ʟᴜᴘɪɴ│ᴛᴋ [complete]

.33. ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴇᴀᴛ

Releasing his now aching jaw, Manuel forced a smile and grabbed a deep-fried calamari ring. "Say Aaah!" he ordered, holding the food up to Angelo's mouth.

The latter did not need to be asked twice and let his roommate insert the nugget in between his slightly parted lips. The reaction was instant. "Holy orange marmalade! This tastes amazing!" The look of utter shock on Angelo's face was a sight to behold.

"Here, have more!" Manuel was already dipping his hand in the food basket, retrieving another ring, pleased that his food offerings were having such a positive effect on the other's mood.

At least that's what he made of the barely noticeable dimples which had magically appeared on Angelo's stuffed cheeks. "Mmmm, your mother's cooking really is the best! She would make a fortune if she was ever to open a restaurant in London!"

"London, huh?"

Angelo gulped, eyeing the empty glass in his hand. Wine always did have that effect on him.

"Is that where you're from?" asked Manuel who jumped on what looked like a one-time opportunity to get the other to finally open up about his past.

"I'm an orphan, Manuel. I don't really know where I'm from." This half-truth would have to do for now.

The young fisherman frowned. Was Angelo clamming up again? Not willing to let that happen, Manuel grabbed the wine bottle. "Let me refill that for you."

Angelo evidently did not have a say in how much alcohol he would or would not consume this evening. "I shouldn't," he tried to protest.

The feeble objection fooled no one. "What you shouldn't do, bambino, is not let anyone share in your burden."

There may have been some truth in that statement. But Angelo was not ready to admit it. The term of endearment, though sweet, did little to weaken his resolve. "It's mine to bear and I wouldn't impose it on anybody."

"You're not imposing if I'm asking for it."

Manuel's voice had drastically soften. Angelo caught himself staring at the other's opal irises, so blue, so deep, and so different from the ones he used to lose himself in, yet equally caring. He didn't realize the other was holding another piece of squid until Manuel cleared his throat in an attempt to snap him out of his haze. "Open up!"

Angelo snorted. Opening his mouth cost him nothing. Opening his heart, however, was bound to be painful. He opted for the easy way out, parting his lips once again.

Manuel could not dismiss the tingling heat stirring in his loins as his roommate's tongue inadvertently licked his thumb. And why was his face so hot all of a sudden?

Clueless Angelo noticed the rosy cheeks and attributed it to excessive drinking. "You should put something in your tummy, and not just wine, silly!" he joked, reaching for a calamari ring.

It was his turn to feed the other who eagerly welcomed the warm food. With extra skinship on the side please.

Francesca, who had returned to the kitchen to get working on three pasta dishes, looked favourably on the cute interaction.

Boys in love, she thought.

Angelo figured that as long as they had food in their mouths, they wouldn't have to talk, which is what he really dreaded. So he kept stuffing Manuel's face with crispy bits until the latter finally grabbed his wrist. "Not so fast! I need a breather."

Angelo apologized, dropping his hand, but Manuel did not let go. "You have — very skilled hands."

What?

The young man blinked at the unconventional praise. It was a praise, was it not? "Okay," he said, not knowing how else to respond to the awkward remark.

"Right. So I'm going to pour myself another glass and then, perhaps, you can keep feeding me — with your hands."

Oh dear. Was Manuel flirting with him? That would explain the blush on his face which had suddenly turned three shades redder. Angelo did not know why he found it positively endearing. But he did. "You want me to feed you with my skillful hands," he repeated teasingly.

"Yes please, I mean — sure — you're not going to use your feet now, are you?"

The sight of flustered Manuel had Angelo giggle, the sound of which stunned them all. Is that what he needed to feel normal again? Could he finally laugh without having to fight off the creeping guilt which resurfaced every time he found any joy in life, however small?

Angelo decided that for now, he could. "I'd be very happy to feed you some more, but I think we're out of squid," he replied, pointing at the now empty basket.

That's when he noticed it.

The grease-stained newspaper.

The grease-stained British newspaper.

Despite the crumbs and the oily smudges, he identified right away the features of the man in the article's picture, kneeling in front of non-other than Queen Victoria herself.

The caption read:

Inspector Jeon Jungkook receiving the Order of Merit in recognition of his service to the Crown in safeguarding the country's cultural icons.

There was a palpable shift in the air as Angelo turned the paper around to look for a date. Two short weeks ago.

Barely able to contain his excitement, he almost squealed. "Where — where did you get this paper?"

Manuel had realized their moment — or whatever it was they had just shared — was gone. He was thus not very inclined to further the estrangement of Angelo's attention. "You want news from England? Is that what this is about?" he asked with a pout.

"Manuel, please—" Angelo's voice was painfully suppliant.

The young fisherman could not stand it. "I guess the Villa d'Este restarted their subscriptions early," he sighed.

"The Villa d'Este?"

"It's the only four-star hotel in town. And the only hotel with English newspapers. You see, bambino, Riomaggiore is a popular destination for British tourists in the summer. We're in June already so that means, you'll be seeing a lot of them strutting around town very soon."

—

Wattpad fanfic writers write for free, but one way you can show your appreciation for their hard work is to vote!

Thank you for reading ~♡