Fireflies {DAMIANO DAVID FANFICTION}

EIGHTEEN

"Stop," I bat Dami's hand away from his mouth, where he's been chewing on his fingernails anxiously. "We're okay."

"They're gonna hate me." He spits out a piece of nail, swallowing heavily and directing his eyes towards me. 

"They aren't going to hate you." I run my fingers through his hair, planting my lips to his temple. He hums quietly. "Ti amo, Damiano."

"Ti amo." 

I slot my hand into his own. Around us, the cafe hustles and bustles with the sound of a dozen people. It's noisy, but people seem to pay us no mind, for which I am grateful. Rome is a busy city, and this shop reflects it. It's full of people dressed in suits and fancy skirts, with tourists and young schoolchildren. 

In the time it takes me to blink, the space across from us in the booth has been filled. I feel Damiano squeeze my hand, and I return the gesture, smiling at the two figures across the booth from us. 

"Hey mom, dad."

My mother looks worn out. Her face has aged tremendously, skin wrinkled and cheeks sunken in. Even the hair she wears in her bun appears gray, not gold like I was used to. She flashes me a smile, but her lips shake with the attempt. 

My father is stoic as always. His head is still shaved, and he somehow looks younger than my mother because of it. One can still see the gray hairs peeking through his goatee, though. I hear him clear his throat before he reaches across the table, hand extended outwards towards Damiano. 

He quickly shakes his hand out of mine, leaning up to join hands with my father. "Damiano, sir," I hear him speak. "Lovely to meet you." When my father drops his hand, Dami extends his towards my mother. She accepts the offer, and Damiano smiles. "Nice to meet you, miss." he hums. He slides back down next to me, wiping his clammy hand on his slacks before finding mine again. 

"I'm sure you already know."

If there's one thing my mother taught me, it's that it's always better to address the elephant in the room as soon as possible. Presently, it feels like there are a dozen elephants in the room. There's one for my pregnancy, one for the mere presence of Damiano, one for the tabloids screaming my name, one for the apartment I hardly visit anymore, and one for the disappointment that flashes through my father's eyes. I'd miss it if I hadn't been looking for it. 

"It's hard not to." My mother finally responds, chuckling as she does. "One Google of your name, Zola, and it's everywhere. People have been asking me all about it. It's kind of humiliating."

I bite back the vicious words that immediately pop up on my tongue. You want to talk about humiliating? I was forced to announce a pregnancy to the world before I was ready. You want to talk about humiliating? We have photographers that sleep outside our house. You want to talk about humiliating? I watch Damiano pace at night when he thinks I'm asleep, peaking out the windows to make sure I'm safe. 

I take a deep breath. I see Damiano do the same, and he's surely had to stop similar words from bubbling over just now. "I understand." are the words I choose. "I'm sorry I couldn't have told you sooner. Things have been...crazy."

"So I see," Mum chuckles. "I see it's a little girl, yes? That's what everyone online has been saying." 

"Yes," I pull my free hand down to my stomach, almost out of instinct. "Yes, a little girl. We're very excited."

"I would be, too," she says. "But my Zola, you're so young, honey. Is this why you couldn't go to university?"

"It is." I sigh with a phrase that feels like defeat to admit. "I had to decide what would be best, and that was staying in Rome."

"I agree with you." Dad finally speaks, clearing his throat immediately after. "Yes, Zola, I agree. You need to be here. With...what's your name, son?"

"Damiano, sir." He responds immediately. Part of me is shocked he's been paying attention. His eyes are fixed on my parents like he's in some sort of trance. I have never seen him this focused. 

"How's money?" Mum asks. No part of me is surprised that she asks the question. Materialistic isn't the word to describe her.

"I'm taking care of her." Damiano immediately interrupts. "Respectfully, you don't need to worry. I'll make sure your daughter and your granddaughter are taken care of."

The sound of his voice startles me again. I squeeze his hand, leaning over to place a very quick kiss on his cheek with a low hum. 

"Well," my mom sighs. "I can't say I approve of you being pregnant at so young. Admittedly, I wish you would've used protection-"

"We did." I interrupt. "We did. It's, uh, clearly not 100%"

"Well, then I wish it was." she huffs. The tone sends a ping through my heart. "I'm disappointed, but I'm not...not angry, Zola. Your father and I love you very much. If there's anything we can do to make this easier, please let me know."

"I love you both, too, Mum. I hope you'll be in her life when she's here."

"We will." My father smiles at me. He brushes off his shirt before standing. "Thanks for taking care of our little girl, son." He says with a hand on Damiano's shoulder. 

"I will forever, sir," he responds. My heart smiles at his words. 

As soon as my mother and father depart from sight, not without a hug and kiss goodbye, I wrap my arms around Damiano's neck, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug and sobbing against his chest. 

"Ti amo," he mutters into my ear. 

"For the rest of my life," I sniffle. "I will say ti amo to you, Damiano."