The Italian Word for Kisses

by Matthew J. Metzger

  “Fucking sick! Knew you’d buggered off for a bugger! Didn’t I say? Didn’t I say he’d gone to fuck!”

  Tav just grinned and let it wash over him. Because he knew Luca, and he knew New Year, and he knew that later, when they were drunker and home, whichever home, Luca would be warm and would let Tav fuck him anyway, no matter how bitchy he was being.

  So he accepted Jan’s high-five, and just smiled.

  * * * *

  Only later…

  Later—that later when the fireworks were gone, and it was dark and cold, and the supply of kicked-about lager cans was running low—that later, Tav turned and realised the treeline was looming dark and imposing against the grass…

  Luca had never come out of the trees.

  It was something like two in the morning, and Luca had never come out of the fucking trees.

  Chapter 15: “I’m not having some sicko perv on me again.”

  Luca’s head jerked up, and his fingers froze momentarily on the button of his jeans. Then he relaxed when a shadow solidified in the darkness, and Jack’s tense face materialised, luminously white when a firework exploded overhead and showered the trees with glittering light.

  “Oh,” Luca said. “It’s you.”

  Jack’s face was twisted in an expression Luca couldn’t read, and his voice a low, cold rasp.

  “I saw the two of you.”

  “Yeah, well, shouldn’t sneak around in the trees,” Luca said tartly, dropping his coat back over the front of his jeans and shoving his hands in his pockets. “S’what the bushes are for, you know?”

  “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “So explain,” Luca demanded.

  “It’s fucking sick. You and him and everyone like you, it’s fucking sick.”

  “Oh for God’s sake,” Luca muttered. He was cold, his mouth still buzzing from Tav’s attention, and the fuzzy edges of alcohol were eroding what remained of his tolerance for this bullshit. “What do you want, Jack? I get it, you’re homophobic, but it’s not like―”

  “You fucking know what I want!”

  The shout was explosive, and Luca flinched. So hard that his back hit the tree, and he didn’t realise he’d moved until it did. Then he scowled, affronted at being put on the back foot.

  “I think I missed it, somewhere between you giving me the kiss of―”

  “Shut your fucking mouth!”

  Luca shut it, and eyed Jack warily. Jack had both hands in his pockets, but his jacket was a thick waterproof puffer-thing, and it was rustling faintly. He was shaking. And Luca suspected it wasn’t cold.

  “It’s sick,” Jack whispered again, and sparklers crackled beyond the trees. “It’s fucking sick and I’m not putting up with it any longer.”

  “It’s not yours to put up with,” Luca retorted.

  “You fucking come to Pond’s Forge and fucking perv on us all there, that’s what your lot do, you’re fucking perverts and you―”

  “You what? I’ve never eyed up anyone at swimming.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” Jack hissed, and Luca started to edge around the tree, meaning to get back to the grass and the others. Something wasn’t right. Jack was just standing and shaking, hands in his pockets and completely stuck in place. Something was off. This wasn’t how Jack argued.

  “I’m not―”

  “Leave swimming.”

  “What? No!”

  “Leave it.” There was a high edge to Jack’s voice, something thin and teetering on an edge. Something almost pleading. Luca’s gut twisted to hear it, even as his stomach burned with a thick streak of anger. Who the hell was Jack to tell him what to do anyway?

  “No,” he repeated.

  “You fucking leave, Luca.” Hearing Jack actually say his name was a shock. “You fucking leave, or I’ll fucking make you. I’m not doing it again. I’m not having some sicko perv on me again.”

  “Again?” Luca echoed, trying to pitch his voice low. Like Paolo did when he was coaxing an answer out of Angelo in a snit.

  “I’m not doing it,” Jack continued, like he’d not heard Luca. “So you can fuck off and be a bender with your boyfriend all you fucking like, but you don’t come to swimming and you don’t come near me at school. I’m not doing it again. I’m not.”

  The pieces were falling into place, and Luca didn’t like them. Bigotry was one thing. Jack was an easy kid to hate, after things he’d said. But this was something else. This was something big—huge—and Luca didn’t like what he was hearing. At all. He didn’t want to pity Jack. He didn’t want to think there was anything there to pity at all.

  But the pieces were slotting together, and loathe as he was to admit it, Luca knew he was hearing something that couldn’t quite be ignored.

  “If you don’t want me to talk to you at school,” Luca said slowly, “then fine. But I’m not quitting swimming, Jack.”

  “I’m not asking.”

  “Well, I’m not doing.” Luca bit his lip when his voice came out too harsh, then he swallowed and strove for Paolo’s tone again. “Look, Jack, I’m not perving on you or anything. I have a boyfriend.”

  “Like that fucking means anything to you faggots.”

  Luca clenched his fists and ground out the words through gritted teeth. “I’m not interested in you. You don’t goggle every single girl in the world either, right? I don’t―”

  “Don’t fucking compare yourself to me. I’m not fucked up like you.”

  Luca was quick enough and smart enough to keep the snort from escaping.

  “You stay away from swimming when it starts again. You don’t come anymore. You quit, you understand me? You quit or else. I’m not going through that again. I’m not letting some sick queer run me out again.”

  Luca—very unwisely—asked. “Or else what?”

  Jack moved like lightning. Something flashed, and it wasn’t a firework. In a moment, Jack’s breath was hot on Luca’s face, his knuckles warm against the side of Luca’s neck, and—a thin, cold strip of metal was rising and falling gently on Luca’s jugular, in time with the sudden tattoo of his heart. Luca’s guts dissolved. The trees dimmed and brightened in a panicked heartbeat. His mouth was dry.

  He swallowed, eyes down as though he could glimpse the knife, and felt it bob lightly against his throat.

  “Else I’ll make you.” Jack’s hand was shaking against Luca’s skin. His voice was reedy. “I’ll fucking make you, Luca. Don’t make me do that.”

  In the dim, fluctuating light from the fireworks display, Jack’s eyes were so wide Luca could see the whites all around. They were both breathing too hard, clouds of vapour rising between their faces. Luca’s heart was racing. His lungs felt tight, like taking the dive a little too long.

  “Quit swimming,” Jack breathed. The shaking was getting harder. The metal was grazing Luca’s neck. “Fucking quit. Fucking walk away, take your b- take your friend, and walk away, and nothing has to happen.”

  “Nothing has to happen,” Luca echoed, and licked his lips. “Jack. Jack, c’mon. This is…this is stupid.”

  “Fucking quit!”

  The metal dug in harder.

  “I’ll do it.” Jack’s voice was a whisper. The knife was almost flinching. It was small, Luca estimated. A flick-knife, or a Swiss army job. And Jack’s arm was lax. He wasn’t pressing hard, but…but Luca would have to be careful, so fucking careful. It was sharp, not dull. He could feel it nicking where Jack was twitching. “Say you’ll quit.”

  “What’ve I done?” Luca asked desperately. “What’d I do?”

  “You’re all the same,” Jack rambled. “You’re all the same, you’re all like him, all of you, and I’m not going through that again, I’m not letting nobody perv on me or touch me up, least of all some fucking dirty wop and his arsehole of a b―of a fuck-buddy, so you say you’ll quit, you stay the fuck out of my life and away from me, and―”

  Luca kicked him.

  It was an instinctive, sharp motion, and a serious blow to an
y sense of fair play, but his heart was in his throat somewhere and the fireworks sounded like they were in his own head, he was so hypersensitive. So he kicked Jack, slamming his knee up as harsh as he could, and driving his kneecap straight into Jack’s balls.

  Jack roared. The metal flashed; Luca ducked, and bolted. His neck tingled. His knee smarted from the force of the blow, and some part of his brain dulled and detached through sheer terror recoiled at the idea of actually kicking another guy in the bollocks, because that was seriously low, and—

  And he ran. Bolted right out of the trees, stumbling over roots and furrows in the dirt, scratching his hands on trees as he fought to catch himself and keep going, and the minute the ground gave way to the smooth roll of grass, ran.

  He tore for the safety of the fireworks and drunken laughter, and didn’t dare look back.

  * * * *

  “Tav, come on.”

  Tav frowned. Luca definitely wasn’t here. He should be with Tav, really, but when he wasn’t, he was usually with Aaron or David or—urgh—Samantha Marks. Only…only Aaron and David were hovering beyond Jan’s silhouette in the gloom, and Luca’s curly head wasn’t part of the cluster.

  Tav frowned harder. “Where’s Luca?”

  “Dunno,” Jan said. “You lost him?”

  “Yeah,” Tav said slowly. He licked his lips. “Aaron! Az, where’s Luca?”

  “I dunno,” Aaron yelled back. “C’mon, I’m fucking cold!”

  Tav fumbled in his pockets. Phone, phone, where was his phone. Ah.

  “Tav, move.”

  “Gotta find Luca,” he said with single-minded doggedness around the haze in his brain. He felt vaguely dizzy, and stumbled when Jan yanked on his arm. “Lay off, you twat! Gotta find Luca first. Can’t go ‘ome without Luca, he’s coming over…”

  “I do not wanna know,” Jan said tartly.

  “Not like that.” His gloves made it difficult to text, and the result—even to Tav’s wavering gaze—wasn’t great. Were u @? “He was here earlier.”

  “So he’s buggered off, I don’t blame him. My fucking nuts are crawling up into my guts.”

  “David! David, you seen Luca?” Tav yelled.

  “I’m gonna turn into a girl,” Jan complained.

  “Call him, you tit, and let’s go!”

  “I’m gonna be Jenny. Everyone! I’m Jenny now, yeah? My fucking bollocks are falling off so I’m Jenny now. Janny. Tranny Janny!”

  Tav stumbled along the grass towards the fence and the road under Jan’s power, the dark ground swaying under his feet. He was trying to focus on his phone, but Luca’s seemed to be engaged, and he wasn’t answering the texts. Well, duh. If he was on the phone, then…

  “Oi! Luca! Get your Tav to shurrup!”

  Tav jerked his head up, and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. There he was. Leaning against the fence, right under the streetlight. Big black eyes and red from the cold, just the way Tav’d left him.

  “Gotcha,” Tav said triumphantly, lunging and catching at Luca’s wrist. Luca was holding his phone, glowing brightly in the night, and Tav shook the captured hand like a dead sparrow. “What’s that for?”

  “I was trying to call Antonio,” Luca said. His eyes were wide and dark, and they slid past Tav to the other boys.

  “Why?”

  “Wanted him to come and pick me up,” Luca mumbled, still staring off. Tav frowned.

  “Nooo,” he insisted. “I’m picking you up.”

  Luca’s smile was thin and small, and not the one Tav wanted. He squeezed Luca’s wrist again hopefully, and when Luca kept staring at the park gates, crowded him and dropped his arm to slide his gloved hands around Luca’s coat-padded waist.

  “Oi! Clingy.”

  “Hey, poufters, get a burst on!”

  Luca’s cheek was cold against Tav’s mouth, and the smile that creased it weak and fleeting. He nudged his nose against Tav’s face, and fingers briefly touched the back of Tav’s hair, but then Jan was bellowing their names and Luca was sliding free again.

  “C’mon,” he said. His voice was quiet, and when his eyes flicked back towards the fencing again, Tav tightened his grip.

  “S’matter?”

  “Nothing. C’mon, we’ll be left behind.”

  “You’re acting funny.”

  “C’mon, Tav…”

  “What’s wrong?” Tav insisted. Something was. Luca liked kisses. He always liked them. He’d liked them earlier, and he should be liking them now. Instead he was pulling on Tav’s hands and trying to follow the others down the road. “Luca? What’s up?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Tav slung an arm heavily over Luca’s shoulders; they both staggered, but then Luca’s fingers closed around his hand and it was okay again. Ish. As okay as post-kiss-rejection got. “I’m sorry?” Tav tried. Had he done something? Should he have found Luca earlier? Had Luca been waiting for him?

  “What for?”

  “Um.” Tav tried to focus on the shadows of the boys ahead. “Whatever’s upset you.” There. That’d do it.

  Luca’s laugh was reedy, but he did laugh, and angry Luca never laughed. Angry Luca was like…like Mamma Alessandra with PMS and a switchblade. Or something. Yeah? “You’ve not upset me, Tav.”

  “Good,” Tav said, and ducked his head to nudge Luca’s chin and neck with his hair. “Missed you. Where’d you go? Why’d you call Antonio? We were gonna go to mine.”

  “It’s nothing…”

  “We can go to yours if you like.”

  Luca’s arm slid around Tav’s waist and squeezed, and Tav tightened his own arm in a hug. They were weaving a little, but so were the silhouettes ahead, so it was okay. Maybe Luca wasn’t mad anymore?

  He didn’t seem mad. He kept glancing back along the road, like he’d forgotten something, and he nagged if Tav tried to slow down and grope him, but he wasn’t angry, like. Luca didn’t do bitchy angry like a girl, he did…he did crazy mental angry. Tav thought it was an Italian thing. Or a postman thing? Did postmen get mega-mad? Had Mr. Jensen taught Luca to get super mad?

  “Luca?”

  “What?”

  “Luca, wait.” Tav tugged him to a halt under a streetlight. The orange glow made a halo on the floor, and he pulled Luca into the middle of it. The others had stopped on the corner, jeering at David for trying to turn off and head home without finishing his can of lager, and Tav crowded Luca into the lamppost whilst they were busy. “Wait,” he said, hands at Luca’s waist again. “Wait.”

  “Why?”

  Tav wasn’t sure why, but it was important to pause for a moment. He frowned at Luca’s face. Behind the alcohol haze and the bleary, dizzy feeling, something was nagging at him. Something was still up with Luca. He was still wide-eyed and his fingers were clenched on Tav’s jacket. He kept looking back up the road, towards the park. And when he licked his lips…

  See, Luca licked his lips when he was being all sexy and tempting, or when he was eating. And there was no food. And Tav hadn’t drunk that much to mistake the glances up the street for Luca’s ‘fuck-me’ face.

  Tav pressed his gloved thumb to Luca’s chin and tugged that caught bottom lip free. “Luc?”

  “What?” Luca whispered, still staring up the road. Tav glanced, but there was nothing there.

  “What’s happened?”

  Luca flinched, and Tav frowned, trying to force the alcohol away. Sober up already. Something had happened to Luca, and Tav couldn’t think straight. He rested the heel of his hand against Luca’s jaw and rubbed the thumb up one of those diamond-cutting cheekbones. Luca’s eyes were blacker than the night sky, and his skin yellowish-white in the sickly glow of the streetlight. He was breathing too hard, clouds of vapour rising between them, and his mouth was tight and thin.

  And Tav just couldn’t read him.

  “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

  Luca shook his head. “It’s―”

  “It’s not nothing,” Tav interrupted quietly, still stroking hi
s face. “Something’s…you’re all shook up.”

  Scared. The word sparked in the back of Tav’s head like a lightbulb popping after a power cut, and he blinked.

  “What happened?”

  Luca blinked, a tiny crease appearing between his eyebrows when Tav’s voice dropped. “Tav…”

  “Tell me,” Tav insisted. “Where’d you go? You disappeared for ages, and now you’re all twitchy and not right, and—tell me, babe.”

  The endearment slipped out without his permission, and Luca’s distance seemed to close for a split second. His face softened, and suddenly he was gripping the lapels of Tav’s jacket in both white, bare fists. He came a little closer, and Tav hooked his free arm around Luca’s back to keep him there. Close. It was okay if Luca was close.

  “I’ll tell you when we get home,” Luca said. “Yours. Yeah?”

  “You promise?”

  “Yeah,” Luca said. “Promise. Let’s just go? It’s cold out here and…”

  It wasn’t the cold. “Luca? S’okay.” It was. Tav would make sure it was. “S’just you and me and the lads.” They were still whooping, though further away now, and Luca started to pull in their direction.

  “Well, let’s catch up to them, then.”

  Tav caught Luca’s hand, and stuffed it into his pocket. Luca’s smile was almost real, and Tav squeezed his fingers in the warm, confined space.

  “See?” he said. “S’okay.”

  “Well, c’mon, hero.”

  “You two stopped necking!”

  “Fuck off, Jan, just ‘cause nobody wants to neck wi’ you!” Tav yelled back as they loped towards the group. Luca’s hand was relaxing in his. Whatever had happened—and Tav was starting to be able to think—wasn’t going to happen here. He’d got really twitchy when they fell behind. It was something else. Someone else?

  He kept Luca’s hand captive in his pocket for the meandering walk home, and the longer they were surrounded by the noise and Jan’s teasing, the more Luca seemed to relax. As the group dwindled, though—Daniel peeling off next, then Jan himself, then finally Aaron at the main junction—the edginess returned, and when it was just them, Luca started to pull on Tav’s wrist again.