Griffith’s chest moved next to his sharply, but he remained motionless and held on to Mark’s hands, still looking into his eyes with those rosy lips open. He swallowed and blinked, briefly casting a shadow on his cheeks with the lovely pale lashes. “I... I could show you,” he said softly.
Mark let go of Griff and stepped closer to the silk, watching Griffith for clues. Would he miss the touch? Was he as into it as Mark was? “Please.”
For a moment, Griffith stood still, as if he wasn’t sure how to move without his lead, but then followed Mark and stood on the other side of the fabric, his eyes gleaming with vulnerability. “Um... try to pull yourself up first. So that you can understand how this works in your hands.”
Mark grabbed the silks and pulled to check how stable they were, but his focus was on getting closer to Griff, not on actually learning acrobatics. “Am I holding it correctly?”
Griffith licked his lips, his gaze somewhat unfocused as it trailed off to Mark’s bare chest. “Yes. You’re strong. You’ll be great at it once you understand the basics.”
“Ah, that’s what you’re doing. Getting me hooked so that I come over all the time to do your dishes. I get it.” Mark wagged his finger at Griff.
Griffith took a deep breath, but after a moment’s hesitation, didn’t back out. “I accept varying forms of payment for my lessons.”
Mark let out a little whistle. So the boy did have some fire in him. Then again, Mark could have expected that much after seeing him dance with so much raw emotion. “Assassination, blackmail, and extortion are my specialties.” He grinned as if there wasn’t even a grain of truth in that.
Griffith laughed. “Is this how you lo—” He went silent, covering his mouth. Any traces of a smile were gone. “I’m sorry.”
“How I what? Got my horse? Pretty much. A man had to die for me to get Guerrero.” Mark wiggled his eyebrows. Was it really that bad to disclose the truth if it hid behind a joke?
Griffith stroked his own arm, visibly uncomfortable. “No. I just heard that many people asked you about your eye tonight.”
Mark’s shoulders slumped, and his grip on the fabric became looser. “Oh. Yeah, makes sense that people are curious, I guess.”
Griffith chewed on his lip. “I shouldn't have said anything. I’m really sorry.”
Mark shook his head. “No, it’s fine. But I would prefer you kept it to yourself, okay?” His heart began beating faster at their proximity, at how sweet Griff was to him even though Mark hardly deserved any kindness.
Griffith nodded, his attention completely focused on Mark’s face. “Of course.”
“I was in the woods with this guy I used to know, and he threatened my family. From one word to another, we started arguing, and he smashed his flashlight into the side of my head. He hit me over and over until my dad chased him away. I thought I was gonna die, so I guess losing an eye’s no big deal in comparison, right?” He forced a laugh but couldn’t bear to look up at Griff. Why had he told him this? The story sounded pathetic when said out loud, and he was already regretting he voiced it.
Griffith drew in a lungful of air, but only hesitated a second before stepping forward. His arms went around Mark, holding him tightly as if Griffith thought Mark needed a shoulder to cry on. He didn’t. He’d been through shit so much worse than this.
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Mark.”
And yet, Mark put his arms around Griffith, wishing to drown in his softness. “It’s okay, really,” he whispered, unnerved by how easy it was to talk to this boy he’d otherwise consider silly or weak.
Just last year, if Mark had come across Griffith, he would have pursued him relentlessly until Griff gave in, and he’d have most likely broken Griff’s heart when the next pretty thing caught his eye. He wouldn’t have taken his time to get to know Griff, nor would he have hesitated about targeting someone so innocent.
Had he been in Mark’s way in different circumstances he would have been an easy mark to remove.
Just thinking about it made Mark recoil, and he pulled out of the embrace. What was he doing here? He had no right to put his dirty hands on someone so pure. With Charlotte, he at least had a past, but Griffith? The perfect little porcelain dancer on the cusp of adulthood was not meant for a guy like Mark.
Griffith deserved to meet a normal person who could make him happy. There were plenty of suitable matches at his university or dance classes. He needed someone he’d go out with for lattes, and who he’d watch Netflix with under a blanket. Griff would introduce that man to his parents, and even if it were to cause a bump on the road, they’d accept Griff’s choice, because he was their dear son.
Just like the lovely Chris, Charlotte’s fiancé, was so much better for her than Mark could have ever been.
Griffith stroked the silk with the back of his hand, and it almost felt like he’d touched Mark instead. “Would you like some tea? Hot chocolate?” he proposed softly, as if warm drinks were the solution to the kind of evil Mark used to participate in. Their worlds could only mesh briefly, because without honesty, a true connection couldn’t be made.
A man like him had no place at Griffith’s side, and if Charlotte knew what he’d done tonight already, she’d have been right to scream at him. If Griff were his brother, he wouldn’t let a man like himself anywhere near him.
He quickly put on the turtleneck and collected the fake gun. “No, I’ll be going. Sorry I didn’t finish with the trash, but I’m just really tired.”
Griffith stepped closer. “Sure. I mean... you’ve already made my night. Tell me when you want to see that dance.”
Mark forced a smile to his face. “I’ll be using my balcony seat next Sunday, so I expect a superb performance.” That was better. No need to get sappy over bullshit or reveal too much. Domenico would have probably scolded him over what he’d said already.
Griffith swallowed, his pale eyes so full of hope Mark could barely stand it. “Will you be out of town then?”
“I’ve got classes and stuff. But I’m sure I’ll see you around, right? You can help me work out how to sort the trash, because it’s so convoluted. Like, the black one’s for paper, but also for glass, but then they sort them into two black boxes—” He was babbling bullshit like a teenager.
It was time to go.
He raised his hand for goodbye and walked off, pretending he didn’t see the disappointment on Griff’s face. The fact that Griffith clearly wanted him wasn’t helping Mark at all.
Chapter 8 - Griffith
Griffith’s mind raced when he shut the door behind Mark. He listened to the hurried sound of footsteps in the staircase while his hands were still warm from the touch of Mark’s fingers. When the echo became only a memory, and the door downstairs shut, Griffith ran barefoot across the flat, straight to the dance room, which provided the best view on Mark’s place. Without thinking, he switched off the light and approached the silks, hoping they were still holding a bit of Mark’s warmth. But no, the fabric was cold as if Griffith had only dreamt the breathless dance and the awe in Mark’s gaze.
The moment when they had stood close, holding each other as they seamlessly glided across the floor, another kiss seemed inevitable. But it hadn’t happened, and Griffith was left with the memory of Mark’s weight on top of him, his tongue caressing the sensitive inside of Griffith’s mouth until Griff’s mind was no longer his and gained a life of its own.
He held his breath when the light in Mark’s kitchen came on, illuminating Mark as he took off the holster of the fake gun. His lean body became the sole focus of Griffith’s attention in the frame of the large Georgian windows that provided the only light in the peaceful courtyard. He disappeared for a brief moment, but then the balcony door opened, and a spark told Griffith what Mark was doing before he noticed the red tip of the cigarette light up the shadows of Mark’s face. All alone in the dark, Mark smoked for what felt like forever, and Griffith felt like Romeo. But unlike the Shakespearean character, he couldn’t gather the
courage to voice his awe, just watching on like some weirdo pervert until his chance was gone.
*
Griff could hardly breathe when he finished dancing, and this time, the ovation was expected. He was quick to step onto the balcony and look up at Mark, who sat on his with a bag of popcorn and binoculars on the side table.
Mark stood up and clapped for what felt like forever, as if he were a king marveling at a masterful private performance. His gaze ignited all the places on Griffith’s body that have yet been untouched, and when he whistled, the sound was like a physical caress to Griffith’s nape. A neighbor popped her head out the window with a scowl, but said nothing, and Griffith couldn’t make himself feel too bad about it. After all, it was the middle of the day. Still, his heart raced as if what he was doing were illicit and forbidden.
He wanted Mark to watch him.
The cool November air prickled his skin and pinched his nipples, but he presented his half-naked body without shame, showing himself to Mark just like that, with the sun playing on his pale skin. He bowed and grinned, then grabbed the metal railing and leaned forward. “I got hungry from all that exercise.”
“No wonder. You’ve probably just burnt all the fat you had left in you.” Mark folded his bag of popcorn and threw it Griff’s way.
Griffith reached out for it, ready for a treat from those strong, veiny hands, but the ball of food and paper lost its speed and descended over the yard. Griffith covered his mouth when the bag fell to the paved path between thatches of grass and spilled popcorn everywhere.
Griffith stepped back, hardly containing a laugh as he met Mark’s gaze. His skin prickled, and this time it was no use blaming the weather.
“Still hungry. Fancy some brunch?” he asked in the end. That’s right, just a casual meal together. Who could blame him?
When Mark hesitated Griff had to force himself not to beg, but he still continued, “I know this nice place around the corner. They do the most perfect gluten-free avocado toast…”
Mark smiled. “Okay, but it’s on me. Only fair since I got a free performance.”
Griffith couldn’t contain the excitement exploding in his chest. Finally, he would get to talk to Mark some more. “Give me fifteen minutes!”
*
Two weeks on from the Halloween party, Griffith had become familiar with Mark’s routine. He knew where Mark liked to buy his coffee, where his takeaways were from, and what time he typically returned home from classes. Griffith even got a lift in Mark’s car—an unassuming black Ford Fiesta, because he’d caught up with him one time, pretending that he was in a hurry.
Still, no matter how many times Griffith attempted to arrange a ‘spontaneous’ meeting, Mark remained distant, which caused all kinds of anxiety to buzz in Griffith deep into the night.
He was in the middle of preparing sandwiches in the kitchen when he spotted his favorite neighbor checking his cupboards across the yard. Mark’s intentions became clear when he grabbed a set of keys from a hanger and headed into the corridor. Griffith didn’t even think twice. He dropped the food and darted to the door so fast he almost tripped over a piece of cardboard Nisha must have left there. Without thinking twice, he slipped into his Chelsea boots, grabbed his trench coat, and was off, running down the stairs at top speed. He was close to breathlessness by the time he burst into the yard, just in time to see Mark nearing the gate that led into the street.
“Oh, hey,” he shouted, as if this were an accidental meeting.
Mark turned around and stilled. “Hey, Griff. Where you rushing off to?”
Tricky question. But he’d seen Mark check his supplies, so there was a chance he needed some groceries. This was the time to put Griffith’s snooping skills to the test. “To the village. You?”
“I just need to get some eggs. My friend’s gonna give me cooking lessons over Skype. Last one didn’t go so well, so cross your fingers for me.”
Griffith’s mind screamed a silent ‘yes’. “Me too. I mean, grocery shopping. I want to pick up some sourdough from the deli, and then hit the supermarket. What do you want to cook?” he said, joining Mark’s walk up the street without asking.
“He said he’ll teach me three ‘perfect breakfast’ staples in case I had to cook for someone.” Mark rolled his eye as if that wasn’t about to happen any time soon.
“Oh... is there a reason for this angle?” Griffith asked, trying to inconspicuously fish for information. His stomach twisted with panic, when he realized that maybe there was a logical reason behind Mark suddenly becoming so distant after the closeness they’d shared after the party? A long-distance girlfriend perhaps?
Mark snorted as they strolled up the hill toward the area with shops and restaurants. “Laziness mostly. I’d like to be able to eat something nice in the morning without having to go out or eat toast with...err… Marmite or something. I mean, what is that even? Whoever came up with it should get a talking to.”
“You either love or hate it.”
Mark suddenly burst out laughing in a way that made Griff’s heart skip a beat. “Sounds like my dad.”
*
Griffith checked the post left on the table in the public corridor downstairs. The original house had been separated into several flats, but they all shared the main staircase and entrance, so, whoever of the neighbors first found the bundle of mail, would sort it into the appropriate boxes.
So maybe Griff sometimes snooped on Mark’s a bit. That was no big deal, since it wasn’t like he opened letters and packages that weren’t his own. And Mark never got much mail anyway, mostly what looked like bills and bank statements. But today, a package had come for him.
And not just any regular Amazon box. This one was wrapped in brown paper, had stamps from Argentina, yet no return address. Was it something from his family? There was still a bit of time to go until Christmas. Griffith put the package on the communal table and climbed up the stairs.
Halfway up, he decided to come back and grabbed the package. As safe as this place was, the large, curious parcel could be too much of a temptation for someone whose morals weren’t cristaline. Without cameras around, it would have been easy for a neighbor, or even some kind of delivery person to grab Mark’s property and leave unnoticed.
Griffith couldn’t run up fast enough and knocked on Mark’s door too loudly. For a while, no one answered so Griff tried again and again, but with a deep sigh, he ended up leaving the box on Mark’s doormat.
It was only when he was about to make his way downstairs that a faint sound of footsteps called him right back. He picked up the package and stood in front of the door with his heart in his throat. What if Mark had someone over? Griffith had never seen any guests in Mark’s place, but it was possible that he simply hadn’t noticed, since their schedules didn’t always align.
Mark opened the door and blinked at the sight of Griff, stilling for half a second. He was wearing a white tank top, gray sweatpants and a pair of black trainers. So simple, but so hot. His breath was quickened, and his skin had that sheen of sweat Griff would gladly lick off him, no matter how unhygienic that would have been.
“Hey?” Mark raised his eyebrows expectantly.
Griffith opened his mouth, suddenly having to deal with an empty head. “Ah... no one was answering, so the delivery guy rang me up, since it was a signed-for delivery,” he babbled, still, holding the package to his chest.
“Oh, that’s for me?” Mark’s eyes lit up, and he smiled widely when Griff passed him the package.
“Yes, it looks personal. From family?” Griffith asked, standing in front of Mark’s flat with hope pulsing in his chest. He’d never been inside, and he couldn’t exactly see that much through the windows.
Mark’s curly hair bobbed when he nodded, and Griff couldn’t even begin describing how much he would give to slide his fingers into the unruly brown locks. “It is. Thanks for picking it up, I was waiting for it,” Mark said, already closing the door while Griffith was silently screaming: what
is it?!
“Christmas present already?” he asked, lodging an invisible foot in the door.
Mark looked up at Griff with a joyful sparkle in his eye. “Homemade panettone.”
Griffith might have sighed. He loved panettone, but his always came from the shops. “That’s amazing. We always have it with brandy cream.”
“Maybe we can share this one around Christmas then.”
Griffith had never hoped for Christmas to come already more than in this moment.
*
Despite Griffith’s attempts, nothing ever happened between him and Mark. The potential existence of a girlfriend cast a shadow on their friendship, and Griffith was left to wonder, because he didn’t dare simply ask about Mark’s relationship status. It would have been way too telling, and if Mark wasn’t interested, Griffith didn’t want to make a fool of himself.
Hopeless.
It was almost December, but on a warm day such as this one, the grassy expanse of College Green was full of students eating their lunches, studying, or simply spending time with friends. Sitting on a blanket near the city hall and out of the shadow cast by the cathedral, Griffith and his classmates basked in the sun and ate gelato from the shop across the street, pretending it was still summer. The atmosphere would have been perfect if not for the constant murmurs and definitions spoken out loud as the group repeated the material for the upcoming Constitutional Rights workshop.
It was so impossibly, incredibly boring.
Chiara poked him with her elbow. “What’d you get?”
For a while he wasn’t sure what she was talking about, so she followed up. “Ice cream. I got cheesecake.”
He looked at his half-emptied cup, briefly tempted to correct her about the kind of dessert they were eating. “Oh, vanilla and pistachio gelato. Need to sweeten the day before Dr. Glover interrogates us again.” Griff hated the teacher. He was stern, had zero sense of humor, and believed his specialty was the most important subject in the entire curriculum.
A Breath of Innocence Page 10