Finding Family, Finding Love

Chapter 14

Elliot

I sink into the familiar comfort of our dinner table, surrounded by my brothers. The soft glow of candles and the warm embrace of twinkling string lights above our heads wrap us in a cozy cocoon, shielding us from the day's chaos.

The heavenly aroma of the Italian Casserole, infused with the richness of slow-cooked meat and the subtle tang of tomato sauce, wafts through the air.

Alongside the casserole, steaming dishes of Baked Rice, Steamed Clams, and tender Agnolotti beckon, each flavor a testament to thier family's Italian heritage.

As I take my seat beside Eduardo, Allesandro and Ricardo engage in lively conversation.

My gaze lingers to Allesandro. Three and a half week have passed since I've started to live with them, and his expression remains as frosty as ever.

I know he isn't as brave as he seems. He's just built his walls high enough so keep people out, so they don't climb to the other other side and watch him fall apart.

I've learned to respect that boundary. Alessandro's not someone to be messed with.

To any naked eye death would be a sweeter solace than his presence.

The clinking of silverware and gentle hum of thier conversation created a soothing melody.

As we dig in, I steal glances at the Hazelnut semifreddo. My brothers still don't know I'm allergic to hazelnuts. God damn, that looks yummy... but I can't risk it. I deserve that treat after surviving school.

Alessandro and Ricardo engage in a hushed Italian conversation, I don't know a word they're saying, but I'm sure it's not important.

Eduardo and I eat in comfortable silence. Matteo and Santiago debate the season's matches.

I never thought I'd be living here. Out of all things, my brothers. I never even though I had brothers. Didn't know of thier existence until about few weeks ago.

They knew me before I was kidnapped? They knew me from birth?

I never had the privilege of sharing meals with loved ones, laughing together, or feeling the warmth of belonging. Until now. Until I started to live with them.

Back then, food was scarce, hope was scarcer.

I never thought I'd eat this much, or this well. Just a year ago, hunger pangs gnawed at my belly, reminding me of my worthlessness.

A few months ago, I still wondered where my next meal would come from.

I imagine my parents sitting across from me, their faces filled with love and pride. Would they have liked me? Would they have accepted me for who I am?

My thoughts linger on the secret I've kept hidden, the part of me I've struggled to reconcile. My sexuality. My sexual identity.

The comfort of a man's touch soothes my inner soul, But similarly it also broke me apart. Both truths I've dared not speak aloud.

What if my brothers reject me? What if they think less of me? Will they see me as broken, as damaged?

Or will they understand that this is who I am, that I'm still the same person they've come to know? The same person who's struggled to find his place in this world?

Doubt lingers in the recesses of my mind. What if?

I take a deep breath, letting the warmth of this dinner table envelop me. For now, I'll savor this sense of belonging, this fleeting feeling of home.