Chapter Text
Friday night
“Come on, man,” Dew clasps Apo’s shoulder, causing him to falter. “Lighten up a little bit,” He raises his glass to the group, “To our last weekend in Rome!”
Apo downs the shot, vodka burns his throat. Pleasant chat is all over him, and he watches his classmates joke around and throw back more shots, joining them until he is mellowed down. He doesn’t realize he is smiling. It could be the alcohol slowly making its way into his bloodstream or perhaps he is indeed happy.
He actually needs this trip to end on a good note. He needs his last weekend in Rome to remain a good memory that he will cherish in the future. When Dew invited him on a trip to Rome with a bunch of people from his class, Apo laughed at first, then groaned, then called and said no, because that would be foolish and pointless as he is only close to Dew from his class. But, after a 3-hour long meditation session, he felt that this was something he would like to try. So he worked extra shifts in his meager time left from school.
Apo tugs on the collar of his t-shirt clinging to his skin. Sweat and alcohol pours from his pores and the purple bar light clings to his eyelids. The music roars against his eardrums making it harder to follow the conversation. He doesn’t want to be here and it is getting so tiring to pretend he does. He mirrors their actions, shouts when they shout, smiles when they smile and nods when they talk about doing this again next summer. This time in Prague.
He smiles for pictures and joins them when they want to get a drink. and as the night progresses, he lets one of the girls, what was her name, kiss him after she is eager and pliant with too many limoncellos. He does not like it, and he hates that he does not like it. It would be very easy to date a popular girl, make friends with her friend circle, and then be normal and easy and-,
Someone walks into the bar. The first thing Apo sees is a pair of dark eyes staring at him shamelessly and his stomach lurches, sweat prickling down his neck but weirdly he doesn’t hate how it feels. The newcomer sips a martini and Apo wonders who drinks a martini in a bar full of young people drinking beers or happy hour cocktails. He checks dark eyes out as discreetly as possible and something grows in his chest. Tall, lean, with a strand of ink-black hair falling on his forehead. Apo watches him as he takes a delicate sip from his drink, pretty lips pursing as he swallows. He makes an effort to tear his eyes off the beautiful mouth. The girl, what was her name, brushes her shoulder against his softly. He pays her no mind and turns to the mysterious stranger again.
The dark-eyed boy is not wearing a t-shirt like everyone else. He is dressed in a thin button-up with rolled-up sleeves that show off his solid forearms. A wispy silver necklace blinks around his neck. He looks approximately Apo’s age and-
“Are you okay, P’Po?” The girl asks gently, her brows furrowing. Kaew, Apo thinks, must be the name. Her mouth is not as beautiful.
“Yeah,” Apo says, trying to look casual. “Getting a little tired.”
Kaew smiles, easy and friendly. Her cheeks are pink from the sun and the alcohol. “Would you like to go back to the hotel?”
“Uh-” Apo says, still seeing the curve of a beautiful mouth and dark eyes in his peripheral vision. Is he drunk? “Not yet,” He says finally, trying not to squirm in his seat. “Besides. Don’t let me spoil the fun.”
“What are you talking about?” Dew cuts in. “Everyone knows you are the life of the party!” he says with a sarcastic grin, and some other people join the laughter as well. Well, that is just great. Apo shakes his head and laughs with them, so that the attention wavers from him so that he can keep looking at the-
“I was thinking of going out alone tomorrow,” Kaew says conversationally. “Discover some hidden streets by myself.”
Apo takes a long sip from his beer. “Hmm.”
“It is not easy to get lost in the city when you are traveling with a group,” She says, reaching for the popcorn bowl. Her hip brushes with Apo’s. He should ask if he can join her. He should look forward to it. Instead, he tentatively lifts his eyes to look toward the bar and sees dark eyes speaking to his friends. Apo watches him, tongue peeking out of his mouth to wet his bottom lip. “We went to all the tourist places, but, uh,” Kaew falters, taking a sip from her mojito to gain some time and have Apo’s attention again.
“That sounds fun,” Apo hums, downing his beer. Kaew opens her mouth, probably to ask him if he would like to come with her. Kaew is a pretty little thing, with pink cheeks and a soft smile. Her mouth tasted like lemon zest when she kissed him the other night. She got a little teary-eyed when he took a step back and smiled at her politely after bidding her goodnight. Apo thinks he knows what is going on inside her head. She is a pretty girl, and he is an attractive boy. It should all work out so well. All they need is a little push.
A little push. Kaew smiles sweetly at him. “Well, maybe you would like to come-”
Apo gets up from the chair, a little fast, and his shoulder bumps up to Kaew’s. “Oh, sorry,” he says apologetically, squeezing her shoulder. “Going to get a refill.” He is looking somewhere else and not at Kaew’s empty mojito glass. He is gone before Kaew says she needs a refill as well.
Apo starts walking towards the bar, clutching his pint nervously. He is still there, looking completely invested in whatever the girl sitting next to him has to say. Apo leans over the bar counter, holding out his pint. The bartender takes it and asks him something in Italian. “Sorry, uh, mi dispiace,” Apo says, blushing. He skimmed through an Italian for beginners guide before he came to Rome. “Non parlo italiano.”
Apo feels someone standing behind him, then a low chuckle reaches his ears. He turns and sees dark eyes staring at him again. The bartender shakes his head, drying a glass. “Happy hour is over, normal rate from now on.”
Before Apo says it is alright, the dark-eyed boy signals the bartender and pulls out his card. Apo shakes his head, blushing furiously. “It is okay, I can-”
The other one doesn’t seem to listen to him. “Would you like a martini as well?”
Apo snorts. “Huh?”
Dark eyes looking deep into his own again, and he is even more devastatingly handsome up close which Apo would not have thought was possible . “Do you not speak Thai either?”
Apo blinks, taken aback. “I-” he starts, annoyed.
“I assure you it is better than the dreadful brand of beer you were about to order.”
Arrogant. He should refuse and go back to his group, he should ask Kaew if he can come with her, he should wait Sunday out in his room because he has a very convenient headache, then fly back on Monday morning. “Yeah,” he says and the boy is already paying for his drink.
“Mile,” he says, extending a hand. His voice is very melodic and so very soft or maybe Apo is drunker than he initially thought. He clasps it. Nimble fingers, like a surgeon’s or a pianist’s, a silver signet ring on one of them. He has two silver hoops on his left ear. Silver against pale skin, dark hair, and even darker eyes.
“Apo,” Apo shakes his hand and they linger for a second, and it is the most exciting thing that has happened to him since—Apo shakes his head to discard the thought. He does not need this right now.
It is blazing inside. Loud chatter and even louder music. Mile takes a sip from his martini. Four of his buttons are open, and Apo can’t help but eye his chest, and his strong arms.
Mile leans in to speak, his lips brushing the shell of Apo’s ear. “Would you like to step outside?”
He nods and follows Mile towards the exit, careful not to spill his drink. He turns his head to see Kaew watching him, and he nods, pressing his lips together. He fixes his eyes on the back of Mile’s head. The wisps of black hair and the sheen of sweat. He licks his lips.
The summer breeze is not enough to soothe the blush spreading to his chest, or to slow down his heart beating a little faster. Outside is less crowded, and quieter, people are standing, smoking, laughing. Apo leans back on the wall and looks up at Mile. His mouth is very dry. He takes a generous sip from his drink. “It is better than beer.”
“I am glad you think so,” Mile says with a smile. It is a very breathtaking smile, the kind that pins you down without force, the type that disarms you so sweetly, and Apo finds himself smiling back as Mile steps closer to him and clinks their glasses together. “Salute,” he murmurs, soft, breath hot on Apo’s face.
“Salute.” This Italian word he knows. They lock eyes again. “Do you always buy martinis for random people in bars?”
Mile chuckles. Apo watches how he wets his bottom lip and swallows before speaking, and mirrors him without noticing. “Do you have a thing for being the special one, Po?”
The way his name rolls out of his mouth is delightful that he forgets to question for a second. Apo stares at him, mouth slightly open in surprise. He feels himself getting flustered. He forces himself to keep eye contact. “I sincerely hope you are not a shrink,” he says finally, fidgeting with his glass.
“Soon to be a journalist,” Mile says simply.
Apo groans, waving his hand. “Of course,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I can’t seem to catch a break.”
“From journalists?”
“From constant psycho-analyzing.”
“That was not my intention.”
Apo smiles softly. “Don’t worry about it. Thanks for the drink.” That’s where he needs to take his leave. He stays put, Mile still lingering in his personal space.
“You looked like you wanted to get away. I provided a convenient excuse.”
“Is that what this is? A rescue mission?”
Mile tilts his head, amused. “What would you like it to be?”
Apo glares at him, raising a brow. “Will you keep answering my questions with more questions?”
“You don’t want me to psycho-analyze you, or read your intentions. I am respecting your boundaries.” He steps closer into Apo’s space, their fingers clutching the martinis brushing. Apo takes a shaky breath.
“Boundaries,” Apo echoes, eyeing their fingers, their bodies positioned so very close to each other. He gulps the rest of his drink, the glass hanging loosely from his fingers. Then he does something foolish and puts his free hand on Mile’s hip, hooks one finger into the waistband to tug him a bit closer. “You’ve been staring at me.” He intentionally doesn’t mention the fact that he was also staring back and thinking about his beautiful mouth.
“Yes,” Mile says honestly. “You are quite captivating to look at.”
Apo feels his pulse quicken, and a vein starts throbbing on his neck. “So you were trying to woo me.”
“It is working though, isn’ t it?” He steps back, and Apo misses the warmth immediately. He watches Mile gulp down the rest of his drink, eyes fixed on his throat, a long line of his neck, his chest peeking out of-
“Would you like to get out of here?” Apo suddenly blurts out.
Mile nods. He smiles and takes his empty glass to put it on a table nearby. Apo expects him to say he will let his friends know before leaving but Mile does no such thing. He starts walking down the street and Apo does something he genuinely wants for the first time since he came to Rome and quickens his steps to catch up to him.
They are lost in the bustling streets, shirts wet with humidity. Apo occasionally trips on the cobblestones and Mile catches his elbow to steady him, smiling whenever Apo mutters profanities. Apo went to pubs before and has been walking around Rome for a few days now, stopping every 10 minutes to smile for a selfie. But he never realized how enchanting the city was until now
“I find my classmates tiresome,” Apo is saying. “Yet I spend time with them when the occasion is right.” Mile turns to look at him.The fading remnants of the sun shimmer in his eyes, their shadows growing long and hard with each step.
A hand trails down and wraps around Apo’s wrist. It is intimate and encouraging, and Apo is somehow seen and he finds that he can’t stop talking.
“I thought this trip would make me better.” Apo says, “Better at socializing. Blending in. Enjoying things.”
“You do not have to enjoy the same things your friends enjoy,” Mile says wholeheartedly. He looks so sure of himself that it is impossible not to agree with him. “There are quite a few things I enjoy that my peers don’t.” He looks at Apo with a wicked little smirk and Apo wonders precisely what kind of hobbies.
He eyes Mile’s linen shirt and his jeans that hug him all in the right places, Italian loafers, and the expensive watch on his wrist. “Hobbies like… well, playing the piano?”
Mile sighs. “Guitar.” His smile doesn’t waver. “Among others.” An enigma to solve, Mile is. And Apo has always been a sucker for solving puzzles, revealing all the hidden secrets.
“I weird people out,” Apo blurts out. “I think I might be too much sometimes.”
Mile’s fingers momentarily tighten around his wrist. “And what’s so bad about that? Everyone has a different personality. You have your own. I don’t think you are a weirdo, Po.”
Apo sucks in a breath. “Maybe,” He says weakly, and Mile lets go of his wrist, but their arms and shoulders still brush.
“It is like I stick out like a sore thumb.” Apo nibbles on his bottom lip. “There is this girl and-“
“The one trying to get your attention back in the bar?”
Apo smiles. Mile has been staring at him as well. He has been staring at him, wanting his attention for himself. He doesn't try to mask his contentment. “She kissed me the other day.”
“And?”
“I just stood there. It was like I was not really me. It was like I was watching myself from the outside. That's how I feel most of the time.”
“You have to do things for yourself and not for the sake of blending in.” Mile stops to look at him. “It is fine to be weird, Po. The best people are.”
Apo snorts a laugh. “You’ve just met me and even you think I am weird.”
A ghost of a smile appears on the curve of Mile’s mouth. His eyes twinkle strangely under the lights. “I think you are marvelous.”
Apo scoffs, feeling himself flush under the weight of the praise. He finds that he likes it and wants to curl under it like a cat, close his eyes, and stay there forever. “Are you still trying to woo me?”
“Is that so hard to take a compliment for you?”
He ponders for a second. The answer is yes, and no. People compliment him; his hair, his eyes, his body. That is until Apo starts talking, and that’s when people start becoming weirded out and retreat. The ones who do not retreat tease him, maybe they think if they tried enough, they could expel the eccentricity out of him. “It is hard after I basically told you that I suspect that I am a weirdo .”
Mile laughs, bright and unbothered. “I like you, Apo.”
Apo smiles back, not knowing what to say. Not knowing how to explain that they just met and from the moment their eyes met, he had wanted him. He cannot explain how much it will hurt to return to his hotel at the end of the night without this person—the one person who sees him.
The crowd starts thinning out the more they walk. Apo tells him about his hometown, how he felt a little more suffocated every day there ; how he feels short of breath even talking about it . How he thought going to a fancy college in a big city would make him not be the weird boy anymore. “Not much has changed, ” Apo murmurs. Mile tangles their arms and Apo instantly feels better.
“You are looking to be seen,” Mile says, and it is as good as saying I see you, entirely.
“I still don’t know anything about you,” Apo says, tugging on Mile’s arm rather harshly. Mile stumbles and recovers smoothly. Long legs, Apo thinks and adds it to the ever-growing list of attractive things about Mile in his mind.
“You know I play the guitar,” Mile says, smirking. “You know I dislike beer, you know I like martinis and spending time with weirdos.” He turns to look at Apo. “What else,” He taps on his chin. “I love the color green.”
Suddenly Apo is very content that he is wearing a green t-shirt.
They walk past Ponte Sant'Angelo, and Mile stops walking to lean on the stone railing. Apo does too, facing the other boy instead of the beautiful view, the city lights, and the Castel Sant'Angelo. He finds that his view might be better, then scolds himself for being sappy.
“Do you like Rome?”
“I guess so,” Apo says, unsure. He liked the city alright, the narrow streets, cobblestones, little pizza restaurants, and gelato. And Mile, and his beautiful mouth and his dark-
Before his brain catches up with him, his hand shoots up and Apo grazes his fingers on Mile’s earring;the metal warms up under his touch. “I also have one of these.” He licks his lips, looking at Mile through his eyelashes. “Not in my ear though.”
Mile’s hand gently wraps around his wrist, keeping Apo’s elbow pressed to his chest. Apo feels the faint thumps of Mile’s heart pressed to his arm. He takes one step forward and Mile parts his legs to make space for him. His heartbeat quickens under his forearm. Apo slides his other arm on Mile’s chest and lifts his chin to look at him. Mile’s heartbeat quickens just a little more, matching his own, thumping in his ears, and his throat, and fingertips.
“May I see?” Mile murmurs against his mouth, and Apo watches his lips move in slow motion. The way his lips stretch over his teeth when he speaks and the way they curl into a little pout at the end of the sentence. Apo forgets what prompted the question.
Mile’s tongue pokes out to wet the top of his lip. Apo wants to do the same, to him. He swallows and blinks. Mile’s face fades and comes back into focus, his features so sharp it cuts through the edges of Apo’s vision, bleeds into the view and Apo leans in and kisses him on his beautiful mouth.
It lasts a second, a blink. It lasts for an eternity. Apo retreats, his hands clutching Mile’s shoulder. “Uh-” he says, not knowing what to say. He realizes he forgot to ask. “Can I kiss you?”
Mile’s arm wraps around his waist and Apo is being pulled into his chest, feeling Mile’s low chuckle melting against his skin. “Yes please,” Mile whispers against his lips and he wastes no time sucking Apo’s upper lip into his own mouth, tilting his chin for better access.
And, flames everywhere.