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Diavolo was terrible at cooking. That was a bit dramatic, he could make something editable. As long as it was editable he was fine with it. Which in Leone’s correct opinion was a terrible way to cook. Which is why he was making Diavolo cook dinner with him every Monday.
“See this, this is what we call spices, you use spices to make the food taste good.”
Diavolo scowled, “I’m not two.”
Leone ignored him, putting spices in the basket.
“It wasn’t that bad.” Last week Diavolo made them dinner, it was bland as fuck and was the reason Leone decided to give him lessons.
“Agree to disagree.”
“You didn’t get food poisoning.”
“You know that is a low bar, right?”
“This is ridiculous, I know how to cook.”
The two made their way to the produce section. There, Leone mentally analyzed which tomato was better.
“Think of it as brushing up on a life skill.”
“I hate you.”
Leone smiled at that; the term life skill was becoming the best way to win an argument with Diavolo. It was also the foundation of their friendship. Diavolo would drag him to do random stuff under the pretense of improving a life skill.
“Can you get white onions?” Leone asked, finally picking a tomato.
“Sure.”
The other nice thing about making Diavolo do this is that Leone finally had help in the kitchen. His parents were too busy, so he was left making dinner. And Narancia couldn’t be trusted with an oven.
***
As of late, Diavolo and Leone were spending an enormous amount of time together. They always spend time together but now it felt like they went out of their way to spend time together. And for whatever reason Diavolo didn’t mind.
But he should, Leone got him doing stupid, dangerous shit for no reason. Today’s stupid, dangerous shit was looking at furniture.
They weren’t buying furniture, just looking. Making the whole outing useless in Diavolo’s book. However, this was a weird hobby Leone had. Well, hobby wasn’t the right word. Leone wanted to be a homeowner. In his words, it was his most realistic dream.
And now they were somewhat fulfilling that dream by looking at furniture or something. He wasn’t going to overanalyze it. Still going out in public for no reason wasn’t on Diavolo’s to-do list. They could gain a stalker out of this experience.
“Look at that couch.”
“It sure looks like a couch.”
“It’s perfect.” It looked like every couch in the store. The only thing that made it even slightly different was that it was navy blue.
“Cushions are too small to hide anything.”
“I don’t even want to think about how bad your future living room will look.”
“Then you pick out the furniture.”
“I will.”
“And make sure you can hide shit in it,” Diavolo added.
“So, get you a couch with a hole in it?”
“Not an obvious hole.”
“Oh my god,” Leone groaned, “Please don’t have your entire home décor be based on survival.”
“The whole point of having a house is for survival.”
“Just let me pick out your furniture.”
“Deal.”
***
Leone didn’t think he would be organizing locks on a weekend. But that was before he met Diavolo. But now, he did so much weird shit with him that he didn’t bat an eye when Diavolo asked him to do this.
However, he did not expect Diavolo to bring five boxes of locks. Next thing he knew, he was surrounded by locks, piles, and piles of locks. Nobody needed this many locks. Leone didn’t think the military needed this many locks.
“This is a padlock,” said Diavolo holding up a lock that would be used to keep a bicycle chained up. “This is a deadlock.” He held up a lock that would be found on the front door of a house. “This is a knob lock.”
“That’s a doorknob.”
“This is a furniture lock,” said Diavolo, ignoring his friend, “And this is a cam lock.”
“Why do you have this many locks?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions.”
“Congrats on being a hoarder.”
“Have you memorized the types?”
“Pad, dead, knob, furniture, and cam,” said Leone pointing to each lock, “How did you even get this many locks?”
“I just kept buying them till I realized I had enough.”
“You should have stopped at box one.”
“Can you quit being dramatic?” Diavolo asked, labeling the boxes.
Leone didn’t think he was being dramatic given that he was quite literally surrounded by locks. The locks were different sizes and colors, but Leone got the shape down so organizing them wasn’t too hard, just tedious. They organized in peaceful silence until Leone’s curiosity had to break it.
“What are you going to do with all these locks?”
“Use it, have backups, sell some in an emergency.”
“You really do think of everything.”
Diavolo shrugged his shoulders, “I like living.”
***
Diavolo was a better gardener than his father. Gardening was something he had done ever since he was a kid. It was important to have your own food source, so Diavolo quickly became good with plants.
It was something that his father was impressed with. Which is why he was tasked with taking care of the church’s garden.
Diavolo didn’t mind doing it. People were only at church on Sundays so as long as it was any other day Diavolo was fine.
Granted, he wasn’t alone, alone. Leone was there. To help, except they both knew he couldn’t grow a flower to save his life. So, he was there for emotional support, at least that was how Diavolo was justifying him being there.
“I want to strangle the director,” said Leone.
“That leaves fingerprints,” said Diavolo pulling weeds.
“I’ll wear gloves.”
“Good boy,” Diavolo muttered.
“I don’t get why they changed the choreography it was perfect the first time.” Leone was ranting about some opera that for the life of him Diavolo couldn’t remember the name of.
“Yeah, they’re stupid.”
“Why the fuck is the main couple moving away from each other when the song is about love conquering all. And what they did to the duel scene is a crime.”
Diavolo listened to him while he worked. He really liked hearing his voice. Especially when he was talking about something he was passionate about. He really should be getting rid of his romantic feelings for Leone. But that was hard when all he wanted to do was be with him.
Asking him to come was stupid but Diavolo couldn’t help it. At this point, the only way for his feelings to go away was if Leone rejected him. But given that Diavolo was never going to confess that was never going to happen.
“You alright?”
Diavolo looked up at Leone, “I’m fine.”
“Okay, you just zone out for a bit.”
“Just thinking about the best way to murder that director.”
Leone laughed, “You’re a little too supportive.”
***
There were times when it felt like they were on a date. Of course, that wasn’t the case. To even think that would be ridiculous. But it felt so damn romantic that Leone’s heart couldn’t stop beating.
Diavolo would take them stargazing. They would set a picnic in the back of the truck and stargaze. The two took turns pointing out constellations and telling the story behind the stars. And when ran out of stories Leone would make up one. Sometimes he would compose a poem only to be teased by the other. Not that it mattered, he would always serenade the night as Diavolo puts it.
To put it simply Leone loved night. There was something so beautiful about the world during night. The sky was a canvas filled with thousands upon thousands of stars. Then there was the ever-changing moon. The moon lit up the night sky, sending calm moonlight into darkness. Everything looked better in night.
Sometimes they would dance. It was really simple, more like swaying back and forth than dancing. Occasionally, Diavolo would lead them into a waltz. Leone would play music, if only to drown out the sound of his beating heart.
And because his mind was a traitor he would think about that one night under the stars. That one time he and Diavolo kissed. How the fuck they got that far without it being romantic Leone had no idea. He tried to forget that night because it gave him too much hope.
Besides, he was just grateful to have Diavolo in his life. He wasn’t going to let the desire for a romantic relationship ruin his platonic one.
***
Leone was minding his own business, sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. But as any older sibling minding their own business, he would soon be pestered by his younger sibling.
“Hey.”
Leone winced as Narancia shouted in his ear. “What do you need?”
“I’m bored.”
“Oh no, whatever shall we do,” Leone deadpanned.
“You could try to cure my boredom,” said Narancia leaning against his brother.
“You have my permission to run outside.”
“Want to play a board game?” asked Narancia.
“Wow, you really are bored.”
“Hey, I can play a board game.”
“The last time we played a board game was two years ago, and you quit because it was taking too long.”
“That was two years ago,” said Narancia.
“I’m leaving in ten minutes,” said Leone.
“I didn’t know it was date night.”
“What?”
“You’re going on a date with Diavolo.”
“We’re not dating.”
“You’re not,” Narancia jumped up nearly falling off the couch, “Then why do you two spend all your time together?”
“We’re friends, that is what friends do.”
“I thought you like him!” Narancia pointed an accusing finger at Leone.
“The feeling isn’t mutual.”
“You confessed!”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because I’m not an idiot.”
Narancia sat back down on the couch, “Wow, I really thought you two were dating for months.”
“You don’t have to rub it in.”
“Where are you going anyway?”
“Diavolo needs help cooking dinner.”
“It’s shit like this that makes it look like you two are dating,” Narancia grumbled crossing his arms.
“Again, no need to rub it in.”
***
From the ‘forced’ cooking lessons Diavolo had come to realize that Leone had a point. As great as edible food was, edible food that tasted good was better. Except Diavolo was still shit at cooking. At least making something taste good, he still knew how to make something edible.
His father had to stay late at church, making Diavolo responsible for dinner. He wanted to make something his father would enjoy meaning he had to ask Leone for help.
Leone decided that they would be making hazelnut soup. It was also decided that for today Diavolo’s job would be to slice up the vegetables, mince the herbs, and cube the potatoes. He didn’t mind doing the prep work. It gave him time to think. Usually about how to survive random dangerous situations one might get into.
Meanwhile, Leone was in perfectionist mode. Which meant he would taste the perfectly good soup and complain that it was missing something. Diavolo was used to seeing him in perfectionist mode, but that was for poetry not cooking.
“You know it’s fine right?”
“What if your father doesn’t like it,” said Leone staring at the soup as if it was a complex equation he needed to solve.
“He had my cooking.”
“So, he’s good at pretending food tastes good.”
Diavolo rolled his eyes, “Who cares what he thinks.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s your father,” he said shoving a spoon towards his mouth, “Taste this.”
“It tastes good.” It was fucking delicious, but Diavolo didn’t feel like admitting that.
Leone slumped his shoulders as if he was surrendering, “I guess it’s good.”
They set the table just in time for his father to arrive.
“I should get going,” said Leone.
“Nonsense, stay,” said the priest.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course,” he said with a happy smile.
They sat down and enjoyed the meal. His father asked Leone so many questions it felt like an interrogation. It ranged from what he liked to do in his free time to what his family was like. The questions themself were harmless. Still, it made Diavolo uncomfortable. He didn’t like anyone having too much information on his friend.
Eventually, Leone had to leave. His father gave him a pat on the back and told him to be safe. Afterward, he and Diavolo cleaned up the dining table.
“How long have you two been together?” his father asked while grabbing bowls.
“We’re just friends.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Apologies, you two look like a couple but I shouldn’t assume.”
They look like a couple? They look like a couple. They look like a couple. Diavolo thought about all their recent interactions. And his father was right, they did look like a couple. A healthy, loving couple at that.
***
The duo was in Leone’s room doing homework. Leone was trying to get through the first draft of an essay. The issue was that he was a thousand words short. He could just add a quote and try to analyze that for a couple of paragraphs. That should get him at least three hundred words. The main problem Leone faced was that he was too concise with his words.
“You know if we were dating the only thing that would change is that we would kiss.”
“What!”
“The only thing-”
“No, I heard you,” Leone looked at Diavolo, “Where did this come from?”
“I thought about our relationship and decided that nothing would fundamentally change if we dated.”
“That would mean we both have feelings for each other.”
Diavolo raised an eyebrow, “Yes.”
“This is the cockiest confession I have heard.”
“It’s still a confession.”
On impulse Leone tackled Diavolo, pulling him in a hard kiss. A kiss that felt like home. It was aggressive but also safe.
Leone pulled back, “I guess nothing would change.”
“Exactly,” Diavolo cupped his cheek bringing him into another kiss.