Is This Enough ||MxM || Lgbtq+

Chapter 5

Vinnie's P.O.V.

[Present Day]

My heart raced as the sound of his footsteps echoed down the staircase and into the kitchen. I was still nursing my wounds from the argument, and I was certain he was doing the same. When Leonardo slunk into the kitchen, his eyes were cast downwards.

"Um. . . Vinnie?" he mumbled.

My eyes remained fixed on my phone as I asked, "Yes, what is it?" The events of the night before had left me feeling indignant, and though I tried to suppress it, a smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

"Are you still mad?"

"Huh?" I pretended to be perplexed by what he had posed, and I wasn't embarrassed to admit that I was being petty. It was in my nature.

He had an expressionless, faraway look on his face, while his shoulders were slumped.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled. "I really messed up. I shouldn't have said those things. I got carried away."

His restless hands gave away his inner strife as he attempted to meet my gaze; his words were genuine and heartfelt.

He was simply being curious, unaware that it was a sensitive topic. "It's okay, Leonardo. Don't be too hard on yourself. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I could eat," he responded, his voice softening.

Last night's dinner dishes were heaped in the sink, so I grabbed two bowls, some cereal, and a jug of milk.

With only two options, I thought it better to inquire, so I presented the two boxes, asking, "Which would you like?" His finger pointed to the bran flakes, and I filled the bowl.

I could feel his gaze on me, a quiet pressure in the air. "You're staring, you know?" I said without turning to face him, my voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"Sorry," he muttered, quickly looking away, though the faint color creeping up his neck told me he hadn't been embarrassed by the question alone.

I glanced back over my shoulder, watching him shuffle awkwardly as he fumbled with his hands. "You seem to say that a lot," I teased lightly.

His eyes darted to me, and for a brief moment, there was a hint of something unreadable in them, but it quickly passed.

I handed him a bowl, silently urging him to sit as I grabbed two spoons from the drawer. As I set the bowls down on the kitchen table and took my seat across from him, the room felt oddly calm, though an undercurrent of tension lingered in the air.

He stood in thought for a moment, his face contorted, struggling to find the right words. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and drawn out. "I think I'm going to go upstairs to eat breakfast."

"Yeah, that's. . . fine, I'll eat here."

He made his exit, dragging his feet as he went.  As I ate my breakfast, the crunch of my cereal filled the room with an uncomfortable quiet.

Escape seemed to be the only option, so I headed to the living room to indulge in my guilty pleasure: reality television. The loud, passionate arguments and over-the-top displays of affection, mixed with the quick cuts of footage, were enough to keep me captivated.

I heard the sound of his shoes coming down the stairs and moments later, the clatter of his plate in the sink. I sensed that he was coming to find me. Soon he was standing at the threshold.

"So how was your breakfast?" he asked, trying to ease the tension.

"Good thanks. How was yours?"

"It was good. Thank you." This conversation was becoming more and more uncomfortable as the small talk failed to lighten the atmosphere.

"It's no problem at all. You've gotta eat right? I'm not about to let you go hungry and put the funeral option back on the table." I rambled, trying to lighten the mood.

He gave me a brief, forced smile concealing his true feelings before making his escape.

He nodded, "Next one's on me!", then seemed to regret it, mumbling, "Well, um, yeah, I'm gonna go back upstairs."

His sorrow was almost palpable, hanging in the air between us like a heavy fog. It was as though he wanted to take it all back, to erase whatever had caused this weight on his chest. I could see it in his eyes. The regret, the yearning to fix something that felt irrevocable.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I fought back the urge to bring up my family, the ones I lost long ago. I hated how my mind would sometimes drift, fabricating scenarios where they were still alive, living in some remote place where mobile communication didn't exist.

A life untouched by tragedy. It was easier, in those moments, to imagine a world where I wasn't alone.

But reality was never that kind. I pulled myself back from those thoughts, trying to stay grounded in the present. There was no family left to turn to, no comforting voices or familiar faces to offer solace.

Mornings, especially, felt like a cruel reminder of the emptiness I carried. The silence in my home echoed, and I couldn't escape it. It pressed in on me, making every day harder to face than the last.

A thick, foggy sensation clouded my sight as I felt salty liquid trickling down my cheeks. I had to come to terms with the fact that nothing ever will be the same. Loneliness had become a constant companion.

I wrapped myself up in the comforting embrace of a weighted blanket, a purchase recommended by my therapist to improve my sleep quality. Despite my attempts to be open and honest with her, I found myself unable to speak outright, instead having to use metaphors and changing names.

Tears streamed down my face, cascading in a continuous flow that mirrored a never-ending waltz. It drenched the throw pillow that I pressed against my face in a desperate attempt to muffle my sobs.

I was teetering on a precarious tightrope, and with every challenge I encountered, the gap between the two sides became even more difficult to traverse. Wesley cheered me on from the sidelines, providing me with the assurance that I could conquer any daunting task. Despite the fact that he had been reliable thus far, he probably wouldn't remain constant in the future with my track record.

Snuggling into the warmth of the blanket, I felt an immediate sense of calmness and relaxation wash over me. I was able to drift off into a peaceful sleep, feeling more relaxed and rejuvenated than ever before.

As the sun began to set, a radiant golden hue illuminated the room, making me acutely aware that the evening was here. Rising from the sofa, I realized I'd forgotten to pause the episode, and it continued to play on the screen, the voices blending into the background of my thoughts.

But I didn't have the energy to deal with that right now. I moved through the house, my steps slow and deliberate, as I closed each blind with a soft click, blocking out the fading evening sun. The golden light had always been comforting, but tonight, it felt intrusive. I arrived at the guest bedroom, my hand poised to knock on the door, yet I hesitated. If the current situation persisted, he wouldn't be able to stay here.

Thanks for reading <3 I love Lana del Rey!! What is yours? Mines Cinnamon Girl.