TORPEDO ✓

the night i took a pill in ibiza

GIOVANNI IS THINKING A THOUSAND things at once; his brain working at the rate of a hundred floating operations per seconds. His finger drums the roof of his Porsche with urgency, with anxiety.

There he is, after hours of whining and fighting Frederick; his butler and valet, chauffeur and caretaker in one person, to drive alone without an escort. Gio is now in front of the department store Dorian works and as far as he knows, is his second shift for the day before Dorian retires to the town library till eleven in the night.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, definitely not because of the slowly encroaching summer heat but to at least, put his thoughts together? He absentmindedly kicks a little rock sitting by his foot, trying to shield itself from the glaring sun.

He's oblivious to background noise, and the hustle and bustle around him in the parking lot because his Airpods are still pounding his eardrums. It's starting to hurt a little but asks Gio if he gives a fuck.

Dr. Calvin recommended this spotify podcast for him. 'Finding Chemo' is the name; too comical for his drastic situation. Gio just shakes his head because the universe loves to share a good joke once in a while.

When Gio finally decides the sun is too much for him and he could use a bit of the air-conditioned fluffy seats in his car, he's forced to do a doubletake upon seeing Dorian.

In a golf cap with a bogus "Walmart" pasted on it, similar uniform and slides, a cross-bag on his shoulder, Dorian trudges towards him with a greasy paper bag in hand and his head hung low.

Gio swallows, his heart skipping two beats. It's been almost a week that he has seen the boy, before the kiss, and yet Gio wants to jump him. He wants to melt in Dorian, hold him in his arms and tell him everything is going to be okay.

Nothing is going to be okay.

"Hey man," Dorian speaks, looking up from the cap worn a tad bit too low. He forces a smile, it doesn't reach his eyes. The latter pair are a bit sunken and red from the stress or crying or something else?

"Are you doing drugs?" Gio says, before he can stop himself.

This abruptness takes Dorian off-guard just for a moment. He tilts his head in amusement. "Is that any way to greet the love of your life?"

"Don't push it. I've been worried." Gio says, the sincerity clear as the skies above them.

The boys are standing in front of each other. Gio realizes just how tall he is, compared to Dorian. Well, not that tall but tall enough to see the centre of his head.

Gio's hands are still in his pockets as he stands on his toes, awkward as ever. This is the first time they'll be meeting since the kiss. Dorian doesn't look it however. More like, he's tired of being close to the towering complex behind him and he's ready to leave at the moment.

Dorian voices this out. Blatantly and without a pause.

"Oh y-yeah," Gio stutters, unplugging his Airpods and rushing to open the doors. His heart is slamming against his chest. Dorian standing this close to him is making his brain do somersaults.

The drive is almost quiet, except for Twenty One Pilots filling the atmosphere.

"Nice ride," Dorian comments, his hands still on his chin as he stares away into the glass.

"At least, say it like you mean it," replies Gio.

"What? I do mean it. Because I have no nice things doesn't mean I don't have an eye for them."

Another round of silence for minutes.

"How have you been?"

Dorian looks at him now with hollow eyes, his lips dry and mildly chapped. "As you can see, I've never been better."