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Istvan unlocked the door to his surgery and wondered in with the unease of a man who hadn’t returned in almost a century, a peculiar thought as he had been here all day yesterday, and every day last week. To think of it though, he had experienced a rather strange dream the night before, something about a ghost and an american wizard…
Everything was still there, and why shouldn’t it be? He had only set it up last night, before he closed up. The tray with all of his sterilised tools, a scalpel turned just so to reflect the sink in the corner and its brand new taps that spun without a squeak. There was still the reception desk where Hans used to sit and speak with the patients, where he would be sitting in exactly one hour unknowing of the queerness of it all. Everything was there, why was that so surprising?
Istvan would place his coat over the back of his chair, wash his hands with the expensive soap, double check his tools and go stand outside until he was needed. Seeing patients one by one until closing time as he did every day. He should do that. He was going to do that.
The doctor stood by the door, fidgeting with the overcoat in his wide palms. Pulling at the loose threads and doing nothing to stop them from unravelling and probably without even noticing. A thought or a memory nagged at the inside of his brain. Pulling away his attention. He didn’t have to stay.
A flurry of movement and the door slammed shut behind him as he stumbled out into the street with sweat in the grooves of his forehead. The path suspended as a map in his mind, if everything would still be in place, that is. Of course it would be- he’d lived here since the 70’s. Without complication or a large loss of time, he found himself as intended knocking upon a door.
The man who answered had large bags under his eyes and a hunch to his shoulders, but his eyebrows still twitched when he saw Istvan’s face, only just managing to tweak briefly at the corners of his mouth.
“I…” The pause was too long. Too long even for the two of them, so familiar in their silences that carried often more than words. Istvan tried to keep his eyes from the gaunt look that stirred a great feeling of guilt from within him. “I’m sorry.”
Pietro stood to fill only half the doorway. He had shrunk in both frame and ego as the years dwindled on but he was still in there somewhere. Enough to keep the lights from dying out. Yet they flickered. “Mr Czernin.” The croak of his voice would have knocked any man off balance but it was his formality that was a blow to Istvan’s chest. Inflicting pain without even a breath. What it would be like to hold such power over a person.
Istvan couldn’t shrug it away but he had to do something now. Oh why had he come here, other than to relive old memories that the two of them had tried so hard to avoid. Peti… Peti, please let me come in. He could have begged and yelled and announced the thoughts that pulled so hard on his heart to the entire street, to the entirety of Vienna until something was put right. Instead he fiddled with his wedding ring. The silver band made no mark upon his finger. “Tea?” He forced himself to not mumble the word down at the cobblestone, rather up at the man to which the question was aimed- a look of which he so deftly avoided.
Pietro gaze instead careened wildly in a desperate search for its guiding lighthouse. Istvan himself assumed to be the rocks threatening to catch him off guard. He wished he wasn’t. He couldn’t- He didn't-
He wasn’t trying to be threatening but he had managed it anyway, too tall and too big and too loud, too close to the man who looked like he just needed space in a world that wouldn’t give him any. Istvan took a step back from the door and lowered the glance which had surely come out as a glare. It wasn’t like this, it shouldn’t be like this and everything was all wrong.
He would have come to the door and Pietro would laugh and tease once again about lost keys. “What would you ever do without me Pista!” And he would retort back a feeble excuse, they were lost in the clutter of fish bones and sketches of dead monsters, or he was distracted by the irresistible warmth of their bed, the looming threat of kisses or playful mockeries of the rich boys in class. The glances wouldn’t hurt and the silences would be just as natural.
Once again Istvan tried to look interested in his ring finger.
“Tea.”
His head was raised, his forced smile almost as pitiful as his tattered hat that failed to hide the strands of greasy hair that tumbled out beneath. He held out his hand in a wordless grasp for the other to take, before pulling him inside with a strength that one so small should have no business possessing.
The door closed behind them with a thud, filling the space with a vacuum of empty air and dust that screamed in the silence of it all. The house felt still through everything but the thrumming of Istvan’s heart as he failed to find a place for his hands to settle, he failed to find a position to stand in which he didn't feel like a bumbling giant in comparison. Panic settled in his bones as it must have shown in his face as Pietro reached out for his arms to hold them still. There was nothing. Nought but the two men, standing by the front door listening each intently to the other breathing shallow breaths as heartbeats sped up while the owners wished they wouldn’t.
They couldn’t be doing this. Not now. Not at this age.
“Peti.” Istvan again couldn't find a reason as to why he had come. There was nothing that happened today that didn’t happen any other day other than his dream and the urge to reach back into familiar arms. The idea of pretending to be something they weren’t wasn't any more painful in fact, the very act of arriving here had the same effect as an arrow to the racing heart of a deer caught in the hunt. Oh it hurt Istvan so much to see Pietro in this state, his Peti with the kind smile and sudden wit. This wasn’t familiar. This was far worse.
It felt much like a dream when he reached down to cup the man’s chin, his arms out of control again but moving through soup. The other arm snaked around Pietro’s back and then their bodies were slotted together once more in the shape of a slow waltz. Cheeks pressed into cheeks and foreheads and there were tears, indistinguishable as to whom they belonged to.
Then later on, both of them laying in the bed that Pietro now shared with his wife. Istvan tried to cherish the feeling of their bodies sharing heat, their legs tangled together and hands grasped so tightly, like they had to squeeze harder just to be sure this moment was real.
Istvan pressed his nose into Pietro’s hair, to take a deep breath. The smell was so comforting and warm, familiar yet strange all at once, as it had been for the last twenty years. Their clothes were rumpled from the warmth and Istvan’s coat lay on the floor abandoned, it could unravel itself. The sight was overwhelming but he couldn’t let it disappear from his mind. The memory of a dream told him so.
He had been waiting for so long to have this again. To fall asleep like this, to curl up on his arms with their bodies pressed together. To have the feeling of his heart racing without exercise and his lungs gasping for breath without being underwater. It seemed to be longer each time. As if the two of them were getting worse at being failures and getting better at pretending.
But he would have to go soon. It was already too late, Hans would be wondering. And when people wonder, they enquire. They get suspicious.
Up, untangle, clothes, stairs, door. One last kiss, one last sad smile, another one just to be sure. Away from all the prying eyes of the street.
It took Istvan less than ten minutes of walking to decide to turn back. He didn’t bother knocking this time, it was unlocked anyway.
He had shrunk this time to fit the house, it had happened without him noticing when their arms had been tangled together and they had talked without thinking and the words had tumbled out. The house was empty again but he crept into the bedroom to see Pietro already in place, top button undone and feelings tumbling out onto the floor, crouching at the window ledg. He let out a gasp when their eyes met, followed by the ghost of a grin.
“I thought I’d come along for the ride.”
Time slowed as he shed his outer layers and they took each other’s hands, arms tangling once again into their natural position, around one another. Hearts as close as they could possibly be. Window wide open.
They fell together, as it always should have been.
~fin~