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Luca lay on his side of the bed, facing the wall, his back stiff and his hands clenched uselessly in the sheets. A lantern burned low on the table, its light dim and unsteady, stretching shadows across the walls that shifted whenever the sea breeze slipped in through the open window. Outside, the water murmured softly, indifferent and endless.
Behind him, Alberto was there.
Luca didn’t need to look to know it. He could feel it in the way the mattress dipped, in the faint creak of wood when Alberto shifted his weight. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, Luca guessed. He always did that when he didn’t know what to do with himself – hovered between staying and leaving, like the decision alone might hurt too much.
The fight replayed in Luca’s mind whether he wanted it to or not.
It had started small. It always did. Something careless said in the heat of the day, something misunderstood, something that struck a nerve neither of them had meant to expose. Luca remembered his own voice, tight and shaking, accusing Alberto of never slowing down, of never listening. He remembered Alberto snapping back, loud and defensive, words sharpened by fear Luca hadn’t fully understood in the moment.
Now he understood too well.
Luca squeezed his eyes shut.
He hated this part – the aftermath. The silence that followed anger, stretching thin and fragile between them. During the fight, at least everything was out in the open. Now all that remained were the bruises it left behind, invisible but aching.
The bed shifted again.
Luca’s shoulders tensed automatically, a flash of panic sparking through him. For one terrible second, he thought Alberto was getting up. Leaving the room. Choosing distance over this uncomfortable closeness.
But then the mattress dipped differently, more evenly this time, and settled.
Alberto had lain down.
Relief washed over Luca so fast it almost hurt. He hadn’t realized how afraid he’d been until that fear loosened its grip. Still, Alberto was facing away, their backs to each other, a narrow stretch of cool sheets separating them. They weren’t touching. The space felt deliberate, careful, like something neither of them was ready to cross yet.
Luca stared at the wall, tracing the cracks in the plaster with his eyes. His breathing was shallow, uneven, refusing to slow no matter how tired he was. His body ached with exhaustion, but his mind wouldn’t let go.
He thought about the look on Alberto’s face earlier – hurt disguised as anger, eyes too bright, jaw set like he was bracing for something worse. Luca’s chest tightened. He hadn’t meant to hurt him. He never did. And yet, somehow, he always managed to hit exactly where it hurt most.
“I should say something,” Luca thought.
The words echoed uselessly in his head. Apologize. Explain. Anything. But every time he tried to shape a sentence, it fell apart before it reached his mouth. What if he said the wrong thing again? What if he made it worse?
Silence, at least, couldn’t wound anyone further.
Minutes passed. Or maybe it was longer. Time felt distorted, stretched thin by tension and fatigue. Slowly, despite himself, Luca’s body began to relax. The weight of the day pressed down on him, heavy and insistent. His eyelids drooped, his thoughts blurring at the edges.
He turned slightly without thinking, rolling just enough to face Alberto’s back. In the low light, Alberto was little more than a dark shape beneath the blankets – broad shoulders, familiar and solid. Luca studied the steady rise and fall of his breathing, searching for signs of wakefulness.
He thought Alberto was asleep.
The realization shifted something inside him. With the fear of being heard gone, the tightness in his chest loosened. The defenses he’d been holding onto all evening slipped, worn down by exhaustion and quiet longing.
Luca swallowed.
“I,” he stopped before letting anything else come out of his mouth, checking if Alberto was really asleep.
Alberto didn’t move.
Encouraged – or maybe just desperate – Luca let himself continue. The words that had been trapped inside him all night pressed up, urgent and unfiltered.
“I love you.”
They slipped out instinctively, soft and honest, like a confession meant only for the dark. Luca hadn’t planned to say them. It had simply become a routine for him to say so before drifting off to sleep, no matter if Alberto was asleep or not. They were simply there, a truth too deeply rooted to be shaken loose by one argument.
Saying it hurt.
And soothed.
And terrified him all at once.
Luca exhaled shakily, his shoulders sagging as the last of his resistance gave way. His body finally surrendered to sleep, exhaustion pulling him under before his mind could catch up. His thoughts dissolved into hazy fragments – Alberto’s laugh, the warmth of the sun on the water, the certainty that, even now, even after arguments, his love hadn’t faded.
He didn’t feel the moment the mattress shifted again.
What he did feel – dimly, through the haze of sleep – was movement behind him.
An arm slid around his waist, firm and careful, pulling him backward. Luca stirred, a small, confused hum leaving his throat. His body tensed for half a heartbeat, instinct bristling, before recognition set in. The warmth was familiar. Safe.
He relaxed without fully waking.<-p>
The pull tightened, drawing him flush against a solid chest. The contact chased away the lingering chill of the sheets, replaced by steady heat and the faint, familiar scent of salt and sun-warmed skin. Luca shifted instinctively, fitting himself closer, his back settling against Alberto’s front like it had done countless times before.
A quiet sigh slipped from him, unconscious and relieved.
Still half-asleep, Luca tucked his chin down and curled slightly inward. He felt fabric bunch beneath his fingers as his hand caught in Alberto’s shirt. The arm around him adjusted, tightening just enough to be unmistakable. Protective. Anchoring.
Luca’s breathing evened out, syncing gradually with the rhythm behind him. The tension he’d been carrying all night finally eased, melting away in the simple certainty of being held.
His mind drifted, hovering between sleep and awareness. He didn’t question why Alberto had moved closer. He didn’t question whether he’d been heard. All that mattered was the quiet reassurance pressed against his back, the wordless promise in the steady hold. Somewhere in his foggy thoughts, relief bloomed.
Morning would come eventually. With it, apologies and explanations and the careful work of understanding each other again. But for now – for this fragile, quiet night – Luca let himself rest.
Curled against Alberto’s chest, wrapped in warmth and steady breath, he slept.