s/p

“Did you think about it?” asked Nero, startling him a bit. Avilio slightly shifted his position on the bed, taking his time to reply. Despite himself, he knew what Nero was referring to, and he had thought about it, and even though he told himself that no, he didn’t need a friend, and that Nero would never be a friend for him, he still hesitated, he still felt unsure, confused. Nero was looking at him, but seemed still distracted by whatever was worrying him. Angelo took advantage of his lack of attention to take a deep breath before speaking, and to control his voice to prevent it from showing his nervousness. “I don't know what you're talking about.” He lied.

“I’m referring to the question I asked you yesterday” explained the older man, sinking in the armchair while looking outside.

“You’re still entertaining that friendship idea?” Angelo replied bluntly, annoyed at himself for caring about what that man said enough to keep thinking about it, and annoyed at Nero because all of that was his fault, him and his strange ideas, his incomprehensible kindness and his calming aura.

Nero laughed softly, and he didn’t sound annoyed or irritated at all. “Yes, I am, why would I be here otherwise?” he said.

Angelo smirked bitterly. “To have sex like all the others?” he retorted, still confused as to why Nero would be interested in his plain and silent company and not in what he was actually paying for. The older guy looked away from him with a sigh so quiet it was barely audible, and Angelo asked himself once again what was wrong with him. He stood up and walked closer to the armchair, and when his fingers brushed the grey vest Nero was wearing, the other man’s big hands grasped them delicately, pulling him close. Angelo was surprised at first, but he waited to see what the other wanted to do.

His own skin looked so pale compared to Nero’s complexion, and his bruises seemed to be even more apparent than usual. Avilio winced and for a swift moment he felt like pulling back his hand and hiding the bluish signs circling his wrist, as if showing them would have some kind of consequence he didn’t want to face, but his curiosity prevailed over that strange feeling and he just stood still. Nero’s fingers danced lightly on his skin, and despite how rough and callous his palm was, his touch was delicate and careful. It was calming, almost relaxing, and Angelo thought that those hands didn’t look like they were made to kill. But then again, neither did his own.

Nero opened his mouth to say something, before eventually letting go of Angelo’s hand without saying anything. He cleared his throat, pushing the awkwardness of that moments away. “You know, if you don’t like the idea of talking and getting to know each other, you can always tell me to go away.” he suggested. He still didn't sound angry, but there was a coldness in his voice Angelo had never heard in their previous conversations, which hit him like a punch in the stomach and made him realise the direction that exchange was taking was completely wrong. He knew what he had to do — he had to be liked — and it was such a simple concept and yet such a difficult task to accomplice, for someone like him. He never had to struggle that much to keep his mind focused before, and even though he attributed that difficulty to the fact that he felt finally closer to his revenge now, that couldn’t be an excuse.

Sometimes he thought that it was exactly like Strega said: clients liked him because they only fucked with him; he was okay when it came to learning practical things, and seducing men was often nothing more than a dull and repetitive task — it was very linear and logic, and something surprising rarely ever happened. But if someone tried to have a conversation with him, they would surely end up hating him, because he was dry and cold, insensitive and blunt. And while he liked the idea of Nero hating him, it was not the right moment for that, not just yet. Nero had to like him before he started hating him, and Angelo was really having problems with that first part. How do I make a sappy idiot like him like me?