go home, leave Paolo in peace, and deal with his own shit, but even thinking about it hurt his chest.
He leaned over the bed and stroked Paolo’s face.
Paolo blinked up at him. “Where you going?”
“Nowhere.” Luis toed his shoes off, stripped his T-shirt, and slid under the covers. He held his arm up for Paolo to duck under and rest his head on Luis’s chest. “I’m right here.”
Paolo knocked out like he’d been drugged. His fever raged on, but in the early hours of the morning, his shallow breaths evened out, and his skin cooled.
Relieved, Luis took a deep breath of his own and slipped out of bed. He’d left his phone in the living room. It was flashing on the coffee table with a message.
Unknown number: uve fucked me off too many times now bro. real talk comin
13
Paolo woke to cool hands on his face and soft lips on his cheek.
“Go back to sleep,” Luis whispered. “I’ll open the cafe.”
It was too good to be true. Paolo struggled to sit up, but Luis pushed him back, and the jackhammer still raging in Paolo’s head took his side. I don’t want you to go.
But Luis left anyway, and when Paolo next woke, it was light outside. His headache had faded to a dull roar. The nausea was gone, and he no longer felt like he was burning a forest fire under his skin.
He sat up, squinting against the single ray of winter sunshine bursting through a gap in the curtains. His phone was on the bedside table with an empty bottle of water and a box of paracetamol with four broken tabs. Paolo frowned. He didn’t remember drinking anything or swallowing any pills, but then, all he could truly recall was throwing his guts up a hundred times before Luis had appeared in the living room like an apparition. Even stumbling to bed was a haze of warmth and strong arms. God, I hope I didn’t puke on him.
As the thought crossed his mind, his phone buzzed. Paolo reached for it and opened the flurry of messages Toni had sent about Match of the Day the previous night.
Paolo: didn’t watch it, threw up all night instead
Toni: r u ok?
Paolo: totally fine, but can’t visit tonight, home rules, remember?
Toni: i remember not lost my marbles yet boy dont visit Carmela either
Paolo: I won’t
No reply came. Head spinning from Toni’s aversion to punctuation, Paolo dropped his phone on the bed and closed his eyes. Despite sleeping most of the last twenty-four hours, he started to drift and jumped a mile when his phone buzzed again.
Toni: can luis come instead
Paolo: are u serious?
Toni: why not he doesn’t move my things around I like him
It was as good a reason as any, Paolo supposed, but Luis had done him enough favours to last a lifetime. There was no way he was asking him to spend his evening visiting an old folks’ home. It was bad enough that he was running the cafe alone for minimum wage. And you still haven’t paid his rent, remember? It wasn’t due yet, but Paolo knew Luis was antsy about it. He’d left the paperwork in the kitchen a few days ago.
Ignoring the lingering headache, Paolo swung his legs out of bed and trudged to the shower. The hot spray made him feel less grungy, and the blast of cold water when it ran out woke him up enough for him to put himself together and leave the flat.
He took Luis’s housing card to the post office and paid his rent. Then he stopped by the corner shop and bought electricity tokens. Luis hadn’t mentioned running short, but he rarely mentioned much unless Paolo dragged it out of him.
The sun was still shining as he walked to the cafe. Shoppers bustled around, buying produce from the market, and dickhead lads in their shit cars cruised up and down the high street, blaring bad music and honking of weed smoke. A black car burned past and mounted the pavement in front of Paolo. Scowling, he stepped around it and continued on his way. Wankers.
At the cafe, he found Luis running the show with flawless efficiency. Bacon and sausages sizzled on the grill while he cleared tables and took orders at the till. Somehow he managed it without uttering more than two words to anyone, but that was Luis. Quietly beautiful.
Paolo came up behind him at the grill and laid a soft hand on his back, the warning he’d learned to