pretty boy

1.

I would like to apologize in advance to native Italian speakers because my knowledge of the language comes from google translate. Feel free to gently correct me in the comments!

Carson

"Carson, porta il culo qui!" (Carson, get your ass down here!) Carson could hear his mom shrieking from where she was in the kitchen all the way from his bedroom on the second floor. He sighed.

"Okay, okay, sto arrivando!" (Ok, ok, I'm coming!) He hollered back before sliding off of his bed onto the floor into an indignant lump of I-Don't-Wanna. Another Italian expletive rang out from downstairs and Carson mysteriously found the motivation to peel himself off of the carpet and tug his shaggy hair into a ponytail.

Downstairs was chaos. His older sister Bianca used to keep the peace, but then she went off to college, so now it was Carson's job. With a world-weary sigh, he tugged four-year-old Mateo off of the top of the fridge and set him on the ground, ignoring the angry shouts and the blaring of the fire alarm behind him.

Carson set Mateo back into a fenced-off room that was set up explicitly for him so he wouldn't get hurt and turned to survey the damage. Mamma was cursing loudly at a smoking pan, which meant he would have to order pizza again. Lila was frosting cupcakes for a class party tomorrow, and getting frosting everywhere but on her precious recipe book. Nico was making out with his girlfriend on the couch- ew, Carson would have to sit on that couch eventually- and little Emilia was reading a book in a big white armchair that must've weighed as much as she did. The girl was much too smart for a seven year old.

Thank God papa was at work, or he would have an aneurism. Carson stepped over a stray cupcake on the floor and gently took the pan from his mother.

"Let me, mamma. Non puoi cucinare e tu lo sai." (You can't cook and you know it.) He said, turning off the heat and wrinkling his nose at the charred... things in the pan before setting it in the dishwasher. He waved a dish towel at the fire alarm until it stopped shrieking. His mother sighed and tucked a dark curl back into her braid.

"I know. But that doesn't mean I won't try, figlio." (Son) She said, shaking a stern finger at him. He chuckled and steered her towards her bedroom.

"You should rest. You were up all night writing, weren't you? I could hear your computer keys clicking." His mother was a writer. Italian romance, to be exact. She huffed and glared at her feet, but allowed him to push her into her room.

"Fine, but I will only rest for a little while. And order a pizza, please?" She said, a sheepish grin on her face. "And invite Kristopher. His mamma is out of town for the week, and I'd hate for the poor boy to be lonely." Carson frowned.

"Kell didn't tell me." He murmured. His mother frowned.

"Tell him to not keep his troubles to himself. I see him as another son, and it makes me sad to see him lonely." His mother patted his cheek affectionately before shutting the bedroom door in his face. He snorted and headed back to the kitchen. He would have to call Kell later.

~~~

After the house was free of smushed cupcakes and bitchy girlfriends, Carson sat on the back porch swing and called Kell. He picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hey, Carson." His melodic voice flowed through the phone like water, and Carson had to remind himself to breathe.

"Don't you 'hey Carson' me, you cazzo stupido. Why didn't you tell me you're home alone? I would've invited you over sooner." (Dumb fuck.) Kell snickered.

"Sorry mom. And I don't know what you just said, but it sounded mean." Carson rolled his eyes before remembering that Kell couldn't see him.

"I thought I taught you Italian curse words years ago. And don't avoid the question. Why didn't you tell me?" Kell went silent for a little bit.

"Didn't want you to worry," He finally answered. "I'll be over in about ten minutes for dinner. I'm assuming Maria wants me there?" Maria is Carson's mother's name, and despite his mother telling him to just call her mom, Kell continued to call her Maria or Mrs. Rossi. Carson was sure Kell had his reasons. He never did anything without having a reason.

"Yeah. See you in ten, then." Carson responded.

"'Kay, bye."

"Bye." Carson set his phone down and looked to where the sun was starting to set, painting the sky with colors. Talking to Kell always put him in a mood, which had shifted from happiness when they were kids to nervousness now, when Carson was starting to realize that holy shit, Kell is hot. And he is gay as fuck and in trouble.

It is currently ten thirty and while that might not be terribly late in gremlin land, it is late enough that my brain isn't functioning properly enough to write more. Also, I just dropped my phone on my face so I must nurse my wounds.