#nlarz

Remember the good ol’ days, of just you and him and the words between. But you bite your lip, stare at your feet. Squeeze until your knuckles turned white and you. Need to breathe.

“Earth to Angelo?”

It’s the emphasis, that part of your name, that has you turn your eyes up. Find him, smiling at you, two cups in his hands. What you assume would be yours is significantly lighter, just like how it used to be. Take it, set it aside. Keep skimming the edges here.

Ricardo is all careful sips and you know he’s watching you. If only you could read him, but those are long gone thoughts and you push yourself up, fold your arms across your chest, no wait, unfold, behind your back. Grip the counter once more. 

Feel the weight on your tongue, as you catch his eye once more. Hold him. Right there, how he sits on the table. Coffee abandoned, beside him. “Angelo?” 

It’s the way he whispers your name. Reverent. Like he tastes it on the tip of his tongue and how his eyes slip, just a little. Find the little nooks and crannies of your face and neck, before hovering. Holding. You need to move one step forward. Another. 

Until you could stand between his knees. You don’t, because you’re… scared. Are you? Are you really? Or have you resigned yourself to what happens next. That all this dancing around, denying and playing and feeling the ghost of his hand in yours, only yesterday, tugging you along.

You want to go back. You want to move forward. Worry your lip with your teeth and find that spot, corner of his mouth, to stare. Where the lightest dimple forms and focus.

Should we talk? Come on, Angelo, you can get the words out. Say it. You need to say it. Hover your hand over his knee, and you. Take a step back. Remember the conversation. Remember the way, his eyes had dropped, when the conversation had hit that point, stop. Where you hadn’t recovered fast enough, and Ricardo closed up a little. Smile not reaching his eyes.

“Ricardo…” Twist your hands in front of you, flex, relax, on your hips. “About the other day.”

“It’s okay, ‘Lo,” and he shortens and snips your name. So easy. Like it had once been. “I get it.”

“No, you don’t.” Shake your head, control. Get the conversation flowing. “When you were talking about o-other people.” Look up now. Watch how his face tightens.

“I understand—”

“It’s only been you.”

Voice strong, and you don’t stammer. If your knees weren’t shaking, you might’ve been able to stand tall and strong. Shover your hands under your armpits now, hide the way they were unable to stop too. Dare a look up at Ricardo’s eye? Of course.

You don’t know what you were expecting. 

He’s watery. You can only watch, how he bites his lip, chewing, but there’s a flush rising on his cheeks and. Ricardo blinks too fast. Watch the trail down his cheek. “You.” Swallows, hard. Presses the heel of his palm against his eye.

Ricardo smiles. Deep and strong and he sobs out a laugh. “I thought.”

Flounder, and you close that gap once more. Hover. Hold. “I’m sorry. I didn’t. When I stopped the other day, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, hang on, let me,” Ricardo breathes, deep. Strong. Watery smile and it’s so bright, so real. It’s him. “Me too.”