Archive of Our Own

"Will you quit messing with my fucking music please?"

"I'm just trying to find something I like."

"My car, my music."

"We always take your car."

I sat back with a huff. Jake didn't have anything more to say for once and just tightened his hands on the steering wheel. I crossed my arms and looked out the window, the forest turning into a gray blur as tears threatened to make an appearance. Not for the first time today, and likely not the last. Our first six months together had been great but with each passing day it became more clear that our first anniversary - only a month away - wouldn't be happening. 

"I just like driving," he finally said.

I ignored him as loudly as I could.

"And I don't like your music," he added.

In the corner of my eye I could see him glancing at me. Then he muttered something and pulled off to the side of the road. He took my phone from the center console and tapped the screen on.

"What are you-"

He opened his window and threw my phone across the road.

"What the fuck, Jake?!" I shrieked, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

He just glared at me. I unbuckled my seat belt and stepped out of the car. I probably should have made him get my phone, but I was so angry it didn't occur to me until I'd already crossed the road. I found my phone - undamaged, thankfully, and started walking back, already yelling at him, but he stunned me into silence by throwing my jacket out the window.

"You have service. Call a fucking Uber."

He hit the gas and drove away.

Having bars didn't mean I actually had service. I fruitlessly wandered around with my phone in the air but couldn't even make a phone call, let alone get an Uber.

I started walking, letting all the nothing around me hear exactly what I'd say if he came to his senses and turned back for me. Sure, it mostly consisted of things like fucking prick and fucking asshole and fucking fuck and can't believe I wasted eleven fucking fuck months on you, you fucking douchebag FUCK but I'm fairly certain the rocks and trees and other rocks were very intimidated as I ranted to no one. Truly, no one.

Jake had specifically picked this road because of how out-of-the-way it was. His dedication to Taking the Scenic Route was one of the things I used to find charming about him. In the autumn it would be reasonably busy with other Scenic Route People ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the foliage. Now there was nothing but stone, pine trees, and bare oaks in the dwindling light. Just a chilly breeze, occasional bird call, and my own cutting remarks; not even the sound of cars.

Or...was that...?

There was a car coming, and going my direction, too. I glimpsed it curving through the trees, then stuck out my thumb when it crested the hill. The car, old-fashioned but seemingly in good condition, slowed and stopped next to me. The drive reached over to open the door for me. I bent to look inside and saw a slight little man wearing head-to-toe black clothing and a perplexed expression.

"Um, hi," I said, "is there any chance you could give me a ride to the next town or something?"

"Of course, of course," he waved me in, grabbing his jacket off the passenger seat and tossing it in the back. The car was clean and he looked friendly - and when a chill breeze gusted against my back I upgraded him to looking friendly enough and got in. 

"What are you doing out here?" he asked as I sat down, "This is not a safe road for walking, you know. And in such a thin jacket? At this time of year?" He frowned and furrowed his brows in confusion, "Did you walk all the way out here? It is miles to the next town."

"Um, it's kind of a long story," I said weakly, unsure what to say in the face of so many questions I really didn't feel like answering. "I just need to get somewhere with cell service, if that's alright."

His face softened and he put the car in drive, "It is no problem."

After a minute of idle chatter he got quiet and clicked the radio on. He was tapping along to the beat of some familiar-sounding classic rock with his fingers and I noticed him glancing curiously at me a few times, but whenever he caught my eye his focus would snap back to the road. 

"I've never seen a car like this," I said, just to break the silence, "or been in one."

"She is a classic," he patted the dashboard, smiling fondly. The neat little mustache under his sharp nose had enough laugh lines arcing from it to keep him and his dark attire from looking too dour.  "They do not make them like this anymore, eh?"

I ran my hands along the leather seats, taking in all the details.

"Cars nowadays, feh," a hand swathed in tight black leather waved dismissively, "they are all silver and gray. No character." He paused and cleared his throat, "Even worse, the people who drive them leave young women stranded in the middle of nowhere." He caught my eye for a moment before looking back to the road and repeating, "No character."

I looked out the window, flushed with embarrassment.

"Perdonami, signorina. I did not mean to, ehh..." his hand worked in uneasy circles as he searched for the word, "intrude."

"No, it's okay," I quickly wiped at my eyes, "You were nice enough to pick me up. My boyfriend and I- sorry, ex-boyfriend, we were on our way to visit his parents and take a little trip and just...got in a stupid fight."

"And how are you ending up on the road?" His brows were knitting together again.

"Jake, he-" I took a deep breath, feeling my voice begin to waver, "he...threw my phone and jacket out of the car."

"And he left you here?" he asked quietly, his voice low, "When it was getting dark out?" I could see his eyes flicking around the road in agitation.

"Yea. Um...Yea."

His leather gloves creaked softly as his fists clenched around the wheel, "What kind of..." he chewed his lip for a moment and rattled something off in what sounded like Italian, "that- he- complete and total stronzo, signorina. What an asshole," he added after seeing my blank expression.

"We were going to break up anyway, honestly. Things had been pretty rocky for a while-"

"'Rocky' does not mean you leave someone stranded!" He wasn't exactly shouting, but was obviously keyed up, "It is still winter!"

So worked up over someone he'd only met five minutes ago; I couldn't help but laugh.

"Sorry. I am sorry for raising my voice, I just-" he shook his head as if he still couldn't believe it. Some of his hair fell loosely into his face - likely dirty blond once, but it was more gray than anything now, most of it neatly combed back. "Hearing that puts my blood pressure up, you know?" He smiled apologetically, and for just a moment his hand moved toward me, but he yanked it back to the wheel. 

"It's okay," I smiled. His fury felt validating. "I get it. I'd be mad if I heard it too. Especially because it was over something so stupid."

"And what was that?"

"Oh, uh. He wouldn't ever let me pick the music in the car, and his music su-"

"He would not let you play music?!" A whole new torrent of angry Italian erupted. He pointed emphatically at the radio, "Here, bella, you will pick. You play whatever you like."

"It's okay," I laughed, "I like what you've got on."

"You are sure? You have free use of the radio. Anything." He pointed at the glove box, "There are tapes in there, and a CD player, eh...technically. But it is temperamental. Wait," he frowned, "do you know what tapes are?"

"I know what tapes are." He looked pleased, and I continued, "I'll look anyway. I like looking through people's music. Tells you about them."

"Well, I hope I pass this test of yours."

Mostly classic rock, unsurprisingly, and what looked like old heavy metal, but I didn't recognize any of the band names. Some blues, an old Motown compilation, hair metal, grunge, even some classical. He fished around under his seat and conjured a few more: Duran Duran's Rio and some punk mix tapes. 

"What do you think?"

"Eclectic," I said, "Looks like you were buying cassettes until the day they stopped making them."

"People still use them!" he said excitedly, "They are making a comeback."

I found myself liking this odd little man, and actually felt a little disappointed when we hit the outskirts of a small town. I pulled out my phone.

"Ah," he said, "you have service now?"

"Yea."

"Ah," he said again, a subtle twinge bringing his voice down. An awkward silence descended as we continued to the lights guiding us to the center of town, where he pulled into the parking lot of a diner and turned off the car.

He turned to me, one hand drumming anxiously on his leg. He hadn't fully faced me before, and my eyebrows reflexively rose at the sight. It's not like he was disfigured or anything, but it looked like he was blind in one eye. Surprising, was all. He noticed.

He coughed and turned away slightly, "You have someone who can pick you up?"

"Probably- uh. Yea. I'm just gonna call an Uber."

He raised his eyebrows a little at that, "The city is almost two hours away," his forehead creased with concern, "You can afford that?"

I pretended not to hear him as I opened the app and tapped in my details but couldn't stifle a sigh. He leaned over to look at the screen.

"You would be waiting three hours for a driver?" He sounded utterly mystified, "I thought these things were meant to be convenient."

"Well, this isn't a busy area, I guess. But anyway," I unbuckled my seat belt and reached for the door. "thank you so much for the ride, I really appreciate-"

"Signorina," he said gently. He reached toward me again, withdrew his hand again, continuing, "you have already been left stranded by one man tonight."

"This isn't stranded. I mean, there's a diner-" 

He started the car.

"Seat belt, please," he said, shaking his head with a disbelieving smile.

We pulled back onto the state road. "Alright, so. I can drive you back home now, if you like. Or," he cleared his throat, a touch of hesitancy creeping in, "or I bring you to my home, and maybe tomorrow can find someone to pick you up. There is plenty of room," he added.

"I...whatever is most convenient for you. I mean..." I clasped my hands together, anxiously twisting my fingers, "it's an imposition either way."

"No, no, cara, you must not- no. I offered."

"Still..."

"I like to drive, and I like to host guests," he shot me a little smile. "Either way I am happy, sì?" Truthfully, I wanted to go home. I wanted to be alone to process the day, but I couldn't bring myself to ask a stranger to drive four hours for my sake. 

He seemed harmless. Kind, even. Maybe a little lonely.

"Okay, well...your house, then. If it's really not a problem."

"Bene." He looked a little relieved. Even if he liked driving, it was a little much to ask for him to be out until almost midnight. We took an exit off the state highway and drove deeper into the forest. The radio started to fuzz out and he switched to the tape player. He turned up the volume and we listened to his Motown compilation in silence.

After a few songs he turned the volume back down and said, "I should warn you, I do not live alone."

"Kids?"

"No, no, not...no," There it was again - that sad little twang, "I live with my brothers. They are...you probably will not meet them, but.."

"How many brothers do you have?"

For some reason he hesitated before answering, "Four."

"Catholics?" I joked.

"Something like that. Like I said, you will probably not see them- well, most of them. My older brother, though," even in the darkness I could see the annoyance he carried in his jaw thinking about the man, "he will probably make an appearance. And he is..." He trailed off, muttering something in Italian.

"What?"

"He is ehh...a jackass, signorina," he relaxed a little when I laughed. "I will warn you now, if he sees you he will flirt with you. Tell him you are not interested and he will pout, but he will go away, sì?"

"Reject the flirty brother, got it."

"You may see my younger brother as well, actually," he was rubbing at his chin in irritation, "Ah, merda, I never know who will be home. He will probably not say anything to you. He keeps to himself." The car slowed and stopped in front of large brick and iron gates. He tapped a little button clipped to the sun visor and they slowly opened.

Classic car, huge fancy gate, and five people in one house with "plenty of room" for guests? He seemed pretty down-to-earth, but how rich was this guy? It took a few minutes just to go down the winding drive, and then it opened up.

"Whoa." It was a mansion. Its color blended into the night and concealed the finer details, but I could see a few lights throughout the interior before we pulled into the detached garage. There was some kind of sports car in the other space.

"He is home, then," he muttered, then at a normal volume said, "Another one you might meet. We will hope not though, eh?"

"Uh, sure," I said. Whatever this guy's problem with his brothers was, it seemed best not to bring it up. 

The front door was unlocked and he gestured for me to walk through first. It was beautiful inside; all dark wood and antiques, everything tastefully detailed and glowing like new. One of the doors in the hallway had a bit of drop cloth spilling out, and I could smell fresh paint.

"Renovating?"

"Hm? Oh. Yes. We have been restoring it. This way." He gestured to the stairs, brushing a hand across my back and making me shiver. He followed me to the second floor and lead me down a dim hallway to a bedroom.

"There is a bathroom," he pointed after he'd flicked on a light in a room bigger and fancier than any I'd ever slept in, "if you would like to, em, freshen up. And here," he went back into the hallway and pointed again, "my room is the last on the right. If you need anything. Or," he hesitated, shyly looking away, "if you would like to talk. Or listen to some music. And I have video games," he smiled a little sheepishly.

"A gamer, huh? You a big Fortnite guy?" I teased. He cocked his head to the side.

"That is...that is a dancing game, yes?" When I laughed he said, "What? I have heard of Fortnite dances," very indignantly.

From somewhere in the house I faintly heard someone shout, "Copiaaaa!" and his attention immediately snapped to the sound.

"What's Copia?"

He curtly said, "Scusi, signorina," and brushed past me.

When I heard distant shouting in Italian, I decided to take a quick shower. If they were fighting about me - if I wasn't welcome here - I at least wanted to be clean when I got kicked out. When I left the bathroom in a luxuriously thick bathrobe, my clothes were gone.

On the bed was a small pile of men's clothes, clumsily folded. An assortment for me to choose from, I suppose. Weird. Thoughtful in its own way, but weird. I pulled on some comfortable dark red sweatpants and a black t-shirt, bundled up the rest of the clothes, and went to knock on his door. I heard some rustling and quiet footsteps before he opened it, wearing the same thing as me, though with the colors swapped. 

"Here," I said, "thanks for the clothes."

"Of course, of course," he took them and waved me in. "Prego, come in, come in." He shut the door behind me and dropped the clothes on a chair. 

His room had a decoration scheme that was less "dignified old money mansion" and more "high school boy's dream bedroom." Framed posters covered every wall, all sci-fi and horror movies and old metal bands. Lots of little knick-knacks on shelves, mostly movie memorabilia. A little nook set off from the room had a beanbag chair, a record player, a TV, and shelves of VHS, DVDs, and vinyls.

"I put your clothes in the wash," he said, bringing my attention back, "I hope that is okay."

"Um, yea. Thanks," I said, even though he really should have known better and asked first, even if his heart was in the right place. Assuming his heart was in the right place.

"Well," his hands were fidgeting. He stuffed them in his pockets, eyes to the ground as he awkwardly rocked on his heels for a moment, then looked back to me, "I looked up Fortnite."

"Oh yea?"

"It is a shooting game, yes? I do not understand why they dance."

An hour later we were sitting in his little TV area watching some ancient monster movie. Copia - that was his name, it turned out - insisted I take the beanbag, falsely claiming it was the superior seat and pulling over an armchair for himself.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked when I readjusted and shifted around for the fifth time.

"Mmm...Not really," I admitted. "Could we move somewhere else? Do you have a couch or something?"

"Not up here. I..." He paused, "I would prefer not to go downstairs." He cleared his throat and looked at the ground, hesitating before he continued, "We could sit on my bed. If that is okay. It would be much more more comfortable." He saw me looking at the bed behind him and cleared his throat again, "I could, eh...I could find another chair if you prefer."

I searched his eyes for a moment, considering. Definitely a pretty forward suggestion to put to someone he'd just met, but sitting on a friend's bed to watch a movie was something I'd done plenty of times. 

I was certain he was attracted to me, but he was old enough to be my father. He seemed too shy to do anything, to act on it; embarrassed to have even suggested it. When a few too many seconds passed in silence he stood and said, "I will get a chair."

"No," I said, still looking him over, "the bed is fine."

"You are sure? I do not want you to, ehhh..." he mulled over his words, "trade one discomfort for another, you know?" He visibly relaxed when I smiled at him. 

"The bed is fine."

When my stomach audibly growled Copia disappeared into the house, promising to find something for me to eat. The TV was on a little rolling table that I moved into place before settling against the pillows he'd tossed at the wall. He returned with a bag of popcorn and a can of soda, smiling apologetically as he handed them to me.

"Perdonami, this was all we had that could be made quickly. I can make you something else later, if you like." He scooted onto the bed next to me, "I did not want to leave you alone up here wondering where I was."

"All good. I love popcorn."

He smiled at me - a little tightly, embarrassed again, then started the movie back up. I was barely following the plot but that was fine; we were talking over it soon enough. 

His movie collection wasn't just for show. The sheer mass of trivia he had stored was astonishing. He could name the actors, directors, composers, even cinematographers in just about any movie I named, but had next to no memory of what was actually said in the movie. The most famous movie lines of all time somehow got mixed up in his brain. When I started to laugh he insisted I had them wrong and demanded I look up the exact quotes, then refused to believe what was on the screen. 

"Well, the internet is wrong," he would huff, but every time he made me laugh he looked so delighted. Shining as it was, the weird pale eye wasn't so disconcerting. 

We had been sitting apart with him maintaining a respectful distance, but every time I rocked back into place after a fit of laughter we were a little closer. The next time I challenged one of his movie facts he insisted yet again that I look it up. He leaned over to look at my phone, and from then on our shoulders were touching. 

Even as the conversation faded, I was still having trouble focusing on the movie. His hands were fidgeting; tapping his leg, raking his hair back, picking at the bedspread. He crossed his arms, presumably to stop the fidgeting, but then his feet and legs got restless. He uncrossed his arms, drumming his fingers on his thigh again.

Even if he hadn't been moving so much I still would have been distracted. He kept moving his arm to rub his chin or scratch his nose, kept reminding me that we were touching, and eventually it dawned on me that he might have wanted to put his arm around me.

The realization set my heart pounding. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and saw he wasn't even looking at the screen. His gaze was bouncing all over the room. He reached for the blanket he'd offered me earlier. It was more than large enough for two, but he still moved a little closer. We both did.

I caught his eye and we exchanged the same tight, awkward smile and I felt it again: my heart thudding in my chest. He readjusted the blankets a little and something about his movements drew my eye. He was pushing down a little oddly in his lap, like he was adjusting- Oh. It hit me. 

I heard a quiet, shaky breath, then he fussed with the blanket some more. Trying to conceal himself. Heat coiled inside me, spiraling up my spine to bloom across my cheeks.

"I, uh-" I paused to calm the shake in my voice, "excuse me. I have to run to the restroom."

"Okey-dokey," he looked down, nodding slightly as if agreeing about something, then back up to me with a faint smile, "Hurry back."

He didn't stop me returning to my room, even though he had a bathroom en suite. I think we both needed some physical distance, if only for a few minutes. The walk back to my room was more than enough to confirm I was as wet as I'd feared. With every step I could feel the slick.  

I splashed some cold water on my face. Older men had never interested me, and he had to be twenty years older at least. But all the things about men his age that had always turned me off, like the wrinkles and gray hair, seemed a little charming now. His face had character. The grays made him a little distinguished. As distinguished as someone in sweatpants could be, anyway.

The thought of running my fingers through that silver hair made me dash more water against my now-very hot face.

"She returns," he said when I came back. He seemed a little flustered, as if he were catching his breath. As I climbed onto the bed he looked at me with a happy, almost dopey smile, and that was the final push I needed. 

I sat down right next to him, close enough that he had to move his arm away. He sucked in a breath, hovering behind me for a moment before tentatively resting across my back.

"Is...this is okay?" He murmured. I wriggled closer and rested my head on his shoulder, eliciting another shaking breath as his hand curled around my shoulder.

His body was...strange. Like he was warm on the surface but cold inside. Our legs were touching under the blanket and they were definitely warmer, but that chilled core was still there. His arm too, I realized. It was odd, but not uncomfortable, and I could already feel him warming against me. And I had plenty of body heat to spare now.

He yawned and rubbed my shoulder. Yea, I was plenty warm.

After a few minutes I was starting to ache. I was seriously contemplating ignoring all this prelude and just sliding my hand into his lap when I noticed his breathing had slowed. His head dipped and he twitched back to sitting straight.

I nudged him with my elbow, "Getting sleepy?"

"Me? No, no. Not at all." He rubbed my shoulder again. Less than a minute later he jerked awake again.

I couldn't quite hide the disappointment in my voice when I said, "I think it's your bedtime."

"I...you may be right," he looked about as disheartened as I felt, "Forgive me, it has been a long day. I am sorry we...could not finish the movie." He took a deep breath, "Maybe tomorrow morning?" He looked hopefully into my eyes, shooting me that awkward little smile again. He walked me to the door and rested his hand on the knob for a moment before wrapping an arm around me, pulling me close. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but he simply rested his head against mine for a moment before murmuring, "Buonasera, bella."

I played with my phone for a bit, trying to ignore my dual hungers and hoping to tire myself out enough to sleep. The popcorn and soda he'd brought me had both seemed a little stale, not that they would have done much to sate me anyway. I crept out to the landing and listened for any signs of life in the house. Nothing. I made my way downstairs to search for the kitchen. 

The little light over the stove guided me. The fridge was strangely bare: a container of grapes, half of a honeydew melon, half of a dried salami, a bag of withered carrots. A jar of mustard in the door, and a large mason jar of dark liquid with a handwritten label shouting "CAFFÈ SPECIALE TERZO! NON TOCCARE!!!” Special coffee? I put it back and looked in the freezer. An ancient, frostbitten bag of peas and equally frostbitten box of frozen waffles, half-empty. 

I started poking through the cupboards, my confusion only growing. Some fruit, some coffee, and mustard? Even for a bachelor pad - assuming they were all bachelors, that was pretty pathetic. There were supposed to be at least five people living here, and the only things in the cupboards were a dusty box of pasta and a can of kidney beans? Copia had said he would make me something later; did he have a secret stash of food somewhere? I guess if you lived with people you didn't seem to like, maybe that would be reasonable, but-

"Can I help you?"

I yelped and jumped to look behind me. A lean silhouette leaned against the doorway, features barely visible in the dim light.

"Jesus, you scared me," I laughed breathlessly. "Sorry, hi there," I walked closer, extended my hand to introduce myself, "I'm a guest tonight, I guess," but he only cocked his head to the side.

"And who do you belong to?"

"What?" My heart skipped over the phrasing.

"Perdonami, English isn't my first language." His voice was touched by an accent now, one I was certain hadn't been there before, "I mean to ask, whose guest are you?"

"Copia's?" I didn't know why I said it like I was unsure. He sucked his teeth and I heard an amused exhale, "Che sfiga per te."

"What? Sorry, I don't speak-"

"It's nothing," he waved dismissively and stepped closer, just barely into the light, A little taller than Copia, with sharper features, a slimmer build, and dark hair curling to his chin. 

"And you..." I swallowed hard, a cold sense of dread pooling in my stomach the longer I spent with this man, "are...are you the flirty brother?" I tried to joke, desperate to relieve the tension in the air. He moved closer again and I reflexively stepped back.

"I've been known to flirt." There was a hint of a smirk on his thin face. He tilted his head to look at me, just enough that I could see he had the same pale eye as Copia.

"Are you twins?" I blurted out.

"Eh?"

"You have the same eye. Eyes."

He laughed softly. It was a strangely musical sound, very pleasant compared to the dangerous aura he projected. 

"We are twins, as a matter of fact. But all us Emeritus boys have it."

"You're the younger brother, then."

He probably won't say anything to you. He keeps to himself. Remembering Copia's words gave me a sudden chill. I hadn't thought it a proper warning, an actual warning of actual danger, but now...

"I am indeed the baby of the family," his voice had a mocking edge to it, "Youngest, most talented, best looking." In the shadows I could clearly see his strange eye travel up and down my body, "Most capable."

"Well," I said cautiously, "it uh, it was nice to meet you." I moved to leave and he put an arm out to stop me.

"What's the rush? We've only just met."

"I'm really tired, actually," a kind of panic was rising in me, "so if you don't mind-"

His hand whipped toward my throat and I only heard "Sleep."

Someone was knocking at the door.

"Jake?" I called out. No, it won't be Jake, I remembered. Never him again.

I heard the door open and tried to sit up but immediately swooned back to my pillow. 

"Good morning," Copia poked his head in, "It is, ah, it is past noon."

"What?" I tried to sit up again and fell back with a groan, clutching my head.

"Cara?" He sounded alarmed, then he was at my bedside, "Is something the matter? You are unwell?"

"My head," I moaned, "feels like...hammers. Hitting my head."

"Oh, oh. Oh no, I-" Panic was radiating off him as he hovered, reaching closer, stepping away, unsure what to do, "is that normal? Has this happened before?"

"I don't know," I shut my eyes as hard as I could and pushed the words through gritted teeth. 

"Ah, em, eh, ospedale? Ospedale. Hospital. I will take you. Here-" he tried to slide an arm under me, under my neck, and I cried out loudly, grabbing my head again.

He jolted back, "Perdonami, perdonami, io-" I rolled onto my side and covered my eyes with a pillow, let out a soft moan of relief. Even the weight of the pillow was painful, but the darkness helped a little.

"What- I- what do you want me to do?" he asked desperately.

"Aspirin? Tylenol? Maybe some morphine?" I said weakly.

"I will look. I will be fast, prometto."

Even lying down the room was still spinning, and I was so cold. I curled up into a tight ball under the blanket, trying to rub my feet together for warmth, but even that slight motion made my head throb. 

I heard Copia rushing up the stairs, almost alarmingly swift, and a moment later two plastic bottles nudged my hand.

"Here, cara," he said gently, "I have some water here for you, but no morphine, sadly. They do not sell that in stores anymore." I tried to open the bottles by feel alone but just knocked one off the bed and struggled with the other.

"Let me," he touched the glass to my hand so I could hold it. Even the rattling of the pills made me wince, but I managed to get them and some water down without passing out, moaning with relief when I could cover my eyes again.

"Copia?" I said faintly.

"Yes," he took my hand in both of his and the cold sent a wave of goosebumps down my arms, "what can I do?"

"Could you close the curtains? The light in my eyes is..." I limply waved my hand, "bad."

"Ooh," I heard him suck in a breath through his teeth, "the curtains in this room are all, eh, what is the word...Sheer? They are see-through. The light will come in."

I groaned miserably. He squeezed my hand and I could hear the hesitation in his voice when he said, "If you could make it to my room, I have- I can make it dark."

"I don't think I can walk." Just the thought made me dizzy.

"Let me carry you," he squeezed my hand again, "I will be more careful."

Moving was a more delicate operation than expected, but as promised, he was careful. He left me for a few minutes to fix his room and came back with a dark shirt to wrap around my eyes. He was so gentle, letting me move as slowly as I needed. It felt like it took a long time just to get into a sitting position where he could pick me up. 

"I will try to be fast."

"It's going to be painful no matter what," just sitting up it felt like my brain was trying to pound its way through my temples.

"Still, I will try to minimize, sì? Ready?"

I managed a "sì" through gritted teeth. He lifted me so easily, his cold arms and hands surprisingly strong around me. He carried me for thirty seconds at most, and even that was almost enough to make me throw up. I groaned with relief and gingerly uncovered my eyes when he gently laid me down on his bed. Nearly black-out dark, like he'd promised.

He pulled the blankets over me and touched my shoulder, "Better?"

"Uh-huh," I sighed. 

"Good," he said softly. He sat down, careful not to shift the bed too much, rubbing my back with equal caution, "What else can I do?"

I opened an eye, just enough to look at him. Even in the dark of the room I could see he was chewing his lip, face creased with worry. He met my eyes and

A hand around my wrist, cold as iron.

A soft, low voice whispering something from a mouth sharp as knives.

A pale eye. Staring into me.

Emptying me.

"Cara? Are you alright?" Copia's voice faded back in, full of alarm, "Cara?"

"I...I'm fine," I said faintly.

"You disappeared," his voice was shaking, "just staring into nothing and talking to someone."

"What was I saying?"

He squeezed my hand, "I could not hear all of it." He touched the back of his hand to my forehead and frowned, "You feel cold."

"I am cold," I mumbled. My eyelids felt so heavy.

Waking up in darkness was disorienting, but my head didn't feel like it wanted to explode anymore, thankfully. I still winced when I sat up, but I could sit up. A soft snore came from the corner of the room.

"Copia?" I heard him shift a little bit and called for him again.

"Hm? What is it?" He said, his voice thick and drowsy, "Do you need something?"

"Can you turn on a light? I need to use the bathroom."

"Of course, of course," he yawned. I gingerly opened my eyes when the light clicked on.

"It is okay?"

"Still hurts, but I don't want to die now."

"That is progress," he yawned again and stretched, joints audibly cracking. I managed to use the bathroom while keeping the light off, then saw Copia for only a moment before I had to squeeze my eyes shut again. He looked tired. Still worried. I heard him follow me to the bed and he pulled the blankets over me again.

"Anything I can get you?"

"No," I sighed, just grateful to be lying down again, "thank you." He patted my shoulder, then went back to his armchair and turned off the light.

"...Copia?"

"Hm?"

"Are you just...sitting in the dark?"

"I will be asleep soon." 

Guilt sliced through me. I had taken over his bed, his whole room, his whole day and he was trying to sleep in a chair.

"That can't be comfortable."

"It is okay, bella."

"You don't...you don't have to sleep in the chair," I swallowed back my hesitation, "You have a big bed." I heard him breathe in, heard him shift.

"Come over here," I said softly. When I didn't hear anything I added, "Please?"

The sound of him rising; the approach of soft footsteps, then, "Are you sure? It is okay?"

"I'm sure."

"Okey-dokey," he said quietly. My heart thumped when he climbed in next to me. He kept his distance - not touching me, not facing me. Lying stiff as a board, tense and barely breathing. 

I reached back and touched him.

"Cosa?"

I tugged on his arm and after a moment he let me pull him closer. When I moved his arm across my waist he curled up behind me, close as if we were lovers already. He sighed contentedly against my hair and I shivered at the cold puff of air that reached my neck. 

"Grazie," he murmured, "much nicer than the chair." He sighed again and I shivered, hard enough for him to notice.

"Alright, cara?"

"I don't know how to put this, Copia, but uh...why is your body so cold?"

He didn't say anything. 

"Is it like a medical thing, or...?"

"It is..." he paused. His fingers fidgeted, just brushing against my belly, "it is medical, yes. Genetic. It is, em...che cos'è...Poor circulation. Mine is not good." He pulled away a bit, "Is it too cold for you?"

I thought for a moment. He had warmed up last night, and I wasn't freezing cold anymore like I had been earlier. "We'll just pull up the blankets a little more."

He relaxed back into me and cuddled up closer, nuzzling against my back.

“You are so warm,” he mumbled drowsily, “So soft.”

I don't know how long I drifted in and out of sleep, always waking with him holding me tight. His breath was still cold, but in our soft little cocoon he was warm to the touch.

Something startled me awake, a sound close by? and my heart was thudding painfully in my chest. It wasn't just fear that had suddenly gripped me; it felt like a survival instinct. My attention was pulled to the door, but I couldn't see anything in the dark. Flooded with adrenaline, skin pricking as I strained to hear something, anything, and then...it was gone. Whatever that oppressive feeling had been, it simply vanished. 

"You okay?" Copia grumbled.

"Yea, I...yea."

He pulled me close again with a few sleepy little grunts and stilled, softly snoring soon after. I kept a wary eye on the door. Maybe he had good reason to dislike his brothers, maybe-

A stranger's voice, unbidden,

"All us Emeritus boys have it."

tore through my mind.

A bone-deep shudder rocked through me and Copia shifted a little behind me, let out a deep breath, then started to snore again. I was still on edge, but Copia - what I knew of him - was comforting. His anger at Jake's treatment of me and implicit support of me, his generosity and gentleness, the pains he'd taken to care for me at the sake of his own comfort...There were unanswered questions, yes, odd blank spots that needed filling, but when I let myself relax and he snuggled closer to me, I couldn't help it: I felt safe.

I had just started dozing off when he stirred. His hand was flexing against me; his leg twitched. Car chase dreams, my dad used to call them, named for our dogs hunting in their sleep. When I took his hand he stilled for a moment, then let out a soft sleepy whimper and twitched again. I smiled. Definitely chasing cars.

Then I think I felt his cock twitch. He was pressed so closely against me that it was barely a question, but I wasn't certain until I felt him hardening. Heat pooled between my legs as he swelled against me. I swallowed hard at the feel of him against me, feeling the urge to touch him and knowing I shouldn't. He twitched again and let out a soft, sweet little sigh.

I moved my ass against him just a little. His cock twitched but he stayed asleep. I couldn't help but keep moving; he was getting so hard that when I pushed back I could feel his pulse...and his size.

Slowly, so as not to disturb him, I reached my arm between us and just nudged his cock with my hand. It moved again and I slowly traced my hand downward, sucking in a breath when I brushed my fingers over him. It was a wonder his thin pajama pants managed to contain it. The thought of this thick thing inside me...I squirmed, thinking of how good it would feel inside me, and with how wet I was, how good it would feel for him too.

His hips bumped against me and he let out another soft moan. This time when I rubbed back against him he pulled closer, grumbling something into my hair before he relaxed again. A moment later he started rocking his hips against me, just a little, sighing softly every time I touched him.

It didn't feel right to do this when he was sleeping, but...it did feel good. Every little thrust made my cunt clench, aching more every second it wasn't being filled. I wanted to feel him directly, touch him without the interference of fabric, but couldn't quite bring myself to cross that particular line, so I just kept rubbing against him with my hand and ass, relishing each thrust and soft noise he made. 

He mumbled something, then, "Hm?" and he jolted back, "Oh, shit, sorry! I- I would not-"

I pulled him back to me, wriggling against him until he was firmly back in place.

"Oh," he said, tentatively putting a hand on my waist, "so you..."

"Mmhmm," I hummed and pushed my ass against him for emphasis. 

"Is that so?" He mused, and I could hear the smile in his voice. He drew near again, nuzzling into my hair, then slid a hand across my ribs and rolled his hips into me again. He let out a shaking breath against my neck and closed his hand around my breast, squeezing his fingers around a hard nipple.

His voice was husky in my ear, "Were you teasing me in my sleep?" He pinched his fingers a little tighter and breathed a laugh when I moaned and pushed back against him. His mustache tickled against my neck when he spoke again, "Hmm?"

I nodded and he hummed happily, "And how long were you doing that, eh?"

"Ummm..." it was getting hard to think, "maybe ten minutes?"

"Having fun without me," he said reproachfully, "that is not very nice." He pulled me onto my back and his lips were immediately on my neck, sucking gently at my skin, nipping at my ear, trailing along the curve of my jaw. When I moaned softly and combed my fingers through that silver hair I'd been thinking about more and more, his hand left my breast and crept up my neck to my mouth, where he slipped two cool fingers between my lips. A satisfied breath rumbled from him when I took them eagerly, another when I grabbed his hand and showed him I wanted it faster.

"You like having your mouth full?" He murmured, his breath hitching when I nodded and moaned around his fingers. "Good," he said, "something for later." I whimpered at the idea, at the pulsing ache it summoned, and then he pulled his fingers from my mouth, giving me his lips instead. His hand was on the side of my neck, pulling our mouths together as needy whimpers spilled from us both. Even his tongue was colder than normal, but I reasoned it would have been cold if he'd just eaten a popsicle or something too, so really, why should I care? It felt odd, but he was warming up and, cold or not, it felt right. Everything did now. 

His hand was moving down my body, wandering from one breast to the other, back and forth across my stomach, slowly exploring. When his fingers slipped under the waistband of my pants I rolled my hips toward him, rushing to untie the drawstring that was denying him free access. I helped him pull off my pants and his hand slid down my thigh, teasing, still moving so slowly. When I whined against his lips he smiled and pulled my leg out of his way, slipping his fingers through my hair, brushing his fingers along both sides of my cunt, just grazing anything more sensitive to make me whimper and buck against his hand.

When his fingers slipper further in and my head rolled back, he nuzzled back into my neck, letting me hear his amusement as I whimpered at the feel of his fingers freely sliding the length of my slit. When he finally touched my clit after so much teasing I cried out, again when he effortlessly pushed his fingers inside me. He was peppering my neck and shoulders with eager kisses and bites, whimpering with me whenever I clenched around his fingers. 

His hips were rolling into my side, pressing that thick, hard weight against my hip and he let out a breathy moan when I started rubbing the length of him. When I started grabbing at the waistband of his pants he yanked them down, groaning and biting harder into my shoulder when I finally had him in hand. Barely. It was almost too much to get my hand around.

"So wet," he purred when his fingers were back inside me, "So-" I stretched up to kiss him, our tongues desperate for the other and we trembled together, moving together as though we'd die if we weren't touching as much as possible.

When I started crying out more and more loudly and quickly he started thrusting into my hand, whimpering with me, hardening dramatically when it finally shook through me, our lips finally parting when my head arched back. He bit into my neck, hard enough that it would surely leave a mark but I couldn't care - the whole world was his hand on me and in me, staying in place as my hips bucked wildly against him, crying out and finally bringing my knees up, curling my body away from the stimulation, whimpering loudly as his finger dragged across my clit a final time.

I was still half-curled up on my side, catching my breath and waiting for the world to stop spinning when he moved over me, moved me onto my back and spread my legs as easily as if I were a rag doll. I vaguely saw his white eye looking into mine before he kissed me again, feverishly, his hips pinning my legs open. He was rubbing the head of his cock against me, slickly moving up and down, making me whimper when it bumped against my clit, still so sensitive.

"You want it?" He breathed, catching at my entrance and just barely pushing, holding in place. I grabbed his face, pulled his lips to mine, nodding urgently, whimpering desperately with my need to have him inside me.

He pushed in immediately, groaning at the feel of me, moving slowly but deeper each time, giving me time to get used to the oddly cool sensation, get used to the stretch. Wet and wanting as I was, it still almost hurt when he filled me to the hilt, when he held himself fully inside, letting out a deep, animalistic growl.

I wished the lights were on; I wanted to know what this sweet little man looked like when he made a sound like that.

With his head in the crook of my neck he slipped his arms underneath me as he started to move again. He pulled me against him with every deep, slow thrust, whimpering every time, only getting louder when I dug my nails into his back.

So vocal this whole time, never letting me doubt that he was in paradise, and then he started babbling into my neck. An endless stream of Italian muttering as he brought us together over and over, his grip approaching painful as it went on.

"Vita mia, mio cuore, posso farti innamorare di me, posso farti innamorare di me, mio cuore sei tu quello che restera con me, devi essere tu deve essere prego vita mia ti prego sii tu quello che mi amera posso fart immorare di me ti prego sii tu quellochemimeramiosolemiocuoreamamipregopregoamamiprego-"

He groaned again, mashing his face against me and whimpering as he pumped hard a few more times, the feel of him spilling inside me making my eyes fly open, now aware that he hadn't put a condom on. I'd been so out of it I hadn't even noticed.

My body went limp as his relaxed, and I barely felt his lips brushing against my neck, only dimly heard him murmur, "You are a dream, mio tesoro," in my ear. He kissed my cheek, sighing as he pulled out of me, then he froze.

"Are you okay?" He brushed the back of his hand against my neck, gently cupped my cheek, "Did I hurt you?" He climbed off me and laid down at my side, taking my hand, "I did not realize, perdonami, I would never- prometto, I..." He pressed my fingers to his lips. "What can I do?"

"Umm," I cleared my throat, "you weren't wearing a condom?" I hated that it turned into a question, hated how my voice wavered.

"Oh. Emm...no," he said, "I...forgive me, I do not keep any. I cannot- you will not get pregnant, I promise." He sat up, bringing my fingers to his lips again, "I eh...shit. I cannot make you pregnant. I forget the word."

"Sterile?"

"Sì, sì, that," he touched my cheek and I shivered. He was cold again already.

"Had any blood tests recently?" My voice was still shaking; the last few syllables came out wobbly. He tutted softly and laid back down, kissed my forehead. 

"No diseases, bella. Come here," He pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me and rubbing my back. "Sorry," he said softly, "I was...I did not think. It has been a while. Forgive me, please. I was swept up." He kissed the top of my head as tears spilled from my eyes.

Relieved if he was telling me the truth, infuriated and so, so stupid if he wasn't, angry at myself for fucking some random guy, soothed by the comfort that had been so absent from my life for so long, oddly happy to be spending time with this man...It was all muddled.

"So sorry," he whispered when I sniffed hard and let out a shuddering breath. "Non posso perderti. Non un altro."

"What does that mean?" I sniffled.

He stroked my hair for a few moments before explaining, "I did not mean to hurt you. That is the last thing I want," his own voice shaking now. He squeezed me close and brushed his thumb across my cheek to wipe away my tears. He wriggled down the bed so he was facing me and gently put his hand on the side of my neck, twining his fingers into my hair, touching his forehead to mine.

"Is there anything I can do?"

My voice was still unsteady when I asked, "Can you get me a tissue?" He kissed my forehead again before moving off the bed, then groped blindly around, "Scusa, looking for my pants." The bathroom light flicked on and I briefly saw him in silhouette, looking exhausted, his hair a mess.

Once he'd shut the door I rolled onto my back and took some deep breaths. I knew I should be upset, that I should storm out, but for some reason the anger was slowly quieting, fading into the background. I rubbed my legs together and winced. I would be feeling him for days. Tumultuous as my feelings were at the moment, there was still a pulse remembering how he'd felt inside me. It had hurt - he probably hurt everyone he fucked with that thing, but it was the kind of sweet hurt that you don't really mind all that much.

I smelled him on my pillow, heard him muttering to himself as the sink ran, and felt a strange calm come over me. If what he told me was true, it would be fine. If what he told me was true, I thought, distantly. But do I trust him? The question was fading quickly. A warm, comforting sense of ease cloaking me like a soft mist...

"Can I turn on the light?" His voice beside me.

"Huh?" I twitched awake, "Was I sleeping?"

"I think so. Do you mind if I turn on the light?"

"That's fine," I mumbled. I couldn't have been asleep for more than a few minutes but I was so groggy. A bedside lamp flicked on and he held out a box of tissues. Oh, right. I'd been crying. Why had I been crying?

When I finished blowing my nose he was already holding out a little trash bin. I looked up at him and he was staring off to the side, his face completely blank.

"Copia?"

He stirred, "What?"

"Everything alright?"

"Yea," he blinked a few times and looked back to me, "Yes. Just tired." He was looking at me as if he didn't know me, like I was some stranger who'd appeared in his bed.

"Okay..." I paused, "you sure?"

"Yes." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, and gave me the awkward smile I'd seen so much in our first hours together. He sniffed and looked down at the floor.

"Well...I'm gonna use the bathroom then."

He nodded, avoiding my eyes as I passed. When I returned he was lying on his side under the blankets, his face still empty.

I had one knee back in the bed, then hesitated, "Do you want the bed to yourself?"

"What? No," there was a glimmer of familiar warmth in his eyes as he pulled back the blankets, "Please."

I laid down, barely touching him. I wasn't sure if he wanted that, but he scooched close, gave me a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I brushed the back of my hand against his shoulder. His mouth twitched a little.

"Are you?"
"I think so."

"Then so am I."

I tried to speak again but his lips silenced me. He'd been out of the blankets so long that they were as cold as the hand moving around my waist. He was slowly pushing me onto my back, moving toward my breast, when his tongue slipped into my mouth and I recoiled. Cold.

"Sorry, I...sorry," I felt my face flush with embarrassment. It shouldn't have surprised me.

"I am cold, I know," he said quietly, stroking my cheek, "You kept me warm all night. You made me forget." In the low light the kindness had returned to his eyes. He brushed some of my hair behind my ear, then pulled us together again, sighing softly when I put my arms around him. When his lips brushed against my neck it wasn't just the cold making me shiver. 

He nipped at my earlobe with his teeth before he said, "I want to make you feel good again," his voice low and sweet, "I want to taste you, tesoro." When he quietly added, "Let me, please," I could only nod, my breath hitching as his hand trailed down my body. I winced when he slipped his fingers inside me again, already sore and sensitive from the last time he'd been inside me.

He kissed my cheek and murmured, "Ti abituerai a me. Dovrò scoparti ogni giorno."

"What does tha- ah," his fingers interrupted me, moving briefly over my clit, and he stifled my whimpers with another kiss. He was moving so slowly, so teasingly, making me chase his hand with my hips until I couldn't sit still.

He looked down at me when he slid his fingers back into my cunt, a faint smile curving his parted lips. He started languidly moving in and out of me, asked if it still hurt, but didn't wait for an answer, just took his hand away and muffled my needy cry with his fingers.

"Shh, I will take care of you," he said gently, "I just want to take my time." He pushed his fingers deeper into my mouth, his smile growing a little wider when I had no issue with the depth. "You want me to lick you, I know," he laughed when I nodded eagerly, and said again, "I know. I want it too. I will soon. But I am enjoying you spreading your legs like this for me, and these sounds you are making," laughing again when I let out a miserable groan. He bit at my ear again, then said, "If your figa tastes half as good as it feels, we will both be happy, eh?" He bent his head to my breast, taking my nipple between his teeth, sighing happily when I breathed out a moan around his fingers.

It felt like I was writhing against nothing but air for hours, the fact that he was hard again only making it worse. With him in the way I couldn't even touch myself. I finally freed my mouth and gasped, "Copia, please..." He bit down on my nipple, hard enough that it both felt good and made me yelp, and pushed his fingers back between my lips. When I whimpered loudly and pulled at his hair he took his mouth from my breast with a smack of his lips and faced me again. Now that he had moved my hand flew to my cunt and I got a few moments of direct pleasure before he grabbed my hand.

"So impatient," he squeezed my hand as he kissed me, twining his fingers into mine and keeping me from my pleasure. "Needy thing," he smiled.

"Oh my god," I groaned, "come on, man," and when I finally just tried to push his head down he snickered a little heh and moved between my legs.

I was expecting more teasing and torment but his tongue was on me immediately, exploring me as he pushed my legs further apart. He pulled us more firmly together, swiping his tongue against my clit with a moan, making my hips jerk toward his mouth every time I cried out. Sweet little whimpers were pouring out of him in time with mine, just like when we'd fucked, my own pleasure apparently magnifying his, and hearing him enjoy it so much pushed me even more.

There were no thoughts; all the doubts and nagging questions simply dissipating in the face of what he gave me, how he worshiped at my altar. Reverence and enthusiasm, a tongue firm and soft as needed, gentle and insistent and nigh-relentless, allowing nothing but euphoria in the place he brought me to, over and over and over.  

When it was getting to be too much, when I was starting to feel like nothing but an open nerve, I tried to close my legs, tried to push him away, but I couldn't even form the word stop at that point, could only shout and tremble and try to squirm away. He tightened his grip and growled against me as his tongue swirled again, and when he pressed his lips around my throbbing, swollen clit and sucked I shrieked and bucked so hard that I must have nearly broken his nose. He hissed in pain but when his tongue returned a moment later I finally managed to gasp out a "no" and push him away.

"Fffuhhh-huuuck," I shuddered, incapable of anything but laying with my arm across my face, trembling and trying to catch my breath. I startled when he touched me, so wrapped up in my own world. He laid down on his side, just running his hand across my body.

Even in my bliss I tensed when he lingered on my belly, felt a twinge of discomfort when he gently squeezed at some of the excess I despised. Just a few months ago, Jake had touched me like that. But he'd sneered, "I see you've given up on your New Year's Resolution," before going back to playing on his phone, decidedly not fucking me.

Copia's hands were roaming, palming spots I was sensitive about, but in his eyes was that sense of reverence again. He was enjoying me. Admiring me.

"You are so soft," he sighed, as though he could hear my thoughts. He met my eyes and there was only adoration there; a soft and dopey kind of tenderness that no one had even looked at me with. I reached for him, pulling him to me for a kiss, and he cradled my cheek with that same tenderness as his tongue eagerly embraced mine. When he shifted a little more snugly against me I was reminded that he'd been rock hard this whole time, his own soft whimpers communicating his need even more.

Truthfully, I was exhausted, but after what he'd done for me, after what he'd given me, I couldn't ignore him. Nor did I want to. 

My hand had barely slipped into his pants when he jerked them down enough for me to touch him. I stroked him slowly, not just because I was tired but because he deserved more than a little teasing as revenge for how long he'd tormented me. I rubbed across the head, spreading the slick flowing out of him, then broke our kiss to lick him off my thumb. Something hungry settled behind his eyes as he watched me taste him. He ran his tongue along his teeth and moved on top of me again, pushing my thighs apart with his own as he bent to kiss me again.

"Do you want to?" He breathed. I did, especially when he kept eagerly rolling his hips into me, sliding his cock so easily through my folds, but something felt off. He was staring at me so intently, and my head swam for a moment. In the dim, spinning light, his pale eye was...glowing. When I didn't answer him he swallowed hard and blinked a few times. Normal gravity returned to the room.

"You are tired," he said, unable to hide his disappointment.

"I...yea," I managed to say, then kissed him on the cheek, "You wore me out already." 

A little dejected but still hopeful, he said, "You need to rest if we are going to do this more tomorrow." He looked almost shy again, as though embarrassed by his own confidence, "Do you..." he paused, looking away with a knit brow, "do you want to? Tomorrow?"

I put his my arms around his neck and pulled our lips together, raking my fingers through his hair and savoring all the appreciative little sounds he made. I had no words to tell him that of course I wanted more, no one had ever filled me so tightly and fucked me like that, no one had ever thrown me out of reality with oral before.

And no one had ever looked at me the way he did. 

All I could do was nod and hum a "mm-hmm" as his tongue slipped into my mouth. Tired as I was he was still exciting me, still making me wrap my legs around him with want. He reached down between us and for a moment I felt a slice of worry that he wasn't accepting a no, but he just re-positioned himself. Still between my legs but with his weight on one arm as he started stroking his cock. He breathed a soft moan against me, rolling his tongue against mine again as he pumped faster.

I pulled him as close I could while still leaving room for his pleasure, shivering when his thigh would bump into me, running my hand along his arm as it trembled with effort, taking his needy whimpers into my lungs as they grew more urgent, almost feeling his energy moving through my veins.

His head dropped to my chest and he panted almost-warm air over my collarbone as he started rutting into his own fist. When I twined my fingers into his hair and held him against me he pitched into a whining moan, his hips working desperately until he groaned from somewhere deep in his chest. A hot line splattered across my belly, then a few more, then his muscles finally uncoiled and he just breathed against me for a few moments before rolling to my side.

He closed his eyes for a few deep breaths, then looked at me and smiled tiredly. As he looked at me I ran my finger across my chest before licking it clean with a little smile, earning another long, deep breath before he bit his lip and reached for my hand.

"You are a dream," he said, his voice a little hoarse. He shifted onto his elbow and grazed his lips across my ribs, along my side, moving toward my middle before he got up onto his knees and licked a long stripe across my chest. It gave me goosebumps, him cleaning me so deftly and delicately, gathering it on his tongue to share with me when he kissed me again.

I pulled away to yawn and he did the same, moving back to my side, reaching to turn off the light and hugging me tightly when I laid against him.

"Kiss you forever if I could," he mumbled sleepily into my hair. Moments later his breathing deepened into sleep.

In the still, quiet safety of the dark I whispered, "I like you too."

One of the curtains had been cracked open, letting in just enough light to see the other side of the bed was empty. I poked my head out into the hallway, listening for any hint of where Copia may have gone. There was something, very distant. I walked out to the landing as quietly as I could. 

Faint conversation, maybe from the kitchen-

The little light on the stove led me there, to the empty cupboards, to the figure

"Who do you belong to?"

The indistinct voices stopped. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, and felt a few tears fly free. Why was I crying? Why had the house gone silent agai-

"Che sfiga per te."

Pain in my head, pounding at my temple so intently that I was immediately at risk of vomiting and I bent over the banister, gripping my skull so tightly my hands ached. It was flooding my body again: that prey instinct that made my hair stand on end. I needed to open my eyes, needed to see, needed to lay eyes on what was coming for me like a storm cloud. Footsteps echoing slowly and thunderously as something dreadful approached, then I shrieked at a touch on my shoulder.

The air cleared, the pain fled; only a surge of useless and swiftly dissipating adrenaline remained.

A man stood before, as alarmed as he was impeccably dressed, "Signorina? Are you well?"

"I..." My legs were shaking and I gripped the banister again. He winced and reached toward me.

"I would not trust that railing," he said cautiously, "It is, eh, not stable." He offered me his hand, cool even through the soft white glove.

"We heard you were not feeling well yesterday," his voice was gentle, and when I finally managed to look at him I saw the discomfiting eye that

"All us Emeritus boys have it."

apparently was genetic, like the cold bodies.

"Are...are you the flirty brother?" I asked weakly, so dazed that I could barely see straight.

"My reputation precedes me," he laughed. A lovely sound; throaty and kind. He politely inclined his head, bringing my hand to soft, cold lips, "Terzo, my dear. And you must be our dear Copia's guest-"

"Non indossa le mutandine," a voice from below. A whisper of fear crept through me.

Terzo leaned over the banister and scowled, "You are a barbarian. È colpe tua," getting a laugh in response. Musical. Familiar. I peered over the railing, unsure why my heart was pounding. An angular face smirked up at me, framed with loose, dark curls.

"Buongiorno, signorina," he said in a venomously sweet voice. I didn't even think to respond; I was fixated by a face and voice so familiar. The atmosphere pouring off him like a palpable mist made my temples throb again. I jumped when the flirt touched my shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

I looked down just in time to the see the other man walk out of sight, taking the crushing weight of the local air with him. 

"You must excuse my brother. He was raised by wolves, I think," he said lightly. I swallowed hard, my heart finally settling down, my mind a little clearer with him gone.

"Can you stand?"

"I think so...Yes." I did feel steady again.

"Bene, un momento." He went into Copia's room. I heard him muttering under his breath, then he returned with a one of the pairs of sweatpants that had been living on the armchair since my first night here. He held them out to me with a quirked eyebrow and I flushed. He turned around and I slipped them on, mumbling a thank you.

“Non c’è di che, bella."

Terzo had ushered me downstairs, insisting I shouldn't wait alone. When I asked where Copia had gone he only shrugged.

"He likes to go for drives."

Goosebumps rushed down my arms when we entered the kitchen. It was a perfectly nice room - beautiful, even, only abnormal in how high-end everything was. Lots of windows to let the morning light pour in, yet I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself.

"Signorina?" Terzo was looking at me strangely; not like he was wondering if I okay, but as though he already knew what was wrong.

"Yea. Just...déjà vu, I guess."

He turned away, but not before I saw a knowing look in his eyes, "Coffee? Tea?"

"Tea. Please."

He turned on the kettle and opened the fridge, pulling out

CAFFÈ SPECIALE TERZO! NON TOCCARE!!!

a small bottle of milk, like the kind you get at an actual dairy farm. I glanced in the fridge before it shut and saw jar of dark liquid. There was a piece of paper taped to it that I couldn't see enough to read. Another wave of goosebumps. Did I know the name Terzo before today? Copia hadn't told me anything more about his brothers - when could I have seen it?

I could dimly hear Terzo talking to himself, humming snatches of a song while I stood in a fog. I startled a little when he touched my elbow, but he just guided me to a chair that he pulled out for me with a genteel flourish. A minute later he set down a pot of tea next to two cups that had appeared on the table at some point. He sat at the end of the table to my right, close enough that his foot brushed against me when he crossed his legs.

"So, bella," he poured out some tea, "how did you meet my brother?"

A silhouette standing in the doorway

"I've been known to flirt."

"Copia, that is," he clarified. "He did not tell us."

"He..." I trailed off as I tried to gather my thoughts. Everything felt so...cloudy in here. "I was stranded. He picked me up."

"Stranded?" he opened a little silver pot and added, "Sugar?" before scooping some into his cup.

"No, thank you. Yea, I had...My boyfr- my ex-boyfriend and I had a fight and he left me out on the road. Copia drove by and took me into town."

He sucked his teeth in disgust. "What kind of a man leaves a person like that?" When he asked how I ended up at the house I explained about the Uber, Copia's insistence on helping me, his offer to let me stay overnight. It passed over Terzo's eyes again: that odd, knowing look. 

Like he'd heard this before.

"Another stray."

My heard snapped to the doorway where the other one stood.

"Stray?"

"Copia likes to help people," Terzo said quickly, glaring at his brother, "You are not the first person he has brought home like this."

The other one smirked at me and my heart thudded painfully for a few beats. The pale, empty eye was fixed on me and something tight coiled in my stomach as it held me, unblinking, falling, dimming-

Terzo loudly cleared his throat and I blinked. "He has a generous disposition," he said, a little loudly, and patted my hand. I dared look toward the doorway again. The other one looked like he was sulking now, but he glanced at me for a moment and the corner of his mouth quirked into the tiniest smile.

He kept his eyes on mine as he said, "Boh. Sei noioso," then turned and left.

"Prick," Terzo muttered, "I am sorry about him."

"How many people has Copia brought home?" I asked, still warily looking at the empty doorway.

"Who knows?" he said lightly. He peered at me over his cup as he took a sip of tea, "When do you think you will be going?"

"I took the week off work to- my ex and I were going to take a little trip, so..." I trailed off again. "I don't know. Maybe tonight? I'm not sure."

"Not that you are unwelcome here," he said, "There is no rushing you out the door, sì? I am just curious."

"I mean, I would have gone home yesterday but I guess I was sick or...something. I don't know what happened."

"He came down here in a panic yesterday," he smiled faintly, "saying your head felt very bad. But you are better now?"

"Yea," I looked at my tea, hoping to hide the blush creeping across my face, "He took care of me."

“Abbiamo sentito tutti quanto si è preso cura di te,” he chuckled. “Eh, perdonami, I said he is a very caring man, " He paused, searching my eyes for a moment, "He feels things very deeply, you know? He has been hurt many times and it makes him foolish sometimes."

"Foolish how?"

He opened his mouth to speak, then turned his head as though listening for something.

"He is back," He turned to me with a sudden intensity in his eyes and said, "He has trouble keeping his feelings in check. Sensitive, you know?"

"What do you-"

I heard the front door open and Terzo called out, "In here, fratellino." He gave my hand another pat and tossed back the rest of his tea.

"Cosa?" from down the hallway, an annoyed edge to it. "What is so- oh," he stopped when he saw me. His eyes flicked between me and Terzo, "I see you two have met."

"The pleasure was all mine," Terzo said. He stood and gave me a dazzling smile as he bent to kiss my fingers again. He held my gaze as he said, "It was nice to meet you, bella." There was a flash across his eyes; something knowing again. Something sad. "You take care now."

"Um, you too," I said, but he'd already moved to the doorway. He paused and touched Copia's arm, said something in a low voice. Copia glared at him and Terzo shrugged before walking away.

Copia stared down at the floor for a moment, then cleared his throat and looked at me. He was carrying a little insulated tote bag, like the kind you use for groceries.

He held it up and said, "Got you some breakfast," with a faint smile. 

"I could hear your stomach growling in your sleep," he said as we went back upstairs - he didn't want to deal with any more brothers showing up. "You did not eat anything yesterday."

"Wasn't hungry, I guess." It was odd: I hadn't eaten anything in well over a day but hadn't noticed. "So what are we having?"

"I already ate," he flashed me an apologetic smile as he moved pillows around for me to sit comfortably, "Options in town are, eh...limited. Just breakfast sandwiches." He opened up the tote and handed me a paper bag, "I did not know if you eat meat so I got one with and one without. I hope they are still good." 

"Thanks," I took the bag and set it down. He was so awkward again for some reason.

"Hey," I nudged his arm, bumped him with my shoulder, "good morning." I kissed him on the cheek and his face lit up. When I tried to sit down his arms went around my waist and pulled me back against him, his chin resting on my shoulder as he hugged me close. 

He kissed the nape of my neck and kept his lips there as he murmured, "Good morning" back, breathing a cold sigh against my back.

"Not a morning person, huh?"

"Mm-mm," he grumbled. "I would've stayed in bed with you but this," he patted my stomach, "was yelling at me." As if on cue, it rumbled again. His hands slid away and he pushed me toward the bed, "Eat." He settled in next to me with his arm around my shoulders and turned on the TV. I glanced at him a few times as I ate and he was just sitting with his eyes closed the whole time. He only opened them when I crumpled up the paper wrapper.

"Better?" 

"Much."

"Bene," he squeezed my shoulder and rocked against me, "What would you like to do today?"

"Shower," I said. He nodded, humming a mm-hmm. "And I wouldn't mind getting my underwear back," I added, poking his side.

"You are planning on needing them today?" He grinned and poked me back.

"I'd like to at least have them, you old perv," I started to scoot off the bed and he pulled me back.

"'Old perv,' eh?" His mustache tickled against my neck as he said, "I seem to recall getting, eh, felt up while I was innocently sleeping." He kissed the sweet spot behind my ear as his hand moved up my chest.

"Well-" He pulled at my nipple, making me interrupt myself with a soft whimper, "I recall an old man getting hard just watching a movie with me."

"You noticed, eh?" He bit the edge of my ear, "You sat right up against me after that. That why you grabbed mio cazzo last night, hmm? Had it on your mind?"

I breathed out a laugh as his mouth and hands wandered, "Maybe."

"You see? I am innocent."

"I don't know about that," I paused, "Did you..." I trailed off and he hummed a little note of curiosity.

"This may be kind of a weird question but...did you jerk off or something? When I left the room. When I got back, you seemed a little..."

His hands stilled and he rested his chin on my shoulder again, "Sì."

"You did?"

"I will accept the old pervert accusations." He leaned back against the wall again and when I turned he bit his lip and looked away, "I did not want you to see- I was trying to hide it..."

"Copia-"

"I was trying to not be an old pervert around you."

"Copia, it's okay." I moved closer and he pulled me onto him, pulled me in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tight. My leg had gone between his and when I breathed a soft moan against his lips I felt him stir. When I ran my palm along the length of him he started stiffening immediately.

"Not so old, eh?" He chuckled, "And I am thinking maybe you like perverts."

"Maybe a little."

His smile was actually a little shy when he said, "Not so little, either," and rocked his hips against me. 

"Oh, shut up."

He gave my hip a squeeze, "Go shower. I will be waiting."

"You sure?" I moved my thigh and he let out a rumbling sigh.

"Get nice and cleaned up for me," he nudged his nose against mine, "I want to undo it."

I took the long way off the bed, turning around on my hands and knees and smiling sweetly as he feigned annoyance and tried to suppress a smile. 

"You are a troublesome thing," he swatted my butt, "Shoo."

From the bathroom doorway I asked, "Will my clothes be here when I'm done?"

"We will see," he smirked. 

He was sitting in the same spot when I returned, scribbling in a little notebook.

"Nice shower?" He finished writing something, then clipped his pen to the front cover and set it aside.

"Mm-hmm. My clothes?"

"Over there," he nodded to a little table near the door with an amused look. I looked through them, just for its own sake; an attempt had been made at folding.

"And where are my panties, exactly?"

"Your what?" he said, extremely innocently.

I walked to the bed and said, "Pan-ties," slowly, swatting at his feet.

"Eh, scusa signorina, ma non parlo Inglese."

"No English now, huh?"

"Mi dispiace molto."

"That's a shame. You're pretty cute but I only fuck people I can understand."

"You were looking for your underwear, sì?" he grinned and pulled them from under his leg, "I don't know how they got there." He moved to the edge of the bed and tugged at the hem of my robe, "They must have thought they had the day off." He crossed his ankles behind my legs and slid his hands around my hips, looking up at me.

"You are pretty cute, too," he said, with his dopey smile, closing his eyes and sighing blissfully when I combed my fingers through his hair. His hands ran down my thighs and back up under my robe, squeezing my butt and pulling me into him.

"You are cute and you smell nice," he murmured, trying to untie the belt, still looking into my eyes.

"I don't know know if I should let a panty thief into my bathrobe," I gave his hair a little tug.

"I will be making it up to you," he pushed the robe open and slid a hand up my inner thigh. When I shivered at the cold his smile faltered. "Sorry," he said softly, "I will warm up soon." He brushed his fingertips against me, pulling me closer when he saw how it made me tremble. His finger slid between my lips and he spread me easily, making me whimper when a cold finger slipped inside me.

"So wet already," he said admiringly, chuckling when I clenched around him. He rested his face against my belly, moaning softly when I raked my fingers across his scalp. His fingers moved so smoothly to my clit, making me twitch and shudder as I gripped his hair and tried to stay standing. He looked up at me when he pushed inside again, his half-closed eyes so soft and gentle. Then he leaned back and grinned at my unhappy sounds as he sucked at his fingers. He nodded toward the bed, chuckling when I took the hint and immediately laid down where he wanted. He pushed my thighs back, sliding his fingers back around my clit as he bit at my neck.

"You are so wet for this old perv, eh?" he breathed a laugh when I whimpered, "You spread your legs so happily for me."

"Can you- nng, Copia-"

He interrupted me with a kiss, then smiled, "What?"

"Can you go down on me again? Please, again," I breathed. His tongue went into my mouth and his fingers slowed but didn't stop. When my hips bucked against his hand and I whimpered desperately he broke away again.

"Are you sure you should let a panty thief into y-"

"Oh, shut up," I groaned and pushed his head down as he snickered. 

Any annoyance, real or feigned, was forgotten. It was as though he knew what I wanted before I did, always sensing when to speed up or ease back, when to be delicate and when to be punishing. Each time he pushed another finger into me I would startle from the cold and my pleasure would backslide for a few moments, but he would bring me back as quickly as his fingers warmed inside me, moaning appreciatively each time I tightened around him. As always he echoed the sounds he drew from me, the two of us in perfect harmony beyond the physical, singing into an oblivion. There was nothing but pleasure.

"How was that?" He said, as if he didn't know. I was lying on my side catching my breath, trying to summon a single coherent thought. I let out a long groan and he chuckled. 

He was lying against my back, running his hand along my body, slowly rocking his hips against me as his lips wandered my shoulders. He hintingly bumped against me with an inquisitive sound and I managed to hum an mmhmm, still not fully capable of articulate speech.

There was some wriggling around behind me, then he adjusted my leg before the thick head of his cock coolly slid between my legs. Adjusting again, then he nudged me, "On your stomach."

He re-positioned over my legs, squeezing my thighs between his, grabbing at my ass and spreading me as he pleased. He gave me a light spank, then he was rubbing along my slit again. He pushed in slowly, breathing excitedly every time I whimpered. Even turned on as I was, so relaxed after so many orgasms, after he'd gotten four of his fingers into me, I still felt the stretch. 

When he'd filled me completely he held there and breathlessly asked, "Does it hurt?"

"A little, but it feels good."

"I will be careful," he said softly, starting to move slowly.

"Nn...no."

He froze. "No?"

"...Harder."

"I don't want to hurt you," he hesitated, still unmoving.

"Copia," I turned to look at him as much as I could and saw his eyebrows knit together with concern, but when I caught his eye and said, "Fuck me," he started moving again, still cautious, but obliging me. He breathed out a shaky sigh when I pressed my face back to the mattress, eyes fluttering shut. He snaked a hand under me, finding my breast and squeezing a little roughly.

"Like this?" he breathed, "Harder?"

"Harder," I moaned, "Shit- god, you-" He pulled away with a frustrated growl and I felt the bed shifting around under his weight, then he pulled me more up onto my knees and stuffed a pillow under me.

"You want it harder?" he purred breathlessly, "You want it rough, hmm?" His cock speared into me again, his hands digging into my skin as he fucked down into me, his cock hitting so sweetly every time he sheathed himself fully inside me. "Want your tight little cunt filled up? Fuck this sweet little hole of yours as hard as you want, amore."

The things coming out of his mouth were so out of character for the polite, awkward little man I'd come to know. I'd heard nastier things in bed - hell, I'd said them, but imagining his shy smile having something like want your tight little cunt filled? hiding behind it was almost intoxicating.

The accent did a lot, too.

His hips were audibly smacking against mine, almost drowning out his loud, needy moans as he leaned over me and panted, "Ti darò quello che vuoi." The pain was gone now that his cock ruthlessly worked in and out, dragging inside me, pressuring the tender spot that made me whimper more loudly each time he hit it. All I could hear over my own frantic cries was his ragged breath and his balls slapping against my skin. 

"Fuck...ooh, fuck, oh-" heat was building in me, sparking, intensely electric, "right there, right there, fuck, you're so fucking- you're so thick, you feel so- god oh god-" I was almost sobbing as he hammered into me, seemingly fucking my entire nervous system, until I arched against him, my body locked in one intense spasm, and finally screamed.

He pressed his weight onto me to keep me in place, saying, "Cum for me, that's good, just like that, cum for me, amore," and I faintly heard him gasp when my cunt clamped tightly around him. He fucked me through it as I screamed into the bed. 

A desperate cry rumbled from him as he coated the inside of my cunt, "Sei mio sei mio, sei la mia brava troietta, mia fottuta troia, sei mio-" fucking his cum hard into me with wild, jerking thrusts until he finally slowed and stilled.

After a minute I managed to pant, "Holy fuck."

"Perfetto," he mumbled into my hair, "Perfetto."

"What's that mean?"

"You are perfect," he kissed my shoulder and pulled out of me with a groan, "I want to fuck you like that every day, bella. Perfect," he sighed. He laid down beside me and pulled the blanket over us. I was still lying on my stomach and looked up at him resting his head on his hand, smiling tiredly, eyes closed. I wriggled closer.

"That's never happened before," I said quietly.

"Hm?"

"I've never...cum like that. That way. Vaginally."

His smile spread a little wider, "How was it?"

"God. Um, really good," I laughed a little, "I didn't know I could feel anything like that," and he looked at me with such a sweet, simple joy you'd never guess he was the same man who'd fucked me until I howled like a wild animal. He brushed the back of his fingers against my cheek.

"I made you happy?" He asked softly.

"Very."

His touch on my chin was so delicate, like I was a baby bird in his hand. He drew near and before he kissed me he said,

"That is all I want."

It was an idyllic day. Nothing but watching movies while lying tangled together. Soft touches, soft voices, soft kisses occasionally turning to intensity.

In the late afternoon I finally got to actually see him when we had sex - bedroom eyes and parted lips, the hair falling across his face that he would move with a toss of his head - inevitably falling out of place again when he would look away, biting his lip and bowing his head as he shuddered with pleasure. When he met my eyes his pale one would lock onto something deep inside me, shutting out everything beyond our bodies.

"I would kick your ass at Trivial Pursuit. I am the master."

"You didn't even know the cinematographer of Titanic, amore. You are master of nothing."

I flicked his nose and he snickered. 

"I will go get a Trivial Pursuit right now. You will see I am right." He was playing with my hand, idly flexing his fingers between mine, running his fingernails across my palm.

"You're a music and movies guy. What else you got, huh?"

"Many more years of knowledge than you."

I scoffed and raised myself onto my elbows to scratch at the back of my arm, "Alright, trivia master. Who won the Superbowl in...I dunno, 1994?" I pulled up my sleeve and twisted around, trying to reach an itchy spot.

"The Cowboys, my darling."

"Hmph." I decided to change the subject, unappreciative of his smugness, "Want to get dinner or something?" I rolled my shoulder a little to get at this nagging spot on my skin and his gaze snapped to my arm.

"What is that?"

"Is there something there? It's been sore all day."

He sat up and grabbed my arm a little tightly, looking intently at my skin.

"What? Is it a bug bite or something?" I tried to twist my body to get a look at it but he held me locked in place. 

"Copia. Hey." His fingers dug into my flesh, painfully, and I tried to jerk away, "Hey!" I smacked his side, "Let go."

A stranger looked back at me, like he'd forgotten who I was. Anger was radiating off him and I found myself still trying to pull away in spite of his hand not moving an inch.

His grip loosened. He was almost hoarse when he apologized. His voice shook when he said, "You look tired. Maybe you should take a nap."

"What about din-"

"Sleep."

As angry footsteps stomped toward him, Perpetua marked his book and set it down with a sigh. The door was already ajar but his brother kicked it open anyway, so hard something cracked when it slammed against the wall.

"What did you do?" Copia stalked toward him, fists clenching and ready to strangle.

"I don't know what you mean," he replied calmly.

"I know it was you. What did you do to her?"

Perpetua could hear the blood surging through his brother's veins. He'd eaten this morning and it was still fresh in him, fresh enough that his face was actually flushed. 

"I was hungry."

Copia growled "Fucking liar," through grit teeth, "You had no right. You are why she was sick, you-"

"Maybe if you ever drank without killing the person you would have recognized it," he rolled his eyes, "You're the only one who didn't know what happened."

"You had no right!"

"Please. She was wandering the house alone."

"You knew she was mine!"

"Yea, she stank of you and you let her wander the house alone instead of fucking her to sleep like she wanted."

Copia's hand sailed through the air, connecting with Perpetua's cheek and cracking so hard it snapped his head to the side. After a moment he just rolled his eyes again.

"What does it matter? She's here, isn't she? And we can all hear how much she's enjoying herself," he snickered.

"You are going to ruin this, you ruin everything, why can't you just-"

"She's fine," he cut in loudly. "She's still here after three days. That must be a new record for you, huh? That why you're so mad? Don't know how to entertain a woman longer than that?"

"SHUT UP!" he screamed, "You- I didn't ask for your help!" He flew at him with a snarl, slamming into his brother with everything he had. When the chair pitched and toppled to the floor Perpetua tried to roll to his feet but Copia was on him immediately, kicking him down, throwing his full weight into pinning him on the ground. Screaming and striking blindly, furiously, a lifetime of grievances now bubbling over. Years of sneered remarks that had long ceased being concealed under breath had to be addressed.

Copia had been alone for decades and it was a joke to all his brothers, but especially his twin. His twin who was seemingly never touched by the loneliness that weighed on him so heavily it was a wonder he could even walk. Perpetua didn't fight back, merely tried to shield himself as best he could as his brother howled out his rage, just wanting to make him hurt.

A strong hand closed around the back of Copia's neck and yanked him back, throwing him to the ground a few feet away. Perpetua struggled to his knees, coughing out a thick black spatter, spitting out dark red as the interloper put a commanding foot on Copia's chest. 

"Grow up." 

"He-"

"Shut the fuck up, Copia. I do not care. I am trying to listen to my records and can hear you fighting over my music."

"But he-"

"Do. Not. Care. Keep the noise down."

"You bald fuck," Copia swore, "you know he should not have-"

"Porco Lucifero, do you ever shut up? Go fight outside if you have to. Just keep the noise down." He pushed his foot down on Copia's sternum, just for emphasis, and walked out.

Copia stood slowly and Perpetua rocked back to his heels, looking up at him with dark blood streaming from his nose.

"I just thought-"

"Shut up," Copia hissed, "Just shut up." He looked down at the brother he most despised, the mere feet between them an impassable ravine. Nothing marked them as twins; if not for the shared milky eye nothing would mark them even as brothers. The months they shared a crib were the last and only time they'd ever been close.

Yet now Perpetua dropped his gaze in deference, lips twisted unhappily to the side.

For the first time in years, he quietly said, "Sorry."

"Fuck you." Copia stormed out, slamming the door behind him. 

Copia was grinding his teeth in his sleep, so loudly it woke me up. No cute car-chase dream this time; he was grumbling too, when he wasn't doing his best impression of a cow whose cud had been magicked away from their mouth. Warm again under the blankets, cuddled up against my back so tightly I could feel his jaw moving. His hand was resting on my side and I laced my fingers into his. He huffed out a sigh, nuzzling into my hair and grumbling some more, but thankfully not chewing his own teeth anymore.

A night bird was calling somewhere nearby. Even with its odd occupants, it was peaceful here in this house tucked away in the forest. Three nights I'd been here now. Three day's worth of apology texts from Jake had piled up. It was so easy to ignore him here, to revel in his pathetic begging, to delay seeing him again for the inevitable fight and inevitable exchange of belongings currently being held hostage in one another's apartments.

Copia hadn't mentioned taking me home since that first night and I hadn't brought it up either but I would probably have to go home tomorrow. Definitely by the day after. What then?

That he was smitten with me was plain to see. You'd think my laughter was an oasis in the desert the way his face brightened every time he cracked me up. The way he'd say, "Tomorrow we can.." and, "I will have to take you to..." like he was already planning on me being around for days, weeks, months, and the way his eyes would soften so lovingly when I teased him made it obvious: He didn't want me to go.

I wasn't feeling quite as much as him but thinking of how sweetly he kissed me, the reverence and honest, open need in his touch, how even in his sleep he would hug me tighter...I knew I would. 

Somehow in this short time, we'd carved out a little niche for the two of us. A warm little den where the world didn't matter. A peaceful respite from the noise and heartache of everyday life. No, I didn't want to go either.

He was grinding his teeth again but when I stroked his hand he stopped immediately. He squeezed my hand and snuggled closer, sighing out a sleepy little moan that became the soft breaths of deep sleep. Even now, away from the waking world, I could comfort him.

He comforted me, too.

Gone out for some breakfast - Back around 11?

Thinking of you

-C

A scribbled note folded and propped upright on the little dark blue notebook it had been torn from. I showered and got back into my own clothes for the first time in days. Who knew how long they'd stay on, but at some point Copia had to be reminded that I had a life to get back to. A life very likely to include him.

Between my job and Jake I couldn't remember the last time I'd been not only content or happy but actually having fun. And Copia was fun. We'd had movies on all day yesterday but had talked over them all, joking and teasing and just...existing together, so easily. He actually listened when I talked; he asked me questions and wanted to know my opinions on things. Maybe it was because his family was wealthy enough to allow it, but he was more playful than anyone I knew. With his arm around my shoulders he would casually roll his head back against the wall to look at me, mismatched eyes shining adoringly, grinning mischievously when he said something he thought was especially clever. 

Sure, his roommates weren't ideal, but looking around his room and imagining him handpicking all these things - like a professionally framed Star Wars poster, for one - it felt like dealing with them might be worth it. Plenty of people had weird and unpleasant family members. 

I poked through some of his things; not snooping, just...looking intently. The expansive movie collection, the eccentric video game collection, the modest comic book collection with no "real" books I could see; they all painted a picture that I wanted to stand back and look at, tilting my head back and forth like his belongings were something in a gallery, begging for interpretation. It wasn't that deep; he was just a kind of silly man who happened to adore me and just as when I looked through his cassettes I wanted to look through the things he chose to surround himself with.

Still only quarter after ten. When I started looking through the handful of DVDs he'd piled on the bedside table for us to watch later, I couldn't help but notice what a mess we'd been making of the bed. The fitted sheet was clinging to one corner for dear life next to rumpled pillows and blankets. 

I made the bed and started cleaning off the nightstand as well, just tidying a little, when I accidentally dropped his little notebook. It fell face-down and open, and when I picked it up saw that some of the pages had gotten bent and creased.

I muttered "shit," and was attempting to smooth them a little when I saw my name on the page. It was almost all in Italian but there were a few words I could pick out, some in English: Terzo, Uber, leave, some curse words, perpetual- No, "Perpetua."

"Perpetua?" I muttered. It was capitalized, like a name. 

A thought occurred, one I wasn't proud of, but...I could translate this pretty easily. I grabbed my phone. The app loaded up and started processing the words.

I just wanted to know what he was writing about me.

From the first night:

I can't believe he just left her there. How could anyone abandon someone like that, let alone someone so sweet and beautiful. I don't know what she was doing with such a prick. Almost didn't want to wash her clothes, they smelled so nice. Hope she doesn't think it's too weird. When she's done with her shower I may be in for some hell but...I mean, you can't shower and then get back into dirty clothes, right?

I hadn't thought his outrage at Jake's treatment of me was faked, but it was nice to confirm it. 

The second day:

I am such a fucking idiot. Last night she cuddled up to me and I could hear how fast her heart was beating, she was so excited and she...I'm pretty sure she wanted to have sex. She's so warm and just sitting next to her got me so hard because I still can't fucking control myself. She definitely noticed. Her heart started pounding and when she left the room she was definitely wet.

Why did he keep talking about my heartbeat? He'd been right that I was turned on, that I'd wanted him, but it seemed like...he knew, factually and objectively.

I had to jerk off just to calm down and she almost caught me. If I hadn't done that I think we would have had sex but I was too tired and didn't want to be weird...Even though she really seemed to want it. Fuck. I don't know. You fucking idiot.

The same day:

Something's wrong with her. I wanted to take her to the hospital but just hurt her because I'm a fucking moron who can't do anything right. Terzo said it sounds like a bad migraine but what does he know? I never heard of a headache so bad you can't even move or that makes light hurt you...But I guess what the hell do I know either. She asked for morphine and I know it was a joke but I still asked Terzo if he had any of his old opium stash left. Of course he just called me an idiot. I feel so useless.

She's sleeping now. I can at least make a room dark enough for her to tolerate. Not much else I can do right. Perpetua said I should bring her to his room, the asshole. Might as well strap steaks to her and throw her in a lion's den.

"What the fuck?" What the hell was going on with these dudes? Was Terzo a drug dealer? Is that where their money came from? Who the hell was Perpetua, and why compare him to an animal like that? My skin prickled at the next line:

It would be safer than his horrible basement.

When I turned the page I realized my hands had started trembling.

She just said something in her sleep. Just the sound of her voice is so...I love it. I just fixed the blankets for her and she's so warm...I wish I could get in next to her. She looks sad.

The next day:

I almost can't believe it but we had sex. She was actually groping me in my sleep? I thought I'd started humping her in my sleep but no, she was being a little tease...Turns out she is a dirty girl but Satanas does she taste good.

Satanas?

It was so hard to focus on her pussy because her blood was just so so close, the femoral artery right next to my head and when she squeezed her legs around my head it was all I could do to not take a drink right there.

"What the fuck. What the fuck." What. The. Fuck.

I need to eat. Not hungry enough to lose control yet but I'm spending as much giving her head as I think I'll be...better not to risk it. I almost fucked it up. I had to make her sleep a little because I came inside her and she freaked out even though she'll probably be fine. Too bad. Perpetua managed to get that girl he likes pregnant and he's been so fucking smug about it. I hope she got an abortion. That asshole doesn't deserve to breed.

What. The. Fuck.

I wish I could fake body heat more easily. Every time she feels how cold I am she gets all tense. It's not my fault. I wish could be warm for her. I think...I don't know. She feels different. Like she actually likes me. She laughs at my jokes and it doesn't sound forced. I know sometimes she's just laughing at my accent but I still love the sound of it. Love the sound of her. I think I can get her to love me back. She might be it. She might stay. She's my favorite.

Later:

Feeling a lot better since I ate but even so it's hard to control myself around her. She didn't shower at all yesterday and she smelled so good so strongly...Her blood smelled so good when I was licking her pussy I just have to control myself. If I can fuck her enough it'll help. I want to go into the shower and fuck her right there but there will be time for that later.

I finally got it right. I can feel it. I know it. She'll stay. She'll stay with me and love me. I can make her love me on my own. She'll see how happy I can make her. I'll fuck her every day until she's used to it and she'll love me. We'll be happy. I'll finally be happy, with her. She's the one who's going to stay with me she'll be my sun, my heart, my life, I know it. Please please please let me be right finally, just once, please love me, my beloved, my soul, please. I'll make you so happy. We'll make a little world for ourselves, just me and her together. I can make her love me I can make her love me

My eyes were welling up with tears as I gripped the notebook almost painfully tight. You would think this was all madly scribbled like a serial killer's manifesto in a made-for-TV movie, but no, it was all written so neatly and normally until the next entry:

FUCKING PERPETUA HE TRICKED ME THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE he had to ruin this he had to ruin fucking everything HE DRANK FROM HER when he KNEW SHE WAS MINE and he pretends this is MY FAULT somehow he left fucking CLAW MARKS he WANTED me to find out

I had to make her sleep so I can figure out what to do. That's twice now I've used it on her and I hate it if he hadn't fucked this up it would be perfect he made me do it even though he KNOWS I HATE DOING IT. They all think it's fine to just control their minds but it's NOT it's not REAL everything was going so well and now I find out she only stayed here because he made her sick. Its not fair. For all I know he could have pushed her into liking me. This entire thing could be a big joke, another way for them to have a big fucking laugh at Copia. 

She seemed to like me that first night though...I don't think he's controlling her...I think he did just drink. Maybe. But he still manipulated this whole thing he just HAD to involve himself when I've TOLD him SO MANY TIMES to mind his own fucking business.

I'm the one who had to bury them every fucking time what the FUCK does he know? We're all dead but I'm trying to LIVE unlike them, trying to have a life trying

The notebook slipped from my fingers.

I had to go. Now.

My hands were shaking so badly that I dropped my phone. I was trying to unlock it again, trying not to panic, trying to stay steady on my feet when I looked up at the doorway.

He was there, holding his little tote bag again. He stared at me, then my phone.

"Is something the matter?" His voice was low. Blank and flat, like that first time he'd gone distant after

-I had to make her sleep

"N-no," I managed to say, "e-everything's fine."

"You seem upset," His head tilted to the side a bit when he saw the notebook on the ground. He set down his bag and said, "Non parli segretamente Italiano, vero?"

He saw I didn't understand and said, "You don't speak Italian. Why is your heart racing?" He stepped closer and I reflexively backed away.

"H-how do you know what my heart is doing?" I tried to tamp down the rising panic but it was evident in the squeak of my voice.

"Why are you moving away from me?" Sorrow was draped over every syllable as he softly said, "Please," and reached out a hand, "don't."

"Don't what?" I couldn't stop the shake in my voice any more than the tears spilling from my eyes.

"Don't leave," he said, so quietly I could barely hear him. He took another step closer, pleading now, "Don't leave."

I whimpered when his hand touched mine.

"Please stay," he said in a small, strangled voice. Soft, cold fingers twined gently into mine, "I just want you to stay with me." He closed the gap between us and touched my cheek, sighing sadly when I flinched. A tear fell and he brushed it away with his thumb.

"I can make you happy," he said softly, running his fingers into my hair. His hand came to rest on the back of my neck and he touched his forehead to mine, "Please just let me try," he whispered, "I never get a chance to try."

"With your strays?" My voice was so thin I barely got the words out. The hand holding mine twitched.

"I try to help. Over and over I try to help," he said. He looked at me with eyes as full of tears as my own, "I would never abandon you in the woods. I would happily listen to your music, because it would make you smile. Because it was yours. I would devote every day to making you feel loved and wanted. Why is that not enough? Why is it never enough? What can I do?" He desperately pressed my fingers to his soft, cold lips, then touched my cheek again.

"What did I do wrong?"

Tears were spilling freely as I shook my head, capable of no other answer, no other movement.

"You are afraid of me," his voice twisted mournfully, "I wanted to make you love me, and I have made you afraid." 

A shrill, whimpering sob escaped me when he pulled me close, holding me so tightly as he buried his face in my neck, letting me feel the melancholy shaking from his chest with every breath. He sniffed hard and I felt cool tears running across my skin.

"I am always cold, mio sole," he said softly, "It does not make me hurt or make me shiver, the nerves do not work like that anymore, but I still feel it. I just want someone to give me their warmth. I want someone to shine for me." His voice was wavering, every word coming out crooked, "I would have held you in the sky and worshiped you. I could have listened to your laughter and never needed music again."

His hands tightened.

“Eram atât de aproape. Eram atât de aproape să-ți arăt cine sunt cu adevărat,” he whispered. “Ti amo. Te iubesc. Forgive me.”

I shuddered when his lips brushed against my neck, then gasped at a sudden pain. 

"Nn-...nng," I tried to say something, tried to push him away, but my whole body was locked and wouldn't let me move. There was a horrid sound in my ear, a wet sound of feeding, obscene moaning, all coupled with the same soft whimpers he'd make when he was inside me.

"C-...Copia," I faltered, "no...I..."

My knees buckled but I didn't fall. He held me so easily. As I went limp he clung to me, keeping me on legs that wouldn't support me ever again. The sounds of him sating himself were being drowned out by a loud, irregular drumbeat, each deep thump coming slower than the last.

I didn't feel him detach from me but I could see him now in the dimming light, looking down at me so tenderly, so sorrowfully. Tears fell from his reddened eyes onto my face.

From a thousand miles away I heard him say, "Forgive me," one last time. A cold tear trickled between my lips, the salt spreading across my tongue.

He wrapped her loosely in a sheet and carried her out to the words, to a sunny clearing he knew. It was peaceful here. She would like it.

"I heard there was another one." As usual, he hadn't heard the eldest approach.

"I thought it would be her," Copia barely got the words out, both voice and body trembling as they were, "I really did." He turned to his brother with tears streaming down his face, "I just wanted to help her."

"You say this every time. And every time I tell you the same thing. You just want it for yourself."

"I just want someone to love me," he said, his lips twisting as he tried to stifle his sobs, "Why is that such an awful thing?"

"Another thing I say every time: no one can ever love you in the amount you want. Not without-"

"No."

"No one will ever be enough unless you use your mind on them. Your brothers do it. I have done it."

"It's not real."

Primo shuffled closer and slowly knelt next to the body, "She was real, Copia." He brushed away some hair that was covering her face, "We all heard her heart beating for you. If you had just been patient-"

"She was going to run away! They always run away!"

"You know we cannot make them do whatever we want. A part of them has to want it too. She would have been such a gentle push, frate. She liked you."

"She didn't want to stay. Perpetua forced it."

"That was a misjudgment on his part," Primo sighed. He slowly rose, swaying on tired joints, "but you know he did it for your sake. It kept her here. Let her see you. She liked you," he said again.

Copia looked down at her, into the once-lively eyes so still and empty now, and whispered, "I didn't want to hurt her."

"You never do."

He sank to his knees and took her hand, colder now than his own. "She was so warm," he choked out, "Soarele mea." He turned tearfully to his brother and saw he had left as quietly as he'd appeared. He bent to kiss her and recoiled at the feel of her stiff, cold lips.

He always forgot. He always hoped it would feel the same.

He rested his head on her chest, remembering the sound of the life that used to make its home there. The woods went silent as he started to wail.

The sun had moved far across the sky when the forest came back to life. He finished wrapping her more neatly, softly kissing her forehead, stroking the smooth skin of her lovely face one last time before covering her. 

He stood and brushed the mud from his knees, cleared his raw, torn throat, and looked around for his shovel.

His heart ached looking at it lying in the hole he'd dug. Wrapped in the bedding they'd slept on, where he'd held her so tightly, where she'd so briefly held his heart and soul.

"I thought it would be you," he said dully, "Iubita mea. Vita mia. Dragostea mea," he almost spat the words out, so bitter on his tongue.

He leaned his shovel against a tree when he was done and wiped his eyes as he looked around the clearing. 

He would have to find a new spot. He was running out of room.