Chapter Text
~Luciano~
There’s a new kid in town. His name is Allen Fitzgerald Jones, and he goes by Al. He’s a buff, tall, outspoken American. He carries a knife hidden in the inside pocket of his black leather jacket, and he keeps trying to flirt with me. I keep trying to hint I’m not interested, because I’m too submissive as a person to say anything to his face and I already have a crush on my friend (at least I think he’s my friend; he acts like he is) Lutz Beilschmidt. Lutz is a tall, buff, blonde-hair-violet-eyes German man, and he’s been getting kinda jealous and possessive over Al’s flirtatious advances. I just let him and I pretend not to notice either of them. It’s been a month since this started, and I’m still pretending to be oblivious to Al’s flirting. He’s even outright asked me out once and I brushed him off and said I was hanging out with Lutz that day. I actually wasn’t, but it succeeded in frustrating him and making him try even harder to win me over. I still have no interest.
My family is in town. The very people I tried to leave Italy to run from, and they’re here. My parents’ presence doesn’t bother me anymore; they started working to help us pay for the house and other bills and said they don’t care who we date anymore. But the rest of them…
Lutz is fending off Al’s advances again today. I’ve started to pay attention, but I still let him take the brunt of chasing off the unwanted attention. I’ve started to kinda like Al; I mean, it’s amusing and it’s an entertaining pastime, but I’m not the type to string him along and let him think he stands a chance against Lutz and the friendship we’ve established over the last three years. He’s the stubborn new boy in town; he’ll figure it out eventually. He’s not an idiot. He’s just not very perceptive. He doesn’t see the sidelong glances I give Lutz or the dismissive, exhausted look I give him. He’s blind to my lack of interest—that, or he doesn’t care. He still somehow thinks he has a chance.
I’ve sort of tuned both of them out. It’s not until Al stops arguing with Lutz and directly addresses me that I tune back in. “Right, Lucca?”
“Huh?”
“He’s trying to say you don’t care if he flirts with you,” Lutz explains.
I shrug. I’m not bold enough to outright say I do care, but I won’t say I don’t either. I won’t lie.
“See? If he cared he’d say.”
“Or maybe he’s not bold enough to say anything,” I mutter.
“Maybe he’s not confident enough to say anything,” Lutz offers slyly—and rather correctly, too.
They both look to me. I just move a step closer to Lutz. I haven’t been sleeping too well since my family isn’t really letting me—I mean, they’re stressing me out and my grandpa and my uncle are doing it again, and I just…I’m tired. Not that I’d tell Lutz that, but I don’t have to. He’s begun to suspect something isn’t right, and he keeps defending me against the other people, especially the bullies. I trust Lutz more than I trust Al.
Lutz is perceptive, and he takes the hint. Al is still blind, even as Lutz wraps a protective arm around my tense shoulders.
“Hai ragione,” I tell him quietly. Lutz nods his understanding.
“The fuck was that?” the loud American demands.
“He said I’m right,” Lutz says, turning his head to glare at Al. “Back off.”
I lean a little into Lutz’s touch. Had I been sleeping regularly, and eating and all that, I’d shove him off. But I’m so tired and weak right now that I just let him touch me, breaking the rule we’d already established three years ago when I met him.
Al still doesn’t take the hint. He shoves Lutz. “You don’t getta speak for him, Deutsch arschloch.”
Lutz stiffens. I know enough German at this point to know what he’s saying, and enough for my fingers to curl into fists. It’s not enough to punch him, but he doesn’t get to call Lutz a German asshole.
I breathe, take some courage, and take a step forward. “You don’t getta call him that.”
Lutz’s mouth is already open to snap a reply, and he looks to me with wide eyes. “Lucca?”
I wave a dismissive hand at him. “Sono stanco o lo prenderei a pugni. Non farlo.” (( I’m tired or I’d punch him. Don’t. ))
Lutz is taken aback. He blinks several times and doesn’t answer me. I turn back to Al. “He’s right. I’m not the type of person to actually say anything even if I care. I’ve been trying to let Lutz tell you, because he’s bolder than I am. Either take him at his word, or I’ll tell my older brother and let him do whatever it is he does when he’s ticked.”
Again, he doesn’t take me seriously. But at least he shrugs and walks off—for now.