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It had been some time since Montague and Lorenzo fled the luxurious hotel nestled high in the snowy mountains.
In a small apartment in Italy, secretly arranged for them by Midas as a safehouse, they had spent their days together.
They helped each other, argued from time to time, forgave one another, and gradually settled into a shared life.
For Montague, it was a far more modest existence than the one he had known at the hotel.
For Lorenzo, it was becoming the closest thing he had ever had to a permanent home.
Somewhere along the way, spring had quietly given way to early summer.
One day, sometime later, as usual, Montague did not emerge from bed until well past noon.
Once he was finally awake, the two of them headed out to the nearby market to do their shopping.
Fortunately, money was one thing they were not lacking.
They were hardly wealthy, but they had enough to live comfortably.
Part of that came from helping with Midas's work.
Part of it came from the valuables they had brought with them, items that could be sold off if the need ever arose.
In that regard, their shared tendency to plan ahead had served them well.
That said, their new life was a far cry from a luxurious one.
Lorenzo was used to living modestly.
Montague, on the other hand, seemed exactly the sort of man who would burn through a fortune without a second thought.
After all, a man who had once lived surrounded by wealth hardly seemed suited to a modest budget.
To Lorenzo's surprise, however, Montague had an excellent grasp of household finances.
If anything, he was far more likely to make pointed remarks about Lorenzo's unnecessary spending.
"Carrots are cheap today... Hm. I could make some glazed carrots."
After the familiar greengrocer recommended a particularly fine batch, Montague examined them with a critical eye, weighing both their quality and their price.
"Eugh, I hate carrots."
Following behind as the designated pack mule, Lorenzo immediately pulled a face.
"I vote for meat. Meat, meat, and more meat."
"That's all you ever think about," Montague said.
"Eat some vegetables for once. If I make them, even you should be able to enjoy them."
With a grin, Montague handed over the large carrots the greengrocer had agreed to sell at a discount.
Lorenzo accepted them despite the faint pout on his face, pointedly looking away.
"Your cooking is ridiculously good, but..."
"You know, the hamburger steak I made the other day was packed with carrots," Montague said.
"You ate it without noticing a thing."
"What!? No way!"
"It's true. The very same hamburger steak you kept praising before helping yourself to seconds."
The look Montague gave him was thoroughly smug, teasing in the most insufferable way possible, and yet he seemed genuinely pleased with himself.
It was the sort of expression Lorenzo never would have imagined seeing back when Montague had been one of the leading figures of a powerful organization atop that snowy mountain.
The first time Lorenzo noticed that change in him, it had filled him with equal parts surprise and a strange warmth he couldn't quite put into words.
Even now, it still did.
"...Seriously? You've been tricking me this whole time?"
"Don't make it sound so scandalous," Montague replied.
"I'm simply trying to make sure you eat something resembling a balanced meal."
The words themselves were as sharp as ever, but there was a softness to Montague's expression.
Lorenzo had come to think of that as another one of the changes in him.
"Besides, if I leave the cooking to you, the kitchen will be on fire within minutes, and the only thing you'll serve is charcoal."
Faced with that undeniable statement of fact, Lorenzo immediately faltered.
"Hey, c'mon. If you cook something long enough, it'll turn out edible eventually...!"
"No, it'll turn into charcoal. And eating charcoal is far more likely to make you sick." Montague snorted.
"Honestly, it's a good thing you're living with a world-class chef."
The grin he flashed clearly said *you should be grateful*.
Then, turning on his heel, Montague headed toward the next stall.
Living together had quickly revealed a few things.
For one, Montague had discovered that Lorenzo's cooking skills were nothing short of catastrophic.
For another, Lorenzo had learned that Montague, with all the exacting standards of a devoted gourmet, could easily rival a professional chef.
As a result, the division of labor between them had been settled with remarkable speed.
Lorenzo's philosophy as an explorer had always been simple: if you cooked it long enough, you could probably eat it.
There were, admittedly, a few poisons that refused to become harmless no matter how thoroughly they were cooked. Even so, that approach had worked well enough for him up until now.
Which only made it all the more true that life in Italy had been far more delicious thanks to Montague.
"Well, if it isn't Lorenzo! You look as lively as ever. And your friend, too!"
The young butcher's wife greeted them with a bright smile as they approached her shop.
By now, they visited the market every couple of days.
Between that and Lorenzo's easy charm, they had become familiar faces among the vendors.
It wasn't unusual for shopkeepers to stop them for a chat, offer discounts, or quietly set aside particularly good products for them.
At first, Montague had been wary.
The less people knew their faces, the better.
By the time he had voiced that concern, however, it was already far too late.
The two of them had somehow become well-liked members of the neighborhood.
Since then, even Montague had stopped objecting.
He still wasn't particularly sociable, but he no longer made any effort to keep his distance from the people around them.
Perhaps he had simply accepted the inevitable.
"Oh, hey! Yeah, we're doing great." Lorenzo beamed.
"That meat we got from you the other day was incredible. Monty turned it into the best steak."
"See? That was a fine cut. We don't get beef like that very often around here," the butcher's wife said proudly.
"I wanted to make sure it went to people who'd appreciate it."
"Do you have anything similar today?" Montague asked, studying the selection on display while Lorenzo continued chatting with the butcher's wife.
"I'd like to pick up something decent."
"Wait, what?" Lorenzo's head snapped around.
"You're saying I might get another amazing steak tonight?"
"If they have it."
"Hold on a minute. My husband's out buying stock right now, so there might be something coming in later. Let me give him a call."
The butcher's wife disappeared into the back of the shop.
A few minutes later, she returned with a grin and a thumbs-up.
"Looks like you're in luck! We've got some chateaubriand arriving in about thirty minutes."
Montague raised an eyebrow.
For once, he looked genuinely pleased.
"Is that so? Excellent. We'll take it."
"Wait, wait, wait." Lorenzo leaned forward, looking between Montague and the butcher's wife.
"Does that mean I get amazing meat tonight? Like, really amazing meat?"
"I'll make you something even better than last time," Montague said.
"Thirty minutes, was it? We'll come back then."
"You got it! I'll make sure it's waiting for you."
"Yesss!" Lorenzo pumped a fist into the air.
"Thanks, ma'am! Thanks, Monty!"
With a triumphant fist pump and a dazzling smile, Lorenzo nearly bounced on the spot.
Standing beside the butcher's wife, Montague simply watched him.
Leaving the butcher's shop behind, they made their way to a store that specialized in household goods and everyday necessities.
Lorenzo loved places like this. Whether he was hunting for hidden treasures or simply looking for something unusual, he couldn't help wandering through every aisle with bright, curious eyes.
Montague seemed well aware of this habit.
Agreeing to meet back at the entrance in thirty minutes, the two of them split up as soon as they stepped inside.
"I wonder if they've got anything interesting in today..."
Already looking more like a treasure hunter than a shopper, Lorenzo eagerly wandered through the crowded aisles, examining every trinket and household item he could find.
Then his gaze landed on a shelf lined with plates.
Oh, right. Monty had mentioned wanting to buy some new ones.
Without meaning to, Lorenzo found himself thinking about him.
Somehow, before he even realized it, Lorenzo had found himself thinking about Montague more and more often.
Living together was an easy enough explanation, of course.
Then again, who was he trying to explain it to?
They had long since become more than two fugitives sharing the same roof.
More than mere housemates.
They had shared countless moments of intimacy, and surely there had to be something connecting them beyond that.
Something more than what they had been before.
*Maybe that was just how Lorenzo saw it. Montague might have felt differently.*
Still, Lorenzo liked this life.
He had never really stayed anywhere for long before, never put down roots in one place. But here, somehow, he didn't mind the idea.
If it was here, and if it was with Montague, then he thought he could stay.
A little over thirty minutes later, Lorenzo headed back toward the entrance of the shop.
Just outside, he spotted Montague standing there with a parcel tucked under one arm.
"Hey, Monty! Buy something?"
Picking up his pace, Lorenzo hurried over.
Montague glanced back at him and gave a small nod, wearing that same difficult-to-read expression he always seemed to have.
"...Something like that."
"Oh, right. You were talking about getting some new plates the other day."
For the briefest moment, Montague fell silent.
"...You remembered that."
Lorenzo grinned.
"See?"
Leaving the shop behind, the two of them headed back toward the butcher's, chatting as they walked.
"You know, lately I've found myself thinking about you pretty often."
At that, Montague turned to look down at him with immediate suspicion.
"Knowing you, it's probably something ridiculous."
"Not really." Lorenzo shrugged.
"Nothing special, honestly. Just ordinary stuff. Like remembering you wanted new plates, or thinking about how you always end up making food I like."
"......"
Montague suddenly came to a stop.
The abrupt movement caught Lorenzo off guard, and when he looked up, Montague was staring at him.
"...?"
Lorenzo stopped as well, meeting his gaze.
"What's wrong?"
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
*His eyes really were beautiful.*
One of his eyes was the same hazel as Lorenzo's. The other was that striking Zenith blue, as brilliant as the diamond pinned to his chest.
Lorenzo had seen more treasures than most people would in a lifetime.
Yet even now, he found his gaze drawn to Montague's heterochromatic eyes.
To that vivid blue in particular.
Yes, more than any genuine diamond.
For a moment, Montague simply stared back.
Then Montague's eyes fluttered shut and open once, twice, his long lashes catching Lorenzo's eye.
A moment later, he suddenly looked away and started walking again.
"...Come on. Meat is best while it's fresh."
"Huh...?"
Lorenzo blinked.
"Wait. What was that about?"
Not wanting to do anything that might somehow jeopardize tonight's amazing meat, Lorenzo quickened his pace and caught up to Montague.
Stealing a glance at Montague's face, he found him looking even more displeased than usual.
"...Monty, are you mad about something?"
"I'm not."
"Did I say something wrong?"
"......It's not something you need to worry about."
Montague hesitated for a rare moment before answering.
Even as he spoke, he continued striding ahead, his footsteps echoing sharply against the pavement.
For a second, Lorenzo nearly had to hurry to keep up.
Then it hit him.
"...Monty."
Montague didn't look back.
"Have you been matching your pace to mine ever since we got to Italy?"
"......!"
This time, Montague stopped dead.
Slowly, he turned to look down at Lorenzo once more.
The expression on his face was difficult to describe.
Awkward, perhaps.
Or maybe, just maybe...
He looked embarrassed.
Lorenzo came to a stop as well.
Facing him once more, he could have sworn he saw Montague's shoulders twitch ever so slightly, as though there were a dozen things he wanted to say and none of them were making it out.
And because Lorenzo had no intention of letting Montague's Everest-sized pride suffer any further damage, he hurried to explain.
"Wait, no, I mean..." He scratched the back of his head.
"You've got longer legs than me."
A beat passed.
"Not that mine are short! They're not!"
He pointed at himself as if presenting evidence.
"It's just... y'know, the height difference and all. Of course your stride's gonna be longer."
"...................."
Montague looked as though he wanted to say something.
Instead, he swallowed it down and let out a long, heavy sigh.
"...Was that really what we were talking about?"
"Huh?" Lorenzo blinked.
"Well, no, not really."
He scratched his cheek awkwardly.
"I just sort of... noticed it."
A grin spread across Lorenzo's face before he could stop it.
"I dunno. It just made me think you're pretty nice, that's all... Heh."
"There you go again..."
Montague let out an exasperated huff and sighed for what felt like the hundredth time.
"...Come on. We don't have time for this nonsense."
Whether it was an attempt to hide his embarrassment or simply a habit, he ran a hand through the part in his hair and started walking again.
...At Lorenzo's pace.
"Yup! Can't wait for that amazing meat!"
Relieved that things seemed to have settled down somehow, Lorenzo fell into step beside him once more, sticking his tongue out to himself in silent triumph.
"Amazing!"
With a blissful grin, Lorenzo practically collapsed onto the living room sofa in their small apartment.
"Seriously, that was incredible... What was with that meat? It was so tender, but it still had bite to it. And all those juices... and that tangy sauce..."
"A house sauce I made with blackcurrants and truffle."
"Yeah, that!" Lorenzo pointed at him immediately.
"That was amazing. Seriously..."
He let himself sink further into the cushions.
"It was pure heaven..."
The Chateaubriand the butcher had managed to procure had apparently been good enough to make even Montague genuinely excited.
On the way home, he had stopped to buy additional ingredients.
The steak that eventually appeared on their dining table was the result.
Even Lorenzo, whose tastes were hardly refined, had been completely won over.
"Did you seriously eat food like that every day?"
Still floating in a haze of contentment, Lorenzo sprawled across the sofa and looked over at him.
Nearby, Montague let out a quiet scoff as he gathered up the now-empty plates.
"Don't be ridiculous. If I ate food like that every day, I'd turn into a cow before long."
"Yeah, I guess that's true..." Lorenzo let out a dreamy sigh.
"But honestly, I'd eat it every day if I could. It was so good... Thanks, Monty."
Still basking in the afterglow of dinner, he hugged a cushion tightly against his chest.
"You even managed to eat the glazed carrots. I'm proud of you."
Montague said it as he crossed the room from the kitchen toward the sofa.
The sweet scent of cocoa drifted through the room, mingling with the faint bitterness of freshly brewed coffee.
Montague always did this after meals.
Most days, it was hot cocoa for Lorenzo and black coffee for himself.
As Montague approached, Lorenzo pushed himself upright, reaching out automatically to take the cup that was undoubtedly meant for him.
Then he froze.
His eyes widened.
"...Here. Your cocoa."
Montague's expression was unexpectedly gentle.
The mug he held out was a simple purple mug.
And in his other hand was a matching mug.
The same shape.
The same design.
Only this one was a clear, pale blue.
"...Huh?"
Automatically, Lorenzo accepted the purple mug and glanced down at it before looking back at the pale blue one in Montague's hand.
The cups they normally used had never matched.
They were a random assortment they had each picked up at one point or another, different colors, different shapes, different designs.
As far as Lorenzo knew, none of them had been chipped or broken.
In fact, he was fairly certain he had drunk water from his usual cup before dinner.
Which meant these mugs were new.
And if they were new...
Then they had probably been inside the parcel Montague had been carrying so carefully earlier that day.
Once he was sure Lorenzo had taken the mug, Montague sat down beside him.
"......"
For some reason, Lorenzo suddenly felt restless.
He found himself cradling the mug with both hands, almost protectively.
"Ow..."
Even though Montague had made sure the cocoa wasn't too hot, warmth still seeped through the ceramic.
Instinctively, his grip tightened around the handle.
"Of course it is."
Beside him, Montague simply smiled and took a sip of his coffee as though nothing at all had happened.
Lorenzo stared at him.
And kept staring.
...Really staring.
"...Stop that. You're going to bore a hole through me."
A wry smile tugged at Montague's lips as he glanced back at him.
"...Because... because what is this...?"
"It's your favorite cocoa."
"I know that!" Lorenzo protested.
"I know that, but that's not what I mean..."
Unable to find the right words, he trailed off.
Across from him, Montague looked unexpectedly at ease.
"You said it yourself today."
His fingers traced the rim of his coffee mug.
"That you've been finding yourself thinking about me more often lately."
For a brief moment, his gaze dropped to the pale blue mug in his hands.
"...Well."
A faint smile touched Montague's lips.
"As you think about me, I've found myself thinking about you more often, too."
This was the strange thing about Montague.
The awkward embarrassment he had shown at the market was nowhere to be found.
Instead, whenever it truly mattered, he had a habit of saying things so straightforwardly that even Lorenzo, who was usually quick with words, found himself speechless.
"I think about your health when I cook. I think about what I can make that you'll enjoy, even with what little we have."
Montague took another sip of coffee.
"And I've found myself thinking that, as long as you're here, this is probably where I'll be too."
His gaze drifted briefly toward the mugs in their hands.
A faint smile touched Montague's lips.
"...So I figured having a matching set of mugs wasn't exactly a crime."
That smile.
That gentle, honest smile.
It was such a rare thing that, at times, Lorenzo had almost convinced himself he had only imagined it before, glimpsed in the darkness of a shared bed and mistaken for a dream.
Heat rose to his face, and it wasn't just from the cocoa.
Before he knew it, he was staring down into his mug.
"...That's not fair."
The words barely made it out.
Just saying that much took effort.
Because it wasn't fair.
Montague always hid this side of himself.
Then, without warning, he would show it, stealing Lorenzo's heart and leaving his thoughts spinning like a whirlwind.
Like a phantom thief slipping away with a priceless treasure.
"...Though thanks to all that, I forgot to buy the plates."
Apparently satisfied now that Lorenzo had been thoroughly flustered, Montague merely shrugged.
"Wait, what?!" Lorenzo sat upright.
"I thought that was what you'd bought in the first place!"
Montague's shoulders lifted again in a silent what can you do?
"Oh, come on..." Lorenzo groaned, lowering his face into his mug.
"What am I supposed to do with that...?"
The purple mug in his hands was almost the same shade as the coat Montague had once given him.
...His first gift.
Though, calling it a gift might have been generous.
It had been less a present and more Montague's way of telling him not to underestimate Grand Glacier by attempting to climb a snow-covered mountain dressed for anything but one.
And the pale blue mug in Montague's hand was a color not unlike the diamonds he adored.
Or the brilliant blue of his right eye.
"What, are you planning to spend the rest of your life here with me?"
The warmth in Lorenzo's chest had nothing to do with the cocoa anymore.
Fighting down the smile threatening to spread across his face, Lorenzo lightly nudged Montague's shoulder with his own.
"Who knows."
Looking entirely too pleased with himself, Montague took another sip of coffee.
"That depends on you."
Lorenzo stared at him for a moment.
Then, despite himself, a brilliant smile broke across his face.
"Then I guess it depends on you, too, Monty!"
At the very least, they had spent a great deal of time here, sharing the same days and the same moments.
And at last, that had taken shape.
More importantly, they had both accepted it.
Here, they would put down roots.
Here, they would build a life while carrying each other quietly in their hearts.
...Perhaps this, too, is one shape that happiness can take.
－Fin－