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A small piece of him wanted to rewind back to that afternoon and tell Renzo they didn’t need to take it slow. To beg for a chance that allowed them to be more, but he knew better. He knew he had to do it this way. Or he’d lose him for good.
“Okay, these,” Matty said. He came up with identical gifts, and he was grinning, which told Emil they were from him.
Renzo took them and gently set Emil’s on his thigh, then sat back and gestured for Matty to tear into his, which he did without any remorse for the poor wrapping paper that was immediately destroyed.
Emil was so lost in Matty’s enthusiasm that he forgot about his own gift as a box of LEGO was unearthed from the sea of paper. Matty made a loud squeal, clapping his hands as he got up and did a little jig.
“Roblox! Everyone’s going to be so jealous! This was what I wanted!”
Renzo looked far too pleased with himself. “I know. Now, you can have an extra half hour if you want to open it and sort the pieces, but no building until tomorrow. I’m exhausted, and I know you’re going to get me up at the butt-crack of dawn.”
Matty’s eyes narrowed, and Emil had a feeling he wanted to order him to put money in the swear jar, but after a beat, he forgot about it and grabbed the box, shouting, “Good night!” before disappearing up the stairs.
Emil shifted, then felt his own gift start to slide, and he caught it. “Should we wait for tomorrow to open these?”
“God no,” Renzo said. “He’ll notice if we do.”
Emil laughed softly, staring at his lap. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been given a gift of any kind. He was pretty sure Victor had tried once, but even he had sent his personal secretary out for it. It likely ended up with the pile of other gifts that Emil had never looked at again.
He lived in a world where material things were so accessible, nothing ever mattered. And no one had ever put heart into anything. Everything he ever owned was for the simple aesthetic of having it. Even his damn car was nothing more than a giant, waving flag telling people how much he was worth.
The thought made him sick, his stomach twisting against all the cocoa and cookies as the edge of his nail picked at the tape.
“I know it’s not as nice as what you’re probably used to,” Renzo started, but he stopped when Emil cleared his throat.
“I promise it’s not that.” He was slightly embarrassed at how thick his voice sounded, but he couldn’t help it. With every passing day, it became harder and harder to hide his emotions. “This is, um. My first.”
“First what?” Renzo asked, his tone filled just slightly with something like horror. “Please don’t tell me this is your first present.”
“My first real one, yeah,” Emil whispered. “This is…um. It’s nice. Thank you.”
“You don’t even know what it is,” Renzo said softly.
He didn’t. But he didn’t give a shit. He finally found the courage to tear at the edges, and he was far more careful with the paper than Matty had been. He folded it into a neat little square, then pried the edge of the box open to find a mug nestled in some pink tissue paper. He was entirely unsurprised.
He pulled it from the wrapping, and his gaze caught on the image that Matty had hand painted. It was two shadowy figures leaning against a railing, Christmas lights in the background, more shadowy people on an ice rink behind them.
Emil didn’t need to see details to make out exactly what he was looking at. “He was watching us.”
Renzo was leaning in close, his breath warm and soft against the side of Emil’s neck. “Looks like it.”
Emil ran his thumb over the smooth, glossy surface. “What’s yours?”
Renzo made a soft humming noise and displayed his. It was two shadowy figures drinking cocoa. “His second favorite Christmas tradition.”
Emil set his mug on the table, but he couldn’t take his eyes off it. “He…likes me, doesn’t he?”
Renzo’s brow furrowed, his head tilted to the side like he was studying Emil for his question. Maybe it was the wrong thing to say. The words had been honest and vulnerable and tumbled past his lips without any real permission, but he didn’t want to regret them.
He was allowed to want that, wasn’t he? He was allowed to care. To crave acceptance from all the really good people in his life.
“Emil?”
He blinked and realized that he’d gotten lost in his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he leaned forward to grab his mug of cocoa, and he took a sip before grimacing. It was cold and a little congealed.
“Yeah, give me that,” Renzo said, plucking it from his hands. He rose, but instead of stalking off, he offered his free hand and tugged Emil to his feet. Neither of them said a word as Renzo led him to the kitchen, and Emil watched with a sort of mute fascination as Renzo washed up the remaining dishes and put everything in the drying rack.
It was strangely domestic and, in the weirdest way, erotic. His cock had been half-hard for most of the afternoon, but now it was starting to thicken behind his pajama pants. He was grateful Matty wasn’t here to see it because there was no hiding it behind the flimsy fabric.
