile. His companion rolled his eyes and tried to suppress a grin. 

“You didn’t need to do anything to impress me, Aldo– although, I am, if you’re curious– and slightly concerned about what you have planned for me, I may need to come here every night from now on,” Goffredo said with only a slight teasing note in his voice. 

“Well, I’d always be happy to have you…” he murmured, looking off into his wine glass before taking a sip, trying hard not to get his hopes up. 

They ate and drank, chatted and laughed, and Aldo tried very, very hard not to flirt even as he became tipsy. They moved on to the second course– his nonna’s version of polpette alla mammolese from the next town over and some broccoli rabe with garlic– and Goffredo’s praise became even more effusive. 

“Aldo, this is the best meal I’ve had in ages, I can’t possibly thank you enough! The next time Rocco’s out of town, you must come over so I can return the favor, although I can’t promise I’m anywhere near as good a cook as you!” he said warmly, making Aldo’s pulse flutter.

“Oh God! You’re gonna puff up my ego and then when I go back home, I’ll have the most devastating crash down to Earth, please! But, well, you know you can come over any time– um, you and Rocco both of course!” Aldo replied, his hospitable instincts surmounting his own inclination in the moment. Goffredo’s eyes widened in something akin to horror but he masked the reaction quickly. 

“Oh, no! No, that wouldn’t– I mean, thank you, thank you, honestly! That means a lot! But I don’t think Rocco would– I mean, he doesn’t really like food much anyway…” he explained hastily, not exactly meeting Aldo’s gaze, before continuing with rapidity, “And– uh, he doesn’t know I’m here tonight so if you do see him ever, it’d be great if you didn’t mention– Um, he’s visiting family in Bergamo right now.” 

Aldo knew enough to understand why. 

“Yes, of course. Absolutely,” he said in a quiet, firm tone. 

It took a little while for Goffredo to come back to himself after that unfortunate interlude but, by the time they were enjoying Aldo’s handmade torrone with an espresso on the sofa, he had fully recovered his spirits. 

They each had perhaps more wine than they should’ve after that and before they knew it, it was midnight and both men were quite drunk. When it finally came time for Goffredo to leave, he wrapped him in a tight hug which Aldo gladly returned, relishing the feeling of the other man in his arms. He sent him home with what was left over and Aldo brooked none of his demurals. 

“Thank you– thank you, again, I’ve had the most amazing time, Aldino!” Goffredo said as he stepped through the doorway at last and his sincerity made Aldo want to cry.