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Do you know those things you never really questioned until somebody pointed it out? Like a weird nervous tic you had that you never realized you did. Or some weird song you’ve been singing or humming a lot during work. Or maybe something simpler, like that you’re smiling more now than before. That was my approach to my sexuality. I never really questioned it. As I grew up, I liked girls. I had a girlfriend here and there, but during my teens I started to look at guys with a little interest as well. I didn’t notice it at first. I’d be playing soccer with my friends and my brother and it’d just happen – just as naturally as I’d look at the girls that came cheering to one of their boyfriends.
It was my brother who pointed it out to me, actually. We were in the house, relaxing. I was sketching just for the sake of it and he was watching whatever he had found on TV when he asked me why I was sketching one of our guy friend’s face so much lately. At first I looked at him like he had gone crazy. There was absolutely no way I was doing that. But as soon as I opened my mouth to say so, he got up and starting turning the pages of my sketchbook. I wanted to scream at him for doing so, but page after page after page I saw the same masculine face. I was speechless. I shoved my sketchbook from his hands and ran to my room telling him not to say a word of this to our grandfather.
After that incident, I started questioning myself. What was I? Who was I? I got online and got too many definitions for me to bother reading through them, so I just decided that I was whatever the fuck I was supposed to be. Simple as that. Why did I have to complicate it with some stupid label? Just cause some idiot decided to create them didn’t mean I had to stick one on my forehead for the rest of my life.
I never gave it much more thought after that. If I was attracted to a girl and she felt the same, then I’d fuck her. Same thing if it was a guy. Why did people feel like complicating it so much? It wasn’t until I was accepted into university that I came across another problem.
“You applied for getting into the arts department?” My grandfather all but laughed in my face when I told him.
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
“You never even bought a girl dinner. You barely bother in telling them why you didn’t work out. Hell, have you ever even felt anything for any of those poor people?”
“I don’t…I don’t understand what that has anything to do with…”
“How are you expecting to draw and write about love when you haven’t experienced it yet? Give it a few years, major in something else and then go back to art when you’re a bit older,” was what he said. I had never even thought about it before then. Had I ever felt anything for any of them? I didn’t think of them like I did with my friends or my family, so they were definitely something else. Then again, whenever I listened to Feli talk about his newest partner I could only feel sorry for the poor person and never understood what he was talking about. “Maybe you just haven’t found the right person yet, Lovi. Give it a couple of years and you’ll find them,” was what he said and I nodded before I left, but I couldn’t stop thinking that I’d never find that special person my grandfather kept talking about. I couldn’t understand him the way Feli did when he talked about how the first time he saw grandma he was just speechless and felt all nervous and starting sweating all over because he couldn’t believe such a person existed. Feli talked about people like that all the time, too, and I just couldn’t help but think how stupid it all sounded. Maybe I was broken? Maybe I was supposed to feel that way but something was wrong with my brain and it just didn’t feel it? Maybe Granddad was right and I just hadn’t found the right person and was freaking out for nothing.
I went to university and studied arts, anyway. I didn’t care what he said, I liked drawing and writing and if I was gonna do it, I was gonna be the best at it. I didn’t even have to write about stupid couples being all lovey-dovey and nervous around each other on stupid dates that probably none of them enjoyed anyway. I could write suspense novels or draw parks or stuff like that. Not everything had to be about romance, right? That’s what I thought, anyway.
There was this guy, Francis, who almost fainted when he heard me say that. I wasn’t even talking to him, but he overheard and turned me around and started going on and on about how love was the best thing on Earth, right next to sex, and how amazing it felt when that person finally gave you a smile just for you. It all sounded like the same old bullshit Granddad told me back at home and I really didn’t want to listen to it when I had finally set myself free from that, so I turned around and walked away. Turned out getting away from him would take a little bit more than that – the guy was in every single one of my classes and it was annoying that I couldn’t go anywhere without him talking about the “most glorious thing God had ever created.” At least he had the sense of shutting the fuck up while the teacher was speaking and let me get some notes, but as soon as he dismissed us or gave us time to work on our assignments, he’d start all over again.
We were on our second or third week of him constantly following me even when I went to the fucking toilet when he introduced me to his best friend, Antonio. Now, there wasn’t anything particularly wrong with Antonio, he was just…not quite like Francis, but it didn’t seem like he would understand that I really didn’t give a flying fuck about relationships and dates and whatever everybody expected of me. He played the guitar and sung every now and then in one of the bars that were in the campus and that was actually how we met. There weren’t any sparks or any of that shit Granddad, Feli and now Francis always told me about, but there certainly was something different about the way I saw my classmates and how I reacted when I heard him sing the first note of his song. Kinda like lust at first sight, but not quite. I didn’t want to just take him to my dorm room and fuck until neither one of us remembered who we were, but the idea of taking him out to movies and dinner still didn’t quite fit. It was weird to say the least.
“So…” was all Francis told me when Antonio had finished, but I didn’t need him to say anything more to understand what he meant.
“So what? He was a good singer. Period.” I really didn’t want to have this conversation right now – I had only accepted to come to this stupid bar because he had promised to say nothing about me not loving anybody. Okay, technically he hadn’t said anything, but we both knew what he was implying.
“Oh, come on. Even with Antonio? I’ve been talking to him about you all this time for nothing?”
“You did what ?” I was about to punch him straight in the face, when somebody interrupted us.
“Francis! I finally got you to come to hear me!” I was gonna punch Francis for putting me in this position, but not right now. “Oh, hi! Didn’t see you there. I’m Antonio and…I’m guessing you’re one of Francis’s friends?”
“Yeah, this Lovino. You know, the one I’ve told you about and he’s…”
“Leaving.” I didn’t know what he was gonna say but I definitely didn’t care enough to stay.
“Oh, why is that? Was I that bad up there? I promise I’m not singing anymore, so you can stay?” Was he doing it on purpose or was he really this oblivious?
“No, it’s not that. You were actually way better than average, but I have a shit ton of stuff to do for class, so now that I see that Francis won’t be alone, I can finally leave.”
“No way, there’s nothing for class. I mean, yeah, we have to do that portrait, but I’ve seen you finish that in class already.” He was dead. He was definitely a fucking dead man. I was gonna kill him and make it look like an accident. Yeah, I was gonna do just that.
“It’s okay. You can leave if you want to.” I was about to scream when my brain understood what this Antonio had just said. Was he real? He must have been an angel. There was no way that somebody that liked to hang out with Francis could possibly be telling me that I could fucking leave this lame excuse of a blind date if I wanted to.
“Are you serious?” Francis and I asked almost at the same time, only he looked a little bit more frustrated than I did.
“Yeah, there’s no point in being here if you’re not gonna enjoy yourself.” That smile. God, that smile was just beautiful. Almost like it was out of a painting. But the fact that he was telling me that I could leave just made it all the better.
“Thanks.” I was almost paralyzed – I hadn’t been expecting any of this, but already things were turning out for the better. “Anyway, it was good to meet you,” was the last thing I said before I turned around and left the bar.
The next morning, I woke up and left to the park to do some sketching. I would’ve much rather be playing soccer, but I hadn’t made many friends yet and you kinda need at least 9 more people to play. So, I sat down and started sketching. I wasn’t thinking much, I just wanted to relax a little bit, and before I realized it, I was filling my sketchbook with drawings of stuff from home – the living room, the kitchen, the backyard with the goal, Feli, Granddad…I was so into it, that I didn’t realize how long I had been there.
I was only brought back to reality when I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I took it out and saw a text from a number I couldn’t register.
“Hey. Sorry if this seems awkward, but Francis told me to at least text you since I let you go…anyway, it was nice meeting you, too.” The fuck was…oh, no. Oh, no. Oh hell no. He didn’t. I was gonna kill him. Definitely. There was no doubt in my mind that I was gonna paint the next assignment for art in Francis’s blood. That should make it more passionate, right?
I decided not to reply to his message…which proved to be the wrong move when Francis wouldn’t shut the fuck up about how could I just walk out on Antonio and then have the heart to not reply to his text. I decided to send Antonio a fucking text just to make Francis shut up and let me concentrate during class.
Looking back, that would be the exact moment I was doomed to having him by my side for the rest of my life. After that one text, there was another one, and another one, and another one. At first I thought about stop replying the damn texts, but the thought of Francis talking non-stop about what a cruel bastard I was being to poor Antonio stopped me from doing so. Eventually, I didn’t even think about Francis bothering me about the whole thing, I simply genuinely didn’t mind having a text waiting for me when I finished some class and replying to it.
I thought about going to the bar and listen to him play again and start this whole friendship thing from scratch one more time, but then Francis would be there and misunderstand everything and it would be too fucking complicated to go back to this easy text thing. Of course, as soon as that thought crossed my mind, Antonio sent me a text asking me if I wanted to go to the bar cause he had just finished with a new song and wanted to play it there and for some reason he thought I should be there. I hesitated a little bit, but eventually decided that it wasn’t too bad an idea and it wasn’t like Francis wasn’t being a fucking bother already, anyway.
The look in his eyes when he saw me at the bar was priceless. I could tell he wasn’t expecting me there and he looked about as excited as a dog when its owner comes back from a long day of work.
“Hey, there. Francis isn’t here yet?” Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as I had expected.
“No, he’s actually…”
“Getting beers for all of us, you’re welcome.” Yeah…that may have been one of the greatest disappointments of my entire life. “You couldn’t possibly think I’d leave my precious friend all alone when playing his song for the first time, could you?”
“Considering you just bought 3 beers before me walking in, I’d say you had a pretty good idea that I’d be coming tonight,” I said grabbing one and taking a big gulp. Antonio laughed at that and Francis winked at me. Why was I even friends with him?
“It’s good to know that you guys are such good friends,” he said with a big, fucking happy smile on his face. I was about to contradict him , but he got called on stage.
I took another gulp of beer and looked at Francis who had this stupid grin on his face. “What?” He said nothing but simply shrugged his shoulders without leaving that fucking grin. I turned and tried my best to mentally block him, which proved harder said than done. It wasn’t like he was talking or anything like that – he was just staying silent next to me with that fucking grin. What was that about? I knew that he thought Antonio and I were flirting or some shit like that, but I was too tired of contradicting him by this point.
The moment Antonio got near the microphone, the entire bar went silent. Was he a regular? Was he popular or something? Was he that good? I remembered he hadn’t sucked, but it had been a while since I heard him sing and it wasn’t like I was paying too much attention to him, anyway.
“Hey, guys. My name’s Antonio, for those who don’t know me. And…well, today I’m singing a new song. It’s kind of a love song, just…different. Anyway, I hope you like it,” he said before he turned around to pick up his guitar. Great, a love song. I had come here risking to never hearing the end of it from Francis and Antonio decides to play a fucking love song today of all days? I turned to look at Francis and he wasn’t just smirking. Oh, no. The fucking bastard was wiggling his eyebrows.
When Antonio started playing his guitar, I was ready to put my best disinterested face. Even more, I was almost ready to put on my best disgusted face, just to push Francis’s buttons a little bit more. But when he started singing, I didn’t hate the song that much. It wasn’t your everyday love song. I couldn’t put my finger in it, but it was different. He wasn’t going on and on about how perfect the other person was or how he wouldn’t be able to live without them, but it was most definitely a love song. It had that feel. But still. This wasn’t that bad. This was…actually good. I was listening to a love song and not feeling disgusted or sick. This was new.
All of a sudden, he was already done and every person in the bar started clapping. Even from where I sat I could see he was blushing like mad. It was kinda cute to see bubbly Antonio try to make himself as small as possible while holding to his guitar for dear life. After a while, he got off the stage and came to our table.
“So, what did you think?”
“It was awesome, Toni! Why did you keep that song away from the world for this long!” Francis was overreacting once again. I rolled my eyes and Antonio laughed when he saw. “Seriously, even Lovino with his heart of ice was enjoying it!” Wait, what? How was the conversation turning to me?
“You liked it?” Goddamit , that look. It reminded me too much of a certain person on another country whenever Granddad praised him.
“It wasn’t bad,” I said, trying to keep my cool and lifting the bottle of beer to my lips only to find it was already empty.
“Well, Francis told me how you felt with relationships and I thought that nobody has ever written a song about that. It wasn’t easy, though. Making a love song where somebody doesn’t feel love is really hard, but I’m glad you liked it.” Did he…did he just say he had written a song…for me? Well, that was a first.
“Y-yeah, it was cool.” I wanted to drink some beer just to do something and finish with this awkward situation, but I remembered that I had already finished my glass.
“I’ll go get us another round,” said Francis and left before I could tell him I’d go since he had gotten the previous round.
If I had thought the situation was awkward before, then I could never find the words to describe how I felt now. I had no idea what to say. We had texted for weeks, but now that I had him in front of me, I didn’t know what the fuck to say or do. And it wasn’t because he was in front of me per se that I couldn’t find the words to say, because I had thought about things we could talk about beforehand, but the fact that he pretty much told me he had written a song about me left me completely speechless.
“So…” I said.
“So…” he mimicked, only he seemed to be better at this whole filling-the-awkward-silence thing as he went on “have you seen the match yesterday?”
“The match?” I had no idea what he was talking about. What sport was he talking about? Was he speaking of some pro game or about the school team? So many things he wasn’t making clear and it only made it harder for me. “The fuck are you talking about?”
“The football match. Yesterday. Barcelona vs. Juventus.” I just stared at him. He actually payed attention to the Champions League? There was nobody on this whole fucking country who seemed to care about soccer after finishing elementary school, let alone actually pay attention to the matches. “You know…the Champions League…” he went on.
“Yeah, I know. Just…took me by surprise there, didn’t expect an American to know about it.”
“Oh, I’m not American,” he said smiling, like he found it amusing. Wait, if he wasn’t American, then… “I’m Spanish. You know, the ones with the best teams in Europe,” he went on a little too fast for my brain to follow.
“Wait you’re…wait, hold the fuck up. What do you mean ‘the ones with the best teams in Europe’?” He laughed again. I kinda wished he dropped the whole laughing thing already.
“Just stating the facts. We have the best players and the most cups. We even got the best player on the world.” Was he seriously starting this?
“Are you seriously starting this?” He laughed and opened his mouth to answer, but Francis came back and interrupted him.
“I’m back, my lovely friends. I know you’ve missed me, but worry not for I have returned.” I rolled my eyes and looked at Antonio, who laughed, took a beer from Francis’s hands and took a sip from it. “Did I interrupt anything?” He asked, feigning innocence.
“Not at all,” I said before I mimicked Antonio and took a sip from another one of the beers Francis had brought.
The night went on pretty smoothly after that. A little small talk here and there, a little bit of listening to the other singers that had gone that night and, before we knew it, the bar was closing for the night and we had to go back to the dorms.
“Well, then, I’m off,” I said, but Francis grabbed my hand and turned me back to face them.
“Not so fast, Lovi …”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Your dorm is in the same direction as Toni’s. Why don’t you walk together?” Oh, no. No fucking way. I knew what he was thinking and it was not happening. Though I couldn’t think of a single reason why we shouldn’t walk together if we were going in the same direction and the alcohol was not helping me think of a plausible excuse.
“I guess. See you on Monday, Francis.” As long as I didn’t have to see his face any longer, I guess I could say I was winning this time.
“Good night, love birds!” He sing-sang before turning around and walking on the opposite direction Antonio and I were taking. He looked at me with some sort of pitiful look in his eyes.
“He’s really drunk,” he tried to explain. I knew he was trying his best to ease the tension Francis had unnecessarily created, and it wasn’t like I didn’t appreciate it, but we both know a couple of beers weren’t nearly enough to make him tipsy, let alone get drunk enough to say something he didn’t mean.
“Yeah, right. There’s not enough alcohol in the whole fucking campus to make him drunk.” I laughed and I could hear him try to repress a chuckle. “Ready to go? No fucking idea where you live, though, so I’m just gonna go to my dorm room.”
“Oh, I’m like two buildings away from you.” We started walking and I turned my head to look at him.
“How do you…” this was borderline stalker, but I knew the real reason why he knew that. “Never mind, I don’t wanna know.”
“Francis,” he said looking at the ground, almost like he didn’t want to admit it.
“Not like I didn’t see that one coming.” I took a deep breath and we kept walking in silence. I stopped once I felt he wasn’t by my side.
“You’re cute, you know that, right?” I was suddenly all sobered up. Oh, God, no. For fuck’s sake, not Antonio as well. It was cool having this…texting thing, whatever it was. What the fuck had Francis told him to make him like this?
“Look, Antonio, you’re really cool, and…”
“I don’t care,” he interrupted me. “Francis told me already. I guess he was hoping I would somehow make you fall in love or something and show you…you know…the most wonderful feeling on Earth besides sex, or whatever.”
“If you know, how can you not care?” I grabbed him by the arms and then forced him to look at me. “I won’t take you out on dates. I won’t feel any butterflies on my stomach. I’ll forget dates sometimes if I’m not reminded. I’ll forget to buy presents for the monthaversary or any shit like that because I will genuinely not give a flying fuck about it. I won’t see you like the most precious thing in the world that should be handled too carefully. I won’t believe I won’t be able to live without you even if we dated for 30 years.” I tried to stare at him, but I could feel tears start filling me eyes, so I lowered my gaze but left my hands firm on his shoulders. “I’m broken. Don’t you get it? And it’s not something you or anybody can fix.”
We stood like that for a while. Seconds? Minutes? I don’t know or care. After a while, Antonio broke himself free of that frozen state and wrapped his arms around me. It looked like he was testing me and see if I was gonna push him away and, when I didn’t, he held himself as close to my body as possible before caressing my back. I would never treat anybody like they were something precious, but he seemed to be doing that to me.
“I don’t care,” he whispered next to my ear. I tried to push him away, but he only held me tighter. “I don’t care if you never tell me you love me. I don’t care if you forget about an anniversary or my birthday or to get me some stupid present. Lovino…you’re not broken.”
“I am!” I screamed at him while trying to break myself free. “Even Granddad told me so! I’m broken! I’ll never be normal!”
“Who needs to be normal?” I could almost hear his fucking smile. “You told me yourself a couple of days ago, though. It’s not like you don’t feel anything for the other person – just…don’t feel love. It’s not like that’s a sin, is it? ”
“I’ll never tell you ‘I love you’” I started to feel myself relax in his arms.
“You can still say you care about me, how does that sound?” Not half as bad…still… “Could you at least give me a chance? There’s nothing to lose, is there? I promise I won’t tell Francis so he won’t bother you. ”
I was silent for a while. There wasn’t really anything for me to lose. And he knew. Of course, he could always change his mind in a couple of months and realize what it meant to actually go out with me. Not like that would bother me for too long, though, so it didn’t really change anything. I could feel his breaths and his heartbeat. He was definitely nervous. He had kept himself from drinking after the 2nd beer saying he’d have to be the one taking us home if we drank a little bit too much, so it’s not like I could blame the alcohol for what he was saying and laugh it off. I took a deep breath and looked up.
“I guess there’s no harm in giving you a shot.”
He smiled like a child on Christmas morning before lowering a little bit to kiss me. “I promise you won’t regret this.”
And so here we were, almost 10 years and lots of dates and forgotten anniversaries after that night, sharing an apartment in beautiful Naples. Good thing Antonio was good at learning languages, cause I would be fucking dead if he had insisted on living in Spain.
Feli had been surprised when he visited me for the first time after getting together with Antonio, but when he saw I treated him no differently than any other friend…he changed surprise for confusion. Turned out Antonio was amazing at making it clear that he loved me enough for the two of us and that seemed to be enough for my brother. It did help that Antonio changed the subject to soccer as fast as he could and Feli went along with him. Granddad had been harder to convince that no, I was not fooling around and playing with Antonio and yes, Antonio had agreed to going out with me, but he eventually realized that there was no harm in letting us live in this…thing we had.
Things had been fairly easy all the time. We didn’t get any major fights or anything. I guess Antonio knew that, even though I didn’t feel love or anything like that, I still didn’t like the idea of cheating. I did get a little jealous, though, whenever we went to a bar for him to sing and every single fucking girl within ear range thought Antonio was the hottest thing which was only enhanced by his good voice. He always dismissed him like it was nothing while sending me apologies with his eyes. Not like I needed them, anyway. It wasn’t his fault or anything…though it still bothered me. The embarrassment of the girls realizing that Antonio was, in fact, very much gay for me and very much taken was only topped by Antonio having to tell them that the song was actually written for me when they didn’t believe him. My face going instantly red with that statement seemed to be enough to convince them and they never stayed for too long after that.
We didn’t go to bars that often anymore, though. We weren’t spending too many waking hours together lately and we didn’t feel like wasting those few precious moments in a crowded bar with the music too loud for us to hear what the other was saying and being interrupted by people flirting with Antonio on top of that; which is why most nights were spent on the couch, watching whatever good thing we could catch on TV while having dinner. This night would be different from all the others, though.
“Hey, bastard,” I said while looking at the screen. He knew there was no malice behind the insult and it was as close to a pet name as he was gonna get, so he never complained.
“What is it, Lovi?”
“Do you really love me?” I hadn’t asked something like that in a very long time, so it took him by surprise.
“Of course I do.” I could feel his eyes on me. I had no doubt in my mind that he meant those words.
“Even when I don’t?”
“Even then. Do you care about me?” We had had this conversation so many fucking times during our first year of going out that you’d think we were just repeating automatically instead of meaning the words we said, but we knew better.
“I really care about you.” I took a deep breath. “Hey, bastard. Would you marry me if I asked you?” That sentence was new to the conversation and I could tell without turning to see that he was surprised by my question. There was some shifting in the couch, but no answer, so I started to get nervous he may tell me no and walk out the door.
“Are you…are you seriously proposing, Lovi?” I turned around and saw the tears running down his cheeks.
“There’s a ring in my bag if you don’t believe…” he left the bowl on the table, jumped over me and kissed me before I could finish the sentence. “I’ll be taking that as a yes.”
“Yes!” he kissed me. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” he kissed me again after each yes. “Of course I’ll marry you, Lovi. You didn’t even need to get a ring to ask.”
“I was afraid you might not believe me I was serious without one.” I couldn’t help myself – I smiled after that. Because I wasn’t broken. Because there was somebody out there who didn’t care. Because he really did love me enough that it didn’t matter that I didn’t quite love him back. And because he had accepted me.