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“This is Romeo, he’ll be your friend.” Sophia murmurs in a gentle yet condoling voice.
Today is Carlo’s third day at the Estate. Everyday that has passed has been incredibly lonely for him. Having found a semblance of comfort in the kind daughter of Monad he’d search for her each day, begging for his father’s swift return.
Like clockwork, Sophia had to turn down the young boy who frowned deeply and tried not to cry in dismay over his abandonment.
“How many more sleeps Sophia? I just want to go home! Where’s my father, he promised he’d come back!”
Carlo hasn’t necessarily been furious with anyone during his time here, at least from what Sophia could tell. Though, Carlo clearly felt betrayed and in need of a distraction. Even if he resisted getting too comfortable, he fully believed his father would return very soon and there would be no purpose for it.
So, being faced with someone new, Carlo couldn’t help but be a bit disheartened. He found himself tucked away behind Sophia’s tall figure, she who kept her hands at her sides, her smile directed to the other boy of similar age to her.
“Come Carlo, say ‘hello’ to Romeo at the very least.” She tries to encourage in that same gentle timber.
Romeo can see Carlo peak up at him from behind Sophia before he resigns to her words. “Hello…” Carlo mumbles and looks away: over to the gardens and to the front gates—those same gates father had left him just days prior.
Sophia and Romeo watch as Carlo simply pauses, looks between them with a distraught expression, before running away to his usual hiding spot.
“I suppose he hasn’t yet acclimated here.” Sophia sighs, watching as Carlo disappears beyond the building.
Looking over to Romeo, Sophia frowns at him, “Sorry for disrupting your sword practise Romeo. I’d hoped he might want a friend to pass the time, but he’s just been either very clingy or in fits of tears.”
Romeo is quick to shake his head, a shiny smile on his face, “It’s okay Sophia, I’ll go talk to him.” Romeo assures, saluting her, grin never leaving him as he walks off in the direction Carlo had.
Sophia shakes her head, slightly amused and relieved by Romeo’s certainty. She wonders if this will even end well.
…
Well, it ended a little too well.
Everyday in classes, Carlo and Romeo spent time together, rowdy and laughing like a bunch of hooligans. They got along like a house on fire, best friends, playmates, practically attached at the hip; just a couple of shitheads.
Whatever you feel suited them best; they were just that. Inseparable.
Carlo never imagined that he could have so much fun with someone around his age—hadn’t known fun if it had punched him in the face.
Romeo is so friendly. Fun yet serious when he wants to be. A package Carlo found exhilarating to be around. Someone who finished his sentences—and sometimes his lunch—but Carlo could get used to that.
Romeo is so full of excitement, so full of kindness. He’s so unlike the other kids at the House. He has a charm, a certain appeal. Every time Carlo is with Romeo around the other kids, they’re always listening to him, always looking up to him.
Carlo looks up to Romeo too of course; especially since they share a dream, a dream so big that they talk about it all day and long into the night. Under the blankets with a lit gas lamp shining down on old fairytales about knights in shining armour. All sorts of texts, guide books—anything about heroes—anything about becoming a Stalker.
“I’ll become the best Stalker in all of Krat. Better than even you.” Romeo snickers as they play fight in the sunny yard.
“Yeah? Well I’ll become the best Stalker in the whole wide world! Better than even you, Lampwick!” Carlo challenged.
From there they knocked swords, prancing around and then soon chasing each other, claiming titles that would be long forgotten in a few minutes when they sprawled out in the grass giggling about god knows what.
Carlo hadn’t felt this lighthearted in a lifetime. Romeo just brought out this uncharted sensation from within, assisting him in banishing the world for a moment; forgetting about father and his unfeeling countenance.
He got to be himself. Carlo wasn’t sure he could go back to that same proper, downcast boy he was a mere week ago. He didn’t want to. Carlo had come to love the person he is with Romeo, as well as falling in love with the person Romeo is with him.
It wasn’t long before Carlo started seeing Romeo differently. He couldn’t help it truthfully, Romeo is just so wonderful, anyone would be thick headed to try and deny their adoration.
Romeo is selfless, he goes out of his way to help others, always so attentive. Carlo’s heart always beats heaviest when he witnesses Romeo offer assistance to someone in need of help. Times while they walk the halls between classes. Someone’s papers slipping from their grasp, an untied shoelace—anything and Romeo would offer help.
Some might see it as flattery, but Romeo is just like that: eager and considerate. Carlo wishes he were just like him… but he finds himself to be far too reserved, perhaps even a bit intimidating towards others. People don’t seem to see Carlo in the way Romeo does, their gazes never fall to him, never ask him for anything.
Carlo can’t complain though, it’s not as if he makes himself available to begin with. Utterly standoffish.
There is one thing though. If Carlo can’t help others like Romeo can right now, then perhaps he could gift the favour back to the one whom he believes deserves it most.
“Here… this is for you.” Carlo murmurs, standing before Romeo in the courtyard, palm open and outstretched. In Carlo’s hand is the brooch off of his cravat, the same one he usually wears outside of his uniform.
Romeo’s eyebrows raise. The brooch is of course beautiful, opulent even. Something an orphan boy like himself wouldn’t just happen upon, “Carlo, this is yours, why are you giving it to me?”
Carlo frowns and stares at the brooch, the centre is a pale gold, like Romeo’s hair. “I like you Romeo, I want you to have it, so It’s yours now.” Carlo hums, taking Romeo’s hesitating hand by the wrist and placing the artifact into the warm palm of his hand.
Romeo’s mouth gapes with a shudder, holding the brooch made of precious metals, held in the hand of the equally precious noble boy—Romeo clasps Carlo’s hand a bit tighter, not letting him pull away just yet.
“Why? Doesn’t it mean anything to you?” Romeo asks softly, looking to Carlo uncertainly.
Carlo glances off to the side, biting the inside of his lip, “Well, yes, but you mean a lot to me too, and I want you to have it.”
Romeo can’t hide his astonishment or the butterflies that flutter through him at this omission. “Wow…” Romeo murmurs with a sense of awe, “Thats so unexpected, I… thank you.”
Carlo’s never seen Romeo flustered, and it makes Carlo worry he’s done something wrong: those pretty blue eyes still widened and staring at their conjoined hands.
“I’ve never been gifted anything by anyone that wasn’t for school, so this is… more than meaningful.”
Carlo’s eyes widen as well, a flush blossoming on his cheeks as Romeo pulls away, holding the brooch to his chest, pinning the golden artifact to his shirt tie, nice and secure. The gold bounces off the sun, a fine contrast to the navy blue uniform, bringing out an attractive livelinesses in Romeo’s eyes when he looks to Carlo for approval.
“Looks good, like it’s meant for you.”
Romeo grins sheepishly, “I’ll keep it safe, it’s the greatest gift I’ll ever receive.”
…
As the week passes by, Romeo feels an ache that would come and go.
The discomfort was purely visceral, brought upon by uncomfortable thoughts that would ebb at the smile of Carlo from across the room during class, and then return again when he awoke and Carlo’s cot was empty.
Romeo felt the chill when he’d remember that this arrangement Carlo has won’t last forever. Carlo isn’t supposed to stay for very long, and Romeo couldn’t help but to dread the day Carlo must leave.
He just didn’t want to accept that day would come today.
“Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?” Murmurs Romeo hesitantly, clutching the cool metal of the brooch on his chest. In his other hand is Carlo’s, firm and uncertain.
He watches the brunet turn back to look at him, and Romeo half expects a look of forlorn, perhaps even a few words of resignation. Summers are short. A lot can change over the span of few weeks. Carlo might not come back to the Charity House, and this may very well be their last encounter.
If not, then greedily, Romeo hopes they’ll meet again some other sunny day.
However, when Carlo’s honey brown eyes meet Romeo, he looks surprisingly bright and cheerful, “Of course! I may be going with father now, but I look forward to seeing you again.”
Carlo is smiling brighter than the sun that casts over them, and just as quickly—blindingly—Carlo leans forwards and plants a soft little peck onto Romeo’s rosy cheek. It’s warm and unlike anything Romeo’s ever felt, leaving his heart racing, his face unwittingly moving closer to Carlo as he pulls away.
The taller of the two boy’s can’t help but laugh bashfully and glance away at this entire situation, “Okay! Th-Then I’ll be waiting here for you.”
Carlo nods and then reluctantly lets go, soft hands separating, finger tips grazing each other once more in a gentle delightful swipe.
Romeo held tightly to the brooch, standing by the doors and watching as Carlo leaves the steps of the Charity House; his father waiting. The brunet was grinning none-stop, turning back to look at Romeo every few moments as he walked until sight forbid it.