The Mosaic

Chapter 66 | What Dreams Are Made Of

We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep. (Shakespeare, The Tempest)

Warning: This chapter contains shirtless Alessandro. Proceed at your own risk.

If Alessandro hadn't been beating his head to a pulp over Daniele and the Shadow, he would've heard the tell-tale thud of boots in time.

But he'd been thinking about a mad thief and hair redder than a flame and freckles he'd used to trace like constellation.  And so he didn't notice anything until a large hand clamped over his mouth and yanked him back against a firm chest.

Before he could twist and punch, he was already being twirled around as if on a dancefloor, the hand over his mouth sliding to his collar to be replaced with a familiar set of lips.

Lorenzo grinned when he pulled away. "Good morning."

"What are you doing here?"

"Now or generally? I'm currently thinking about kissing you again, but originally I came to see if Gio was back. After he'd run off –"

"He's back."

"Are you mad at me?" Lorenzo shoulders retreated from Alessandro's collar.

"No." Alessandro dropped his head into the crook of Lorenzo's neck, closing his eyes when Lorenzo brushed his fingers through his hair. "Just not in a good mood."

His head still throbbed with every step. Daniele had something to do with all of this. He'd have to tell Lorenzo his father was behind all of this. Lorenzo didn't say anything, just combed his fingers through Alessandro's hair, resting their heads together. Alessandro pulled back, only half forcing his smile. "I'm sorry."

"You think too much." Lorenzo just laughed, settling his hands on Alessandro's hips to pull him close. "How's my pretty boy?"

Alessandro frowned. Lorenzo rolled his eyes. "My mistake. Frowny boy. Big, bad, scary –"

Alessandro had to laugh at that, ducking his head and kissing Lorenzo before he rambled on. Lorenzo's lips pulled into a smile against his.

"That's not very sportsmanlike of you," Lorenzo scolded, pecking the corner of his lips. "How am I supposed to resist that?"

"That's the point."

Lorenzo laughed, shaking his head. Only now Alessandro realized how different he looked today. There was a hint of silver leaf tracing his lids. His jacket was the shade of crushed berries, the silk shimmering in the early light like water, the epaulets over his shoulders drawn in wispy swirls of pearls. "Your father left town." The father who was behind everything.

Giacinto had agreed to tell Laelia and Lorenzo together. Later.

"He did." There was a trace of pink dusted across his cheeks now.

Alessandro struggled to take it all in. "You're beautiful."

"I know." Lorenzo winked, then softened. "Thank you." He leant in for another innocent kiss.

Alessandro's eyes caught on the single earring dangling almost down to his shoulder. It was a dozen butterflies, hung on silver thread so thin it seemed to disappear in the light as they fluttered their wings. Alessandro reached out, carefully brushing a finger against one just to convince his mind they weren't real. They were glass. Glass as delicate as blown kisses, a bold blend of all the colours of the sea, from brilliant turquoise to deep blue. The sunlight falling through them made them glow from within. The wings were joined to a slim silver body, small wires curling through and forming a hinge. Whenever Lorenzo moved his head, the small breeze made them flutter their wings.