Page 99 of Give Me What You Will

So many of Papi’s friends and loved ones had shown up to pay their respects, to share their stories, to honor his life with their best memories of him. Sam had cried and laughed, then cried some more. And Frankie never once left his side. He had become his pillar of strength, intent on taking care of him all day, even during the awkward moments when Sam’s emotions overwhelmed him. Frankie would step in, taking charge.

He couldn’t have gotten through the day without him.

The celebration of life was finally winding down, and people were slowly trickling out of Papi’s house. Refusing to stick around for any more goodbyes, Sam slipped away. Frankie had been busy with Tony and his newborn twins, giving him the opportunity to grab a bottle of Jameson from the cabinet and be alone with his broken heart.

He sighed, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Footsteps shuffled behind him, and he knew who it was by the uneven gait, noticeable only when he climbed stairs. Sam took another pull from the whiskey bottle, and Papi’s door opened. He didn’t have to turn to know it was Frankie standing in the doorway.

Without a word, his best friend sat beside him.

The late afternoon sunlight drifted through the window, illuminating Frankie. His black suit and white shirt wasn’t as rumpled as Sam’s, and his Italian leather shoes glinted in the streaming beams of light. Frankie mutely glanced up and down the ruined mess that Sam currently was. He was intent on drinking as much whiskey as humanly possible. He knew his eyes were bloodshot the last time he looked in the mirror. He had run his hand through his hair repeatedly throughout the day, and he forgot to shave this morning, leaving his chin and cheeks whiskered and haphazard.

Frankie released a long breath but didn’t give him shit.

Not today.

The weight of his body beside him on the bed was comforting and reassuring, even though they weren’t touching. Frankie reached for the bottle of whiskey in Sam’s hand, their fingers touching briefly. He took a long drink. Sam’s eyes fixated on the bobbing of his throat as he swallowed, his lips wrapped over the rim, tasting Sam’s saliva in the most innocuous way.

Forcing himself to look away, he leaned forward onto his knees, clasping his hands together and trying to keep his fucking cool.

Except… he couldn’t.

Not today.

He was too shattered. Too fucking lost to try to be stoic and reserved around Frankie right now, especially when all he could think about was how much Frankie had taken care of him all day. The way a best friend would—or even a lover. A partner.

Papi’s words had beaten in his brain like a hammer.

It wasn’t possible.

Another wave of emotion gripped him, and he wanted the whiskey. He wanted to drown in his fucking grief and forget his aching, stupid heart that would never get to have what it truly wanted.

“You remember your graduation?” Frankie said unexpectedly, his tone light and soft. He glanced over, and his chest tightened.

Frankie was smiling at him—the way he always smiled at him—as if Sam were the best thing he’d ever seen in his life. So excited, so warm, so tender.

He nodded, afraid that if he spoke, his heart would make up words he didn’t understand yet. That the dam of denial he had built around him for the last fifteen years would break, and he would lose the only person left in his life that mattered.

“When Papi showed up with that massive fuckin’ sign?” Frankie asked, smiling broadly, shaking his head. “A giant posterboard with your name on it. Fuckin’ glitter and everything. Like you just graduated kindergarten or some shit, not med school.”

Sam, unable to resist Frankie’s smile, felt his lips quirk.

“Yeah, you loved it, though. I saw you light up on that stage. You’ve never looked so bright. You shone like…” Frankie hesitated, reaching for him instead, grasping the back of his neck and nervously licking his lips before glancing away.

“What?” Sam asked, voice raspy from barely speaking all day.

“You’re gonna think I’m a fuckin’ cheeseball.”

“I already do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Frankie smiled bashfully. “You lit up like the Christmas tree in front of Rockefeller—like a fuckin’ sparkler on the Fourth of July. I ain’t never seen you do that before. And Papi did that. He did that,” he said with a firm point at the picture on the nightstand. “He loved you more than anything, and I’m gonna miss the way he made you shine.”

Emotion slammed into him, and the shock came and went. The dam had finally burst, crumbling to ruin under the tidal wave of love.

He loved Frankie.

He had always loved him, however impossibly.