Is This Enough ||MxM || Lgbtq+ [ON Hiatus]

Chapter 11

Vinnie's P.O.V

The roaring of the engine of my convertible filled the air as I sped away to Wes's house. We go way back; like two peas in a pod. Despite my inclination to be a bit of a recluse, it was difficult to stay away from him. I had a love-hate relationship with the city I lived in; It had only two things going for it; nightlife and eateries. Apart from that, the city was a desolate desert of emptiness, devoid of life. With the sheer number of people around, it still felt unsafe, which was a strange contradiction. Once I arrived at his driveway, I stepped out of my vehicle and gave his door a gentle push, which revealed it was already slightly ajar.

"Wes!" I shouted with urgency, my voice reverberating off the walls of the vacant house. Where could he be?

"Out in the yard, Gramps."

I strolled through the living room and yanked open the sliding door. Wesley was there, tinkering on his rickety old black bike. His snow-white, oil-slicked tank top popped out against his sepia skin. "Hey, I thought I told you to quit calling me Gramps. I'm not some old man, alright?"

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Wes teased, "Can't wait to get your hands on that pension when it arrives, huh?"

My brows knitted together as I spoke, "You're so lucky I like you." I stepped up to the motorcycle, examining it with a critical eye, "Still trying to get this thing to run like a dream?"

"Without a doubt!" Wes uttered as he worked on installing a deadbolt on the wheel. His typical routine for DIY projects were starting off with great enthusiasm only to peter out after a few weeks.

"What about your car?"

"I'll still use it. Whenever I can."

As he twisted another screw into the motorcycle, I couldn't help but laugh as one of the mirrors clattered to the ground and shattered into a million pieces. Wes caught my contagious laughter and soon enough we were both howling with amusement. Once our boisterous guffaws died down, I declared with enthusiasm, "Well, that's that for your biker gang dreams!"

"Ugh. Come on, let's go inside; I'm so over this!"

As we stepped inside his living room, I settled into one of his cozy armchairs. Wesley walked over and handed me a bottle of beer. His eyes peered into mine, filled with curiosity as he asked, "So, what was so important that you couldn't tell me over the phone?"

"I don't know how to put this into words," I declared. I struggled to express my thoughts, trying to find the right words to explain the situation. It was certain that when I finally found the courage to speak, his expression would be one of surprise.

"Just tell me, it can't be that bad."

Here goes nothing. "I'm playing host right now, and before you freak out, don't worry, I didn't just randomly pick him up off the street - I found him in the woods."

Wes stared at me with a look of disbelief and worry. "What the heck?! How can you be sure he's not a serial killer or some kind of criminal?"

I had a feeling that his reply would be this way; it was a typical reaction, after all. Even though we'd never met before, I sensed an inexplicable bond between us, as if I'd been acquainted with him for a very long time. "Dude chill! His name is Leonardo, and if he was a serial killer, I would have been dead by now! I had to bring him home, the weather was horrible."

Wesley displayed his disdain with a roll of his eyes, an expression that had become synonymous with him. He had also mastered the art of the subtle, yet impactful, side-eye, making him the undisputed ruler of the annoyed stare. "Well, go on."