Emil looks down at Reno's hand disappearing into his pocket, then at the address on the other half of the receipt. He reads it over when it's handed to him, brow furrowed. He knows this general area, at least through reputation. He'd only survive going through here by dint of looking tougher than he actually is. Not a good area of the city by any means. He's not all that surprised that Reno has made his home there.
"Okay..." He folds the paper carefully and tucks it into his wallet for safe keeping, about to say his goodnight and head inside, until Reno kisses his head. He can't help but lean into the gesture, eyes closing. "Okay. I'll let numbers I don't recognize go straight to voicemail. I want to hear all about what you've been up to since you've been here." He looks back at Reno with a slightly wobbly smile and wraps one arm around his shoulders, drawing him into a tight hug.
"Stay safe out there, huh?"
He straightens back up to head inside after that, giving a last look back and a slightly too bright smile; he'd just have to convince himself that this really was going to work out for them. He heads up the narrow stairs with his phone up, typing out as fast as his thumbs can move a message to one of his closest friends. He includes the picture of the two of them together after making her swear that she wouldn't show it to anyone else, or post it online. She was reluctant until he sent it.
The rest of the night was spent on a FaceTime call between them, interrupted by her brother only once, attracted by the unusually grave tone of Emil's voice. He's immediately threatening, insisting that if this "dream guy" did anything at all to compromise Emil's safety that he'd fly out of Naples personally to knock him out. Emil couldn't help but laugh at the idea, soothing Michele with the assurance that he'd do it himself if it came to that. Even though all three of them knew otherwise.
When he finally sleeps there are no dreams, no anxious lonely spotlights, no hyper-realistic memories, no awful what-ifs. Just peace.
By the time the lunch date comes about, Emil is waiting outside his apartment building, dressed as casually as ever, a pair of wristbands hiding his cuff augments from general view. He pulls at them anxiously, glancing up and down the street, valiantly ignoring the sneaky little voice trying to convince him not to get his hopes up.
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"Okay..." He folds the paper carefully and tucks it into his wallet for safe keeping, about to say his goodnight and head inside, until Reno kisses his head. He can't help but lean into the gesture, eyes closing. "Okay. I'll let numbers I don't recognize go straight to voicemail. I want to hear all about what you've been up to since you've been here." He looks back at Reno with a slightly wobbly smile and wraps one arm around his shoulders, drawing him into a tight hug.
"Stay safe out there, huh?"
He straightens back up to head inside after that, giving a last look back and a slightly too bright smile; he'd just have to convince himself that this really was going to work out for them. He heads up the narrow stairs with his phone up, typing out as fast as his thumbs can move a message to one of his closest friends. He includes the picture of the two of them together after making her swear that she wouldn't show it to anyone else, or post it online. She was reluctant until he sent it.
The rest of the night was spent on a FaceTime call between them, interrupted by her brother only once, attracted by the unusually grave tone of Emil's voice. He's immediately threatening, insisting that if this "dream guy" did anything at all to compromise Emil's safety that he'd fly out of Naples personally to knock him out. Emil couldn't help but laugh at the idea, soothing Michele with the assurance that he'd do it himself if it came to that. Even though all three of them knew otherwise.
When he finally sleeps there are no dreams, no anxious lonely spotlights, no hyper-realistic memories, no awful what-ifs. Just peace.
By the time the lunch date comes about, Emil is waiting outside his apartment building, dressed as casually as ever, a pair of wristbands hiding his cuff augments from general view. He pulls at them anxiously, glancing up and down the street, valiantly ignoring the sneaky little voice trying to convince him not to get his hopes up.