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Cesare never cared much for the bonfire. It was already hot enough in Sicily, they didn’t need to burn through the only time cool weather graced them.
After the flames get big, in the center of the town square, everyone’s attention is focused on their family and the fire. He can easily slink off to take a few quick drags in an alley, just him and a cigarette. Sometimes the festivities will go on for an unfortunate amount of time, and he will have to engage before he gets his ear chewed off.
At least from his current perch, leaning on a nearby, wall he’s still in view for it to be questionable if he needs such a thing. Though, he may be questioned all the same. It’s a curious thing, him sticking around, after all.
Only reason he’s even staying is because Enzo had seemed excited to come, and he didn’t get visibly excited by a lot. Happy? Yes, of course. Always donning a smile that can knock out even the filthiest of women.
And, hell, it sure knocks out Cesare. But he had actually been…anxious to come, talking faster than usual about what he’d heard about a lot of nativity traditions but could never experience. It elated Cesare, made him look forward to going this year because Enzo was looking forward to it. Although— the boy seemed a bit skittish when the flames had first started, sucking in a breath before apparently willing himself to relax.
“Fire?” Cesare had asked simply, surprised. “Ah, no. No… I’m fine. I’m fine,” he’d reassured, tone quiet to match the soft aura the town was submerged in. A mix of prayer and respect.
Cesare hadn’t believed him, but nodded all the same, dismissing himself discreetly, having quickly grown uncomfortable with how his body began to heat from the inside just as much as out.
And now, he was coming back to reality, suddenly having lost sight of the boy he was just thinking so hard about. Where has he gone?
“You alright?”
“Cristu!” Cesare receives a few disapproving glances at this. Taking the Lord’s name on the sister date to his birth… Not a very considerate turn of phrase, he supposes. “When did you— nevermind. What do you mean?” he inquires in a more hushed tone.
“You were just staring off into space. Is something on your mind?” “What? No, nothing. It’s just”—he sighs—“I’ve seen this same fire, with the same faces, in the same town for my entire life. It gets really boring after the first ten years. Trust me, you’ll see.”
Enzo huffs a few little laughs. “You think I’ll be alive in ten years? Generous of you. I never bargain on more than five, personally.” Cesare snaps to face him fully. “What? I’m just joking,” Enzo rectifies in that voice only someone who’s caught themselves saying something too honest to the wrong audience can slip into.
The older boy scoffs, “Yes, I think you’ll be fucking alive.” Enzo shrugs, and it’s silent for a few beats.
“There’s food after, at least— if you’re that bored, then eating a hot meal must be very exciting.” “Oh fuck off.” Yet he smiles right along with Enzo.
His eyes find the fire once more, and another set follows his line of sight. Enzo hums. “You said a prayer, I assume.” “No,” Cesare admits. He’d usually lie and tell whoever was asking that he had ‘given thanks,’ but Enzo didn’t look at him like Luca did. Like he already knew the answer before it was said, already had the rebuke in his voice.
“You should. Before the fire goes out, at least.” Cesare can’t help but scoff at him once more. “I already say the same shit—” “Then ask for something.” “Like what?”
The boy hesitates for a moment. Cesare feels a gaze on the side of his face. He takes a breath and continues to watch the flames. Then it’s gone, and he goes on just as before. “Something you want over the next year. Or maybe boost your spirits a bit and ask for something small to happen before the year ends.”
Cesare throws a glance to the darkened sky, full of stars revealed by winter air and its lack of mist. He exhales slowly. Furrowing his brow, he tosses his attention to the ground as if in shame. As if to undo whatever thoughts escaped into a divine hand.
“What did you ask for?” “It’s stupid.”
“Even better. Tell me.”
“Don’t laugh.”
“That’s an unrealistic request, Cesare.”
“Don’t howl.” “Better.”
The older boy sighs. Maybe he’s blushing, maybe it’s just the way golden light dances on his face from the flames that are reflecting in his eyes like some wild, living thing is behind his stare. Isn’t there, though? A war must count as wild.
“I asked for a kiss…before the new year starts— not from a woman I’m paying to do it.”
Enzo doesn’t laugh. Yet that seems to unsettle the other even more than if he did.
“Funny,” he begins, unabashedly staring at Cesare like he’s the only thing worth looking at right now that’s truly intriguing and not at all a cause for boredom, “I asked for the same thing.”