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It had been two hundred and fourty five days since Leon left the desolate Spanish village located near the coast. Not that he had been counting. Instead, as the president thanked him for ensuring his daughters safety, he was allowed to decide where he should next take up residence. How tired he was of blank city apartments, apartments that only reminded him of what went wrong. Apartments that smelt of blood and iron, of loss and regret. So, he turned the answer over to Luis and did not look back, literally.
Throughout this entire process, Luis was there. Nights spent coddling a glass of Cocalero, Luis sat next to him. Nightmares that intruded upon Leon's sleep, Luis held his hand until sleep met both of them once more. Days that seemed okay, days where Leon could wake up without trembling hands and a purple blush below his eyes, existed because of Luis.
This day was no different. Leon had spent the night in and out of a tumultuous sleep, Luis hushing him back each time. Once he finally awoke to begin the day, sweat had clung to his hair and face. He felt disgusting, and began to basically sprint toward the bathroom.
Fire, brutality, whispers of nothingness forced themselves into his conscious. He wanted to forget. He needed to.
Somebody's knuckles brushed the shared bathroom door. Luis.
"Hermoso, are you alright? I've made breakfast," Luis tried incredibly hard to cover the immense worry in his voice, but Leon knew. He always knew.
Leon sighed out of exhaustion and replied, "Morning– Luis. Can you put mine somewhere, I'm not hungry right now. Sorry."
"Look, it was a long night mi amor– come sit with me. No food, just us," The desperation insulted Leon at first. He was not used to people caring that much, off days were spent alone before Luis and this adjustment still had not grown on him.
He'd had Claire and Sherry for a little while. But for the entirety of this while he felt like a fake, a liar. Playing dad was rewarding, but every time he looked into Sherry's eyes he saw a different way his presence would damage her. What he would give to be able to be a father, a father whose existence is not dangerous simply because of his past.
"Okay, Luis. I'll be down soon." Barely a whisper, but enough for Luis.
Luis rapped his knuckles on the door once more, faintly. "Ay Cariño, never rush for me. I'll be waiting."
Leon's hands gathered some cold water from the faucet and wiped it over his unrested face. He was healthy, he was eating, he was content. Yet, these moments spent alone made it seem impossible to ignore the feeling of missing something that was never there to begin with. Something he had not had, even in the womb. Even so, he missed it markedly and it was so, so agonising.
The door handle turned, and Leon began his descent into the kitchen. For the first time of the day, he was aware of his surroundings. The wall directly ahead of him held a spice cabinet, seemingly normal. However, Leon being an orphan and out of touch with his Italian heritage, he had never indulged in spices other than salt and pepper. A travesty, especially for Luis.
Luis' reaction still makes Leon giggle, "Uy, Dios mío! You have not lived! This is too much, we must leave now and buy every spice available. Wow, Leon."
Leon had not been given the chance to respond, but he did not want to. He made sure to remember every detail of this moment, as he often did with Luis. The way that Luis' shirt clung to his torso, his hair falling over his left eye, the pack of cigarettes hanging out of his front pocket. Oh, how he'd give it all away there and then for Luis' approval. One word from Luis and Leon would have chain-smoked the cigarettes, and would have abandoned all aspirations. His feelings for Luis resembled that of an oil spill, it was accidental and logically hazardous. Still, it was all consuming and required all of Leon's focus.
Immediately, Luis readied a chair for Leon and tapped his hand in the middle of it. Leon sat down, faced Luis yet struggled to maintain eye contact.
Luis understood, he always did. Yet the sting of being unable never fully left, "Morning, hermoso. I've missed you, do you want to talk? Anything, it can be about anything."
A frown began to paint itself on Leon's face, which he swiftly corrected to a small smile. "I– look, Luis. I'm having a hard time, how do you say, coming to terms with everything that has happened to me. Everything that I have done. I don't.. I don't sleep, I don't want to eat. I mean, this, us, all of it is hard. For me,"
Luis and Leon's hands began to intertwine. Silently, Leon apologised for grasping Luis' so intently. How their bodies had curved to each other over a small amount of time is a phenomenon. Leon's hands automatically found Luis' whenever they were near, their bed was shaped to fit them both together, not singularly. Unquestionably, Luis will finish whatever sentence Leon struggles to say.
Luis fished a cigarette out of his pocket and began to light it. The way his hands moved captivated Leon unfailingly.
Smoke filled both of their lines of vision as Luis responded, "I know. Trust me, I can see it. I just.. I need to help you. I can't fix it, I can't fix anything. But I am here, always. You can't get rid of me, sorry,"
Leon let out a small laugh at the end sentence. He searched Luis' eyes for the telling of a lie, nothing. Luis never lied, he wore his heart on his sleeve at all times. That fact both enraged and enamoured Leon. Oh, how Luis was so worthy of love, a love that Leon feared he could never provide him with.
Sometimes Leon worried that his love would present itself as violence, that both things are so closely intertwined and he would not see the difference. He was fearful that one day he'd say sorry to Luis about the blood in his mouth, that he wished that it was his own. How impossible to Leon it was that love could flourish under him, that he could make it work.
Leon nodded, ignoring these disgusting thoughts that made it unbearable to be near Luis.
Luis knew more than Leon thought, he was incredibly smart. And so, he held onto Leon's hand a little stronger, and he took him to bed.
There, they laid. They kept lying, until the worrisome man fell into a sombre sleep. His first sleep in a while where he did not dream of his own blood. Rather, he dreamt of his head on Luis' shoulder and a skyline that never fell.