Between Two Mountains - 6. Chapter 6

Marco wandered down the avenue of oleanders, not quite looking where he was going, ducking slightly when the overhanging sprays of pink flowers and glossy green leaves threatened to get tangled in his hair.

‘How did it go?’

He stared at his third unanswered text to Cosmo and sighed. He supposed the older boy’s silence spoke volumes. Why did he have to keep shutting himself away every time something went wrong?

It’s been over a day. Just talk to me!

Still, at least there had been one positive out of the whole business. It had felt good to work with Giacomo on something, to put their bruised friendship to a positive use. The two of them went back such a long way, but the last three years had seen that relationship shattered into a million pieces and slowly put back together in a very different shape.

Somehow it got so it was all about Dani. I don’t know whether it was Dani’s fault or ours. But at least he made us repair what got broken.

And then there had been lockdown. What a strange, testing time that had been, to only see your friends in miniature on a mobile phone screen.

For now, at least, that spell was behind them. Marco stepped out into the square, basking in the early morning sun, letting the scraping of the cicadas and the gentle hum of conversation wash over him. For once, he felt utterly glad to be alive.

And isn’t THAT a turn-up for the books?

He cast his eyes about the benches and bars, looking for anyone he knew. There were a good number of locals having coffee and pastries, and a couple of tourists standing at the railings under the umbrella pines, taking photos of the view. The usual scattering of hungry pigeons pecked around the tables and chairs, looking for crumbs.

Marco’s ears pricked up at the sound of a familiar giggle, and he turned round to see Emilia and Luca strolling into the square from Via Roma, hand in hand. Luca appeared to be regaling her with something funny or scandalous, and she was struggling to keep a straight face.

Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. With life in the town returning more to normal all the time, maybe the true potential of a summer of freedom was finally starting to sink in.

Marco shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for his friends to catch up with him.

“Ciao, guys,” he said as they approached.

Luca raised a hand in a casual greeting. Emilia’s reaction was more pronounced: she broke away from her boyfriend, hurried up to the startled Marco and, wrapping her arms around him, planted a kiss on his cheek.

“What was that for?” Marco asked as she released him, flushing slightly in spite of himself.

“For what you tried to do for Luca’s brother,” she replied. “You and Giacomo.”

“Didn’t work, though, did it?” Marco grumbled. He gave Luca a questioning glance. “I’m right about that, aren’t I? What happened?”

Luca nodded. “Cosmo got fired.” He cast his green eyes downwards for a moment. “I actually sort of feel bad for him. He looked like he was really going to try for once.”

“Where is he now?” Marco asked.

Luca shrugged. “Dio knows. Probably with the bête noire, knowing him.”

Marco blinked. “The what?”

“It’s French, slowcoach,” Luca remarked wryly. “Look it up.”

Emilia rolled her eyes. “He means Betta.”

“Oh,” Marco harrumphed. “I really don’t like her.” He scratched his head. “And then there’s the younger brother. I haven’t seen him for a couple of days. Can you believe he actually tried to intimidate me?” he shook his head. “So not convincing.”

Luca snorted. “Sounds like they all belong together. That’s about Cosmo’s sort of level.”

Wow. Giorgio’s so invisible to Cosmo that he hasn’t even come up in conversation. That makes his posturing even MORE pathetic.

“I wish there was more I could do,” Marco murmured, casting his eyes thoughtfully up into the dark green canopies of the pines, which sung with their usual summer resonance.

“Why do you care so much, Marco?” Luca asked. He seemed genuinely nonplussed.

Marco shrugged. “He’s my friend, or I thought he was, and… I just want to help. The same way Gianni, Angelo and Dani helped me.”

Luca twisted his mouth ironically. “Maybe you should find someone who’s more worth saving.”

Marco sighed. “Yeah, maybe… but I still wish I knew where he was.”

* * *

By lunchtime, Marco was already home. He had hung out with the others while Emilia did the rounds, delivering paperwork for her father, an accountant who did the books for many of the local businesses, but then Emilia and Luca had moved on, setting off for a nature walk in the Sambuco valley. With a sinking heart, Marco had waved them off at that point, sensing that three would be a crowd.

Back on your own again. What else is new?

It was Gianni’s day off, and Angelo had planned his carpentry schedule around it as he often did, so they ate lunch together as a family. Gianni served up a warm and savoury lunch of linguine alla sorrentina, prepared with the new season’s cherry tomatoes and fresh Fior’ di Latte mozzarella from a local cheesemaker. The glossy pasta twirled around Marco’s fork in a most satisfying way, releasing aromas of garlic, basil and chilli. His foster fathers sat facing him, while Ennio sat on the chair next to him, his whiskery face and round green eyes watching Marco’s fork with intense interest.

“Ennio!” Angelo called gently, clicking his tongue to attract the cat’s attention. “You daft thing. You don’t like tomatoes!”

Ennio gave him a disdainful look and returned to watching Marco’s fork.

“He likes mozzarella, though,” Gianni observed. “That’s what you get for being soft-hearted, Angelo. I’ve seen you slipping him scraps of it when you think I’m not looking.”

The corner of Angelo’s mouth twitched. “Busted! I should have known you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyes off me.” He gave an affected sigh. “It’s hard being so beautiful. How’s man supposed to get any privacy?”

Gianni facepalmed, then peeked despairingly at Marco through his fingers.

“Oh, man,” he said. “Can you believe this guy?”

Marco gave him a half-hearted smile and twirled himself another forkful of pasta.

Noticing his understated reaction at once, Angelo gave Marco a curious look. Marco returned his gaze warily; the young man had always had an uncanny ability to make him feel like his mind was being read.

“Are you alright, Marco?” Angelo asked. “You seem even quieter than usual today.”

Marco nodded. “I’m fine, but… Cosmo lost his job.”

Gianni and Angelo exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

“We heard about that,” Gianni replied. “You shouldn’t take it on yourself, though. You and Giacomo did the best you could.”

“I’m just worried about him,” Marco mumbled. “You didn’t see him smoking drugs with Elisabetta in that ruined old garden. It was all so… gross.” He set his fork down in frustration. “And that’s what he’s probably gone straight back to! Why did Pietro have to fire him?”

“Pietro has a business to run,” Gianni said gently. “He told us a little about it, all the days your friend missed and the important work it affected… and all while Anna was away, too.” He sighed. “He tried to help your friend, Marco, but in the end… we have to respect his decision.”

“Even I can see where Pietro’s coming from,” Angelo added. “Usually, I’m the last person to give up on someone…” He threw an arm around Gianni’s shoulders and gave him a fond look; the other young man smiled back. “But there’s only so far you can go to help somebody who doesn’t want to be helped. You must be starting to see that for yourself by now.”

“But… everyone seems to give up on Cosmo!” Marco objected. “There’s a good guy in there, somewhere. I’d swear there is. He’s stood up for me more than once, and he tries to make me feel better about myself…” he shrugged morosely, “…when he’s not totally drunk or stoned.”

Gianni nodded. “I’m sure he does,” he conceded.

Marco gave his foster fathers a questioning look. “We have to try to help people, don’t we? I mean… where would I be now, if you hadn’t given me a chance?”

Gianni and Angelo both had the good grace to look a little chastened.

“I know it’s hard,” Gianni said, “but you and Cosmo… you couldn’t be more different. In spite of everything you’ve suffered, you soak up love like a sponge. Cosmo… he just seems to redouble his armour.”

“I wasn’t always like this,” Marco replied. “You didn’t see me after I got dropped by my friends. I bet Cosmo and I weren’t so different back then.”

Angelo smiled slightly. “You say that, but you still let a certain blond superhero get under your skin, didn’t you? And that’s not to mention all the things you did for Sami when he was hiding out alone in that horrible house. By Dani’s account, you even put him to shame.”

Marco flushed slightly. “Ah, c’mon…”

Gianni chuckled. “That’s Dani, right there.”

Marco frowned. “Huh?”

But Gianni just offered him an enigmatic smile. “We’re all influenced by our friends, especially the ones we look up to. But part of that is knowing which influences are good ones and which are bad ones, and not just taking the easy option.”

“I’ve tried to be a good influence,” Marco said.

Gianni nodded. “You’ve done everything a good friend should, and then some. Pietro, Angelo and I also did what we could by getting him that job in the first place. The rest is up to Cosmo and his family, such as it is.” He gave Marco a sympathetic shrug. “As a bystander, it’s hard to watch someone make the wrong choices… but there comes a point where you’ve got to step back, or risk getting dragged down with them.”

* * *

Gianni and Angelo had counselled self-preservation. Marco supposed there did come a time when you had to step back for your own good, but he wasn’t sure he had reached that point with Cosmo just yet. After all, Cosmo had tried to sort himself out and go back to work, hadn’t he? He decided he would try to find the older boy one more time.

And say what…?

Maybe he shouldn’t say anything this time… except that he was sorry things hadn’t worked out at Da Rossi. He would remind Cosmo that he knew where to find him if he wanted to talk or hang, and he would leave it at that. That felt like the sensible, caring thing to do.

And if the older boy still didn’t want his help after that? Then, maybe, it would be time to move on.

In the heat of the afternoon, Marco set out down the avenue of oleanders once again. He had decided to head back to the Neri compound. Cosmo had shown no great imagination in his choice of hangout before; Marco thought there was every chance he would find him there again.

The cathedral square was quieter than normal; it was siesta time, when smart people sought shelter from the sun. Crossing the shimmering expanse, Marco skirted the clusters of tables outside the bars, where a handful of people still lingered over cool beers, mineral water or ice creams. He made straight for the steps down to the car park, and soon he was skirting the old stone boundary wall again, making the best of the paltry shade it cast over the perimeter.

He wasn’t sure what would await him in the derelict garden, so he took a cautious approach. Following in his own footsteps, he squeezed through the broken-down old gate onto the patch of waste ground that overlooked the compound, then crept along the back of the retaining wall until he reached the collapsed section.

To Marco’s disappointment, Cosmo was nowhere to be seen… and, to his equal relief, neither was Elisabetta. But there was still someone hanging out in the dry and desiccated garden: perched miserably on his upturned bucket in the shade of the lone pine tree, even though he could have helped himself to either of the wooden patio chairs if he had wanted to, Giorgio sat alone. The stick was back in his hand, and he had resumed his repetitive poking and scratching at the ground. It was almost as if the dusty soil had offended him personally, and his persistent act of low-key aggression was his way of exacting a pathetic sort of revenge.

Marco had taken no great liking to the boy on their previous encounter, but his curiosity was piqued. Maybe Giorgio would be willing to talk a little more openly and honestly now that the others seemed to have abandoned him.

Backtracking a little, Marco scrambled over the stone wall and dropped down onto the concrete driveway below, earning a startled glance from the younger boy. Trainers crunching with little bits of gravel and displaced dirt, Marco climbed up to the derelict garden.

Giorgio’s uneasy brown eyes observed his quiet, determined approach with a mix of surprise and suspicion. Asserting his authority as best he could, Marco strolled across the dirt and dry grass and threw himself casually into Cosmo’s chair as if he had every right to be there. The younger boy looked up at him uncertainly, as if weighing up whether he should try to regain the initiative, but then he cast his eyes downward and seemed to give up the fight. Marco sensed that he had gained the high ground.

“Ciao,” Marco said, keeping his voice neutral and offhand.

“What do you want?” the younger boy asked listlessly. “Did you want me to leave?”

Marco shook his head. “I want you to talk to me. For real this time.”

Giorgio cast his stick aside and sat there looking at his shoes. “Sure. Whatever.”

“Where are Cosmo and Elisabetta?”

Giorgio shrugged. “How should I know?” he replied bitterly. “They ditched me, didn’t they?”

He put a hand to his eyes, rubbing at a miserable sort of dampness that had appeared there. Marco felt a faint pang of sympathy, but it was tempered by caution. To him, the younger boy’s tears suggested self-pity over any more noble feeling.

“What’s the big deal?” Marco asked. “If they care so little about you, why are you so upset?”

Giorgio glared at him with watery eyes. “Because they’re all I’ve freaking got, that’s why!”

That sort of sounds familiar...

“Maybe you just need some better friends,” Marco suggested.

A look of bitter scorn flickered across the younger boy’s face at once.

“That shows how much you know,” he retorted. “I’m Elisabetta Pellegrino’s kid brother. Nobody makes friends with me.”

“Why?” Marco challenged him. “Because she’s such a ‘bad girl’? Does she chase them away?”

Giorgio shook his head. “Because everyone assumes I’ll be just as bad as her.” He sighed and looked back down at his grubby trainers. “They’re probably right. Why don’t you get out while you can?”

Marco stayed in his seat. “I prefer to make my own mind up about people,” he replied stubbornly. “I haven’t made my mind up about you yet. Until I do, I’m not going anywhere.”

Giorgio glanced up at him and, for the first time, he seemed conflicted.

“And…?” he asked uncertainly. “How am I doing so far?”

Marco shrugged. “So far, you’ve been rude, moronically cocky and a miserable ass.”

The younger boy gaped at him in shock. “Jesus! Sorry I asked.”

“But that could just be because you’re sad and you don’t really believe anyone could like you.”

Giorgio stared back at him in utter confusion.

“Wha…?”

“I should know,” Marco said simply. “I’ve been there.”

Giorgio grunted in frustration. “Well, this is just lovely. The best afternoon ever.”

Marco smiled slightly. For the first time, he suspected the younger boy had let a flash of his real personality slip through.

“Congratulations,” he said. “You’re finally making sense.”

Giorgio looked like he was about to say something abrasive in response, but then he shook his head and brushed the thought away.

“I don’t know why I’m even talking to you,” he grumbled. “You… what the hell is your name, anyway?”

“Marco.”

“Marco,” the younger boy repeated. “I’m Giorgio.”

“I know.”

Giorgio sighed. “Of course you do. How long were you watching us for, anyway?”

“Long enough,” Marco replied. “When Betta… I mean, Elisabetta, went inside, you tried to blackmail Cosmo. What was that all about?”

Giorgio flushed dully, looked back down at his shoes and mumbled something indistinct.

“Sorry?” Marco asked.

The younger boy gave him a reluctant, sideways look. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

Marco shrugged. “Too late. I saw it. If you don’t tell me, it’ll all be up to my imagination, and that could take me anywhere.”

Giorgio’s eyes blazed with humiliation, and Marco could tell he knew he was cornered.

“Look, I’ve crushed on him for years, okay?” the younger boy burst out. “I wanted him to be my…” he looked away and spat the last word out quietly as if it were something shameful. “…boyfriend.”

Marco blinked. “You can’t force someone to like you!”

“I know that!” Giorgio protested. “I just wanted him to, you know… give it a go.” He looked more honestly embarrassed now. “Maybe try a couple of things together.”

Marco frowned. “Cosmo’s into older guys, though, isn’t he?”

Giorgio’s reluctant gaze found him again. “Tell that to Massimo.”

Marco inclined his head. “I guess.”

The younger boy’s eyes narrowed with renewed suspicion. “Wait a minute. Why aren’t you pounding on me right now?” He ran a hand through his untidy hair, staring furiously at the ground once more. “Check out Giorgio Pellegrino, Elisabetta’s sissy little brother,” he muttered. “Do what you want with him. He’s just asking for it.”

Marco stared at him in disbelief. “Is that what you really think everyone’s like?”

Giorgio shrugged. “Been my experience,” he mumbled.

Marco sighed. “Well, that sucks,” he replied. “It shouldn’t be like that.” He fixed the younger boy with a steady sort of look. “I like boys, too, you know.”

Pinned by Marco’s intense gaze, Giorgio’s defensive air faltered. “You do?” he asked quietly.

Marco nodded. “So do two other guys I know. They’re actually together – can you believe it? But even the other people I know…” Here he paused, mentally blacklisting his own birth family. “…they’re mostly fine with us.”

“Wow,” Giorgio murmured.

Marco shrugged. “It’s like I said, you just need better friends.”

Perhaps he had gone a step too far, because Giorgio sagged back into himself with a defeated sort of air.

“And how am I supposed to get those?” he muttered.

Marco shrugged. “Well, you’re talking to me, aren’t you?”

Giorgio flushed slightly, staring at Marco in utter confusion. “I, ah…”

Watching the younger boy struggle, Marco came to a decision. Luca had suggested that he find someone worthier to save; maybe this was his chance? He got to his feet.

“Let’s get out of this crappy place,” he suggested. “Hang with me for a bit. If it turns out you’re an okay guy after all, maybe I’ll even introduce you to Giaco and Dani.”

“Sure… yeah… great!” Giorgio blurted out, scrambling to his feet in his haste not to be left behind.

Marco looked on in satisfaction. Maybe the others were right… maybe Cosmo didn’t want to be helped. But maybe there was still hope for Giorgio?

* * *

“Where are you guys staying?” Marco asked as they climbed back up the stairs from the car park.

“Campidoglio,” Giorgio replied. He still seemed a little ill-at-ease; he was avoiding Marco’s eyes, and running his hand distractedly through the creepers that shaded the chestnut pergola over the path.

“That’s right up at the top of Scala, isn’t it?” Marco asked. “How did you get over here?”

“Bus,” Giorgio mumbled. “That, and… lots of steps.”

“Your sister said something the other day about an uncle Maurizio?”

Giorgio nodded. “He runs a bar in Amalfi. Drives an old red Fiat. Sometimes he gives us a lift over here.”

“What’s he like? Your sister called him ‘pathetic’, but you…”

Giorgio shot Marco a look. “For Elisabetta, nice and pathetic are the same thing.”

“So… he’s okay, then?”

Giorgio nodded. “He can’t control Elisabetta at all, but at least there’s someone in my family who isn’t a total piece of…” He left the thought unfinished.

Marco was about to reply, but the younger boy cut him off with a sudden burst of furious energy.

“He didn’t ask for any of this to happen, but he took us in anyway!” he exclaimed. “Who else would have done that?”

“He sounds cool,” Marco offered. “Sort of like my foster dads.”

For a second, Marco thought the younger boy had missed the obvious implications of his words, but then Giorgio stared at him in disbelief.

“Dads?” he muttered. “Jesus… what weird alternate universe is this?”

Marco smiled, but they had just stepped out into the square, and Giorgio was already too distracted to notice. His restless gaze was roving around the space, taking in all the locals and visitors, most of them admiring the view or enjoying a drink at the bars, all of them well-presented and relaxed. After a few moments, he averted his eyes as if the peaceful scene was all too much to deal with. His gaze raked the green canopies of the umbrella pines, where the cicadas still scraped insistently away, and finally found Marco again.

“It’s just so quiet here,” he said unhappily. “Everything, everyone’s so neat and tidy.” He looked Marco up and down, taking in his clean, brushed hair, his check shirt tucked into the waistband of his shorts. “You’re so neat and tidy.” He brushed at his grubby polo shirt and then shoved his hands self-consciously into the pockets of his battered jeans; his hair hung in lank wisps around his face. “It makes me feel like shit.”

Marco bit his lip uncertainly. He wanted to help, but he was straying into unfamiliar territory. There was a risk the other boy would take any offer amiss.

“Want a shower?” he ventured.

Giorgio blinked at him. “You’d let me do that?”

Marco shrugged. “I’m just up the hill. I probably have an old shirt you could borrow.”

The younger boy regarded him doubtfully for a moment, but then he nodded. “Um… okay, then. Thanks.”

Marco smiled again and gestured towards the cathedral. “It’s this way.”

Giorgio was quiet as they climbed the avenue of oleanders together. At one point he paused, plucking a flower from one of the overhanging bushes and twirling it thoughtfully between his fingers. Even now, he seemed preoccupied and ill-at-ease. Marco waited a couple of steps away, wondering what was going on in his head. He remembered how uncomfortable he himself had felt when Daniele had first reached out to him after his split from his friends. He hadn’t known whether to trust the other boy, wondering if he had just come along to take what little he had left.

How confusing it had been, to hate someone and like them at the same time.

But, all along, Dani was just trying to be nice.

Marco felt a familiar pang in his heart, but he brushed it aside. He had a job to do.

Soon they were on their way again. As they turned onto the broad, crazy-paved street that climbed up through the Toro, passing the fragrant, colourful quiet of the Municipio gardens, Giorgio looked up at the grand old palazzi that lined the street and quailed slightly.

“You live here?” he muttered. “Your foster dads must be rich.”

Marco shook his head. “It’s just a little house, and it’s been in the family for generations. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Giorgio seemed to relax a little as they turned into Marco’s courtyard, where Gianni and Angelo’s modest, creeper-covered home crowded in among the larger buildings that surrounded it. Marco led the way up the stone steps and pushed open the old, brown front door, then led the younger boy into the cosy gloom inside.

* * *

Angelo was sitting alone at the dining table, doing some paperwork. He looked up in surprise as the two boys entered, his inquisitive eyes flicking between the two of them as he tried to make sense of the scene before him.

“Ciao, Marco,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

“Ciao, Angelo,” Marco replied. “Where’s Gianni?”

“He took Alfredo out to visit Sergio. They’ll be back in a bit.” His curious gaze returned to the newcomer. “I… don’t think we’ve met?”

“This is Giorgio,” Marco explained. “He’s… Elisabetta’s little brother.”

Marco thought he caught Angelo’s dark eyes widen slightly with surprise, but the young man quelled his reaction at once.

“Piacere,” he said, looking on with carefully contained interest.

“Buongiorno, signore,” Giorgio mumbled.

“I was wondering if Giorgio could use our shower?” Marco asked.

Angelo nodded. “Of course. Why don’t you root out something for him to wear?”

Marco led the other boy up to his small attic room. Giorgio hovered awkwardly in the doorway as Marco rummaged in the old wardrobe, eventually producing one of his larger shirts, which had an olive green check pattern. He held it up to the other boy’s long, skinny frame; it looked like it would fit, just about.

“You don’t have anything in black?” Giorgio asked, eyeing the garment dubiously.

Marco shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Alright,” Giorgio sighed, taking the shirt. “Thanks.”

Marco showed the other boy to the bathroom, handed him a clean face flannel, a towel and a can of deodorant and then left him to it. He walked back down the wooden stairs to face Angelo, with a strange, fluttery feeling knotting his stomach. He knew his foster father would want to know more, but he wasn’t sure what he would be able to say.

I don’t even blame him. This all feels pretty weird.

Marco slid into a chair opposite Angelo. They both peered at the stairs until they heard the bathroom door shut and lock and the shower start running, then Angelo turned straight to Marco, questions written all over his face.

“What’s going on, Marco?” he whispered. “If Cosmo’s friend Elisabetta is half as dangerous as you’ve made her sound, what are you doing with her brother?”

“They left him all alone,” Marco whispered back, “and he looked so miserable. He doesn’t know anyone here. I dunno, he just sort of reminded me of…”

“You?” Angelo suggested perceptively.

Marco nodded. “Yeah.”

Angelo gave him a sympathetic half-smile. “So… you decided to rescue him, just like…”

Marco sighed. “Don’t say it, okay? I know.”

Angelo smiled again. “You know, for a moment there, when you walked in with a boy I’d never seen before, I wondered if…”

Marco stared at him in horror. “Don’t say that, either!” he gasped. “I just want to help.”

Angelo chuckled. “Whatever you say. Although, remember… a little kindness can be a dangerous thing, especially when the person on the receiving end isn’t used to it.”

“I know,” Marco said hollowly. “I remember.”

Angelo reached across the table and clasped his shoulder for a moment.

“You’re a great kid, Marco,” he said. “We’re both proud of you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Marco replied, looking awkwardly down at his own hands for a moment. “But I didn’t get like this on my own, you know?” He looked up again and found the young man’s eyes. “I needed someone to give me a chance.”

Angelo nodded. “Touché,” he said. “I hope your new friend doesn’t end up disappointing you.”

Marco twisted his mouth uncertainly, staring back up into the young man’s dark eyes.

I hope so, too.

* * *

‘Red alert!’ Marco wrote, his agile fingers thrumming over the on-screen keyboard, casting wary glances in the direction of the stairs, where Giorgio would be reappearing any minute now. ‘I need your help!’

‘What’s up?’ Giacomo replied.

‘I’ve just made friends with Elisabetta’s little brother. He’s barely fourteen, he’s gay and he’s already taller than me. I wanted to show him that there’s a better way for guys like us to be, but I don’t know what to do next. Can you hang out with us this evening? PLEASE?’

A pause.

‘Jesus, Marco! XD’ Giacomo replied. Marco could almost imagine him giggling away at the absurdity of the situation, clutching his boyfriend for support.

A further pause… and then, more helpfully:

‘Sure, we can,’ Daniele interjected.

‘Thanks,’ Marco replied.

‘Let’s meet at the Villa Cimbrone,’ Giacomo suggested. ‘Give us half an hour. Dani needs to put his clothes back on first.’

Barely a beat before the next reply from Daniele:

‘Shut up, Giaco!’

‘Make me.’

Marco rolled his eyes. Two could play at that game.

‘That’s fine,’ he wrote. ‘Giorgio’s still in the shower.’

Giacomo’s reply was little more than a stream of nonsensical characters, followed by a short voice recording of uncontrollable laughter. Marco smiled slightly to himself and put his phone back in his pocket. He already felt slightly better, knowing that his friends had his back.

There was the clatter of a door from up on the landing followed by the sound of soft footsteps on the stairs and then Giorgio reappeared, walking self-consciously down the stairs in Marco’s shirt with his grubby polo clutched under one arm.

“I wasn’t sure what to do with this,” he mumbled.

Angelo stood up to take it from him. “I’ll wash it for you,” he said. “You should go out and enjoy yourselves.”

“Thanks, signore,” Giorgio replied, handing it to him rather awkwardly.

Marco, meanwhile, had been caught short by the other boy’s appearance. Freed of grease and grime and with his hair freshly brushed, he supposed he was sort of good-looking… for a kid. He couldn’t quite not think of him as a kid… not yet.

“You look alright,” he said. He had to admit, maybe olive green wasn’t the other boy’s colour, but still…

Giorgio gave him a sideways look. “Thanks,” he replied, flushing a little.

Careful…

“My friends said they’ll meet us,” Marco said. “Want to go?”

Giorgio chewed his lip uncertainly. “I, ah… yeah, okay.”

Marco gave his foster father a questioning look. “Is it okay if we’re out for a while?”

“Of course.” Angelo fished out his wallet and handed Marco a few banknotes. “Here, in case you decide to stay out for dinner.”

Giorgio’s wide brown eyes tracked the banknotes with faint astonishment, as if such trust and generosity were alien to him.

“Thanks,” Marco replied, shoving them into his shorts pocket.

Angelo nodded, with an inscrutable smile. “Have a nice time.”

* * *

The Villa Cimbrone gardens lay atop a rocky crag overlooking the sea. If you followed the mountain ridge on which Ravello stood to its southernmost extreme, you reached first the gatehouse and then the villa itself, an elaborate and eclectic building complete with tower and cloister. From the villa, a broad central avenue scythed out through a series of beautiful garden spaces until you reached the Terrace of Infinity, a broad balcony perched at the top of a high cliff, which offered breathtaking views down over the foothills of the Valle del Dragone and the broad blue sweep of the Tyrrhenian Sea below.

You had to pay to visit, but Viola Rossi, who ran the ticket kiosk, was one of Angelo’s many cousins, and Marco could usually count on her for half price entry for himself and anyone who came with him. So could Daniele, for that matter; Viola’s was one of the many hearts in town that he had managed to melt over the years.

It annoyed Marco, sometimes, that the blond boy managed to do it so effortlessly.

What must it be like to be so beautiful, inside and out? Damaged and unremarkable kids like Cosmo, Giorgio and me, we have to work harder for everything.

But Marco no longer held it against Daniele personally. Back when he had done his best to hate him, it had been easier, but then he, too, had ended up falling for the blond boy’s open-hearted, blue-eyed charm.

Giaco’s a lucky guy.

Marco said none of this to Giorgio as they walked together up the winding staircase that led south from the cathedral square, heading for the quietest and most secluded part of town, where the busy world of roads, cars and buses seemed a galaxy away. They passed beneath the arched porch of an ancient convent, then wound their way beneath pine trees that rang with cicada song until they passed a small café that looked out onto a tiny park that was a haven for stray cats. The skinny animals reclined together, stretched out in the small patches of shade offered by the hedges and benches. Although the afternoon was turning into evening, the sun still clung onto much of its fierce summer heat.

What were Giacomo and Daniele like, Giorgio wanted to know? Marco could tell he was anxious from the way he kept fidgeting with his fingers. He spared the younger boy the details; he just assured him that they were both nice guys and he would like them.

And once he sees how gorgeous they both are…? No need to worry anymore about Giorgio getting too attached to ME.

…which was sort of a relief, really, when you thought about it. It was easier… safer.

That’s funny, said a quiet voice at the back of his mind. I thought you were having second thoughts about the whole ‘boyfriends are overrated’ thing?

With a brief, awkward glance at his new companion, he told the voice to shut up. So far, Giorgio had shown him nothing at all to suggest that he was potential boyfriend material.

At the top of the hill there was a vegetable garden just below the path: a terraced cultivation that fell picturesquely away into the valley, receding into a distant view down through its lower reaches to the sea beyond. It was a spot where Marco had often stopped to admire the view or talk with his friends, in part because there was a side turning there, a narrow, little-used footpath that led down to Daniele’s neighbourhood on the hillside below town. Many times, they had parted there after a morning or afternoon visiting the gardens.

Marco and Giorgio were just approaching the vegetable garden when two boys came tumbling enthusiastically out of the side turning, one apparently in pursuit of the other.

“Give that back!” Daniele called.

Marco and Giorgio halted at once. Marco’s first startled thought – why is he SHIRTLESS? – was quickly followed by the realisation that Giacomo was carrying something pink and tie dyed bunched up in one hand.

“No! It’s mine now!” Giacomo called back over his shoulder. But he was laughing fit to burst, and it was slowing him down. Soon Daniele had caught up with him and wrested his t-shirt free of the other boy’s grasp.

Giacomo, for his part, had already caught sight of the new arrivals.

“Oh, ciao, Marco!” he giggled.

Daniele cast a startled and vaguely mortified look in their direction and then shuffled bashfully back into his reclaimed t-shirt. Marco was treated to a brief and confusing glimpse of the soft-looking fuzz of hair that had begun to form in his armpits.

Wow. When did THAT happen?

“Why did you do that, Giaco?” Daniele protested, punching his boyfriend on the arm. He turned to Marco. “I only took it off to ask him to look at an insect bite on my back,” he explained ruefully.

“Yeah, well,” Giacomo said, throwing his arm around the other boy’s shoulders with an air of nonchalance that didn’t completely distract from the glint of mischief deep within his dark eyes. He leaned in close to Daniele’s ear, before adding, “I can’t be held completely responsible for what happened next, can I?”

Daniele batted him away with an embarrassed smile. “Quit it, Giaco.”

Marco spared a glance for his companion. Giorgio had frozen on the spot with his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open in shock. Marco wondered whether it was the first time the younger boy had ever seen two boys who were together and so obviously comfortable about it. He decided to try to break the deadlock.

“Dani, Giaco,” he said, gesturing to each of the boys in turn, “this is Giorgio Pellegrino.”

“Piacere,” Daniele replied politely.

Giacomo raised a fine black eyebrow, giving the new arrival an appraising look. “So, you’re the better half of the terrible duo from Salerno, are you?” he said.

Giorgio nodded silently, apparently still too dumbstruck to object to the other boy’s turn of phrase.

“…and wearing one of Marco’s shirts, I see,” Giacomo added, smiling playfully. “Well, you don’t look so bad.”

“Ah…” Giorgio mumbled.

“Ignore him,” Daniele said hastily, stepping forward and taking the startled Giorgio by the arm. “Come on, let’s get inside and then we can show you round together.”

* * *

Sure enough, when Marco and Daniele stepped up to the ticket booth, Viola waved the four of them through at half price. She cast a curious glance at Giorgio, who was hovering awkwardly in the background with Giacomo, but, for once, she didn’t ask questions.

“Don’t go getting up to mischief, now, Giacomo Agnello,” she called. “I have eyes everywhere. You know I’ll be watching.”

The dark-eyed boy offered her an impish grin in return. “But I’m reformed, now, signora,” he replied innocently. “You still don’t trust me?”

Viola chuckled. “Once trouble, always trouble. That’s what my mother taught me.”

They walked up the main central avenue together, passing through the dappled shade of grape and wisteria vines that hung overhead, Giorgio now casting curious glances at Giacomo.

“Did you used to be bad…?” he ventured.

“I was trying to protect my family,” Giacomo replied. “But I guess I did a few bad things, fell in with the wrong people. I might have got in even deeper, but…” he cast a grateful glance at his boyfriend. “Dani rescued me.”

“Viola wasn’t talking about that, though,” Daniele countered. “She was just talking about how you used to sneak in here without paying, and how you made me do it once, too.”

“It’s true,” Giacomo sighed. “I’m a terrible influence. Dani used to be such a good boy.”

“I’m still a good boy,” Daniele pouted.

“You weren’t being such a good boy last night,” Giacomo whispered. He turned to Marco and Giorgio. “You should have seen him, guys, he was like…”

Daniele flushed scarlet and gave the other boy a shove. “Stop it! You’re worse than Luca!” He, too, turned to Marco and Giorgio. “I was at home last night, in my own bed. I swear.”

Giacomo snickered. “Yeah, but where was I?”

Daniele seemed to have no comeback to that, his expression one of pure cringe. Privately, Marco wondered where the truth really lay. He was pretty sure Giacomo was joking, but there was usually no smoke without fire.

Next to him, Marco heard Giorgio utter a soft giggle, and he glanced at the younger boy in surprise. It was the first time he had seen anything resembling a smile on his face. Marco thought it suited him.

Maybe this IS going to work…!

Before long, they had passed beneath the stone columns of a small, temple-like structure at the end of the avenue and out onto the sun-drenched, terracotta-tiled expanse of the Terrace of Infinity. The ground ended at a stone balustrade lined with stately marble busts, beyond which a sheer cliff tumbled away to lower ground a good hundred metres below. Beyond, the undulating, terraced landscape swirled down to the coast, dotted with villas and tall pine and cypress trees, until it met the open sea, from up here a calm, deep-blue blanket, criss-crossed here and there by ant-like pleasure boats with tiny white wakes.

Giorgio fetched up against the balustrade, staring out at the view in astonishment. He glanced in confusion at the other visitors, who were dotted around the terrace in twos or threes, admiring the view, taking photos or simply staring into each other’s eyes, basking in the romance of it all. After a few moments, Giorgio’s gaze found Marco and his friends.

“What is this place?” he asked quietly.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Daniele replied with a smile. “I felt the same way the first time I saw it. It’s kinda why people come here.”

“Beautiful,” Giorgio mouthed, glancing back out at the view in confusion. It looked like a word he had seldom had cause to use.

“Haven’t you ever been somewhere just because it’s beautiful?” Daniele asked.

Giorgio shook his head. “Elisabetta doesn’t believe in beauty,” he replied.

Daniele frowned slightly. “And your parents…?”

A ripple of pain flickered across Giorgio’s face. “Don’t even ask about them.”

Daniele looked a little crestfallen. “I’m sorry.”

“I know what you mean,” Marco spoke up, recapturing Giorgio’s attention at once. “My birth family were rubbish, too. I’d never even left these mountains until Gianni and Angelo took me to Rome last year.”

Giorgio seemed to relax a little. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his brown eyes regarding Marco with a pathetic sort of gratitude.

“C’mon,” Giacomo said, in an encouraging tone that sought to brighten the mood. “There’s a bar just below the terrace. Let’s go and get something to drink.”

* * *

The bar opened out onto a triangular lawn overlooking the valley, which had been the scene of many a late-night birthday party in the past. Marco hadn’t been to all of them, but Daniele had told him a few tales of music, dancing and suppressed romance.

Right now, by the golden sunlight of the evening, the magical scenes that Daniele, ever the storyteller, had described were hard to imagine. The garden was just an ordinary lawn bordered by shrubs and rustic chestnut fencing, but the grass was still green and soft, as if it had been kept watered throughout the summer.

At the narrow end of the lawn there were a couple of decent-sized trees, and they sat down in the shade of the largest one to talk, cool soft drinks in their hands. Daniele and Giacomo reclined together, leaning against each other, seemingly quite at ease in front of Marco and Giorgio, who sat facing them in a more formal, awkward sort of way.

Giacomo took a sip of his Coke, then produced a battered old tennis ball from his pocket and bounced it idly up and down with his free hand. The dark-eyed boy smiled as Daniele snatched it from thin air and tossed it gently to Giorgio, who lunged forward to secure it and just about managed to avoid knocking over his Sprite.

“Nice catch,” Daniele smiled. Marco could sense his peacemaker’s mind at work, trying to put the new arrival at ease.

“Thanks,” Giorgio mumbled, glancing around indecisively before throwing the ball back to Daniele. Without batting an eyelid, the blond boy bounced it straight to Marco, who returned it to Giacomo. The dark-eyed boy snagged it effortlessly from the air and looked back at them, observing them with unashamed interest.

“So… how did you guys meet?” he asked.

“I was –” Marco began.

“He –” Giorgio began at the same time. They exchanged a flustered glance and fell silent, glancing helplessly back at the other two boys, eliciting an annoyingly amused smirk from Giacomo.

“I was looking for Cosmo,” Marco resumed after a while, “but I found Giorgio instead.”

There was a little more to it than that but, under the circumstances, Marco didn’t fancy attempting any long explanations.

“And you decided to hang out together, just like that?” Giacomo asked.

Giorgio glanced uncertainly at Marco once again, and Marco could tell the younger boy was struggling to navigate the unfamiliar social situation he had found himself in.

“Giorgio looked like he needed a friend,” he replied.

Giacomo paused thoughtfully, and Marco wondered whether he was about to make light of their situation, but then he smiled.

“That’s cool,” he said, exchanging a glance with Daniele, who smiled back at him. “Pay it forward, right?”

“Everybody needs a friend,” Daniele replied.

“You’ll see, Giorgio,” Giacomo sighed airily. “The three of us have history.”

The younger boy seemed unsure what to make of that, so Giacomo chuckled and tossed the ball to him instead. Giorgio caught it more easily this time; he looked at it pensively for a few seconds, seeming to weigh his next move.

“Does everybody know you’re together?” he asked after a while.

Giacomo smiled wryly. “I don’t think there was any keeping that secret,” he said.

“…not after we kissed in the square, right in front of everyone,” Daniele chipped in.

Giorgio gaped at them. “You did…?” he exclaimed. “And everyone was okay with it? I mean… what was it like?”

Giacomo smirked. “Well, it was sort of like this…”

He turned to Daniele, who twisted his mouth in an embarrassed sort of way and then leaned forward to kiss him.

Giorgio’s eyes widened and he turned to Marco, flushing furiously.

“What the…?” he murmured.

Marco took a sip of his Lemon Soda and offered Giorgio a weary smile in return.

Here we go again…

“I don’t think that’s what he meant, Giaco,” he told the dark-eyed boy.

Giacomo broke away from the other boy with a snicker. “Well, you asked…”

Daniele, meanwhile, was inspecting his hands with a distinct flush about his own cheeks and a faint smile upon his lips. With a pang of envy, Marco could see just how much the other boy’s kisses still worked for him.

“I just meant…” Giorgio mumbled, throwing the ball back to the dark-eyed boy, “where are all the haters? There must be some.”

“You’ve just got to pick the right friends,” Daniele said simply. “The people we hang out with, they all get it. None of us are alone here.”

Not anymore, anyway…

The conversation had made Marco think of his birth parents once again, and he cast his eyes downward, tugging unhappily at a few blades of grass with his free hand. When they had found out his truth, Lorenzo and Gemma Fardello had as good as disinherited him. And then there were Cosmo’s old foster parents in Salerno… despite Giacomo and Daniele’s experiences, intolerance, it seemed, was still alive and well, if you happened to land in the wrong place.

When he looked up again, he was startled to find Giorgio’s brown eyes observing him with a concerned frown. Giacomo and Daniele had got distracted by each other again and were wrestling over the tennis ball… but Marco was no longer invisible. That dreaded third wheel feeling had gone.

“Are you alright?” Giorgio whispered.

“I… yeah,” Marco mumbled, but he was confused. He’d thought he was just doing Giorgio a favour, but now…

Giorgio shook his head in disbelief; he looked almost as thrown as Marco felt. “This is… so weird…”

He seemed quite overwhelmed by everything he had seen and heard. Marco wondered how much positive energy it took to undo years of self-repression and secrecy. From his own experiences, he supposed that depended on how you felt towards the people who helped you… and judging by the tremendous impression that his introduction to Giacomo and Daniele seemed to have made on Giorgio, they were off to a great start.

He thought of Cosmo. He had tried to help the older boy, to show him a better way, but Cosmo seemed ever more determined to isolate himself with Elisabetta.

Maybe I’m too young to help someone as old as him. Or maybe I just don’t have enough POWER to help him. I’m no Dani, Gianni or Angelo… I’m just ME.

“Thanks,” Giorgio said quietly, drawing Marco back out of his contemplations for a moment.

“Huh?” Marco replied, blinking at him in surprise. The younger boy’s brown eyes were fixed on him once more.

“For inviting me out today. This has been brilliant.”

* * *

By the time they were swept out of the gardens by staff who were looking to close the gates for the night, they were beginning to think about food, and they agreed to pool their money to share a meal at a pizza terrace near the cathedral square.

Giorgio looked more out of his element than ever as they were seated at an out-of-the-way table at the edge of the restaurant’s colourful garden amidst the lengthening shadows of the evening, but once the pizzas arrived – they had enough money to split two between the four of them – he tucked into the hot, salty dinner with enthusiasm, and looked quite dismayed when it was all gone. Marco could also sense a faint sadness in his eyes, as if he realised the evening was almost over, and didn’t want it to end.

What’s the deal? Does he think he’ll never see us again?

Marco didn’t plan to be that cruel.

After dinner, Giacomo offered to walk Daniele home. Marco sensed that they wanted a bit of alone time before they parted for the night, and he was happy enough to let them go. Arms around each other’s shoulders, the couple made tracks towards the stone gatehouse at the other side of the square and the paths that led down the hill towards Daniele’s neighbourhood, and Marco was left alone with Giorgio.

Giorgio shoved his hands into his pockets. There was an air of more persistent melancholy about him now that the evening was over.

“Should I come and get my shirt?” he asked. “D’you think Angelo will have washed it yet?”

“It’ll need time to dry,” Marco replied. “Why don’t you come and get it tomorrow?”

Giorgio blinked. “You mean…?”

Marco smiled. “I mean we should hang out some more. We’re just getting started.”

Giorgio brightened at once; he seemed quite transformed, suddenly all smiles, with a renewed sparkle to his brown eyes.

“Yeah! Awesome! I mean…” he fought to regain some self-control. “That’d be cool.”

Marco glanced across the square and through the row of umbrella pines, where the sun sinking behind the mountain on the far side of the valley had finally cast the linked hamlets of Scala into shadow, Campidoglio among them, seeming impossibly far and high at this late hour of the evening.

“How are you going to get home?” Marco asked.

“I can walk,” Giorgio replied. “I don’t care. This really has been the best day ever.”

Marco shrugged. “If you’re sure. Ciao, Giorgio.”

“No problem,” Giorgio confirmed. “Ciao…” he hesitated. “…friend?”

Marco nodded. “Friend.”

The younger boy gave him a fragile smile, then turned and set off for the valley road with a renewed spring in his step. Marco watched him go, his heart expanding with gentle pride.

I’m finally making a difference again. Maybe I CAN do it after all.