Unbreakable smile

Chapter 4

The swear words litter their wall now, slurs crawling along the windowsills and reaching for the roof. Some of them are bold, surrounded by colorful illustrations. Others are scrawny and barley legible. The whole thing starts to look more and more like an communal art instillation - and maybe at this point, that's what it is. There's a caricature of Feliciano that's unnecessarily detailed and the most offensive thing about it is that he can't pull it of and frame it. 

Feliciano hasn't attempted to get rid of it, mostly because he doesn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing him trying to scrub the walls. But does he even want to anymore? It's actually pretty... cute. Even if they written fag about ten million times. Which is also cute. Do they honestly think that word gets to him anymore?

Feliciano means to drag his ass over to the cottage, he really does, but wherever he looks there's dishes piling up and floors that needs to be swept and would you look at that, dust is continually falling from the sky, which means that there's always something that needs to be dusted and-

"Enough already," Jaime says, marching to the step stool Feliciano stands on, grabbing the feather duster out of his hands.

"Rude. You always complain that I never do anything around here."

Jamie pushes him back to the floor.

"We're going out."

Feliciano squints at him. Jaime never wants to go anywhere unless it's out of the village.

"Where are we going?"

His boyfriend shuffles over to the hallway and digs out his boots. He's wearing a mustard hoodie and washed out sweatpants - which really doesn't indicate anything. Jamie once wore ragged jeans to a pub crawl. Feliciano still cringes at the memory.

"You already know I won't leave unless you tell me which dress code is required."

Jamie rolls his eyes.

"Doesn't matter this time."

But it matters for Feliciano, he knows how much it matters to him and hold up. Jamie's trying to be slick, but he's Feliciano Pavano and his boyfriend should know better than trying to pull something on him. 

Jamie studies him, sees realization dawning on his face. 

"I'm going to that god damn place with or without you."

Feliciano tries to picture it, tries to imagine her and Jamie in the same room. Two vastly different parts of his life, colliding. It's weird. Like bringing your parents to work or a booty call to your cousins first communion.  

What would Jamie even think of her? Feliciano doesn't know anything about the person she's now. But back then, she'd been the opposite of him in so many ways, that people were continually surprised they were friends. But she'd been the best thing in his life and even if Jamie thinks he understands, he... doesn't. Can't possibly. They called each other best friends simply because the language didn't have any other words for it. Any proper words.

What she would think of him? Would she look at Jamie's narrow face, awkward fidgeting and stained sweats and wonder what Feliciano sees in him?

"Hey," Jamie says, voice gentler this time. "She's your best friend right? Don't you want to see her?"

He doesn't want Jaime to see her. Feliciano knows that much. His boyfriend stands in the hallway, one boot on, the other next to his left foot. With or without you. And when it comes down to it, Feliciano can't do this with him. Not this.