Chapter Text
Milan, a week later
The first bottle, filled with a dark purple liquid, was undoubtedly one of his favourites fragrances. Had been since that one year Giada bought him a bottle for his birthday. Nothing too strong with a very pleasant violet note.
The second one, stored in a navy blue bottle, reminded him a bit of the sea. A stronger fragrance that carried a certain almost harsh freshness.
In the end the battle of perfumes was won by his classic Hugo Boss bottle which he applied rather generously (more is always better!) on his neck.
Although, that's as far as his fanciness went. At the inquiry what they would be doing tonight, Ermal replied, and Fabrizio quoted, 'Don’t worry just put on a t-shirt or whatever'
And so Fabrizio did indeed put on a t-shirt or whatever. Well, 'whatever' specifically being a rather cheesy t-shirt with a cartoon Lupa Capitolina on it that he bought a few years back during a street festival. That paired with a green plaid shirt and some black jeans would do the trick. At least he didn’t look too bad as he was looking at himself in the mirror. Just when he was about to fix (or pretend to fix) his hair, he felt his phone vibrate.
[Ermal💛]: You ready?
[Fabrizio]: yeah where are you
[Ermal💛]: Downstairs. At the parking lot, to the left from the lobby
Funny how the elevator ride suddenly felt like it’s taking forever even if it only were three floors. And if the receptionist raised an eyebrow at the sight of Fabrizio Moro excitedly hopping through her lobby, then he had chosen to ignore it.
On the dark parking lot that occupied maybe five-six cars, Fabrizio wondered how where his companion was until his eyes found a figure leaning against the single light post.
"Erm?"
Indeed at the sound of his name, the younger man put the phone in his hand away and turned around and Fabrizio was momentarily rendered speechless.
Ermal looked….cuddly.
Over the course of the past year, Fabrizio was surprised to discover what new adjectives he found himself using to describe Ermal's appearance: handsome, interesting, nice, elegant, eye-catching, beautiful, cute.
And those were still the mild surprises, let's not start with the downright shock he felt when his brain started providing words like kissable, attractive, sexy and hot during lonelier nights.
But all in all, the word 'cuddly' had never slipped over his tongue. And yet that's exactly what Ermal was right now. With the upper part of his mane tied back, that wonderful face of his came into view and oh, so did those nice stubbles gracing his cheeks & chin. His pale arms and the plain white t-shirt contrasted the bordeaux zip-hoodie quite well. Add a pair of simple skinny jeans and sneakers and you got yourself a very different kind of Ermal.
No trace of Dolce&Gabbana or what not that the esteemed singer usually wore on stage and TV. Instead he looked so very homey, so very private and something about the fact that Ermal would allow him to see him so casual made Fabrizio feel more comfortable too. He should look this cuddly more often, Fabrizio found it very lovely.
And God, he looked even lovelier when he gave Fabrizio a bright smile, although that tiny hint of shyness hiding in the corner of his mouth didn’t go unnoticed.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“....”
“....”
Something in the back of Fabrizio’s mind told him they were supposed to actually talk to one another, use words and not, y’know, just keep grinning at each other as if they would develop telepathic abilities somehow. He cleared his throat.
“So where are we going?” the older man asked which motivated Ermal to finally get moving, Fabrizio following suite.
“You’ll see.”
“Mysterious much?”
“Stop trying to coax me into ruining the surprise, that ain’t happening!” The younger man playfully shoved Fabrizio who huffed a laugh and continued his musing.
“Are we not gonna drive to… wherever you’re taking me?”
“It’s not that far and God knows men your age need the exercise anyway.”
Fabrizio threw his head back, his rich laugh echoing in the empty alley. Oh that little shit. Not even here and now he could hold back with his banter.
“If that’s Ermal Meta’s full romantic potential I’m experiencing right now, then I sure as hell don’t wanna be your enemy.”
“Hey, I can be- I mean, I am- right now, that’s not my full- what does that even-”
“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
But Ermal simply shook his head while Fabrizio snickered and they continued their walk until Ermal stopped in his tracks right in front of an establishment whose door was covered in various wild colourful stickers.
“Ever had Pakistani food?”
“Not that I can remember.”
“Time to change that then.”
What followed behind the colourful door was a small chaos. Literally. People constantly coming and going, with buzzing voices chatting in every corner. They made their way half through the rather crowded establishment, got greeted by a waiter who rushed past them, before they finally spotted a couple leaving, liberating two chairs for them.
Once seated, they exhaled but next to the jug of water already set on the table, Fabrizio’s curious eyes soon found something missing.
“Where’s the menu?”
“Okay so, the thing is, there’s no menu because it’s basically a buffet. Just grab a plate and put whatever and how much you want on it.”
Ermal pointed over Fabrizio’s shoulder and when the other man followed the direction he did spot a huge table, with people circling it like a swarm of bees circling a bed of flowers. They made their way to the buffet and oh, warmth and the delicious smell of different dishes hit the Roman. Were they all of different colours and smells, Fabrizio just decided to give everything a go and so his first plate was quite filled with various things when he sat back to their table. Being the picky eater that Ermal was he took his sweet time to chose, while Fabrizio did not want to necessarily start without him.
So instead of just longingly staring at his food, the older man used the time to observe his environment. Instead of paper, the walls were decorated by various different posters and snippets. Some announcing alternative music festivals and underground clubs, others promoting feminist book evenings and other kinds of activism. But while the red posters calling for the ‘Power to the working class’ stood out, there were not the only colourful ornament. Not a few rainbow stickers and variation of such flags caught Fabrizio’s eye as well and if he saw correctly, there were even several rather cheeky caricatures of a few certain politicians slapped to the walls. He chuckled.
This whole place felt very alive, vibrating with energy, reactionary and unapologetically provocative. Fabrizio reckoned his younger self would have fit right in here, and perhaps even his older self was still falling for its’ charm.
“Pretty eye-catching isn’t it?” Ermal said as he caught his companion admiring the restaurant.
“There are so many flyers in different languages, like that one over there. Is that Russian?”
Fabrizio nodded towards a poster with a book drawn on it while taking the first bite of his chicken curry. Oh, my. That was delicious if not a bit spicy.
“I guess so? It looks like their alphabet.”
“So you can’t read it?”
Ermal frowned curiously at his counterpart and put his head sideways.
“Why would I be able to read it?”
Good question, why would he? Suddenly feeling very foolish, Fabrizio scratched the back of his neck.
“I..don’t know? You know so many languages, I just assume you’re smart like this.”
“Oh.” Ermal blinked, a soft smile dancing on that flushed face of his. “No, sorry I- no, I don’t speak any Russian. But hey, you see that poster over there? You know what that language it is or what is says?”
Fabrizio eyes landed on the dark red poster to their right on whose surface thick black letters spelled:
‘Festivali i Filmit Shqiptar: 3 qershor - 10 qershor’
“I guess something to do with film? A film festival of some sorts?”
“Yeees, but what sort in particular?” Ermal seemed very eager for that answer, so Fabrizio endulged him.
Languages were not his forte, those belonged to Ermal, but Fabrizio ran through his options. It surely wasn’t French or Spanish, that he would at least recognise. German looked different too; they had those dots over their U’s and those curly B’s which allegedly weren’t B’s at all. Swedish? Danish? No. He’s been to Ikea often enough to know that his wardrobe wouldn’t be called Qershor. And Russian had different letters but maybe it was something similar to Russian?
“Is it like..Serbian? Croatian? Or something?” He mumbled while putting a piece of eggplant in his mouth but quickly realised the answer when Ermal almost spit out his water from laughing.
“No, definitely not. I can guarantee you, it’s very much not Serbian or Croatian 'or something'.” Ermal chuckled with a bright smile, obviously enjoying their little guessing game. “But you’re close. In a way.”
He’s close? Hmm… He looked again at the words... Shqiptar..that sounds familiar, he has heard that before but where? where? And Ermal’s teasing grinning didn’t help him much either. And how can that be close to Croa-
“Oh!” It suddenly hit him and Fabrizio had to chuckle himself at how obvious it was “Albanian. It’s an Albanian Film Festival!”
“We have a winner!”
“And what’s qershor?”
“That means June”
“Look at all these new words I learned tonight.”
“Feeling almost fluent, huh?”
“Maybe I should get a tutor.” Fabrizio said. This evening was different than last time, this time he knew for a fact how Ermal felt, this time he knew he was allowed to do that, so why not be bold for once?
“Would you know someone who could teach me?” He playfully asked Ermal who suddenly seemed very heated if the flush on his face is any indication.
“I- uhm, that- Well, depends on what kind of student you are.”
“I can be anything the teacher wants me to be. A good student, a naughty student, whatever floats his boat...” He asked sultrily before winking at the man across of him whose higher brain functions seemed to have ceased at once and just gaped at him like a fish.
Okay, maybe it had been too early to be bold.
Just when Fabrizio was about to apologise and take back all that crap he just said, Ermal found his voice again.
“Ju bëftë mirë”
“What?”
“Buon appetito.” The curly haired man timely took a sip of his water but still kept a very intrigued eye contact with Fabrizio. “Let’s start with something simple at first. We can get in depth more later on.” And he winked right back at him which relieved Fabrizio greatly. At least Ermal was only recovering from the initial shock from being openly flirted with. Fabrizio would have hated to have crossed a line right on their first (second?) date. But as they were doing fine like that, they just continued to eat.
Now Fabrizio was a man of various tastes when it came to music, of no taste when it came to fashion and truth be told, of traditional taste when it came to cuisine.
As much as the world’s delicacies were easily attainable these days, he generally preferred the likes of Italian food. Adventurous he’d call their dive into the South Asian cuisine but nevertheless he found himself quite enjoying it. After all, he recognised good home cooking when he saw it.
So it was not surprising, that after the first plate, they went for a second delicious round which was quickly disappearing from their plates as well leaving Fabrizio now full, but thirsty. And just as if he could read his mind, Ermal stood up to get them a new jug of water, but returned with a small plate of rice pudding as well.
One plate, and two spoons. Oh. Okay. Nice.
With the rice pudding between them, they may had to huddle up a bit to one another as they shared their dessert. Soon their conversation lead to various topics until it ended up being about Fabrizio’s newly released album and the instore tour for which he came to Milan.
“I was honestly so relieved when the first reactions came in and they were positive.”
Fabrizio mumbled with the spoon between his lips. Hmm, was that mango?
“Why were you relieved? Didn’t you say you were satisfied with the album while recording?”
“Yes, but that was only my own opinion, alright? Just ‘cause I liked it, doesn’t mean the broad public would.” He poked the orange mass in front of him as if it would help him muse things over “The competition is huge and I’m not alone on the market. Especially in today’s music industry where anyone can be on top with anything, my success isn’t guaranteed.”
He felt it again, that self-doubt pulling him into that endless sea of anxiety, drowning him in worry until everything was black around him. Or it would have, had Ermal’s gentle voice not spoken up again.
“Yes, but you…” Under the table, Fabrizio’s hand felt foreign fingers tracing over it as softly as the touch of a feather, until they intertwined with is own fingers. “...aren’t anyone. You’re Fabrizio Moro, a goddamn Sanremo winner. You’ve proven over and over what musical genius you are. And your success is guaranteed because nobody else could have written Pensa. Nobody else could have filled the Olimpico, nobody else could have won Sanremo with me because….Nobody else is you.” The hand holding him squeezed lightly and Fabrizio squeezed right back because sometimes, even the most talented songwriters are rendered speechless.
“Now stop giving me that thrown and smile a bit instead. Here, open up.” And promptly Ermal’s spoon was flying in front his face in a silent invitation which Fabrizio after a second of surprise gladly took. And if Fabrizio’s heart skipped a beat there because of the lovely gesture alone or because of how Ermal bit his lip in a smile, he wasn’t sure, but he realised it didn’t matter, because his silly old heart did it again when they kept holding hands as they got up. And kept holding them as Ermal payed for them, and kept holding them when they were waltzing through the dark streets.
And as they kept on walking passing by a park, Ermal suddenly stopped in his tracks. Fabrizio followed Ermal’s gaze which landed on a little playground for kids.
“Hey wanna go on the swings for a bit?”
“You do realise I’m not Anita, right?”
But Ermal simply huffed a laugh and at long last unglued himself from Fabrizio, approaching the vacant playground.
“C’mon Bizio, who’s gonna see you now? The stray cats?”
Fabrizio blinked at that oversized man who had taken a seat on the small swing. He saw him in all his weirdness, but strangely enough, Fabrizio just kept falling for him more and more. And perhaps Ermal did have a point. It was late and it’s not like someone would pass by.
’Aw, fuck it, who cares?’
That’s how Fabrizio joined Ermal on the swing next to him and promptly challenged him on who could swing higher. If they were already being childish, they would be go all the way, dammit. After long minutes of putting the maximum effort into their swinging abilities, they had to slow down when Ermal almost flew out of the swing at the highest point.
“I won.”
“You almost landed on your ass.”
“I still won.”
“Just because you don’t have heavy muscles like me, they bring me down.”
“Who cares, I still won!”
They both were rolling from laughing, leaning against the chain of the swing gazing at Ermal, Fabrizio wondered when the last time was he had laughed so hard.
“Perfect way to end the evening.”
His counterpart turned towards him with an amused smile and as if he could sense that Ermal was about to say something stupidly, wonderfully witty, Fabrizio continued.
"No, but seriously, today was- everything, it was just perfect."
The playful expression on the younger man’s face changed to a more sober one, a bit more serious, yet with a small flush on his cheeks.
"I hope so. Y’know, this all is still kind of new to me. I mean, I know how it goes, I’m not inexperienced. But it’s still sort of new with you being- and-and me being- and y’know--”
“I know.” Fabrizio assured him. He understood where he was coming from, because he had been there himself. But in contrary to Ermal, Fabrizio had been aware of his not so platonic feelings for a certain guy for almost a year now and therefore had time to process it. The reassurance he gave the younger man even managed to tickle a little smile out of him.
“I was just trying to give you the best date that I could."
At those words, the Roman frowned however.
"Wait, this was a date?!"
A crushing silence set in and unfortunately Fabrizio could only enjoy three full seconds of Ermal's face in mortifying incomprehension before the older man couldn't help himself anymore and bursted out laughing.
"Stop laughing, dammit! This was not funny, this was- ugh!”
Drama Queen Supreme that he was, Ermal jumped off the swing and marched towards the slide, not dignifying Fabrizio with his presence anymore. And so a very offended 38 year old ended up laying down on the slide with his arms crossed yelling back to the still laughing man on the swing. “You really confused the shit out of me for a moment there!"
Now Fabrizio left the swing, approaching the slide until he stood above the other and despite the fact that he still looked sour, Fabrizio couldn’t help but giggle.
"Aww, poor you. If only I could know how that must feel like."
The grumpy face below him softened significantly, so Fabrizio stretched his arms out and Ermal gladly took them before being pulled up on his feet again. One hand he let got, but the other he held on tightly as they continued their walk.
And when they slowly reached the parking lot where they met earlier tonight, Fabrizio didn’t feel like separating. He leaned against the wall of the hotel, the entrance just around the corner but God, he’d rather stay outside if it meant he could gaze at that handsome face in front of him. In fact, that handsome face was way too far away in Fabrizio’s opinion, so he pulled lightly on Ermals shirt, bringing him closer until they were inches apart. Ermal leaned with one arm against the wall, as they kept grinning at each other like some lovestruck teenagers they apparently turned back to.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
They giggled as they finally closed the gap between them going for a slow and deep kiss. And oh how different that kiss was from their first one back in Rome. When it was hectic and desperate at first, this kiss was full of love, carefree and it was fast becoming rather sensual too when Ermal kept pressing him against the wall and Fabrizio’s hands started wandering under his shirt. When then a certain someone’s lips started nipping on his new neck tattoo, Fabrizio had to gently push him away because his brain was dangerously close to short circuit any moment now.
"Erm, I- I have an instore tomorrow, I better be well rested."
His counterpart just huffed and raised an eyebrow.
"So were you planning on staying up all night, huh?"
Oh he hated him, he really did. He especially hated the way Ermal wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and he hated even more how he felt his own throat going dry.
"I....didn't say that"
"No, you didn't say that. You were thinking it."
God, he really was the absolute worst. He could barely handle Ermal as he was, but him actually flirting with Fabrizio was an entirely other level altogether. He decided to do the public a service by preventing Ermal from saying more of all that ludicrous (but not incorrect) bullshit by throwing his arms around his neck and sealing their lips once more. What a good idea that was, Fabrizio realised, because he noticed how with stubbles Ermal’s kisses felt intriguingly rough against his skin. He should tell him to wear them more often, but that can wait. Now he was too busy flipping them around and pressing Ermal against the wall, burying his hands into his hair and effectively ruining the tied up locks. But then they had to break apart when he felt Ermal chuckling.
"Love how you immediately forget about a good night's sleep once you have a tongue in your mouth."
"Fuck off.”
They bantered and teased but nevertheless a silent understanding hung between them they both understood; it wasn't the right moment for this kind of intimacy. Neither of them was fully ready to go all the way yet but it was okay. They had time, and most importantly, each other.
So the kisses stopped but they still held one another silently enjoying the evening, each other’s company but Fabrizio couldn’t help but look forward for a next time and so did Ermal as it seemed.
“Where are you next week?”
“In the south on instore tour, I’m afraid.”
“And this Saturday? I’d be in Rome.”
“Then I have an instore in Naples but I could hop on a train to meet you later on.”
“No, don’t be ridiculous, you’ll be dead tired afterwards. I’ll meet you in Naples instead.”
Fabrizio nodded gratefully, at least Ermal understood how tiresome instores tended to be. Whatever they had at the moment was complicated enough to arrange with the busy schedules they had, not to mention with the media breathing down their necks more than any normal couple would ever know, but a small consolation was that Ermal was well familiar with all the aspects that a life of a celebrity brought along.
Reluctantly he slowly untangled himself from Ermal yet held his hands, mindlessly tracing the other’s fingers.
“So...See you on Saturday, I guess.”
“Can’t wait for it.” Ermal squeezed his hand.
“Me neither.” Fabrizio leaned forward and gave him a final peck on the lips before finally turning around to leave. But when he was just about to turn at the corner, he heard Ermal shout out behind him.
“And Bizio…”
The older man threw a glance over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.
"Now actually do go to sleep and don't just stay up watching Prison Break until 3am again or I'll cancel your Netflix subscription."
"Wh- you can't even do that!"
"I bet on everything I have that your password is 'liberoanita1' so yes, I actually can."
Groaning, Fabrizio rolled his eyes but not without a smile.
“Goodnight, Ermal!” were his final words before ultimately going back to the hotel, musing about how he needed to change his password now, what he had gotten himself into with this man and how bizarre their story was and if it might continue that way.
After all, couples usually confess their feelings, go to their first date, kiss and in the end get into relationships. And not go to the first first date, fall out, then actually confess their feelings, kiss, get into a relationship and then end up going to their second first date.
But luckily, they are a rather unusual kind of couple.