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After the Ever funeral after party, Marcus somehow finds himself lying in his bed with a certain English pastry chef lying beside him. It was something he'd been hoping might happen when he was in Copenhagen - he’d had dreams about it, for goodness sake. But he hadn't expected it, and if he hadn't been expecting it then, he definitely hadn't been expecting it tonight. He didn't even know Luca was coming to Chicago, but it's probably a good thing. If he'd have known, he would have been a nervous wreck for weeks prior.
"I thought about Copenhagen a lot, afterwards. After my mom passed," Marcus whispers to Luca. He's been lying on his chest in silence for what feels like hours. It's the first time they've seen each other in months and Marcus wants to touch every inch of him so that he doesn't feel quite so alone when he inevitably has to leave.
Luca's breath is hot on the top of his head. "Yeah?"
Marcus nods, caving into the middle of Luca's chest. He smells like pine and cigarettes and marmalade, and suddenly, Marcus doesn't want to smell anything else ever again. Not even doughnuts.
"What did you think about?" He asks softly. His hands make their way up to Marcus' palms, rubbing gentle circles into them.
"I thought about being awake in the morning with nobody around. I thought about the fact that despite being in a country I couldn't understand anyone in, I never felt truly alone. I thought about the bread and the flowers and the boat with the non-existent cat," he lists, hesitating for an unnoticeable split second. He almost stops himself - "I thought about you."
"Me?" Usually, from Luca, it would come across as playful. But he sounds sincere, his voice fragile as if he's scared that Marcus is a precious trinket he might accidentally drop and shatter. A lot of people have been treating him like that recently, but from Luca it feels less patronising.
"Yeah," he states as if it's one of the only things in his little world that makes sense. "You're so calm. When I couldn't sleep I'd imagine you were there, talking to me in the same way you talked to me when you taught me about shiso."
It's silent, and the sound of Luca's quickened breathing is almost deafening. "You should have called me," he states, the grip of his hand on Marcus' hip tightening. Marcus can feel the motion of him shaking his head. It isn't sharp, but it still cuts. A sense of anger lingers in his voice. Not at Marcus, at least. Angry at himself, maybe? For not being there. Which isn't fair.
"I didn't call anyone, really, if that means anything to you."
Luca narrows his eyes down at him contemplatively before shaking his head, "Not really."
"That's fair," Marcus slips from Luca's grip, sitting up in front of him. "But what really matters is that you're here now. I missed you. I wanted you here, even if I couldn't tell you that then."
Luca's mouth opens slightly, the stare of his bright blue eyes is piercing even in the darkness. He says nothing.
That's when Marcus leans in and kisses him.
Kissing Luca isn't like kissing anyone else he's ever been with. Sure, that could be down to the fact that Marcus has only dated women in the past, but he also has a feeling that there's something deeper than that. It's like kissing him makes everything else in the world disappear.
Luca pulls back but his eyes are still on Marcus' lips. "You've gotta promise that you'll call me."
"I think I can do that."