The Italian Word for Kisses

by Matthew J. Metzger

  “Tav! Tav, ca―”

  “What did he do?” Tav demanded urgently. “Luca! Tell me exactly what he fucking did!”

  Luca grabbed his shoulders in return. “He waved it around!” he said, desperate to get a grip before Tav went beyond worried and into explosively angry. “He didn’t use it, Tav, he just waved it around.” That phantom sensation of the blade across his throat prickled into being, but Luca knew better than to tell Tav about that. “He was just sounding off and―”

  “Just sounding off! He had a knife! Shit-fuck-Christ—Luca, you have to tell someone. Your dad, Antonio, the police, someone.”

  Luca rolled his eyes. “Tav…”

  “No, listen to me, if Jack had a knife, if he pointed a knife at you…”

  “He didn’t. Tav, listen!” Luca barked, and seized Tav’s head in both hands, pressing their foreheads together. Tav’s hands twitched convulsively at his shoulders, but he didn’t push back. “Listen. Listen to me. He was spouting off and waving it around, but he was shaking really badly. You know? Like a kid who’s never held a weapon before. He wasn’t capable of using it, he wasn’t, and he just…he wasn’t able, even if he had tried.”

  “Then why the hell were you jumping at shadows?” Tav’s voice was hoarse, and the tone of it made Luca’s heart ache.

  “Because I was drunk,” he whispered. “I was drunk, cold, and on my own. Of course it rattled me then, I wasn’t in my own head. But I am sober now, and I’m with you, and there’s nothing to be fucking afraid of. The guy is sounding off, that’s all. I’ll just be more careful if I’m around him. It’s not like I’m ever around him on my own, is it? He can hardly stab me in the middle of swimming practice.”

  Tav licked his lips. Luca kissed them instead, soft and appealing.

  “C’mon, Tav, relax. Don’t let Jack get to you.”

  “Get to me? He’s threatened you with a knife. Luca…tell someone.”

  “He’s just being a bigger dick than usual because he saw us. And he was probably drunk, too. It’s okay. Tav, it is, it’s okay. I’m not letting him wreck my plans today, and neither are you.”

  Tav huffed, and slid closer, catching Luca in an awkward hug. Luca was pressed into the wall, but returned it anyway, pushing his nose against Tav’s hair.

  “It’s okay,” he repeated quietly.

  “What…what are your plans for today?”

  “Aaron was planning on a rehearsal this afternoon. Community centre if he can snag the keys, his house if not.”

  He felt Tav swallow, and then he was being kissed so cautiously that it almost wasn’t happening at all. “I’m coming, too,” Tav whispered. “I—you can’t go off on your own, Luca. Not after that. He knows where you live, he knows where you go…you just can’t, okay?”

  Luca mentally weighed up the odds of arguing versus how annoying it would be to be tailed everywhere. He decided, on balance, that refusing would drive Tav straight to telling everyone within a three mile radius what had happened, and then Luca’s entire family would, like, implode. And he didn’t want them fussing and worrying, especially Mamma. So…

  “Okay.”

  * * * *

  Tav sat in an armchair in the corner of Aaron’s living room, watching but not seeing the two-man rehearsal, his brain too busy to even sit up and scowl when the kiss scene happened. It was churning Luca’s revelation over and over in his head, stalling every time it remembered Luca saying ‘knife.’

  It made Tav feel sick just thinking about it. Luca could have been stabbed in the trees, not a hundred feet away, and Tav would never have known. Luca must have loitered by the gates for well over an hour, from what he’d said, and Jack could have followed him there, or followed him home if Luca had decided to leave. And all the fireworks and noise and drink…nobody would have heard a thing. Luca could have died, been fucking murdered, and nobody would have heard a thing.

  It left Tav with a nagging fear in his gut, and a steely determination rising in his chest. He’d have to work on Luca telling someone, chip away at that stupid fucking pride, but there was other stuff Tav could do in the meantime. Not leave Luca alone, for one. Jack was a fucking retard, but he wasn’t a good fighter, knife or no knife, and he might be able to get lucky with Luca, but he’d not be able to handle both of them.

  And—Luca would kill him—but Tav tugged at the idea anyway…he could tell some of their mates, right? Aaron and David would rally, and Daniel and Jan, even if Luca would grumble about them. Okay, maybe Jan wouldn’t step up, but Daniel would. And Tav kind of wanted Aaron to know, because Tav couldn’t start going to swimming with Luca, Coach Cooper wouldn’t allow it…

  He started when Luca suddenly settled on his lap, heavy and warm, and looped an arm automatically over his knees.

  “Aaron’s gone to the toilet,” he said when Tav frowned, and tilted his head. “You okay? You haven’t growled or anything.”

  “M’fine.”

  “Tav.”

  “I am,” Tav insisted. “Just thinking about what you told me earlier.”

  Luca kissed his ear. “Don’t.”

  “I’m serious, Luc. You can’t go places on your own. Not with that psycho armed.”

  “Then you’ll come with me,” Luca said easily, and kissed his temple. “I don’t mind if you wanna get all leechy for a bit.”

  Tav snorted. So did Aaron when he came back into the room, swatting at Luca’s head.

  “Stop gaying up my living room.”

  “Oh, do I have to save the gaying up for the play?”

  “Ew, don’t get queer on me.”

  “Gonna tuuuurn you!” Luca sang as he got back up off Tav’s lap, cool air rushing in to take his place, and Tav swallowed at the contrary, idiotic fucking brilliance of him.

  And his heart hardened in response. Nobody—no fucker with no fucking knife—was going to take Luca away from him.

  Because if Luca wasn’t going to handle it, then Tav fucking well would.

  Chapter 17: “Collins at six o’clock.”

  Tav knew he was going to get in all sorts of shit for this. But he didn’t care. Jack Collins was going to fucking stop, today, or Tav was gonna fuck him up for good.

  And fuck what Luca said about it.

  Thing was…Luca wasn’t dealing with this. Jack was still fucking hanging around, so of course Luca wasn’t dealing with it. And if Luca wasn’t gonna, then Tav was gonna bury the body.

  Fucking flick-knife and all.

  Luca wasn’t stupid, though, and when Tav tried to peel away from him and Aaron at the lockers, his elbow was suddenly caught in a hard grip. “Don’t do something fucking stupid,” Luca said harshly.

  “I’m not,” Tav retorted, and leaned in. “I’m going to do what you should do,” he hissed lowly, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aaron frown.

  “What, beat the shit out of him? Leave it, Tav.”

  Tav shook him off. “Won’t harm a fucking hair on his head,” he sneered, and Luca’s lips thinned. Oops. He was probably gonna get in, like…mega trouble for that later. It didn’t sway him, though, and he resolutely squared his shoulders and stalked off. Luca’s hand released with a scraping sensation, and Tav knew he was so totally fucked—or rather, not going to get fucked in about six bloody months—for this, but…

  A knife. A fucking knife.

  Punching him so hard he’d swallow his own teeth didn’t mean any of his hair would be hurt, and that was all Tav had fucking promised.

  The look on Tav’s face kept the other kids out of his way—even a teacher eyed him and edged around him rather than ask what he was up to—but Jack wasn’t by his locker. And he wasn’t at his tutor group’s classroom either, but Tav was determined, so he stalked out to the bike sheds, despite the impending bell. He knew the kid rode a bike. Probably had showed up late, ‘cause Jack must know Tav was going to fucking murder him when he found out, right? And Tav knew, too, that the bike sheds had chains and locks you could fucking hang a guy with, and―r />
  Sure enough, Jack looked up from locking his bike to the frame. Tav felt his own lip twisting up into a vicious snarl. “You,” he said.

  “Figures,” Jack retorted, sneering equally hard. He rose up, fists clenched at his sides, and Tav snorted.

  “Not gonna stab me, then?”

  “Knew he’d tell you.”

  “He should be telling the fucking police!” Tav exploded, seething. He was breathing too hard. “I should fucking rip your fucking head off your fucking shoulders!”

  “And get expelled, after last time you attacked me―”

  “You called my boyfriend a wop and you expect―”

  “Aspinall expects.”

  “Arsin’-All can kiss my arse,” Tav growled, and seized Jack by the jacket. “Listen, you little fuck, if you so much as fucking look at―”

  “Get off me,” Jack snapped, and shoved Tav away. There was none of the uneasy surprise by which Tav had caught him last time, and the strike was hard. He was ready for Tav, this time. “That’s the point, idiot. I don’t want to ever see your boyfriend again.”

  He said boyfriend the way other people mentioned live, wriggling maggots.

  “Funny how you and I are on the same page, then,” Tav spat, “‘cause I don’t want you to see my boyfriend again either.”

  Jack’s face twitched at the word, and Tav shoved him hard in the chest, lashing out on impulse and sending him staggering backwards into a cluster of bikes.

  “Fine,” Jack said, to Tav’s surprise. “Beat me up, or whatever it is you usually fucking do, twat.” Tav jerked forward, and Jack scoffed. “Not like I’ve never been beaten up before, Pretty-boy―”

  “Tavistock.”

  “―but where’ll it get you? You expelled, and me in this dump with your boyfriend. Who’s apparently too much of a fucking pussy to do his own dirty work. So how about you beat me up, get kicked out, and then I’ll sort out my fucking problem with your fucking boyfriend without you around to fight his battles, yeah? How’s that?”

  Tav clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth sparked in pain and made a grinding sound.

  “See, Pretty, I don’t fucking care if they send me to fucking juvie, or any of the rest of it—I won’t have it again, I won’t have some fucking perv―”

  “You’re the one who keeps seeking him out.”

  Jack made a noise like an angry dog; Tav twitched with the urge to hit him, but…but…

  Fuck, but Jack was right. Tav would be expelled. He knew it—that fucking wanker Arsehole had it out for him, and Tav would get proper kicked out, and that’d be Luca left with this nutjob in school without Tav around. And Luca was being so fucking stupid about this, not dealing with it proper like, that Tav couldn’t trust him to actually be fucking sensible and report the fucker, or beat him up so bad Jack wouldn’t come back.

  So—even as every instinct screamed at him to just bury his fucking arm up to the elbow in Jack’s sneering, ugly, carved-up-potato of a face—Tav stepped back.

  “Good boy,” Jack snarled.

  “Don’t push your fucking luck,” Tav spat. “I catch sight of you outside this fucking school, I’ll kill you. You understand me? You come near me, you come near Luca, I’ll murder you.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Yeah, for real, you little bastard,” Tav hissed. “You only get to pull that kind of a stunt once, Collins. I ever hear anything else, I ever see anything again, and fuck expulsion. And I’ll pick that fight in front of the whole school and tell everyone what you fucking did at the park.”

  “Just keep your fucktoy away from me, and I won’t need to use it, will I?”

  Tav fisted both hands, twisted, and landed a punch so hard into the wall of the bike shed that the plywood splintered, his knuckles split, and the bolt on the other side popped out of the cracked wood and clattered to the concrete.

  “Next time,” he said, in the lowest, calmest voice he could muster when everything below the elbow hurt and there was a red tinge to his vision, “that’s your fucking face.”

  He stormed out, slammed the door to the shed behind him, and mentally swore off lessons.

  Instead—without bothering to go in and change, without thinking about what it’d look like and how much trouble he’d get in anyway—he headed out to the playing fields and the athletics track and broke into a sprint.

  If he couldn’t punch Jack Collins’ teeth down his throat, then he’d run himself out—or kill another kid in passing.

  * * * *

  “Collins at six o’clock.”

  That was all the warning Luca got before a hand slammed down on his shoulder and he was roughly shoved into the lockers, the metal digging uncomfortably into his back.

  “Hey!” Aaron objected loudly. “What’s your fucking problem, Jack?”

  Jack’s face was red, and he removed his hand as hastily as it had landed, wiping it off on his trousers like Luca was covered in mould.

  “You keep your dog on a lead.”

  “I haven’t got a dog,” Luca blurted out, sheer confusion pushing the inane reply past his teeth. His brain was reeling. Why the hell was Jack approaching him? Hadn’t the whole thing been about Luca not going near him? Why did Jack keep coming over, seriously, what was his problem?

  “Your Tav.”

  “Oh,” Luca said, and frowned. “What’s―”

  “You fucking told him some shit about me in the park, and he attacked me in the sheds.”

  “Some—some shit in the park?” Luca echoed. “You threatened to fucking knife me!”

  He hadn’t meant to say it, but…but then it was out there, the words ringing in the busy corridors between first and second period, and Aaron was suddenly right at Luca’s shoulder where he’d been hovering off to the side before. Jack’s face went grey, and Luca’s stomach swooped.

  “Liar.”

  “I’m not lying,” Luca said hollowly. “You threatened to stab me with your pissing little flick-knife thing. So yeah, Tav went a bit nuts, what the fuck d’you expect?”

  “You’re lying.” Jack’s voice was very thin and reedy, wavering on the edge of something, and Luca slowly shook his head.

  “What’s your problem with me?” he breathed. “Just what the hell is your―”

  “Luca,” Aaron said lowly.

  “―problem, eh? You keep fucking following me around and then throwing a fit when―”

  “I’ve told you,” Jack spat. “Swimming. You need to fucking get out of swimming, or―”

  “Luca, c’mon, let’s go,” Aaron said quietly, his fingers closing around Luca’s elbow. Luca felt too irritable though, and shook him off.

  “I’m not quitting swimming because you’re a homophobic twat.”

  “I’m not having you perv on me―”

  “Okay, firstly, no. Just no. No way, in hell, ever,” Luca said in a very deliberate tone. “You are seriously not my type—Jack, get with the program, I am not magically wired to want to fuck anything with a penis. That’s not actually how this works, I have to actually fancy you first, and wow do I not fancy you. Remotely. I would rather fuck Aaron.”

  “Hey!”

  “And secondly, if you freak out this much about having a gay kid on the swim team, maybe you should quit the team. Problem solved.”

  “And have a faggot chase me out of what I’m good at? I don’t think so.”

  “Call me that again,” Luca promised, swallowing against a red-hot burn in his throat, “and I swear to God I am going to hit you.”

  “Yeah, your boyfriend swore, too, just now. Only he’d get expelled—what about you?”

  “Me? Oh, I’m harder to get rid of, shit-for-brains. I ain’t never been suspended before. So I hit you, we won’t even get to Aspinall—we’ll just be in detention together, with Miss Lacey, doing lines, and then I’ll hit you again. You and me in a room all alone with a teacher so blind she might as well be dead. How’s that sound? You gonna call me that again?”

  “I’ll
call you whatever you fucking are, Jensen, and that’s a faggot. You’re all the same, queers, and I am not having another perv touching me up, I’m not―”

  “What?” Aaron said.

  Jack seemed to realise he’d said too much then, his jaw audibly clicking shut, and then his foul breath was on Luca’s face, he was so close.

  “If you show at swimming—if you fucking dare—then I’ll kill you,” he swore, and Luca’s blood ran cold at the pure promise in his voice. He was beyond angry, he was downright dangerous, and Luca’s brain seized on the things Jack had said in the woods, the things he’d spilled just now.

  Oh, fuck.

  “I will fucking kill you, Jensen. So stay the fuck away, or you’re fucking dead. And that fucking dog of a boyfriend of yours, too.”

  Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck. Jack wasn’t just a bully, he was fucked up. Like proper fucked up, something bad this way comes fucked up.

  “Luca? Luc!”

  Luca jumped when Aaron shook him, and blinked. Jack was gone, the corridor emptying of the circle that had gathered round to watch, and Luca shook his head to clear it. “Paper,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Have you got a bit of paper?”

  “Yeah, yeah—did he really? Threaten you with a knife?”

  “Yeah. Pen?”

  “Luca! What the fuck—you should be telling the cops! The head! Your parents!”

  “What, my family? Fuck me, Aaron, Antonio would commit murder.”

  “And Jack doing it is any better? Did he have a knife?”

  Luca hummed vaguely, scribbling frantically.

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  “Did you listen to him?”

  “Uh, yeah, that’s why you ought to be freaking out just a little bit here, Luc.”

  “Yeah, but Aaron, he’s not just—just some fucking twat, there’s―”

  “Er, yes-he-fucking-is!”

  “Did you hear him? Mate, someone’s—someone’s fucked him up. Like. Bad.”

  “So? He threatened to stab you! And he actually had a knife, right?”