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He was talking about Raphael’s symptoms as a whole. The sleepless nights, the spasms in his legs, the headache, the fatigue. His stomach was already rolling a little, but less than the day before, so he considered it a win.
“We should get lunch after.”
“Hell yeah.” Luca grinned at him and pulled out onto the main road. “What are you hungry for?”
“Anything,” Raphael said, and he felt comfortable being vague knowing Luca wouldn’t choose something he couldn’t eat.
“I’m craving sushi,” Luca said. The wind was high, and the breeze was on the cold side of chilly, so he pushed the button to secure the top, and Raphael breathed a little easier as he felt the blast from the car heater. “Unless something else sounds better.”
“I’m easy,” Raphael said. “I just want to get this appointment over with.”
Luca gave him a look full of pity that Raphael would hate if it had come from anyone else. “How many more after this?”
“Once a month right now, until he’s satisfied it’s a good regiment,” Raphael said, waving his hand. His fingers began to twitch, and he curled them in toward his palm. It had been years since he’d needed surgery to help loosen his tendons, but the other day his foot got stuck in a point and it had taken half an hour of massaging before it relaxed again. It was one of the more recent moments where he knew his grip on this comfortable life was going to change. Recovery and pain were the one thing most people he knew hadn’t seen.
“Well, I don’t have shit to do. Noah and Adriano will be here next month, but I think they’re spending most of their time with Adam and Talia.”
Raphael scoffed. “I’m not going to interrupt family time.”
“I just hope you plan to hang out with us,” Luca said, and Raphael heard the pleading note in his voice. Luca was in love—had found happiness where Adriano had—but he knew Luca always felt small in the shadow of his brother. Even with Wilder’s careful, all-consuming adoration, it wouldn’t erase those self-inflicted scars Luca had dug into himself.
“I have no other plans,” Raphael said, and he meant it.
Luca was quiet after that, and Raphael was grateful he didn’t follow him into the appointment. One of the kinder nurses took his blood, then he got his weight measured and the rest of his vitals done. The appointment was quick and easy—a read of his recent scans said that his brain was responding okay. No change necessary.
No change, except everything else.
No change except the inevitable aging and twisting of his body that would happen no matter who he was or how hard he fought.
He felt old, for the first time in a long time. His face still held a youth that he wore like a mask, but he was nearing his forties, and he felt aches in his bones that weren’t there before. The sprinkle of grays at his temple were shifting up along his hairline. He studied his reflection in the mirror sometimes and thought of his mother and all the ways he didn’t look like her. Then he thought of the man who contributed to his birth, and he wondered if maybe everything he was belonged to him.
A stranger.
But he wasn’t feeling particularly melancholy—just tired. He took his next appointment forms and paid his fees, then rolled out to find Luca leaning against the hood of his car talking to two strangers. Or two, until Raphael recognized the highlighted swoop of Dmitri’s hair across his forehead and the way he brushed an impatient hand through his bangs.
The man beside him, at first glance, might have been a student from campus in his distressed jeans and hoodie, except for the way he held himself. He had an air of authority about him, a sort of protective stance at Dmitri’s side. He had one hand tucked into his pocket, and the other shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun.
They were close though—more than casual acquaintances, and Raphael felt something twist in his chest. The man hadnobusiness…
But he stopped himself before that thought could take real form. It was not his place.
Gripping his wheels, Raphael pushed up, and Dmitri noticed him first, his face breaking into its usual soft smile. He pulled away from the other man and walked over, hands twitching like he wanted to reach for Raphael and only just stopped himself. Raphael had made sure over the last year to quash any physical affection between them, just to save himself the pain, but he regretted it right at that moment.
“How’d it go?” Dmitri asked, his voice pitched low and private.
Raphael waved him off. “Same as ever. Was geht ab?”
At that, Dmitri pinked in the cheeks and glanced back at his companion. “Nothing, really. We’re just grabbing pizza. This is Dr…I mean, um. Rian? He’s one of my professors.”
Raphael’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he felt a wave of protective fury. This man—Rian—was attractive, and there was a charisma in his eyes that was impossible to miss. And Raphael had known men like him, charming and beautiful and too happy to take advantage of their positions of power.
His knuckles ached from how hard he gripped his wheels, and he pushed up to him, offering a hard stare. “Just out for a meal?”
“He was helping me on my first paper,” Dmitri said, his voice tinged with confusion. “I haven’t done this school thing in years. It’s…yeah. I thought it would be easier.”
Rian chuckled, his smile very straight—very American. And he was good looking, which made it so much worse. Pretty could too often be deceiving, and he knew well that Dmitri was vulnerable. “He’s actually doing just fine, but I understand the pressure. You must be Raphael. He’s told me a lot about you.”
Raphael stared at the offered hand just long enough to make it uncomfortable before he took it. “He hasn’t mentioned you until right now.” And that was only technically a lie. Dmitri had mentioned a few professors, but never by name. Never casual enough for a lunch. Jealousy seethed in him, an ugly, angry thing. It made his throat hot, and he knew he was treading dangerous waters.
