Archive of Our Own

“Alberto, there is no need for you to shout. Luca and Giulia will be able to hear you just fine in a normal voice.”

“But they’re so far away! That doesn’t make any sense.” Massimo snorts, one of the first that Aberto has managed to pull from the older man. He pats him heavily on the shoulder, almost making Alberto’s knees buckle.

“Just trust me, my boy. You will need to show Luca’s parents how to use the telephone as well, after all.”

“Pfft, easy.” Alberto takes the phone receiver from Massimo’s hand, holding it between two fingers as if it were a snake about to strike. He clears his throat and looks up at his guardian. “...But you’ll be here though, right? Just in case?” Chuckling softly, Massimo pats Alberto on the shoulder once more before heading back to the kitchen to tend to their meal. There is at least another thirty minutes before Luca’s parents and grandmother are expected to come up from the sea to join them in hearing from Luca, and another thirty minutes on top of that before the young man in question is expected to ring.

He’s only been gone for three weeks, but to Alberto it seems more like three years. So much has been happening to him, far more than can be included in a letter; how much he’s learning about life in Portorosso, how much he’s been able to teach Massimo on the best places to fish… how much more calm and patient he has become thanks to his guardian’s influence, and how much peace he’s been able to offer in return thanks to basically solving Massimo’s money problems overnight.

He finally feels like he’s found a home, one that he almost entirely believes will not disappear from him anytime soon, but with one enormous missing piece. Sure, Massimo is good company, and some of the kids that gather around the fountain to play soccer have asked him to join a couple of times, so it isn’t like he’s lonely (Alberto is very familiar with that particular feeling), but it isn’t the same as having Luca home.

Alberto looks down at the plastic phone in his hand, knowing full well that somehow it will let him hear Luca’s voice in the very near future, but will it be the same as having him next to him, grinning widely and ready to join in on whatever adventure they might plan, mind already teaming with ideas on things they could make, places they could see and experiences they could share?

Chewing his lip, Alberto carefully puts the telephone back into its cradle and follows after Massimo, hands in his pockets as he leans against the kitchen door frame. He knows better than to offer help; Massimo is a more accomplished chef with one hand than he could ever hope to be with his own two, but he has come to learn that the man appreciates the company all the same.

“Shall I go and pick up Luca’s family from the beach, you think?”

“That might be wise. Prejudice is slow to die in this town.” Alberto snorts quietly, hands pushed deeper into his pockets. Whilst most people were slow to come to terms with the fact that not only did sea monsters live among them and that they actually made decent neighbours, there were others that seemed as if they would never be fully on board with him or creatures like him. As much as Ercole was despised by the children of Portorosso, if anyone shouted loud enough they were bound to attract attention, and Ercole had been nothing if not relentless in his attempts to shout Alberto and the Parguros’ out of town.

As if reading his mind, Massimo turns to look over his shoulder at Alberto with a wooden spoon in hand. Despite his severe appearance, his eyes are soft as he looks over.

“Do not fear, Alberto. Yourself, Luca, his family… no harm will befall you in Portorosso.” The, not whilst I live here is unspoken, but Alberto hears it all the same.

“...Yeah. I know, Mr. Marcovaldo.” Massimo appears pleased, a small smile crossing his face before he nods and turns back to the stove. Alberto grins fondly at the man’s broad back before skipping forwards and knocking his shoulder against his elbow. “‘You sure you don’t need any help?”

“You know very well that I can manage, Alberto.” His smile is positively shark-like.

“Yeah, I know.”

Dinner is a lively affair, the excitement in the air almost electric; Alberto can barely sit still, his eyes flickering over to the telephone on the table in the corner almost constantly as he half-listens to the conversation around him. He thinks that Luca’s mom has asked him a few questions about the odd jobs he’s been taking around the town to help pay his way, and he knows his answers hardly count as actual sentences. She doesn’t seem to mind; if anything, she smiles each time he gives a one or two-word answer, and her hand creeps towards her husband’s own to twist their fingers together. Luca’s grandma is sat next to him, the only one of the group who appears completely at ease, happily allowing Massimo to refill her glass with wine for the second time as she sits back in her chair and watches him with a look almost too intense.

Uncomfortable with waiting (and with all of the watching eyes), Alberto stands and collects the dishes from the meal, accepting everyone’s quiet thanks and Massimo’s pleased look with a small smile. He passes through into the kitchen and places them in the sink, drawing water to rinse them before the sauce dries and is harder to remove when he hears the chirping ring of the phone from the other room. He gasps, jolting his arms up from out of the water and splashing a line up his face and neck, scales sprouting from the droplets like thirsty plants. He’s shifted from the elbows down, but doesn’t take a moment to dry himself to humanity as he trips over the corner of the rug and almost launches himself head-first into the stove.

“I-Is it them?!” he stammers as he skids into the room, corners of his mouth already turning upwards; the Paguro’s are gathered around the phone, evidence of their mad dash clear from the way the chairs are pushed away from the table. They all stare at it, excited but unsure; Daniela looks at Massimo pleadingly, hand at her chest and clearly lost. He gently pushes her out of the way and picks the phone up, bringing it to his ear. Lorenzo gestures Alberto over, his smile encouraging as he puts an arm around his shoulders and squeezes. Alberto feels like his breath is almost too fast, as if he’s been running or swimming for miles.

“Yes? Ah, ciao Luca.”

The Paguro’s instantly brighten, Daniela gasping happily as they begin whispering excitedly to each-other, like they might break the telephone if they raise their voices. Alberto, however, has no such reservations. He grins widely at Lorenzo before ducking out from under his arm and grabbing Massimo’s hand to bring the receiver down low enough for him to shout into it;

“Hi, Luca!”

There are a pair of excited giggles, quiet and hard to hear but there, and Alberto bounces up and down joyfully. A hand on his shoulder holds him still as Grandma Paguro turns him away and roughly brushes the water from his face, her eyes wrinkled.

“Let him talk to his parents first. There’ll be time for you afterwards,” she says, not unkindly before tipping him a wink and wandering back towards the table for her wine. Alberto huffs, crossing his scaly arms before loosening up to shake them dry. She’s right, of course; Luca isn’t just ringing to talk to him, and Giulia will want to talk to Massimo as well. It’s just…

Rearranging the chairs, Alberto looks back over his shoulder at Luca’s parents. They’re close together, heads tilted towards the phone to better hear their son, all talking over each-other and clearly not doing a good job of having a coherent conversation. Massimo quietly interjects every now and then, correcting volume or advising a pause, endlessly patient. From his distance, he can’t hear whatever it is that Luca’s telling them, can’t hear his voice at all, and it’s frustrating. Grumbling, Alberto slings himself into one of the dining chairs, straddling it backwards and crossing his arms across the top of the back-rest to rest his chin on as he watches Luca’s parents with what he hopes is a patient look.

He’s been waiting to talk to Luca too.

But of course, Luca wants to talk to his Grandma. And then Giulia wants to talk to her father and well since we’re here and learning Luca’s parents talk to her. It’s been twenty-five minutes (he’s been counting) of Alberto grinding his teeth and bouncing his leg up and down before he has a thought that makes him feel like he’s suddenly hit a cold pocket mid-swim;

Maybe Luca doesn't want to talk to me. Maybe he’s made new friends at his new school and he’s doing just fine without me.

It’s Bruno talking, he knows it, and therefore it’s just his mind being cruel… but could it be? Luca must’ve heard his greeting when he first called, so it’s not like he doesn’t know that Alberto is there, and he must know that he wants to talk.

Swallowing, Alberto lifts his thumb to his mouth and begins to bite at the nail, a roiling feeling in his stomach beginning to bubble and make him feel queasy. It might be better to just not be here at all, to head out into the bay and try to swim his feelings out, instead of sitting in a room filled to the ceiling with happiness that he can’t share because he just isn’t wanted. As quietly as he can, Alberto stands up from his chair and tip-toes for the kitchen, hoping that everyone will just think he’s cleaning up dinner dishes instead of making a run for it.

He gets to the doorway.

“Alberto?” He freezes, shoulders tight and high around his ears as he slowly turns to look at Daniela. She looks confused, and holds the phone out to him with a concerned smile. “Don’t you want to talk to Luca? He’s waiting for you.”

“Oh, um. Yeah, okay.” Feeling very much under scrutiny, Alberto approaches to take the handset, meeting Daniela’s eye when she ducks her head to look at him; her hand twitches at her side, like she wants to touch him but isn’t sure if the touch would be appreciated.

“He’s really excited to speak to you, more than he was to speak to me,” she says kindly. “I think we’ll go for a quick walk around the square with Massimo, give you both a little bit of privacy, hmm?”

“Oh...okay?” Alberto watches as the adults gather coats and head out into the evening, Grandma Paguro sneaking a hand into the crook of Massimo’s arm, guffawing at him when he jumps in surprise. She looks back at him as she steps out into the night and gives him another mysterious wink before the door shuts.

“Why does she keep winking at me…?” Alberto mutters to himself, lost and confused before he realises that Luca has been calling his name, concerned and getting louder. Shaking himself, he brings the phone up to his ear and grins. “Hey, Luca! At last! I didn’t think you wanted to talk to me, man.”

“Far from it! I wanted to speak to you most, that’s why I left you for last, dummy!” Despite the obvious excitement in his voice, Luca doesn’t sound right; like he’s talking from under the water whilst Alberto remains on the surface. It’s weird, and he’s not sure that he likes that he can’t see the expressions that Luca will be making as he talks, despite how easy it is for him to imagine it. Frowning, Alberto grabs the main body of the phone, and taking care not to pull out the wire from where it goes into the wall (he knows enough about electricity to know that it will make the phone stop working if he does that), he lowers himself to the ground by the table.

“You sound so weird, like you’re not real,” Alberto says slowly, taking care not to raise his voice too much, like Massimo instructed. Luca laughs, and although it’s not quite the same as if they were in the same room together, it warms Alberto enough that he can’t help but giggle too.

“I know right? You sound like a computer!” Luca sounds so happy, and although Alberto’s glad that he doesn’t seem to be missing home too much, a traitorous part of him had hoped that he might be a little sad.

“What the heck is a computer?”

“Oh, it’s a really cool machine that has a brain inside! Not like a real brain, it’s a metal and electric one, but they’re so smart! I’ve haven’t seen a real one, but I saw a movie with Giulia and there was this big evil computer that tried to kill a whole lot of people. It was really scary but really awesome! I asked Giulia if it could be real and she laughed at me, she said that computers were real but that they’d never be smart enough to be evil or think for themselves like the one in the movie did, that was just pretend.”

“A movie…? Oh, like one of the shows that Mr. Marcovaldo watches?”

“Kind of, but the show is super long and it’s on a huuuuge television! You have to go to a special building called a cinema, and then you sit down in a huge room with lots of people and you have to be real quiet or they get mad at you.” There’s a pause before Luca starts giggling. “I learnt that the hard way.”

“I bet you freaked out, you guppy!” Luca splutters, tangling over his words as he tries to respond. Alberto laughs at him; he’s not going to let his Bruno take control of this conversation and make it awkward, make him feel left out and left behind as Luca calms down and starts babbling again, telling him about all the new things he’s seen, about the size of Genova and what school is like… it’s hard, though. It’s really hard.

Alberto misses that he was all Luca had to be happy about, not that long ago.

“-Alberto?”

“Huh? Did you say something, Luca? Sorry, I was, uh. I was distracted.”

“That’s okay. I guess it must all be pretty boring to you, huh?”

“What? No, of course not!” He takes a breath. “I guess I’m surprised? I thought you’d be homesick or something. I thought… I dunno.”

I thought you’d miss me.

“Oh, I was really homesick when I first got here. Like, I cried sooo much. But then I thought, ‘Luca, Alberto sold his Vespa for you to be here, so you have to try! Don’t let Bruno get you down, Alberto would be able to do it!’ And so I stayed, and I’m glad I did because it has gotten a little bit better.” There’s a pause, and a rustling sound from the phone. When Luca next speaks, it’s quieter, almost as if he’s whispering directly into Alberto’s ear, and it makes him shiver. “Sorry, I’m trying to stop Giulia listening, she’ll tease me for saying this-”

“I will not!” Giulia sounds even further away, but the fact that she’s clearly been sat next to Luca and basically eavesdropping makes Alberto want to laugh, but also throw something. He’s already had to share Luca with his family (which he was really good about, he thinks), and now he has to share him with Giulia as well? She gets to live with him!

“Giulia, go away for ten minutes, or I’m gonna tell your dad!” Alberto shouts, both hands gripping the phone. He hears her shriek of indignance.

“Fine, I didn’t want to talk to you anyway!” There’s a pause, and then a scuffle. Luca yelps, and the next voice he hears is Giulia’s, loud and clear. “...I’m kidding, Alberto. I did want to talk to you, I promise. I wanted to tell you that I’m taking good care of Luca for you, and I want you to take care of Papa for me as a trade. Deal?”

“He’s not my Papa, Giulia,” Alberto says quickly, face warming.

“Eh. You’re a kid, and he looks after you now. He may as well be! That makes you my brother, so as a big sister I get to tease you, fair is fair!”

“I’m older than you!”

“Yeah, but he was my dad first! Don’t forget, keep your promise or I’ll dump Luca in a strange ocean he doesn’t know and leave him there. Ciao, ‘Beto!”

“Don’t call me that! Hey, Giulia!”

“...She’s gone, Alberto. It’s just me again.” Groaning, Alberto brings his legs to his chest and buries his face in his knees, phone still pressed to his ear. “You don’t like being called ‘Beto? I think it sounds cool.”

“...Oh. You really think so?” Blinking, Alberto lifts his face. It feels… warm. Like, blushing warm. He prods his cheek with a finger, as if he can poke the uncomfortable feeling away. He feels his heart rate picking up, just like in the moments before canon-balling off a cliff; a feeling of weightlessness, a swooping in his stomach that has nothing to do with a sudden lack of gravity. He clears his throat. “I guess if you want… I mean. I don’t mind if you call me that. If you want.”

“Heh. Maybe I will.” Luca’s tone is teasing, almost challenging and Alberto snorts at him, fanning his face with his hand to try and cool his heated skin.

“Alright, alright. What were you going to say before Giulia butted in?”

“Hmm. Oh!” Luca pauses for a second, and there’s a soft murmur that Alberto can’t quite understand before Luca says, “I was gonna say, that I’m glad you’re learning to write so we can send letters. They really help me feel less lonely, and I’m glad to hear that you’re doing okay.” Luca takes a breath and says in a rush, “I’m keeping them all, so please keep writing so I don’t miss you so much.”

Alberto feels his heart skip.

His mouth falls open, a soft ‘oh’ of surprise, his face flooding once more with heat as his grip on the phone goes death-like, clinging to the only point of contact he has to the boy who’s just made him feel like he’s missed a step, like he’s taken a leap into a pool whose depth he has no way of knowing. He can hear his heart-beat in his ears, fast and gaining speed. He wraps his free arm around his legs and clings to himself, clinging to the edge of a drop he didn’t even know was coming.

He feels like he should be afraid; should be afraid of this sudden shift in his perspective of the relationship he thought he knew so well, his understanding well and truly rocked by the tone of voice that Luca had as he told him he was missed. He should be afraid, his Bruno screams, dark and foreboding and ready to assume the worst.

But he’s not. He’s not afraid at all.

Alberto chuckles softly and rests his cheek on his arm, closes his eyes and smiles gently.

“...Will you tell me more about your school?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be bored, we can’t speak on the phone all night.”

“I won’t be bored, promise. Please, Luca?”

I think…

I think I could listen to you talk forever. About anything.

As long as you missed me, and I missed you, you could tell me anything, Luca. I’ll never get bored of you, never.

I think I want that. I think I want forever.

“Okay, if you’re sure! Anything in particular? I could tell you about the constellations I learnt this week?” Alberto sighs softly through his nose, allowing himself to well and truly fall into the sound of Luca’s voice. Just for a while, until the adults come back and burst this bubble they’ve crafted together. Just for a while.

“...Sounds great, Luca. Tell me all about it.”

December brings with it cool and wet air from the sea; cold rains and cloud cover, resorting in the putting away of summer’s clothes and the obtaining of a brand new wardrobe; all of it is second-hand and faded, but Alberto finds that he prefers clothes well-worn and soft. Anything too starched and fresh is uncomfortable, clinging to his skin with a sandpaper-like grip when he shifts.

...Which is becoming an all too common occurrence as the year draws to a close; he has no interest in hiding who or what he is (he knows the spots in town to avoid, where dirty looks and mutter words cut slightly deeper than he’d like to admit), and so very rarely goes out with an umbrella. However, it does leave him in an almost permanent state of exposure; even the air was damp enough to cause him to shift some days, his skin prickling almost permanently with the constant changing back and forth.

Holding his jacket tighter around his body to try and keep at least some part of himself dry, Alberto jogs across the plaza to reach home, blinking water out of his eyes as the wind changes. Colours look weird on the surface with sea-eyes, and it's with relief that he shoulders open the gate to his yard, turns to lock it behind him and scurries into the house.

Sighing, Alberto shrugs out of his wet clothes and runs up the stairs to Giulia’s/his room, tail held high to avoid dripping water onto the floor. He’s half-tempted to stay as he is, knowing that he’ll probably wake up scaly regardless, and shrugs before grabbing a shirt and a pair of shorts. He can always shift later if he feels like it.

“Mr. Marcovaldo?” he shouts once dressed, poking his head out into the upstairs corridor. The house is pretty quiet, but it’s not like Massimo is the loudest person. Stretching his arms up and tail out, Alberto groans as he shakes the stiffness from his shoulders before taking the stairs two and a time and heading through the living room and into the kitchen.

Massimo is seated at the table, his bowl already empty and the paper open on the table. He looks up at Alberto as he enters, and gives the young man a nod before returning to his reading. Alberto moves from one foot to the other and rubs the back of his neck, claws rasping against his scales.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he mutters as he takes his seat and begins his dinner. It’s not cold, but it’s not really hot either. “The guys at the dock asked me to unload a couple of extra boxes...I didn’t want to say no, y’know?”

“I have told you that you do not need to worry so much about earning money, Alberto.” Massimo sighs as he closes his paper and looks up at the monster across from him, chewing his pasta and looking anywhere in the room that isn’t the man that he’s beginning to think of as a father. “Thanks to you, I do not struggle. Therefore, you do not need to struggle.”

“I know, I know,” Alberto says quietly, tail curling anxiously around the leg of his chair. This is the thing about Massimo; he never shouts. He just sounds disappointed, which is a thousand times worse.

“Then you should not work so hard. You are still a child, you should try and enjoy your time before you are too old to have that luxury.”

“You mean like you?” Alberto looks up shyly, smirking a sharp-toothed smile and trying to lighten the mood. Massimo’s face remains passive for a moment before he huffs, amused.

“Just like me. I have to wonder, what exactly are you doing with this money you earn? I certainly will not take it from you, so where is it going?”

“I’m, uh. I’m saving it.” Running his finger around the edge of the pasta dish in a way he knows Massimo hates, Alberto pops it in his mouth for a moment before continuing. “I can get my road licence next year, right? After I turn sixteen, I can legally ride a Vespa instead of hoping no-one around here will turn me in for breaking the law.”

“I see.” Massimo picks up his cup (coffee, by the smell of it), and takes a sip, surveying Alberto with an appraising look. “You are still planning on buying a Vespa and taking yourself and Luca to see as much of the world as you can?”

“Um…” Alberto’s tail tightens, causing the chair to creak slightly. Talking about Luca recently has been…uncomfortable, but not in a way that makes him feel bad. Thinking about him makes Alberto’s heart race, and speaking to him on the phone has been a test in endurance for how long he can manage before his face turns the colour of the wine Massimo and Grandma Paguro like to drink when she comes over for cards. “I guess so. I mean, he might not even want to anymore, at least not until his school is finished, so…”

“I think there is very little that will stop him, Alberto.” He squirms in his seat, hands gripping the wood as he hunches in on himself, eyes lowered. Massimo puts his cup down and folds his hand in his lap, looking himself a little bit out of his depth. “Alberto.” He looks up, sharp teeth biting his lip and hoping against hope that a blush won’t show on his scales. Massimo continues. “You know you can… talk to me? About things that are on your mind?” The older man sounds almost as uncomfortable as Alberto feels, but before either of them can speak another word, the phone rings from the other room. They both stand, eager to be excused from the weird atmosphere they’ve created, but Massimo gestures at Alberto to stay. “Start on the dishes, since you are already… changed. I will see what is going on.”

“No problem,” Alberto says, relieved as he collects up the remains of their meal. He knows well enough now that Massimo’s comment is one of concern for his comfort than of his own discomfort, which warms Alberto in a way that his own father never made him feel.

As he washes their bowls, he thinks back to the last phone-call he’d received from Luca and Giulia; she had not referred to him by his name the whole conversation, but had instead called him ‘baby brother’ so many times that he’d yelled at her in the end and had received a sound (but gentle, never shouted) scolding from Massimo. After apologising for getting him in trouble, Giulia had said in a gentle voice she’d never used with him before;

“You know, we talk about you sometimes, in our letters. If you wanted to call him Papa, I don’t think he would mind. In fact, I bet it would make him happy! I already call you brother, so why not try?”

Alberto smiles to himself as he places the cleaned bowls to the side. He’d been thinking about it, about coming down in the morning and greeting Massimo with a good morning, Papa, just to see what the old man would do. His courage had always failed him so far, Bruno calling up from his core where his insecurities lay, telling him that your own father didn’t want you, I didn’t want you. You think this human man thinks of you as a son? You’re only fooling yourself, idiot.

But maybe, just maybe, he would be accepted. Maybe he could actually embrace Massimo, and could stay here, there would be no more fear that it was too good to last, that the other shoe would eventually drop and he would find himself making that heart-breaking swim back to his lonely island, where not even the return of his friends would make him happy again.

Just maybe-

“Yes? Ah, Ciao Luca.”

Alberto’s back straightens, ears pricked. Luca? He allows the water in the sink to drain before shaking his arms enough to not drip everywhere and hurries into the living room.

The look on Massimo’s face makes his stomach drop, like swallowing a lead weight. Alberto approaches, anxious. “Is Luca okay?” he asks in a hushed tone, tugging slightly at Massimo’s shirt to get his attention. The older man quickly moves the phone between his head and shoulder and waves a hand at Alberto, indicating silence before moving back. His brow is furrowed, his shoulders tight.

“Luca, try to calm yourself. Take a breath, in and out...yes, that is good. Now then, can you tell me what is wrong? Is Giulia alright?” He pauses, listening. “Her mother did not tell me...Ah, a cold. Yes, that makes sense, it is the time of year…" Massimo trails off once more, his face softening at whatever it is Luca is saying. Alberto, using his grip on the older man’s shirt for balance, raises himself on his toes to try and hear what is being said; he can just about make out the pitching tone of Luca’s voice, a hitch in his breath-

“He’s crying...Mr. Marcovaldo, why is Luca crying?” Alberto demands, tail twitching agitatedly enough to swat against the telephone’s wooden table. Massimo looks down at him, attention clearly split between the two boys.

“A moment, Alberto- ah, yes Luca, he is here...of course you may speak to him.” A pause again, and Massimo sighs. “You do not need to thank me, Luca. I only wish your week had been better. But I will let you talk to Alberto now.” Silently, he passes the phone to Alberto’s eager hands, but before he can even say Luca’s name into the receiver, Massimo pats Alberto’s head gently, making him jump. He looks up, eyes wide and phone held to his chest. “I will be in the kitchen, should you need me,” Massimo says quietly, petting Alberto once more before moving away and out of the room. Alberto watches him go, confused, before remembering who it was on the line.

“Luca? Hey, it’s me… what’s going on, why are you crying?” Grabbing the telephone, Alberto takes up his place on the floor, legs pulled up to his chest and tail wrapped around his ankles. His heart doesn’t race, not like it has been with the last few calls Luca has made. He hears Luca sniffle, his breathing wet and sad as he tries to put words together and Alberto’s chest hurts.

“Hi, Alberto.” Luca’s voice is soft, congested; it’s obvious from the way his breath shudders that he’s been crying for a while. “H-How are you?”

“You’re serious?” Alberto grips the phone with both hands, voice pitched low with longing, longing to be there and make it alright. “I don’t matter. Tell me what’s wrong? Please?”

“It’s stupid,” Luca replies, stubborn despite his tears. “I feel dumb for calling-”

“Luca. Please?”

“...It’s just...I don’t know how to…” Luca huffs, frustrated. “So, humans have this holiday in December, called Christmas? It’s from this famous book they all like to read, and they believe that it’s real, okay? It’s kinda weird and it would take a long time to explain but they celebrate the birth of the main character by spending time with family, buying each-other gifts and spending time together and it’s supposed to be this really nice thing, right?”

“Okay, sure,” Alberto agrees, nodding to himself despite the fact that nothing that Luca says is making sense to him. Sea-folk never celebrate in the winter; if anything, the winter is the hardest time of the year, when the schools move on and the water is cooler and there is barely any sun to keep them warm-

“It makes no sense at all but humans are super into it,” Luca continues, his voice beginning to waver once more. “But it’s nice, y’know? Giulia and her mom have been really excited to show me, and there’s lots of decorations and lights and things and it’s really nice to be here and stuff, but… I dunno, it made me miss home. It made me miss my family.”

Alberto hums in what he hopes is a comforting way as he draws circles into the floor with the tip of one of his claws.

“I’m really sorry, Luca. That must make you feel really bad, huh?”

“Yeah… I think I would’ve been fine, but Giulia’s been sick this week with a cold and so I’ve been on my own at school too, and I just…” Luca sniffles again. “I just really want to come home.”

“Can’t you?” Alberto asks, soft and hopeful despite himself. “If you need money for a train ticket, I can send you some, it’s no big deal-”

“I can’t,” Luca answers, hiccuping. “The trains don’t run to Portorosso over the winter. I’ve already looked.”

“Oh…” Alberto scratches harder at the floor, his disappointment like a physical weight across his shoulders. At no point during the three months Luca had been away had he voiced that he wanted to come home, and now that he does there isn’t even a way for him to do so. It feels cruel, and Alberto hugs his legs to his chest to try and hold himself together.

It doesn’t help that Luca makes a small whimpering noise, high-pitched and so miserable before he starts sobbing quietly, like he’s trying his best to hide it from Alberto and failing.

“Luca, don’t…” Alberto mumbles, his own eyes filling with tears from the quiet anguish he can hear from the person he cares most about. “Please, Luca…”

“I wanna come home, ‘Beto. I wanna come home so bad.”

Alberto buries his face in his knees, breath shuddering out of him as he listens to Luca cry, tail thwaping against the ground, more frustrated and upset than he can remember being in a long time. There’s nothing he can do, nothing at all to help Luca or to make him happy or to bring him comfort. He can’t hold him, he can’t wipe the tears from his face, he can’t fix his loneliness and make him feel alright again. All he can do is sit on the floor, miles away from him and listen to him cry.

And it hurts. It hurts so much.

It takes Luca a few minutes to calm down, for his sobs to turn to hiccups, to turn to a sniffling silence. Alberto can hear him breathing, like Luca is clinging to the phone just as tightly as he is, pressing close as if it might shorten the distance between them. Alberto sniffs loudly himself, and Luca giggles wetly.

“Feel better?” Alberto asks softly.

“A little. I’m sorry I called you all upset, I didn’t mean to make you sad too.”

“You didn’t make me sad, stupid.” He wipes his eyes clumsily, leaving stripes of human skin across his face like splashes of paint. “I wish I could help, though.”

“You did help. Talking to you always makes me feel better, you know that right?”

“Same. I mean, talking to you makes me happy, not talking to myself, that’s dumb.” Luca chuckles wetly, and Alberto allows himself a small, sad smile. “You think you’ll be okay for a few days? Your mom’s coming over, you can talk to her then?”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Luca agrees, sighing. There’s a long moment of silence, with what sounds like Luca making attempts to try and say something before stopping, his breaths of frustration endearing. Before Alberto can tell him to spit it out, Luca murmurs, “You’re wrong, you know.”

“I’m...wrong?” Alberto cocks his head confused. “I mean, first of all, I’m never wrong about anything. Second, if I was to be wrong about something, what is it?”

“You said before, ‘I don’t matter.’ That’s not true.” Alberto can hear the smile in Luca’s voice. “You matter a lot to me.”

“...You matter a lot to me, too.” Grinning into his knees, Alberto wriggles happily as Luca giggles down his ear, actually sounding a bit more like himself. He feels warm again, how he usually does when Luca calls, fingers tingling and a fluttering in his stomach that is equal parts excruciating and wonderful. They talk for a little longer, having already spoken that week before saying their goodbyes so that Luca can get ready to sleep for school the next day. Alberto places the phone back in place and shoves his hands in his pockets, lost in thought.

Now that the call is over, he feels restless. The exhaustion from the long day of working around town has left him, leaving Alberto trembling and twitching, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth like a cat. Luca sounded a lot happier as they said goodbye, but was he really? The not knowing and worse, the not being able to do anything about it was unbearable. His feelings regarding Luca have been changing so rapidly, growing and blossoming into something he’s never felt before, something he doesn’t know, and the not knowing makes him want to scream.

He needs help. Guidance. Alberto bites his knuckle, close to tears and anxious beyond all reason when he hears Massimo curse quietly from the kitchen. He lowers his hand, lip trembling.

He needs a dad.

Shaking himself to force a shift, Alberto pads to the kitchen on soft, human feet and pokes his head around the door; Massimo is stood up with a dark coffee stain on his trousers, dabbing at the steaming liquid whilst Machiavelli stares up at him from beneath the table. The older man sighs and crouches down to scratch the cat between the ears.

“Foolish creature,” he murmurs quietly to the cat. Alberto sniffs, hugging himself tightly as Massimo looks up, startled. “Alberto. How long have you- what is wrong, child?”

He doesn’t say anything, can’t say anything past the lump in his throat. Taking a shaky breath, Alberto walks forward, clinging to himself as if to hold himself together and presses his face into Massimo’s shoulder, his own beginning to shake. A brief pause, and then Alberto feels a large hand between his shoulder-blades, gentle circles being rubbed into his back as he cries in earnest.

Why, why couldn’t his own father have been like this? Why didn’t he stay, why didn’t he love him? Loosening the tight grip he has on himself, Alberto fists his hands into Massimo’s shirt, clinging to him as he mutters almost unintelligible words, begging for answers to his questions. Massimo stays silent, letting him talk himself into exhaustion, continuing to rub comforting circles into his back until the nervous energy goes out of him and he slumps against the older man’s shoulder.

“Do you feel better?” Massimo asks after a while. Alberto nods, tears long dried. “Good.” He maneuvers the boy back enough to be able to see his face. “Now. What is causing you so much anguish, son?”

“...Son?”

“If you would like to be, I would be proud to have you.” Alberto smiles weakly, eyes red-rimmed. He nods, quickly. Massimo pats his head, and breathes out a sigh of relief. “Giulia has been writing to me for a long time to make you feel like family. I am sorry it has taken me so long; I did not want you to feel obliged, or forced. Your decision should be your own.”

“I know, it is, I just…” Sighing, Alberto tries to find the words to encompass just how much he is feeling; feelings for his father, feelings for Massimo, his feelings for Luca...he went so long trying his best to feel nothing, and now it feels like too much. “...When Giulia is in Genova, and you can’t see her but you know she’s sad, how do you… manage? How do you manage with feeling so… useless?”

Rising slowly to his feet, Massimo gestures for Alberto to take a seat at the table before beginning to boil some milk. He stays silent as he makes Alberto a hot chocolate, but Alberto doesn’t take this as a slight; he knows that Massimo is as careful with his words as he is with his large size, and it isn’t until the steaming mug is placed in front of him (extra sugar, just how he likes it) and he has re-taken his seat across from the boy with his arm across his chest that he begins talking.
“Your predicament is not a new one, Alberto. As you say, I have these feelings every year when Giulia is gone from me; how do I know she will be safe? How do I know she will be happy? And what will I do if these things do not prove to be true?” He waves his hand. “It is hard, very hard to keep these feelings under control, but it is possible. I will tell you how.”

Alberto stares up at Massimo, more attentive than the older man has ever seen him. “It is trust, Alberto. You must trust that Luca will take care of himself, and you must trust that he will come to you when he cannot do that.”

“But I...I didn’t help him, I couldn’t do anything-”

“You did help him. You listened. You gave him comfort, and told him that everything would be alright. It is not so strange for young boys to be homesick, especially during a time of year that for us humans, can be very much about family. Giulia and her mother are a fine substitute for Luca, but…” Massimo’s mustache twitches. “...They are not you, Alberto.”

Alberto feels himself blushing, and so takes a long sip of his drink to avoid answering. Massimo’s words do bring him a lot of comfort; of course it’s hard, and it probably isn’t going to get any better until the summer comes again next year, bringing Giulia and Luca home with it. Alberto pushes his cup around the table with his finger, tired and exposed and fed up of not knowing how he feels.

“I just miss him,” he admits, almost under his breath as he lifts his shoulders, hunched up in his chair. Massimo stands, and comes around to his side of the table and touches Alberto’s shoulder. He looks up, and is surprised at the gentle smile on his father’s face.

“Being missed so deeply is the price of being loved so much.”

Alberto blinks, heart pounding in his ears.

He thinks I… love Luca? He continues to stare up at his father, mouth open and moving wordlessly, his head several steps behind his heart. I don’t...I don’t think I…

“I don’t… I don’t love Luca,” Alberto finally manages to squeeze out, his voice sounding unsure to his own ears, so unbelievable that Massimo snorts at him, shaking his head. “I don’t!”

“...As you say, Alberto,” Massimo says as he heads for the stairs, the disbelief in his voice so obvious that Alberto crosses his arms on the table and groans loudly into them.

“Papaaa,” he whines, alternating between hot and cold as Massimo laughs at him; full, deep belly-laughs as he goes to his bedroom, the door shutting with the snap and leaving Alberto sitting at the kitchen table, alone, and feeling for all of the world like he’s on the deck of their little row-boat, the ground pitching and rolling beneath his feet because-

The price of being loved so much.

Slowly, he sits up and covers his mouth with his hands, eyes unfocused and introspective; there are a lot of things he loves about Luca, like his kindness, and how even though he sometimes holds back, it’s because he doesn’t want anything bad to happen. Alberto looks deeper, more and more things he outright adores about Luca drowning out the dwindling sound of that little voice inside him, that damned Bruno; Luca’s laugh, how smart he is, how much he likes to talk about the things that he’s learning at his school, eager to share and include Alberto in everything to do with his new life, the way his voice softens the vowels of his name when they talk-

Alberto smiles into his own cupped hands, imagining things he’s never thought of before; of holding Luca tightly and telling him how much he likes him, taking his hand not to drag him along in his wake, but to just hold it, to be close and to be together.

“....Maybe?” Alberto mutters to himself, mouthing sweet words to himself, too embarrassed to yet give them sound, but closer to understanding than he had been before Luca’s call. He wasn’t sure how long it would be before he was sure, but it didn’t matter; the only thing that mattered was that he continued to trust in Luca, and to keep trying his best to make him happy.

Tapping his fingers against the table, Alberto bounces out of his chair and heads up the stairs, knocking on Massimo’s door.

“Papa? I have a couple of questions…”

A few days later, Alberto heads to the post office with a thick envelope in hand; inside is a necklace made of fishing cord and sea-glass, bright and green. He doesn’t understand Christmas, but he understands gifts. He grins as he hands it over, stomach turning pleasantly as he thinks of the letter included;

Luca,

Hope this helps you feel less homesick. You were right, Christmas is weird. But hey, gifts, right?

Thinking of you, all the time,

Alberto.

“- So in less than two months, a man will be on the moon! Isn’t that crazy?!”

“That’s pretty crazy, Luca.” Alberto grins as he flicks through his mechanics manual, begged and pleaded from the local garage. Whilst he’s close to affording his own Vespa (their Vespa, he thinks with a happy shudder), the upkeep might be a bit more of a stretch. With any luck, he figures he’ll be able to work it out and keep his new girl humming without too much assistance.

“Man, I hope that’s something I can do one day,” Luca continues wistfully, a soft flop indicating that he’s fallen flat onto his back across Giulia’s mom’s dining room floor, as he has done countless times over the last couple months. Alberto chuckles as he takes a pencil from behind his ear and marks a page that looks particularly important.

“First fish in space, huh?” he teases, laughing over Luca as he whines his name down the phone-line. His heart aches at the sound, hopelessly desperate and yet somehow brighter at the same time. Alberto finds that it’s almost as easy as it once was to tease and poke his friend, though it is now accompanied with that sweet pain that he thinks is probably going to always be there; he knows he has feelings that are more than friendly for Luca, but that doesn’t mean that he’ll reciprocate them.

As long as he can keep Luca close, he thinks he’ll be okay with holding how he feels close to his heart, his own most treasured secret, happy enough to just be around Luca and spend as much of his life near him as he can.

He thinks he’ll be okay.

“Do you think Mr. Marcovaldo will let us stay up and watch the launch?” Luca continues, oblivious to the way Alberto’s thoughts have wandered not so much from him, but from the topic.

“I don’t see why not. I was planning on staying up with you guys and causing mayhem anyway.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Luca chirps happily, making another muffled sound; Alberto guesses that he’s rolled onto his stomach, chin propped in his hand as he natters away. "We’ve got three months to catch up on eight months of not seeing each-other!”

“Sure do!” Marking his page, Alberto places his pencil back behind his ear and stretches his legs out, cramped from being sat on the floor for over an hour. “You excited about coming home?”

“Beyond excited! I can’t wait to see how things have changed.” He pauses, and when he continues his tone is wicked. “You sure you haven’t done anything weird whilst I’ve been gone? Not grown two feet, no extra limbs?”

“Darn, you got me. I’ve got an extra head and I’m a giant.” The two boys giggle together, and Alberto runs a hand through his hair, frowning. “I dunno man, I guess I’m a bit taller? Could probably do with a hair-cut, but I don’t think I’ve changed.” Pulling one of his curls down towards his eyes, Alberto watches it bounce back as he lets go before rubbing his neck, frowning. “Do you… do you think you’ve changed, then?”

“Yeah, I’m super buff now,” Luca replies, deadpan for only a moment before laughing. “I don’t think I have? I might be taller too, I suppose, but I’m still the same.”

“I guess that one thing that is different is that I am actually an expert on Portorosso now. I’m serious!” Alberto insists over Luca’s scoff. “I’m basically a celebrity around these parts, so get ready to be followed through the streets, kiddo.”

“Hey! It’s my birthday soon, I’ll be fourteen. I’m not a kid.”

“Awh, don’t huff, I’m just teasing. Seriously though, I’m really excited to show you all my favourite spots around town. Giulia, too! I know she’s always struggled a little with making friends because of that dumb catfish Ercole, but everyone’s my friend now, so it’ll be fine.”

“Eurgh, Ercole,” Luca groans. “I haven’t thought about him all year! Has he come to town for the summer yet?”

“Luca my friend, he has never left.” He groans again, louder, and Alberto nods; the snot owns an apartment near the edge of town with his obnoxious red Vespa (who would be so much happier in Alberto’s care, he thinks to himself every time that he sees it) parked up outside. They don’t tend to run into each-other much anymore after Alberto’s spent the better part of the last year being a good kid and winning friends, but even so he’ll sometimes hear something sarcastic and cruel muttered about him behind his back in that snivelling voice.

“But don’t worry about it too much,” He encourages after a pregnant pause from the other end of the line. “Since I’m the favourite, he’s quietened down a lot over the last couple months. Can’t get anyone to listen to him complain about how sea-folk are evil, and that we’re going to ruin the town. ‘There’s a reason they’ve been hunted all these years!’” He mimics, raising his voice and matching the nasally tone of Ercole. “He’s eighteen years old, can you believe that? Four years older than us! But honestly, people love me and no-one pays him any attention anymore. He hates it so bad, it’s hilarious.”

“Hm. I could believe that.” Luca’s voice is fond, happy. Alberto pauses, confused.

“What, that he hates that he’s not the centre of attention all the time anymore?”

“...Sure! That’s what I meant.” He swallows audibly, and Alberto cocks his head to the side, eyebrows drawn together and mouth lifting a little.

“Luca, what-”

“Don’t worry about it! I’m glad Ercole isn’t going to bother us this summer, that’s all!” Luca chuckles nervously. “A-anyway! You’re going to meet us at the train-station, right?”

“Um…” The change of pace is jarring, but Luca was never one to flourish under the pressure of bullies like he does, so Alberto lets it slide. “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it! I’m gonna try and take as much time off over the summer from my work as I can, but I’ll probably need to watch the kids in the water a couple days a week. You could always come with, if you want?”

“Absolutely! It’ll be fun, I wanna get to know all your new friends.” They fall into a comfortable silence as Alberto starts to flick through his manual again, pausing on instructions on how to perform an oil change. He considers telling Luca about how close he is, how by next year for sure he’ll have enough, and even though Luca will still have school, there will be nothing to stop them both from travelling the world.

Excitement flares in his gut, the endless possibilities of a life on the road, with no-one to hold them back. Everything he’s ever wanted; freedom, speed, a life completely untethered is just within reach…

“Alberto? Your dinner is ready. Are you and Luca almost done?” Alberto looks up; Massimo is poking his head around the kitchen door, voice low so as not to intrude and an apologetic look on his face; he’s never asked for it, but Alberto knows that his father tries his best to give him privacy when talking to Luca, only coming in when they speak to Giulia. He knows how much Alberto treasures these short hours, and it makes a fierce love well up inside him.

Maybe a life completely untethered, without a home- without a family to come back to… maybe that isn’t so attractive after all.

“Yeah, we’re almost done, Papa,” Alberto replies, flashing him a grin that Massimo returns (though much more sedately) before retreating back into the kitchen. “Sorry Luca, I’ve gotta go. But hey; ten more days, right?”

“Yeah, ten more days,” Luca says softly, sounding like he’s smiling. “I can’t wait to see you, Alberto.”

“Me too, Luca. I guess the next time we talk, it’ll be in person?” He and Giulia both have final exams, and Alberto knows better than to ring again when they need to focus on their studies… mainly because his sister has threatened him under pain of death to do no such thing.

“I guess so. I’ll tell Giulia you said goodbye, and I’ll get her to ring back later, once she’s finished her essay so she can speak to you and your dad.”

“That’s great, thanks Luca.” Alberto brings a hand up to his mouth, putting his knuckle between his teeth. He wants to say something he’s been thinking to himself for weeks; three words, small in size but gigantic in meaning, to cap off their talk and let Luca know that even though they can’t talk, he’s always thinking about him. Wishing for him, wishing about him, hoping with everything he has that he might hear them back-

“I, um. Luca?”

“Yeah? Everything okay, ‘Beto? You sound funny.”

“I’m fine, I just…” Come on. Just say it. “I, um… will you bring me something from Genova for my new room? Like a picture or something, that’d be cool.”

Bruno wins again.

“Oh, sure! Don’t worry, I’ve got something in mind! I can’t wait to see that either! This week is going to pass so slowly, I just want it to be summer already!” Alberto sighs softly, running a hand down his face, embarrassed by his own cowardice. He’s never been afraid of anything.

Nothing, except for the boy that now holds his heart in his hands without even knowing it.

“Almost there, Luca. Almost there.”

“Alberto, we shall need to leave in ten minutes if we are to get to the train-station on time.”

“I know, I know! Two more minutes, I swear!”

“You have ten. But if you are not ready, I shall be leaving without you.”

“Papa. You wouldn’t.”

“Is that a theory you are willing to test?”

“...I’m nearly done.” Alberto hears Massimo’s soft chuckle through his bedroom door. It would usually make him happy to hear his father laugh due to it being such a rare occurrence, but right now he is far too stressed to pay it any mind. He runs a hand through his hair roughly as he turns on his heel and inspects the small pile of shirts he owns, trying to make a decision on something so simple as what he should wear.

Luca’s seen me in unwashed clothes, in fact that’s all I had when we first met, he’s not going to care! He tries to reason with himself, hand closing on a faded blue check, buttons long gone but easy enough to wear over his vest. He’s already picked a pair of shorts (one of the few pairs he owns completely free of holes), so why is this so hard?

He didn’t care before, but he might care now, his anxious mind whispers back, fingers of ice running down his spine at the intrusive thought. He’s been gone a year, living in a city with new and interesting people...ones who can afford nice clothes, and have nice smiles and nice lives, not like you.

“Silenzio, Bruno,” Alberto mutters to himself desperately as he throws the shirt back onto the bed and looks over them all with a look of growing despair. He’s being so ridiculous; the only thing he should be feeling this morning is excitement. Excitement to see his best friend and his sister after almost a year apart. Time should be slow this morning, it should be dragging after all this time, and yet…

Alberto sways on his feet, chewing agitatedly on his thumbnail. It feels too fast, it feels like he has no time to prepare at all, he’s got no more time-

“Alberto.” He turns, teeth bared and eyes wide with a wild panic. Massimo has pushed the door open slightly, out in the corridor and waiting to be invited in. His eyes are sympathetic, yet there is a squaredness to his shoulders that Alberto knows means that he doesn’t have a lot of wiggle room in regards to begging off a few more minutes. He tries to speak, tongue-tied and gestures to his meager pile of clothes.

“I don’t- this is so stupid, I’m stupid but I don’t-” he groans, covering his face with his hands.

None of this would’ve been bothering him if Luca hadn’t done something so stupid as to make him fall in love with him. He parts his fingers enough to peep through them at his dad, smiling slightly because what else is there to do but laugh at himself?

“...I don’t know what to wear.”

Massimo continues to look at him, head tilted slightly before stepping into the room and lowering himself to one knee in front of his son. He reaches out and brushes his hand over the top of Alberto’s head, flattening his curls and straightening up the unruly mess he’s made from his constant touching. The young man has crossed his arms, hands cupping his elbows as he looks away and pouts. There’s colour riding high on his cheeks.

“You know Luca will not care,” he tries gently, raising a hand in supplication as Alberto opens his mouth to answer back. “He will not care, but I understand why you do.” Old though he may feel (and appear, through a child’s lens), Massimo remembers being young once; he remembers the rush of feelings that come with youth. Children feel so much, their love coming in waves so clear and powerful that it is impossible for them to stand against its simplicity, helpless but to go along with the tide and hope for the best. He can sense that feeling of drowning in his adopted son, can see it in the wet shine of his eyes and the way his hands shake. He’s gotten so much better at handling his emotions, Massimo thinks with a certain amount of pride as he pats Alberto’s shoulder and stands back up, looking over his clothes. Better, but not quite perfect.

“Wear green. You suit green.”

“Green, okay,” Alberto repeats as he loosens his hold on himself and sifts through his clothing, locating a pale collarless button-up. He throws it on, choosing to leave it unbuttoned and grabs the rest of his things in his arms before throwing them all into his small wardrobe and shutting the door on the mess. Massimo raises an eyebrow, eyes flicking to the hiding spot. Alberto shrugs as he steps into a pair of sandals and punches his dad lightly on the arm as he squeezes past.

“I’ll sort it out later, promise, we gotta go!”

Alberto is glad, for once, that he didn’t have to collect Luca’s family from the ocean shore. Not that he ever feels like it’s a chore; on the contrary, he finds their company almost as enjoyable as Massimo’s. He just doesn’t think he could handle their anxious excitement along with his own for the short walk to the station. He’s liable to explode from the stress.

They’re already there when they both arrive, sitting under the wooden platform on one of the benches. Grandma Paguro is sitting a little further away, two large fishbone needles in her hands as she knits with what looks like treated kelp. Alberto raises a hand as they look up, grinning as he approaches. Daniela stands up and rushes towards him, gathering him into her arms and giving him a tight hug. He returns it, squeezing her tightly and attempting to lift her up; she laughs, swatting gently at his arms and shoulders. He loosens his hold and stands up tall; he’s almost as tall as she is, now.

“One day, Daniela,” he drawls as she lets him go and cups his face. “One day I’ll be able to sweep you off your feet.”

“Oh, I look forward to it,” she says seriously before laughing at him and swooping down to kiss his cheek. “I bet you’re so excited, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I am,” Alberto answers, pleased and flushed. He shakes Lorenzo’s hand as he comes forward, and allows the grown-ups to exchange pleasantries. He catches Grandma’s eye and tips her a wink before she gets the chance to do so first, making her cackle.

“How much longer, Massimo?” Lorenzo asks, his hands in his pockets to try and force a calm he more than likely doesn’t feel.

“Five minutes if the train is on time. Longer if it is late.” Massimo checks his pocket watch, light bouncing off the surface for a moment and splashing across his face.

“Is that likely?” Daniela asks anxiously, hands wringing the belt of her dress. The energy around them is building, and it’s almost too much to bear. Alberto bounces on his heels before walking towards the platform's edge, gripping the wooden beam holding up the roof and leaning out across the tracks, shading his eyes from the sun as he looks down the darkened train tunnel in the distance.

“It should not be,” he hears Massimo saying in the background, the sound almost drowning out by the sudden whoosh of blood in Alberto’s ears as he spots a pin-prick of light in the darkness. “Usually the service from Genova is very timely-”

“Is it ever early?” Alberto interrupts, voice cracking a little as he clings to the beam, his heart-rate increasing at an alarming rate. There’s an instance of stillness before he hears a mad scramble behind him, beside him as he’s jostled slightly. Both Daniela and Lorenzo stand on either side, leaning forward to see with their own eyes what he is certain is approaching them at speed.

It’s the train.

“It’s the train,” Daniela whispers, tone disbelieving before repeating, louder and more joyful than Alberto has ever heard her sound; “Lorenzo, it’s the train!”

“Our boy…” he murmurs, eyes filling with tears much sooner than Alberto had expected. “He’s home.”

The train pulls out of the tunnel, belching steam and smoke as it approaches, the screeching of the brakes loud against the side of the hill. Alberto touches Luca’s parents gently and ushers them backwards. They follow, eyes glued to the enormous machine as it chugs slower and slower, coming to a stop.

Alberto is stood at Massimo’s side, eyes flicking over each and every window, looking for a flash of red, for brown curls…

The doors open and people start to disembark; people visiting for the day, or for a short holiday, mostly strangers but one or two faces that Alberto recognises from the town. He receives a couple of waves, and a few greetings are shouted to Massimo as they pass, but most everyone is quick to leave the small station and back down the hill to Portorosso. The disembarking passengers begin to thin out, finishing with a young woman and her boyfriend, hands laced together and laughing as they step out onto the platform and head off without a second glance.

Alberto looks up at Massimo, confusion written into the lines of his face.

“Where are they?” He asks, almost frightened.

“Wait for it,” Massimo answers, his face breaking out into a full grin, the widest smile Alberto’s ever seen on the man’s face. Before he can say a word, a loud voice rings out;

“I’m hooome, Portorossooo!”

A few birds take off from a nearby tree, squawking in alarm from the sheer volume of Giulia Marcovaldo as she stands on the steps of the train, arms spread out wide as if she could embrace the entirety of the bay. She’s grinning, as wild and windswept as Alberto remembers her. Her hair is longer, touching her shoulders in two pigtails, no hat on her head. She’s wearing a bright yellow sundress and as she jumps to the train platform in a puff of dust, she pulls it up to her waist and ties it messily at her side, revealing a pair of jean shorts underneath. She spots Luca’s parents first, waving at them energetically before her eyes slide over to Alberto and Massimo. If possible, her smile gets even wider.

“Is that my new brother I see?!” she shouts, dropping her suitcase to the ground before lowering her shoulders and bolting towards Alberto, hair streaking behind her like fire. Alberto whoops, jumping in the air before opening his arms wide to catch her as Giulia catapults herself into his arms, spinning them both around with the force of her leap. She hugs him tightly, hanging off his body and laughing riotously in his ear before lowering herself to the ground.

“Holy mother of mozzarella, I missed you,” she whispers urgently into Alberto’s shoulder, the kinetic energy of her arrival fizzling out as she sniffs once, hard.

“I missed you too, shorty,” Alberto mutters back, leaning back sharply as she raises her head to glare at him, eyes watering slightly. She raises herself onto her toes, but it doesn’t matter; Alberto remains a good inch taller, and his face is smug as she drops down with a bark of laughter.

“Don’t be mad because you’re too big to fit in normal people's houses anymore, Alberto!”

“Uh, what? Have you seen our dad?”

“Oh yeah, speaking of which!” She turns her sparkling eyes on Massimo, her grin not diminishing even a little despite the tears in her eyes. “Hi, Papa!”

“Hello, my daughter.” Massimo kneels as Giulia plasters herself to his chest, his arm holding her as delicately as if she were breakable. “It is good to have you home again.”

“It’s good to be home, Papa.” She wipes her eyes on Massimo’s shirt and rests her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I said hello to Alberto first; I figure I always get to greet you before everyone else, he deserved a turn!”

“That is very sweet of you, Giulia.” She begins talking at an alarming rate, seemingly determined to tell her father the entire contents of her year away before even leaving the train-station. As she talks, she starts to sound far away, as if being pulled out to sea whilst he stands on the shore, mouth falling open and eyes wide as Alberto finally spots him, cocooned in the arms of his parents and crying silently, hair being gently stroked by his Grandma.

“...Luca,” Alberto breathes softly, half in wonder and half in fear as his hands ball at his sides. He’s dimly aware that Giulia and Massimo have stopped talking, but he can’t take his eyes off of the young man across the platform to check and see why that is. He wants to run, though whether it's toward his friend or away, Alberto is unsure. His indecision doesn’t stop the tugging he feels from behind his ribs, right next to his heart, a pull that demands he close distance, that he calls Luca’s name and gets his attention.

Magnetism, he thinks suddenly, remembering one of the many phone calls in which Luca had talked for a full hour without stopping, talking about science and space and how the world works. An electric current between two objects, pulling them together.

“Alberto?” Giulia touches his wrist gently, making him jump. He turns to look at her, terror and excitement and longing warring on his face. She smiles gently at him. “Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not...I’m not scared, I’m… I’m, uh-”

“It’s okay. Trust me.” Giulia’s eyes flick to something behind him before she looks back and winks. “You don’t have anything to worry about.” Before he can try and say another word, she gestures over his shoulder.

He turns around. Luca is staring at him, now free from his family, one hand holding his suitcase and the other clenched tight around something hanging around his neck. He’s not smiling, but his face has the soft, awed look to it that Alberto feels is mirrored on his own.

Time seems to dilate as they begin to approach one another, swelling like a bubble with them at the centre, slowing to a crawl. Alberto stops when Luca is within reach; his hand falls away, revealing the sea-glass necklace he had sent him, glinting in the sunlight like a precious stone.

“Hey.” The word is barely above a whisper.

“Hey, Luca.” Alberto swallows, mouth desperately dry. The air is taut, charged like before a lightning storm. He lifts his hand to his neck, almost shy. “Um. How was your trip?”

“It was long,” Luca answers, words slow as if he’s taking care to pick them. He swings his suitcase slightly, and presses the tips of his shoes together. “Glad it’s over.”

“I bet,” Alberto replies, heart like a riot inside him. “But um, at least. At least…”

“...Yeah?” Luca prompts softly, leaning forward a little to try and meet Alberto’s eyes. He swallows, nervous; where his eyes always such a warm shade of brown?

“At least it’s over?”

“Yeah, I said that.”

“Right.” Alberto coughs into his fist, face warming. In all of his daydreams, this is not how he thought this would go. Luca seems to be picking up on his awkwardness as well, as he shifts his suitcase from one hand to the other and looks over towards his parents, seemingly surprised that the adults were allowing themselves to be herded away by Giulia. He glances back at Albero, and something darts across his face before he shrugs and gestures to his parents with his free hand.

“I guess we should go?” He asks, taking a step towards the hillside. Giulia looks between them, her eyes narrowed as she flaps a hand at Alberto, mouths go on! behind Luca’s back and disappears over the ridge, her voice echoing loudly back towards them as she starts talking. Luca follows, looking back over his shoulder at Alberto with a small smile.

The gap between them grows, and with each step, Alberto’s arguments with himself get louder.

Tell him!

Can’t tell him. Can’t lose him. Can’t.

You’ll lose him anyway if you keep acting like this, now talk!

What if-

Silenzio! Don’t worry about what if, just do it!

Do it!

Tell him the truth, tell him-

“I missed you!” Alberto blurts out, half shouting. His fists tremble, nails biting into his palms. He’s almost too afraid to look at Luca, too scared to see what’s on his face. But his heart, his traitorous heart has taken control of his mouth, so he keeps going;

“I missed you so much it hurt, Luca. I thought about you every single day, even on days where I knew we’d get to talk. I just...I just wanted to see you so badly, I nearly got the train to Genova like, four times.”

He doesn’t hear Luca’s footsteps walking away, and so he keeps going;

“You’re all I think about; everything I do can be tied back to you, whether it’s for you, or to make you happy, and I don’t know what to do anymore. I just… I just wanna be with you. All the time.”

He keeps his eyes shut, shoulders tight around his shoulder, the rushing of his blood in his ears as loud as the sea. He doesn’t want to look, he’s too afraid to look, to see the wreckage of his friendship laid out before him, ruined within the first twenty minutes of Luca being home. The silence stretches, and then…

“...Is that… Is all of that true?” Luca sounds so hopeful, and it makes Alberto’s eyes snap open. The other boy hasn’t moved an inch, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. A smile plays at the corner of his mouth as a flush runs up his face. “Do you mean it?”

Alberto takes a deep breath. Holds it. And jumps.

“...Yeah. I meant every word.”

Luca’s suitcase falls to the ground with a thump. His lip quivers as he blinks, tears falling down his face and leaving scales in their wake as he takes a shaky step towards Alberto, then another, and then suddenly he’s running, arms pumping and leaving clouds of dirt behind as they collide, knocking the breath from Albertos lungs. Luca’s arms go tight around him, his face buried in Alberto’s neck as his shoulders shake. Alberto clings back just as tightly, blinking tears out of his own eyes as he presses his face into Luca’s curls.

“I missed you, too.” Luca’s words are muffled, breathed into Alberto’s skin and he shivers. “I missed you so much…”

“I just- lemme take a look at you, okay?” Wiping clumsily at his face, Alberto shakes his hands before gently taking Luca’s shoulders and pushing him away, enough to be able to take him in properly for the first time since getting off the train. He looks so different from what Alberto remembers, with a clean blue polo and cropped jeans, nothing like the boy he sent away in borrowed clothes.

He’s taller (though still a head shorter than he is, Alberto notes with a pang), and the sweet roundness of his cheeks has lessened. Not from stress, or from not taking care of himself, Alberto thinks as he looks Luca up and down. But from aging; it’s been eight whole months since he’s seen his best friend in person, since he’s been able to hear his voice outside of miles of phone-lines, felt the heat of his skin under his hands instead of long cold imprints onto lifeless paper.

Alberto’s grin is watery as he squeezes Luca’s shoulders. “You did get taller.”

Luca’s own giggle is bubbly as he blinks slowly, tears continuing to fall down his cheeks. Alberto lifts his hands up and shakily cups his face, thumbing the water away, pressing gently until hardened scales disappear as quickly as they’d arrived. Luca’s eyes darken slightly, the light brown iris’ reddening, sclera turning yellow. His eyes are shifting, and Alberto realises with a pang that every tearful call they’ve shared over the last year, as infrequent as sad phone calls were, would have left Luca with the same undersea eyes. He supposes that his would have been the same.

“Hey, c’mon Luca… it’s okay. It’s okay,” Alberto shushes softly, stepping forward to take the other boy back into his arms. Before he can lower his hands, Luca reaches up and closes his own around his wrists, holding him in place. He huffs out a small, breathy laugh that Alberto feels against his chin, and his heart skips.

“I want to… I want to look at you too, ‘Beto,” Luca says softly, eyes caught somewhere between monster and human as he smiles and tilts his head back to look up at him. Over his hair, his cheeks, his mouth. His eyes. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Alberto laughs, bringing Luca impossibly closer, their foreheads touching. Luca takes a shaky breath, his grip tightening around Alberto’s wrists as he pushes against him further, the touch of his nose against Alberto’s own sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. He can feel Luca’s every breath now. It’s hard to think.

“I missed you. I missed you so much, Luca.”

“You already said that.”

“Shut up.” Silenzio, Bruno, I have to say it, I have to- “Luca, there’s something I need to tell you… Luca, I-”

“Hey! Everyone wants to know what’s taking you so long! Can I come over? Are you guys done making out?” Giulia, once again, is the loudest thing in Portorosso, and Alberto groans quietly as he pulls back from Luca, eyes fluttering open as he rolls them. Luca looks just as put out as he feels, cheeks a beautiful shade of pink as he swallows nervously. Alberto absent-mindedly strokes his thumb across Luca’s cheek before turning to look over his shoulder at Giulia, one eyebrow raised.

“What do you want, Giulia? And don’t make up words, ‘making out’ what? That doesn’t make any sense.” The end of his sentence is drowned out by her over-exaggerated gasp, and there’s a terrible look of glee on her face as she opens her mouth.

“Don’t tell him!” Luca shouts, pulling out of Alberto’s hands and pointing a finger at Giulia’s face. “You promised!”

“I know, but you guys are so cute, I can’t help it-”

“One more word, and I’m not helping you with calculus in September!” Giulia huffs and stamps her foot as she tries to look upset, but the sheer joy at having something to hold over both of their heads is too much and she just laughs before gesturing for them to follow her down the hill.

“You know, it’s not fair that you’re so good at math. Sea people don’t even have numbers.”

“We do too! Everyone knows how to count, dummy,” Luca counters as he picks his suitcase back up. “Everyone except you, that is.”

“Hey, Alberto, making out is-”

“Shush!” Luca runs forward and leaps onto Giulia’s back, taking them both to the ground. She shrieks as Luca tries to cover her mouth, bucking her body up like a little fish herself to knock him off-balance. Triumphant, she stands and runs down the hill, cheering and raising her fists into the air.

“You knew you weren’t going to win, right?” Alberto says as he holds a hand out to help Luca up. The younger boy takes it, his palm a little sweaty. He goes to grab his suitcase, but Alberto stops him. “I’ve got it.”

“Thanks.” Luca smiles shyly up at him, and as Alberto goes to let him go, Luca’s grip suddenly tightens around his fingers. His arm tingles, and Alberto takes a shaky breath, worried that his blush will never go away.

“...You know she's gonna tell me what those words mean, right?” he says, heart hammering as Luca rearranges their grip so that their fingers lock together. He grins.

“Nope. She won’t, not if she knows what's good for her.”

“Since when do you threaten people?” Luca’s grin turns cheeky, and Alberto clears his throat before tugging him down the hill. “I could just ask Massimo, and find out for myself.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Okay, so will you tell me?”

“Not today!” Alberto groans, throwing his head back since both of his hands are occupied. Luca giggles, and swings their hands back and forth. He seems to be having a lot of fun knowing something that Alberto doesn’t, and whilst the electric feeling between them has deadened somewhat, Alberto feels like there’s still something on the horizon. Almost, but not quite.

“When, then?” Luca hums thoughtfully, his free hand coming back up to hold his necklace.

“Not yet. But soon, I hope.”

“You hope, huh?”

“Yeah.” Luca squeezes his hand, his smile blinding. “I really do.”