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Holiday romances were super overrated, you thought bitterly to yourself as you finished off the last of your spritz - which was, for the record, also overhyped. The last time you had made the mistake of asking for a good ol’ mojito at a dive in the lanes of Rome, you could feel everyone else judging you. Perhaps, though, that was less to do with your drink of choice and the fact that you were definitely holding up the queue.
But that’s reality, isn’t it? The way it comes crashing down on you, the way it doesn’t hold back on its punches. And sure, some were punches indeed. Like how your unofficial “boyfriend” just suddenly realised commitment was more of his thing; just not with you, but Jenny from your shared workplace. Of all the people, it was Jenny that sparked true love in his heart. Not that you had anything against cosmetic surgery and enhancements but that witch had once asked all coworkers to donate their PTO for her breast augmentation retreat in sunny Turkey. There was nothing genuine about her, physically or otherwise.
Miffed, you decided to board the flight that you had booked for Cameron and yourself solo, without letting him know that you had planned on surprising him with tickets for a week-long trip to Rome. When Cameron and you had first met, it was a mutual love for cinema - and especially Roman Holiday - that had brought you two closer and into each others’ bedrooms. Both of you had decided early on that with your busy lives, commitment was not a priority for either of you and labels were unnecessary. Even now, there was a sense of bitterness when you had invariably referred to him as your boyfriend - he was never meant to be, after all.
So why did it hurt so much seeing other couples roaming down Trastevere, hand in hand, looking to be so in love? Eugh, that word left a worse taste in your mouth than the last dregs of the foul cocktail. The question had not left your mind, even as you checked into your hostel and made your way to the shared room, inadvertently walking in on a young man, shirtless and complaining about how even during a Roman summer he couldn’t get a tan.
That was how your friendship with Arthur began.
There was obviously more than what meets the eye with the charming, flirtatious Scotsman, you’d come to learn - but most importantly, he was actually a fun person to hang out with! Somehow both of you had become rather friendly with each other and when he heard that you’d somehow ended up in Rome for two weeks, with no plan whatsoever, he was more than delighted to be your designated travel buddy and his #doit4thegram attitude was quite refreshing. It was funny because, for a while, it seemed like you hadn’t hung out with someone fun in a long time - was it because you spent too long around Cameron? It was actually a slightly depressing thought that your non-boyfriend had distanced you from so many of your friends-
“Smile, love - how’re you gonna make that ex of yours jealous if you look miserable in the City of Love?”
“Isn’t that meant to be Paris?” you asked, fixing your hair unconsciously before posing for the camera once again.
Arthur peered up from the camera, throwing a wink towards you. “Any city can become the City of Love, if you give it a chance.”
You had to try your hardest to not roll your eyes. The picture came out nice, nonetheless, and you told Arthur just so as you peered at the screen over his back, chin resting on his shoulder. Despite being aware of how intimate this scene could look to people passing by - a young woman sitting on the steps of degenerating architecture, arms draped across the shoulders of a young man sitting on the step below - you couldn’t bring yourself to move in any way. If the rascal holding your phone asked any questions, you’d just say that this was the most comfortable way to be, on a hot summer’s afternoon. If he wanted you to move, he could always buy gelato for you.
Perhaps you should’ve been ashamed that within the mere seconds between when you first entered the dorm and when Arthur realised there was a third person in the room, you couldn’t help but notice that despite his slender frame, his back muscles were defined and tan or not, that was still a physique you could appreciate. You had to remind yourself to get a grip, reminding yourself how you felt about holiday romances at that point - but your nagging fondness for your hostel suitemate had been creeping up on you, with every passing day. Perhaps the affections were the result of a rebound - but that would mean you would have to admit that you had gone through a breakup in the first place, right?
And just like that, your first few days in Rome was gone. Sometimes, your new friend accompanied you and at other times, you had taken to wandering to places by yourself. Initially, you did have a list in mind as you were meant to be here with Cameron but perhaps dredging up the list left a bitter taste. This particular morning, it rained heavily and out of the interest of your shoes (not waterproof), you decided to spend the day inside. Trading in glorious sights and culture for a passably comfortable sofa in front of the shared area’s television and a large bag of chips, you settle in, ready for your umpteenth rewatch of (arguably) the best move of all time, Roman Holiday.
“What’s this cheese early in the morning?” Arthur’s voice was unmistakable, you realised as he settled on your right. You winced as droplets fell off his hair, onto your shoulder and you took this opportunity to smack him with a sham of cushion that lay on your left.
“This,” you pointed at the screen, “is a masterpiece. You better watch anything you say about it, mister.”
Arthur held up his hands defensively, doing a rather miserable job of holding back his laughter. “You’re right, I should not judge this absolute classic that has never featured on Criterion, ever.”
“God, you’re insufferably pretentious sometimes, you know that?” laughing, you gave him a playful shove, fingers coming into touch with damp material. “And you got caught in the rain, too. Did you not have an umbrella?”
“Didn’t plan on staying out till now,” Arthur shook his head with a shrug.
You paused for a moment, realising the implications of his words. “Go get changed, idiot,” you wanted to say this in a joking manner, but it came across softer than you meant it to.
Arthur looked back at you and for some reason, you felt an acute loss for words. Sapphire gaze locked onto yours and for the briefest of moments, you thought he was about to tell you something, anything to break this weird deadlock. Instead, he broke eye contact with a chuckle and a “wait for me? I do want to watch this with you”, to which you simply nodded.
By now, you knew what that rogue was all about - the scent that had taunted you when he leaned too close on the sofa wasn’t only his own and it served as a reminder of the type of activities you knew Arthur did for amusement. Yet, it hadn’t stopped the blossoming feelings in your heart one bit, instead forcing you to curl up around the cushion that you had just thrown at him.
What was meant to be a single-party pity session at the film’s finale turned out to somehow become a double-party debate, where Arthur insisted that the movie should’ve ended differently, while you argued that the movie was perfect because of its ending.
“But why didn’t he even try to keep in touch with her?”
You sighed, trying your best to give the man beside you the stink eye. “Some things are ephemeral, that’s what makes them beautiful.”
“All of that - and he gave her a useless tour of Rome, too.”
“Arthur!” You tried your best to not outright laugh at how this movie had made him so worked up. “They had one day!”
“One day is enough time, in my opinion.”
“What are you being so petty for?”
His sapphire gaze glanced towards you, before Arthur huffed and folded his arms. “It’s not…okay, perhaps I’m being a little petty but what does it matter? If you’re gonna base a movie in this city, you might as well utilise it a bit more!”
“Then show me around,” you leaned towards him, well aware of how close you were to playing with fire. “Give me the tour that’ll make me fall in love with this place.”
One, then two moments passed where not a single word was exchanged between the both of you but then he grinned, the action bringing attention to the beauty mark beside his lips that you always, always found yourself wishing you could kiss. “Alright, then. Tonight, 10pm. I’ll show you the best Rome you’ve ever seen in 24 hours.”
By the time the clock struck 10, darkness reigned over the city. There was a slight chill in the air but it was by no means unpleasant, you noted as you waited at the bottom of the building. Arthur joined you within minutes and you found out that your first destination was-
“This?” you pointed to the sandwich store, at the corner of the Piazza Barberini.
“To be brutally honest with you, [Name], that came off as rather judgemental.”
“I am,” you retorted. “Late night sandwiches to start off your grand tour of Rome?” Arthur didn’t seem to find your criticism worthy of a response and - well, in all honesty, 25 minutes and one glorious combo of a panini and a cocktail later, you were wondering why you complained in the first place.
“These are so delicious? Where the hell have I been all along?” The last concern you had was talking with your mouth full.
Arthur laughed in response, before looking out the window and pointing to a fountain in the centre of the piazza. “And see that fountain over there? That’s a Bernini creation.”
“No way, really?” You peered as hard as you could, face as close to the glass window as you possibly could, which seemed to elicit another heartfelt chuckle out of the man opposite you.
“We can go closer, if you want. No worries.”
“It’s fine,” you shook your head, still not breaking your gaze from the statue.
Despite history and architecture not being your top priorities back in your school days, you remember being entirely fascinated with Rome and those who had shaped her over the years, visually or otherwise. Bernini featured so heavily, it seemed like some type of fever dream - but in the best possible way - to just see something designed by him casually on the side of the road.
It wasn’t until you heard a camera shutter go off that you turned towards Arthur, only to see him grinning at his phone’s screen. “You look like a child at Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory!” he was far too amused, you thought and with an exclamation, you tried to grab his phone across the table. With a speed that belied his languid pose against the chair, though, he held his own phone far away from your reach. It was so difficult to stay mad at him, though - you were having fun. Despite the bickering, the teasing and the nagging reminder at the back of your head that maybe, somewhere down the line, these memories would be just that - memories. He wasn’t meant to be a lasting presence in your life; that would ruin the magic of vacations, of course.
“I’m walking out and you’ll have to pay,” you exclaimed, pushing for one final lunge that would get the phone in your hands.
“No way,” his laugh seemed to be the only thing you focused on, completely missing how his chair tipped too far back and he almost fell over, a confident grin turned into a sheepish smile.
A shame, you seemed to like both just as much as each other.
All these thoughts swirled around your mind as Arthur and you walked down the roads, the hour closer to midnight than not by now. It was a different Rome, you had to admit - the streets were much more deserted at night, save the occasional voice you could hear drifting down the alleys and out the windows, or of restaurant patrons, making another toast to good health and good memories.
It seemed magical, like the town belonged to you and the man whose hand you were holding (when did this happen? You did not care to think back). Arthur and you seemed to talk about anything and nothing at once - you learnt that he had a Cocker Spaniel back home, named Vic, that his friend was looking after and his dream profession was ‘author’ and, in fact, he would soon be ready to submit his first manuscript to various publishers soon.
You may have managed to ask him more questions, if realisation of the scenery before your eyes had not dawned upon you. With a veritable squeal you ran ahead, practically dragging Arthur behind you. Standing against the railing, you could see a stretch of Rome before your very eyes, with its distinct architecture and twinkling lights.
“No way,” with a whisper, you looked towards Arthur and utterly failed in suppressing your grin, seeing the famed Spanish Steps right before your eyes, with the iconic fountain at its foot. “It’s lovely.”
“Yeah…sure is,” came the response from beside you and had you been paying attention, you may have noticed the fact that those words were spoken towards you, rather than the view ahead of both of you. Moments, perhaps minutes, passed as you gazed at the sight before your eyes, but then Arthur pointed out that it looked like the only open store in the vicinity (and luckily enough, selling gelato) was about to close. The same hand that you had yanked to the plaza moments, perhaps minutes, earlier was now dragging you down the Spanish steps.
Holding probably the most overpriced gelato in the entire town (“to be fair,” Arthur quipped, as both of you stepped outside, “one of us should’ve asked how much these were before ordering” to your comment of the true scam being not having the prices listed on the menu board) you and Arthur decided to finish the (begrudgingly, you had to admit) delicious gelato at the Steps itself. Even the slight hole burning in your pockets wasn’t enough to dampen your spirits, as you gazed at the Steps in front of you, empty save for a couple leaving. You had the entire area to yourself, an unimaginable dream, the countless times you recalled the scene of Princess Anne sitting at the steps, enjoying her gelato when Joe “simply happens” upon her. Maybe the past you would’ve wished for a romantic encounter like that, but now you-
“Hey,” Arthur’s voice broke you out of your slow-spiralling descent into self-depreciation. “Take a seat, let me take a picture of you.”
“What - no way!” your exclamation was followed by a shy, embarrassed laugh.“You got me running halfway around town, I probably look like a hot mess.”
Instead of answering you, the young man decided to step in front of you and with a flourish, gestured towards one of the ledges running down the stairs. The feigned air of haughtiness in his voice as he said “your throne awaits, m’lady” got an involuntary laugh out of you. The stone wasn’t cold, like you expected, and Arthur settled in beside you. You tried to make nothing of the proximity between the both of you - it’s no big deal, right? Two mates, sharing the moonlight on a cloudless night, gelato in hand. That’s…definitely platonic, you nodded to yourself.
“So…” pausing, Arthur turned towards you, a smile playing on his lips. “Mid-tour reviews? Am I doing better than the guy from your movie?”
You grinned back at him. “Not bad, so far but it’s probably for the best that you don’t do too well. We don’t want to be dealing with the sordid affair of falling in love, do we?”
“Of course not, love is a wretched affair altogether,” his laugh sounded more sardonic than humoured to your ears, but you couldn’t see his expression too clearly, as he looked down instead of towards you.
When he looked back up at you, though, it was with the roguish grin that made your heart skip a beat without fail. “Anyway, let me take your picture. We do have an ex to make jealous, in case you’ve forgotten?”
Of course you’d forgotten, perhaps you’d forgotten about Cameron almost entirely. He didn’t matter to you one bit - but there was no way you could let Arthur know that. Not when the friendship he and you had built up was based on this meagre fact; not when he looked at you like you meant something to him.
Because for what it was worth, maybe all you meant to him was a restoration project, like the countless ones you’d seen around Rome while wandering around. Maybe he’d have no reason to do anything with you after that, and for some reason that silly little notion gripped your heart with fear. And so, you agreed.
It was hard to keep that thought out of your mind, even as you and him made it to your next destination, strolling along amiably and resuming talking about nothing and everything at once. At one point though, Arthur took a step forward and turned towards you, holding out his hands. Without hesitation, you placed your hands in his and looked towards him, questions evident on your face. This somehow made him smile even more broadly (a look you were far too fond of, unfortunately) and he asked you to close your eyes.
“Last surprise, love,” his eyes shone like the skies above, full of wonder and amazement. You acquiesced, and he told you that peeking would only ruin things for you, so you let him lead you, taking careful steps forward and feeling yourself turn towards the left. When you came to a stop, he let go of your hands. “We’re here, [Name].”
Nothing - absolutely nothing - could prepare you for the sight before your eyes. You had seen the Trevi Fountain countless times in print and video, but having it before your very eyes and all to yourself left you awestruck. In the night, illuminated by all the lights around, it looked more beautiful than ever.
“I…oh my God…I-I don’t know what to say!” Words completely escaped you, as you found yourself so captivated by the sight in front of you that you didn’t even notice when Arthur had wrapped an arm around you.
“The reaction’s well worth it, [Name],” his words were softly murmured and affectionate, you didn’t know how to react as you turned towards him. The only thoughts buzzing through your mind involved how close he was, how it would be so easy to kiss him, how you wished dearly to do so–
One raindrop hit your cheek, followed by another one and soon, the relentless downpour left both of you with no option apart from wanting to find shelter. Arthur took your hand and dashed for the nearest store with an awning, despite how narrow it was, and both of you huddled against each other. The accompanying winds chilled you to the bone and you scrambled for any warmth you could get your hands on. Gentle fingers skirted along your cheek and you turned to find Arthur frozen in the midst of tucking a strand of your hair stuck to your cheek.
“I…er, well…” It was odd, finding the silver-tongued man lost for words. “It just looked a tad uncomfortable, so…” Perhaps, if the lighting was better, you would’ve noticed the blush dusting his cheeks but you neither wanted nor cared to know, as you leaned up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips.
When he didn’t respond, at first, you were convinced it was a mistake. A terrible, horrible mistake so you pulled back but his lips chased yours, his kiss so fierce that it stole away your breath. At that moment, nothing had felt more right, nothing mattered more than the way you found yourself pressing up against him, his hand rising to grip your waist and your tongue slipping past his lips.
But he pulled back, a smile on his lips that didn’t match the pain you saw in his gaze. “We should…probably stop here.”
Because that’s when you found out about Ruby, the university friend turned girlfriend. Ruby, who was once his fiancee and then left him hanging at the altar because she thought he was moving too fast. The person whom he was meant to spend this vacation with, an intended honeymoon. A part of you felt wretched - how could you have complained and cribbed so much to him, not realising that he was carrying enough baggage of his own? How horribly selfish was it of you, not to give him a chance to tell his own story.
“Don’t feel bad that you didn’t know, love.” It was as if he read your thoughts, though, as both of you walked back side-by-side. The rain had subsided to a bothersome drizzle. “I like to make it my business for others to not know mine.”
As you glanced towards him, it was painfully obvious to you that beneath his feeble smile laid uncertainty, apprehension - he was the one taking the blame for your misplaced feelings.
“Would it…” your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat before continuing. “Do you want us to stay apart?”
“Lord, no,” his response was almost instant. “No, I’ve had the most amazing time with you, but if it made you-”
“This isn’t just about me,” you retorted, stopping in the middle of the road that you two had been crossing. “You - I need you to tell me what you want!” Your voice raising at the end was unintentional, even Arthur seemed to be taken aback.
Moments, which seemed like millennia, passed between the both of you as you stood there, gauging the other’s expression. “I…what I want is to talk to you again tomorrow,” it was Arthur who cracked first. “Tomorrow, the day after…I want to laugh with you, have you in my life. It’s an awfully selfish request, isn’t it?
“Not at all,” you found yourself shaking your head. You wanted all of that from him, too. “It’s not selfish at all.”
“Are you sure-”
You turned towards him with the brightest smile you could muster, even if the words tasted no different to sawdust on your lips. “I want to be your friend, Arthur.” The relief you saw in his expression and demeanour though, was worth it all.
Friends you and him continued to be, even after both of you had returned home. Long-distance communication had never been your strong suit but finding the time to communicate with Arthur was the easiest thing on this planet. Whether they were late night conversations that one of you fell asleep on first, soon followed by the other one (and prompting the awful joke of ‘guess we slept together again’ from Arthur, the one that made you eye-roll too hard) or midday lunchtime video chats, where you each got to vent about your day jobs, Arthur had become an irreplaceable part of your life - and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The crush you had been nursing on him was less like the blooming flower you expected it to be and more like a resilient weed: growing despite your best efforts to neglect or kill it. All your friends had encouraged you to make a move already, but you couldn’t risk what you had for the world. No, some things were easier left unsaid.
…despite thinking you were the bigger person in every relationship, ever, you still found yourself drunk on a whole bottle of vinho verde and a lot of pent-up anger you didn’t know you still had towards Cameron, when he handed you an invite to his and Jenny’s wedding.
“I should, should just…” trailing off, you rubbed your eyes violently, ignoring the gentle chiding from Arthur on the other end of the video call. “I should just go and drink all their wines.”
“While I don’t doubt your ability to do so, I don’t think-”
“And then sit on the cake.”
“Well, no- wait, no.” Had you been less sober, you might’ve noticed that Arthur was trying his best to hold back a laugh, or the look of pure adoration in his eyes. “Why sit on the cake, it’ll just ruin your dress.”
You huffed and went back for the bottle, realising that it was well and truly empty. The look of pure dejection on your face brought forth a chuckle from Arthur.
“[Name], hear me out. You should go, you should definitely go. You said it’s a month from now, correct?” Seemingly amused by your response of a grunt, he continued on. “And, just for clarification, your address is the same one as what I have, right?”
You squinted at him - or, well, more correctly: the camera. “Why do you want my address again?”
“I know you’ll love me for the hangover pizza tomorrow morning.”
The hangover pizza came the next morning and was duly appreciated. What you weren’t expecting, however, was for Arthur himself to show up at your doorstep three and a half weeks later, holding on a garment bag slung over his shoulder and leaning on the extended handle of his suitcase, as he scrolled on his phone.
He greeted you with a dazzling smile, looking up and tilting his head ever so slightly as you stood there and stared at him, dumbfounded. “Hey, love. Hope it’s not too late to change the RSVP on that wedding invite.”
When you continued to (frankly) just stare at him, you noticed the uncertainty in his gaze, the way his stance changed - reminiscent of that one fateful evening in Rome. “…was this a bad idea, coming here? Or is this a bad time? I can leave, that’s not the problem, I mean I don’t think this is a bad place to get an Ub-urk.” The rest of the words cut off, as you threw your arms around him.
“Thank you,” it was really difficult to not smile, as you pulled back and smiled towards him. “Best surprise of yours, ever.”
He looked back at you wordlessly, but - the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, when he smiled back at you, the way his arms wound their way around your back, as if you were the most precious thing he had held - those were much louder than any words could’ve been.