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Jakub is ten years old and currently into karting. Jorgi didn’t get to enjoy karting when he was ten years old, because he was helping his parents run their little cafe. A real one, mind you, back in Lusiana, his hometown. Apparently, karting costs a lot of money, something that Jorgi has now. Besides, his one and only son is a promising talent, according to the karting track owner, who never had business with Jorgi before—thus, the man is not grovelling over something. But, eh, he probably saw Jorgi’s McLaren and Mercedes, though, whenever he got there. This is not a cheap hobby and the owner needs to make money. From a fellow businessman’s perspective, Jorgi doesn’t blame him.
At the latest karting competition, Jakub won fourth place. Jorgi never won anything when he was ten years old, but at least he’s a bit better than his father when it comes to expressing his love for his son. Not that father lacked anything, he just didn’t have a son who was into karting. Jorgi himself would not be cracking his brain for an appropriate praise if Jakub, say, managed not to spill a tray full of espresso to be served to table 3, for example.
Reiss helped with Jakub’s latest hyperfixation a lot, which is a blessing. Jakub understands that Reissy—his special nickname for him—is his Papai’s amorino. Boyfriend. There’s no point in lying to his own flesh and blood, so Jorginho introduced Reiss as someone whom he loves very much to Jakub on their first meeting. Reiss had flushed prettily at that, what a sight, truly, they have only been ‘dating’ for a couple of months back then. Jorginho thinks it’s all thanks to him popping into the church every now and then that he’s graced with the sweetest son and even a sweeter boyfriend.
“Is the race still ongoing?” he asks on his smoking break, even though he doesn’t smoke. He’s in an alley, and it’s a beautiful Saturday morning. There’s a static before Reiss answers him, then loud cheers.
“He’s just overtaking number 5! Phew, that's proper late braking!” Reiss’ laughter over the phone always sounds different, and if Jorgi were a poet he would make a comparison with, what, the morning breeze or something. “Unlike his old man.”
“Careful, sweetheart,” Jorgi chuckles, running his tongue over the front of his teeth, grinning to a recycle only dumpster. “You haven’t been a good boy lately.”
But Reiss is just humming, clearly distracted by Jakub's excellent driving.
“Kiwi is leading!” Reiss squeals. ‘Kiwi’ is his special nickname from Jakub’s middle name. “Oh. Oh! Jorgiiiiiiiii, Kiwi is winning! He wins the race!”
The morning breeze, or the summer sunshine. The same warmth blooming inside of Jorgi’s chest anyway!
☺️
Jorgi is in the Grade 4 WhatsApp group chat. Lovely mums. There’s one stay-at-home dad who shuffled next to Jorgi one winter morning, taking a note of his Range Rover (Reiss’ now), making small talk about the chromes. A good man, really, and he only responds to the group chat when someone @ him. Jorgi? He loves to participate in the banter. And the gossip. Since the mums were informed that he’s a ‘comfortable’ businessman, it is not strange to have him respond to the group chat within ten minutes. When he’s not in a meeting or on his way somewhere with Donna on the wheels, he’s just reading (he's been learning British sign language). His everyday phone is not on silent mode, but it’s a Samsung so the notifications ping is different from his work phone.
And the mums are polite, too. There are rules. No urgent messages after 7 PM. If possible, no weekend messages. No sharing misleading, panicky, dodgy links. The unofficially appointed leader of the bunch is a remote working mum from Islington. Currently, they are collecting a £5 donation to get Miss Tariq, Grade 4’s maths teacher, a birthday present.
“How old is Miss Tariq?” Reiss asks, bare toes padding on Jorgi’s carpeted bedroom floor. He gets into his side of the bed, tucking his cold feet in between Jorgi’s pyjama clad thighs.
“I’d say in her early fifties.” Jorgi answers, shifting to make them more comfortable. The flat screen is playing Sky Sports news.
“Spa coupon.” Reiss says, pulling Jorgi’s arm around his shoulders so he can rest his head against Jorgi’s chest. “She should try a full body Thai massage. Life-changing.”
“Ohh, I believe someone put a spa in the polling. I will choose that one.”
“Good. What are we watching?”
“Your choice, sweetheart.”
Why is the Apple TV series so dark? Jorgi has to squint behind his glasses to see what’s happening. He likes the colouring, though; deep tones of navy blue, red, and green. Reiss will look good in that shade of green.
“Babe,” Reiss says, softly, “has Kiwi been to a football stadium before?”
“I have not taken him, no. Why?” Jorgi asks back.
“Well.” Reiss is grinning. Jorgi can’t see him but he knows he’s grinning prettily. “Jadon has tickets for his club. Executive box. It’s a big match, I think Kiwi will love it.”
“Jadon… that’s your mate, right?” Jorgi muses, then, “He's a football player in Germany, Reiss.”
“Kiwi has a passport, yeah?”
“Yes?”
“We had a blast in Legoland before!” Reiss reminds him, sitting up straighter, dark eyes twinkling underneath the dimmed light. “Without you, if you forget.”
Jorgi snorts, eyebrows furrowed.
“Oh, come on! It’s just on the weekend, just one night!” Reiss moves to sit on his knees, grabbing Jorgi’s hands in excitement. “We’ll be back home before you know it.”
“Are you sure? I don’t know if Jakub won’t be difficult.” Jorgi kisses his boyfriend’s knuckles, and clears his throat when Reiss tilts his head with a tick on his smile. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, sweetheart.”
Reiss shakes his head, cupping Jorgi’s face with one hand. “Yeah, no, babe. I understand.”
“You can ask him tomorrow. See what he says.” Jorgi reaches out to stroke the back of Reiss’ neck, a cheat move that the both of them are aware of.
Reiss closes his eyes, his pretty, plump lips are agape.
“Yeah?” he breathes out.
“Yes, absolutely.” Jorgi whispers, pressing a thumb to a spot behind Reiss’ left ear. “Hold on, what if I come with you guys?”
“That’d be perfect!” Reiss climbs Jorgi’s lap, sitting there prettily, like always. “I’m so sorry, babe, I just assumed you have work!”
Jorgi kisses him.
☺️
“We’re going to Germany?” Jakub is smiling like an angel, already on his last spoonful of his favourite savoury oats breakfast. “Why?”
Reiss winks at him. “What do you think of watching a football match?”
“Like Arsenal?”
“But in Germany.”
“Arsenal plays in Germany?”
“No, dilletto,” Jorgi chimes in, pinching Jakub’s chin. “We’re going to a football match in Germany. The football club is just like Arsenal, but they wear yellow instead of red. A friend of Reissy is a football player there.”
“Ohh, okay.” Jakub nods, hands clasped politely on top of the table. “Okay. Are you going as well, Papai?”
“And Reissy.”
“Three of us?!”
Jorgi is blessed, remember? His heart, on a bleak Monday morning, is full of love as he looks at his son throwing his skinny arms around his boyfriend.
“Can we wear our matching t-shirts, Reissy?” Jakub asks, getting back to finish his glass of orange juice.
“You have matching t-shirts?” Jorgi makes a curious noise, sipping on his black coffee. “How come?”
“Jakub treated me with his first place karting money.” Reiss scrunches his nose prettily at him, ruffling Jakub’s hair.
Jorgi pouts. “Nothing for Papai?”
“Papai can buy the t-shirt with his own money.” Jakub grins, like an angel still despite his blatant favouritism, and Jorgi pretends to sob.
☺️
But, as is with everything in life, nothing goes according to plan. Some low rank handler fucked up and Jorgi is left to deal with the mess. By the time he’s finished, it’s no use to get on the plane to Dortmund only to come back to London in a couple of hours. He picks them up at Gatwick, and if Reiss sees Jorgi sighs in relief and hugs Jakub for a minute longer then he’s not saying anything.
“Alright, old man?” Reiss greets him, pressing a quick kiss to Jorgi’s chapped lips. Jakub no longer looks away whenever they share a harmless PDA.
“Fairs,” Jorgi mumbles, squeezing Reiss’ waist. He doesn’t mind being reminded that he’s 10 years older than Reiss, it’s their inside joke that they like to play. “Who wants dinner?”
“Can we have ice cream later?” Jakub chirps in, hair flopping on his forehead, almost getting into his eyes. Jorgi makes a mental note to ask Donna to cut it for him; his trusty right-hand man is very multitalented.
☺️
It’s also Donna who tells him, in Italian, that he swears one of the single mums from the group chat is actually doing a stake-out in a beaten Audi just across the street.
Jorgi takes a peek.
Well, fuck. The funky white hair, the hauntingly deep eyebags, and the scowl. That’s Kai’s mum.
The End (?)
