Work Text:
«The sun always rises where I look for my god»
June 4, 2011 | Rino P.O.V.
It was early morning, maybe ten, when we left that shithole of a city called Caserta, which I was forced to call home.
The car was absolutely packed, even though it was just me, my mom, and my grandma. The rest of the space was completely taken up by huge suitcases and beach bags, all on the verge of bursting.
Side note: if you’re wondering what the fuck happened to my dad, I'll have you know he told my mom to go fuck herself and went to live on the other side of Italy with his new family.
I already had my swimsuit on, which easily passed for a pair of black shorts, and an Orion Experience t-shirt on top. As soon as my mom started the engine, I shoved my trusty white earbuds in and started blasting some Prozac+ song into my ears through the iPod in my pocket. The trip was only supposed to last an hour and a half, but after the first twenty minutes, I was already bored of the music, so I fell asleep.
I had a weird dream. I don’t even know if you could call it a dream, it was more of a feeling. I felt... at peace? It was a pleasant feeling in a way, full of adrenaline.
Of course, the whole thing was interrupted by the screaming of that... erhm... holy woman of my mother, completely pissed off because she couldn’t find a parking spot on the seafront.
Oh, right. I haven't told you where we were heading yet.
While all my classmates spent their summers venturing off to cities like New York, London, Tokyo, or Los Angeles, my family and I went to a seaside town called Scauri, near Gaeta, every single fucking year. To put it quickly: there isn't a single nice or fun thing to do there. Just the same boring, dimwitted local kids my mom expects me to befriend just because they're my age. The same old people, the same bars, the same summer wasted soaking in the water, reading, drawing, and getting a tan with a cherry Coke in hand (maybe that last part isn't so bad, after all...).
Anyway, my mom eventually found a spot for the car. The moment I stepped out, I felt weird, excited, as if I had a shred of hope that maybe this year’s summer would be different from the others. As if something was about to happen. Anything.
Spoiler: I was right, as always.
My mom and my grandma went to open the gate of the vacation house. Don’t go imagining some kind of villa: it was old and rundown, something my grandma had inherited. A small two-story building with half-peeled white plaster, windows "decorated" with iron bars in intricate swirls, and a large, ancient wooden door. It was surrounded by a tiny yard with just a couple of flower beds and a lemon tree I used to climb a lot. Once inside, we were greeted by the usual familiar rooms, and we piled our things in a corner of the hallway.
«Listen Nico, go take a walk, will you? Grandma needs to go to church now, and over at my place... erhm... a very dear friend of mine is coming over,» my mom said.
That bitch used my deadname yet again. Nobody uses that name with me anymore, nobody, not even the people who hate me in class. I hate anyone who does it. She can have whatever sex life she wants ( everyone knows she sleeps with any man who gives her a sliver of attention ) but she needs to stay the fuck out of my business. And besides... whatever, I'll tell you what she did to me later, yeah!
With a sigh, I grabbed exactly ten euros, the house keys, my earbuds with the iPod, and threw everything into my usual red Eastpak backpack. Just a three-minute walk and I arrived at the beach club where we always rent our umbrella. I didn't say a word to anyone, even though I spotted a few cousins and uncles in the distance. I didn't even greet the poor bastard of a lifeguard who was opening the beach umbrellas, burning his feet on the boiling sand: I just wasn't in the mood, okay? It was barely past noon and I already wanted to throw myself off a cliff.
I tossed my backpack and flip-flops onto the sand and collapsed onto the sunbed. I was rummaging through my things looking for something to pass the time when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something new.
Holy shit. It felt like the mirage of a miracle.
A man in his forties, taller than average, a bit stocky but clearly muscular. He had a beard and hair the color of copper, almost leaning toward a crimson red, and two eyes that sent a shiver down my spine: ice blue, almost gray, but with strokes of sage green around the pupil. He was wearing a white short-sleeved linen shirt open at the chest, navy blue swim shorts, a Rolex on his wrist, and a gold chain around his neck. If I said he was handsome by traditional standards, I’d be lying, but to me, he was beautiful, almost like a god. There was something about him that drew me in, even if I couldn't quite figure out what it was at that moment.
I stole fleeting glances at him. He looked at me, I looked at him, but I was careful not to get caught staring... or at least I tried. He looked at the deckchair and the sunbed in front of him for a couple of seconds, then gave a slight smirk — imperceptible to anyone watching from the outside, but crystal clear to me since I was a part of it. Without any shame, the man chose to sit right on the deckchair closest to where I was lying.
I hate to admit it, but I blushed hard right then. I felt my face burning and the tips of my fingers tingling. After this brief, subtle battle of hidden looks and gestures, he finally spoke to me:
«Beautiful day today, isn't it?»
«Undoubtedly, sir,» I replied, purposely using a tone that was a bit too formal.
I managed to catch another little smile from him, this time wide enough to show his teeth. One of them was slightly overlapping, a bit crooked, but I don't know why, every single one of his flaws seemed like a quality to be noted down in my mind.
«Would you like to get a drink?» he proposed.
I smiled in a way I'd describe as smooth, nodded, and stood up, running a hand through my wavy hair. Smooth, right? At that moment even I was surprised, maybe euphoric about what was happening to me. I mean... a much older man, exactly like the ones I dreamed of and fantasized about in the pages of my diary, wealthy, and implicitly gay — or at least with a clear preference for guys — was offering to buy me a drink. To me. Me, who had barely had a few flings with people my own age.
«What's your name?» I asked curiously as we started walking.
«Enea,» he answered simply, but with absolute confidence. Then he looked at me, as if returning the question.
«I'm... Rino.»
«A beautiful name for a beautiful boy.»
I laughed genuinely at the compliment, and Enea pulled me closer to him, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I blushed again. We arrived at the beach bar and sat at a table a bit further away from the others. He ordered some kind of alcoholic drink, while I just got a simple cedrata.
While we waited for the orders, we kept chatting about this and that. That was when Enea reached his hand across the table, brushing against my knee, and then slid his fingers up my thigh in a slow caress. I looked at him, startled, holding my breath. Enea burst into a contagious laugh at my confusion.
«I didn't think you were such a good boy,» he said, chuckling. He was about to pull his hand back, but instinctively, I stopped him by placing my palms over his.
«No, wait! I was just... surprised. Your touch is comforting,» I replied, smiling.
Enea then went back to gently caressing my leg, and we returned to talking while drinking our drinks. Before I knew it, it was already 2:00 PM. I caught a casual glimpse of the luxury watch on his wrist, and the moment I realized the time, I jumped in my seat. I had to be home by 2:30 PM for lunch, or my mom would literally murder me.
«Fuck, fuck, fuck! It's so late...»
I hurriedly shoved my feet into my flip-flops and threw my backpack over my shoulder. Enea had a definitely disappointed look on his face.
«Where do you have to go?»
«To lunch with my family...»
«And can't you just say you want to stay at the beach with some friends? We could go grab a bite to eat somewhere around here.»
I sighed, letting him know I would have definitely preferred his option, but that it was totally impossible.
«But will you come back here later?» he asked me.
«How should I know!»
Enea rolled his eyes. To make it up to him, I took a leap of faith: I asked for his number and saved it in my phone. «...If I come down to the beach later, I'll give you a buzz, okay?»
Only then did he seem satisfied. I don't know why, but before turning around, I gave him a kiss on the cheek. His rough beard tickled my lips. He responded with a light tap on the back of my neck.
«Make sure you show up, you brat...»