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“You said you wanted what your brother got,” Raphael pointed out.
At that, he dragged a hand down his face before he put his own drink down and turned to face Raphael better. “That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t lacking in sex or relationships back home. I’m not looking for a Noah.”
Cocking his head to the side, Raphael drummed his fingers on his knee and met Luca’s gaze long enough to make him uncomfortable. “Do you even know what it is you want? Because my guess is no. My guess is you showed up here looking for answers to questions you weren’t even brave enough to ask yourself aloud.”
Luca bit the inside of his cheek, and he felt a bit too seen right then. “Why do you care? You don’t know me. Hell, I can’t even tell if you like me.”
“I like you. I mean, I feel sorry for you, but I like you.”
“That helps,” Luca said dryly.
“It is what it is.” Raphael let out a sigh and then reached for Luca’s knee, giving him a gentle pat. “Sometimes we earn pity. Maybe it’s a good way to motivate you into something more. Something better.”
Leaning his head back, Luca groaned softly. “Honestly?” he asked, and Raphael nodded. “You’re right. I don’t know what the fuck I’m looking for. I just…my brothers and sisters have these full lives. Even before Adriano met Noah, he had a good life. His boyfriend was an epic shithead, but Adriano never defined his worth by what people thought about him.”
“And you do?” Raphael’s voice was soft, and Luca had no defense against it.
He swallowed against a lump in his throat, and it took him a moment to answer. “It’s all I’ve ever had. Before any of us had money, I was totally content to work some bullshit pizzeria job. I was heading toward thirty and making just enough to cover my rent in some shitty apartment, and I was happy with it. I didn’t ever bother to want more, you know?”
“That’s not the worst life in the world,” Raphael pointed out. “Some might say it’s the life I’m living.”
“I just, I never had any passion. Adriano over-compensated for the years we spent barely above poor, and Pietro followed in his footsteps when he started making his own cash.”
“Sounds like it was a gift.”
“Yes,” Luca said, “but I didn’t do anything with it. I bought expensive cars and clothes, and I invested, and I tried to pretend like I understood art and culture. I was that douche on reality TV who doesn’t do anything with his life but has a platinum card with no limit while my siblings went out and made something of themselves.”
“And you think you’re going to find the answers to why you were lazy here in Savannah?” Raphael asked, and there was laughter in his tone—a bit mocking, but not entirely cruel.
“It’s somewhere that made a difference for my brother,” Luca defended.
Raphael sighed and shifted over, laying his hand on Luca’s arm and holding tight. “I think Adriano was ready for whatever change he needed. I’m not convinced you’re there yet.”
Luca’s entire body sagged, and suddenly he felt closer to tears than ever. It felt like Raphael was ripping away his one chance to find something that made his life feel like it mattered. “He should have let me go home.” His voice was a soft whisper, and he couldn’t even bring himself to say Wilder’s name. Wilder, the man who was indulging him in his fucking madness tomorrow morning.
“I disagree.” Raphael gently pulled his hand back, then took a long drink from his bottle. “I think you decided something real, for the first time in your life, and right now you need to learn patience.”
Luca scoffed, but only because the truth hurt, and he wasn’t sure his wounded pride could take anymore blows for the day. “Thank you.”
Raphael laughed. “I’m sure you don’t mean that.”
Luca did though, and he sat up straight and looked him in the eyes. “Yeah, I do. No one ever told me what I needed to hear. They just blew smoke up my ass so I’d keep them swimming in pocket money and booze. That life sucked, and I need to maybe be uncomfortable for a while. So, thank you. Okay?”
“Okay,” Raphael said softly.
Luca rubbed at his eyes, the ache still there, but they were dry. “I wish I could invite you up.”
“Well, for the record, I can go upstairs. I have cerebral palsy, and most of the time I prefer my wheelchair because my legs are very stiff and spastic. But I can go up and down stairs on my crutches when I need to. It has to be really worth my time though, and I meant what I said when I told you I don’t want you to fall for me.”
“For the record,” Luca shot back, though his tone was softer and defeated, “I wasn’t inviting you up for that reason. A new friend just told me I need to make changes, so I’m trying this new thing where I don’t use my money or blow jobs to get people to stick around. I make a really good marinara sauce though, so I thought you might want to come up for dinner one night.”
“I fucking love pasta,” Raphael said, and maybe there was something in his voice just humoring Luca, but there was also something a bit more. “I can’t have gluten though. I have to manage my seizures with keto.”
“Give me ten minutes on google,” Luca swore, because he was feeling a little bit desperate to hang on to the one solid thing he’d built in that last day. “I can make it work.”
Raphael bit his lip, then he smiled. “Okay. I trust you. But if you have questions, promise to ask first.”
“I swear. Later this week?”
