Archive of Our Own

I want to weigh like a cross in your back that shreds you to pieces

But deep down you enjoy it when the night comes

Thomas Lawrence entered the shared office that morning with grace. He was happy — after all, everything was going just as he could have dreamed. His faith was reestablished, the new Pope he served was incredibly perfect for the job and, more importantly, he could kiss Aldo Bellini on the mouth. At work.

He entered and closed the door. Aldo was already working; he was very strict and ponctual, even though Thomas knew he wasn’t exactly a morning person. Thomas always thought he looked much more composed at night, something about his brown eyes fitting in the dark, hiding stars inside his gaze.

Either way, Aldo was paying attention to the documents in front of him, his right elbow leaned on the wood as he rested his face on his hand. The ring was pressed on his face close to his mouth. Thomas knew he had heard him as he entered, but Aldo didn’t lift his gaze to him. Or he was deeply involved in the words, or he forced himself to be.

Thomas walked into the room and stepped his way to Aldo’s side.

“Morning, Aldo.” He said in a low tone, it was indeed too early to speak normally. Thomas leaned on the table and bent over, coming face to face with Aldo.

Aldo turned his head and let Thomas place a soft kiss on his lips. One. Aldo let his eyes close softly. Two. Thomas inhaled the coffee scent all around him. Three. Aldo felt the urge to open his mouth. Four. Thomas caressed Aldo’s cheek before pulling away. 

Four whole seconds. Thomas was smiling. And Aldo Bellini felt like a wife. No. More like the secret lover at work. Aldo lifted his head up to watch him standing by his side. A lover, indeed. But no less loved by the man in front of him, the one who looked down at him with such kind and bright eyes. Definitely, that was not a Roman Kiss. Thomas licked his lips without noticing it and walked to his own chair, on the other side of the room. Bellini turned to his work once again.

“You look especially pleasant this morning, my friend.” Thomas said, softly.

Aldo Bellini kept his eyes on the paper as he marked a comment on the document he held.

“Behave, Lawrence.” He could hear the soft laughter from Thomas travelling in the air. “Working hours…”

Aldo was better, it was true. But every time they kissed, fireworks exploded in his mind. Fucking fireworks, like a teenager. 

Aldo scrawled a few more hasty letters on the paper before looking up to see Thomas on the other side of the room. To his surprise, Thomas was looking back at him. Bellini felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment at the mere crossing of gazes and lowered his eyes the next second. Thomas said nothing, just smiled and adjusted the glasses on his face to finally start working. Aldo found the whole situation terribly pathetic. He felt like everything - a secret lover, a wife, a teenager, even a little girl with a school crush. Except the Secretary of State of the Holy See. 

He was better. But not fully recovered — as if there was a time when he was not crushed by the insane feelings Thomas Lawrence emerged in him.

Aldo has always prided himself on being a practical person. Having grown up where he did — where there was no room for hesitation in any decision — he had to learn to suppress his moments of uncertainty. There could never be room for doubt in Aldo Bellini's life. 

Aldo had studied everything that could be studied about the life he led. He had read about the temptations of the flesh, accounts of priests and cardinals who succumbed and those who upheld their vows. He had read novels, recited poems, and listened to music. He had prayed the same prayers and made the same requests. Aldo truly believed that, at that point in his life, he already knew everything there was to know about the world and that, with his vast repertoire, he would know how to handle every situation that came his way.

Clearly, this proved to be a lie. The conclave that elected Pope Innocent awakened in Aldo the most dubious and uncertain feelings in the world. He lost, in those three days, countless pieces of his soul and had not yet put them all back in place. Kissing Thomas - and dealing with it - had improved his days a little. But not completely.

Because the kiss still existed. Thomas continued to be responsible for clouding his thoughts day and night.

In the weekly meetings with the Pope, Thomas made a point of holding Aldo’s arm when he kissed him in front of all Cardinals — and the Holy Father. When he arrived at work, like today, he kissed him slowly. And, from time to time, when the silence of the night would fall like a blanket over the Palazzo del Governatorato, Thomas would lean back in his chair and gaze at Bellini as if he intended to paint a picture later. And only after he grew tired of the gesture would he stand up and approach the man. And he kissed him as if he were just a man, without title and without responsibility — a real kiss, an enormous kiss. Lips, tongues, teeth, moans and the two hands of Thomas Lawrence that, sometimes, felt like two hundred. Aldo had been learning that Thomas really liked to put his hands on his body. Like a lot.

Aldo was happy with the situation, it was clear. Kissing Thomas brought a new sensation to his life. But the longing to have Thomas Lawrence in his arms never seemed to be satisfied. Each kiss was filled with a new and complete desire for the next. The body of Aldo Bellini ignited completely, begging for more.

Aldo wasn’t stupid. He knew where kissing and touching would lead to. But they never discussed it and probably never would, because he knew how celibacy was an important vow for Thomas. He had heard him talking about that for years now — thirty, at least. And the touching never seemed an erotic touch. Just love and profound care that Thomas needed to transfer into Aldo’s skin.

Also, they always kissed wearing the complete cardinal wardrobe. The only exposed skin was his hands and face. For that, Aldo was thankful. He could never allow Thomas’ skin on his own. That would be too much. Even if he didn’t exactly do anything. But he knew that the mere touching would break him. And the worst of all — he knew he would do anything for Thomas to continue caressing his exposed skin, on his neck and chest and arms and belly…

He was conscious of his weaknesses and limits. But, for now, all was well.

Months of little kisses passed well. Thank you, Lord, for the blessing in my life that’s called Thomas Lawrence.

They worked together, apart and in silence for at least an hour. Then, the door opened again. Cardinal Sabaddin and Monsignor O’Malley didn’t even announce their arrival. Giulio shut the door as Raymond walked fast towards Bellini’s desk carrying something in his arms. 

“Eminences…” He spoke in a steady voice. 

“Good morning, Ray. Giulio…” Thomas looked a bit shocked by the lack of politeness. 

Aldo didn’t lift his gaze once more. Thomas narrowed his eyes. Oh, he knew about something.

Raymond stood still in front of Cardinal Bellini, waiting for him to look up. 

Sabbadin stepped hard on his boots and grabbed the newspaper from the hands of Ray, throwing it on the table, above Bellini’s documents.

“Bongiorno, principessa.” He said to Bellini, who refused to look at anyone in the room. Sabbadin tapped his pockets for cigarettes, but Thomas was already up and close to him. 

“No, no smoking in this office, please.” He approached Bellini’s desk, wanting to see what caused such agony. “What did you bring here?”

“ Eminenza Bellini is famous, now.”

“I was already famous before this photo, thank you very much.” 

Thomas stepped between Sabbadin and O’Malley to grab it, but Aldo covered the photo with his hand over the paper. He sighed, frustrated, and finally looked up. Each of the three men that were staring at him held a different and latent feeling in their eyes. Sabbadin looked furious. Thomas looked worried. O’Malley looked desperate.

"Sapevi di questo?" Giulio always returned to his Italian when he was angry. “Did you know about that?”

“Sì, lo sapevo.” The perfect and easy Italian rolled on his tongue. Aldo flickered his eyes from Sabbadin’s to Thomas’ for a second and found nothing but shock. “I found out this morning.”

“And what did you do when you found out?”

I threw up in my sink. 

“I read the article.” 

“And did you not bother to tell anybody?” Giulio was red like a pepper.

Thomas was beginning to think that maybe Giulio Sabbadin could have a breakdown right there so he used his body to push the man a little away from the table while quickly snatching the newspaper from Bellini's hands.

And before him, covering half of the page with the pathetic headline hanging there like a curse.

Un bacio tra nemici: la chiesa unisce

A kiss between enemies: the church unites

And then a picture of Eminences Bellini and Tedesco in the half second that their Roman Kiss had endured, at the Easter Mass.

Or. 

Aldo Bellini and Goffredo Tedesco kissing.

Thomas felt more shocked than in the moment itself because, of course, he was there. Pope Innocent called everyone for the Easter Mass — and did the most beautiful homily Thomas had ever seen. But also encouraged the Curia, behind the curtains, to start Roman Kiss each other in public events. And Tedesco was one of the Cardinals who embraced the gesture — for the tradition, obviously. But also because he could demonstrate his power and influence around the liberals, showing them that his colleagues and supporters were everywhere in the Vatican.

But that also brought the terrible moment when Bellini and Tedesco had to face each other. Aldo, encouraged by the words of Vincent; Tedesco, to show he wasn’t out of his game after the conclave.

So, they kissed. For a half second that may have cost some years of Bellini’s life, but still. He did it for the Church and for the Pope he was so eager to please. He did it for love and devotion to a God he knew would be happy to see him overcome human hate and put the sanctity of the Church above it.

He did it. 

But he didn’t know someone had taken a picture of it.

The article was indeed very clever, pointing out that their kiss showed that opposite factions were somehow uniting in the new changes of Pope Innocent’s administration. Bellini, the former and actual Secretary of State — liberal to his bones — kissing a man whose opinions lied about thinking that two men kissing should be thrown in jail was definitely a powerful image. It was the greatest symbolism Innocent’s papacy could be right now.

Aldo Bellini knew all that. But he also knew that probably that image was going to be the most famous photo of that century. When he saw it for the first time, it was already everywhere. The article was posted at 6am. At 6:30, the photo was everywhere. He was everywhere. Kissing Tedesco.

As Sabbadin was still looking furious at him, Aldo opened his drawer and pulled up a folder. He handed it off to Giulio.

“The official statement is ready. Mine is there too, although I really don’t want to talk to the press right now, nor ever.” He exhaled, already tired. But he never felt more stoic than now.

“How did you manage to avoid the press until now?” Thomas spoke softly while reading the document in Giulio’s hand. He took off his glasses to glance towards Aldo. His brown eyes were a mixture of sadness and frustration. 

“I arrived here before 7. Took the side entrance. They weren’t here yet.”

Giulio handed the folder to Raymond, who looked just as disturbed as before.

“And… Do we have a statement in case Tedesco says something-”

“I doubt he will.” Bellini was firm. He rose up from his seat. “Is that all, gentleman?”

Sabbadin pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and, placing one between his fingers, he gestured while speaking to Aldo.

“You should’ve warned me.”

“Giulio, I know you could’ve prevented it, but when I saw it was too late.”

“Either way. We deserve to know things beforehand.” He walked to the door and opened it. “I’ll read your stupid statement.” 

Raymond, the most stoic of them all, bowed his head before departing with the folder in his arms. The door was shut with a loud noise. Aldo looked up and saw Thomas reading the article, hypnotized by the words and photos.

They were alone again.

***

The first sip of his coffee was in the sink within all the things Bellini had consumed until then — an apple, two toasts. All going away because he saw a photo of himself and Goffredo Tedesco kissing hanging there on the front page of the newspaper.

His mind raced with a million different thoughts of what to do. His first instinct was hiding in his home for an entire year. Unfortunately, not possible. The second, he wanted to resign. But he would never drop off his brilliant career over Goffredo Tedesco — that would be the most humiliating of it all. The third one was calling Thomas.

He walked towards his room to pick it up, but once he grabbed it he searched his own name on google. And saw the picture reproduced in some articles (not so many, but it was there). So, he still had time to avoid the reporter on his way to work.

He dropped everything and rushed to hide at the Palazzo del Governatorato. He arrived there so early that the guards and other workers were not the ones who did the morning shift. When he reached his shared office, he finally took a deep breath.

Secured, at least for the day, Aldo permitted himself to formulate the thought full of fear he was contended.

He was sad and frustrated because his image, his face and his name would be forever  famous — and always associated with Tedesco. He knew he should be at least proud that he protagonist something that would be positive for the Church, for the future of it. For Innocent's pontificate. His name and face forever glued to an iconic moment in the contemporary Church. A new image, an actualization of St. Peter's Church.

But it was not his rational mind that was working this time. It was, again, his most human side. He was frustrated that his image would always be associated with Tedesco — and not Thomas.

The Roman Kiss was indeed very important for Innocent’s administration, but he wanted a kiss between Thomas and himself to be the famous one.  Aldo Bellini wanted to leave a mark in the world that would always be associated with his deepest and true love for his beloved friend. 

For once, he needed to be the man Aldo Bellini and not Eminence Bellini. And once again a passage popped into his mind, guided by the Holy Spirit perhaps.

But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7)

He shouldn’t be so angry about his form and appearance. About his own image. His body was for the Church, and for God. His body was for serving, not to demand anything. But the Lord would know the truth that lied in his heart. He was, still, impure. Because his body refused to follow the principles that had guided his mind.

He swallowed the urge to cry, stupid feelings , and sat down to work. He wrote five statements, each one for each possible approach the Curia would want him to do. He wrote another one for himself and folded them all.

He stopped for a coffee and, even though he hadn't smoked since seminary, he almost reached Sabbadin for a cigarette at that moment.

But he refrained and sat down to work. Again. Then Thomas arrives and kisses him on the mouth and for four whole seconds his mind stops every thought. Good and bad. His mind rests in those seconds, and the sensation of it is too powerful. The relief of not having a thousand versions of himself talking at the same time almost drove him to cry.

Thomas says nothing about the photo — he’s probably not seen it yet. Aldo knows, not sure how, that Lawrence only reads the news after lunch.

“I need to live some part of my day without knowing the most tragic things that happened in the world the day before.” He always says with a sad laugh.

So he knows nothing. And Aldo is thankful he can live for a few moments without addressing the question. Then Sabbadin storms into the room. 

And then it all comes back.

***

Now, Thomas Lawrence was reading the article with the dynamic reading he developed in his many years as a professor. He saw the picture and read through it all, and flipped through the pages of the newspaper quickly, and his fingers were still holding it. Thomas was serious and could feel Aldo's gaze burning into his face. He also saw that on the third page of the article — full of references — there were other photos. Including one photo of them two, very small compared to his photo with Tedesco. Just a little rectangle close to the other five small pictures. Many cardinals greeting each other with Roman Kisses in those pictures, but none are just as powerful as the one printed on the cover.

Thomas exhaled sadly and raised his gaze to Aldo. He looked like a wounded animal.

“Why didn’t you tell me when I first arrived?” He asked without moving a muscle.

Bellini let out a sad laughter, shaking his head in disbelief and scratching his face, almost in a subconscious move to bear the insane urge to rip his skin off.

“I didn’t want to talk about it.”

Thomas nodded. He lay the newspaper on the desk as he reached for the door. He locked it softly, trying not to make so much noise for it. Bellini watched as he walked towards him, pushing the chair so he could face Aldo without any barriers. Thomas crossed his hands and laid them in front of his body. Waiting.

Aldo lifted his eyebrows in a very defiant way.

“Still don’t want to.”

Thomas exhaled with little patience, and looked down. When he lifted his blue eyes, Aldo was covering his face with his hands. Not crying, just rubbing his skin and trying to think. Lawrence felt sorry for him, so haunted by his own mind all the time. Aldo was acceptant and tried to be kind to all others, but so hard on himself. 

And as a desperate measure to stop him from disappearing in his mind, Thomas stepped close to him and grabbed him by his waist. Both hands on both sides of Bellini’s hips.

“Aldo…” He whispered as he tried to bring the man close to him.

“What are you doing?” Aldo swallowed.

“Not talking.”

Thomas’ hands were firm, as he wanted to steady Aldo from that day, not letting him fall into a complete mental space of despair. He held his hands above the black fabric of his cassock, firmly, and felt Aldo’s body tense.

On the other side, Bellini was melting. In his mind, it seemed like a whirlwind of thoughts was forming. His body burned from within, the epicenter of chaos residing where Thomas Lawrence's hands rested. Aldo, unable to think clearly about anything, took his hands off his face and let his body guide his movements. His hands instinctively went to Thomas' shoulders as he shifted his weight so that Thomas could slide his hands down his waist, until he embraced him completely. Thomas lowered his head to rest his forehead against Aldo's.

Then, Thomas let him breathe slowly, calming down. But Aldo was not calm at all. His body burned with a thousand fevers, Thomas' large hands gripping his back firmly. An unusual heat prickled Aldo Bellini’s body beneath the cassock. He closed his eyes and did not see the smile that spread across Thomas' face upon realizing that the metal of the crosses they carried on their chests brushed against each other and produced a simple sound, only possible to be heard at that distance. Just as it was only possible to feel the thoughts boiling in Aldo's head at this distance. Just as it was only possible to smell his distinct scent by pressing his body against his. Thomas let instinct take over his body once again and pulled his waist once more, this time pressing their hips together. Aldo sighed.

The passage comes to his mind again. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.

When the Lord would search his heart, He would find nothing but shameful pride, anger and frustration. He would see his struggle to accept he was not worthy of the love Thomas granted him with. He would see his body wanting to be more than a servant of the Church. God would see he wanted to get his way for at least once in a long time. He was impure, and God knew that. Aldo sighed again, responding to his own mental monologue, and Thomas felt it was time to speak again.

“A penny for your thoughts.” He pulled his head down to look into Aldo’s eyes and smiled within the question.

Aldo shook his head negatively, still not ready. But, to be honest, he was never ready for a difficult conversation. He was never ready to discuss himself or anything that happened on his mind.

“I-” He started, whispering. “I’m fine, just wasn’t prepared for that.”

“Hum, no one was.” He laughed softly.

“I think I might see the Holy Father today.”

“I think it’s a wise choice. We can arrange a meeting-”

“Could I- Can this one be… Private?” Aldo looked in his eyes and didn’t blink.

Thomas went silent for a second or tow, a bit shocked, but nodded again.

“Of course, darling.”

Aldo responded with a nod and let go of his embrace, shivering while Thomas slid his hands through his waist until let him go.

“Are you going now?”

“Yes, before Giulio comes back and makes me eat the paper of my statement.” 

Thomas laughed at the silly joke.

“Shall we meet for lunch?” He was hopeful.

“We’ll see. But if I don’t show up, help yourself, ok?”

Bellini was about to touch the doorknob. 

“Aldo…?”

He blinked and turned around to face Thomas, who was just as tall and stupid in the middle of the office. And still the most beautiful man Aldo had ever laid eyes on. 

“Yes, dear?” The sweet word slid softly on his tongue, almost too explicit. His first instinct was calling him love, but it would be too much.

“Don’t run away this time.”

Aldo smiled the same sad smile Thomas had seen him wear for 30 years.

“I won’t.”

But Thomas wasn’t convinced.

***

It looked like Pope Innocent was expecting him. Maybe he was, as Aldo learned His Holiness was actually a very chronically online type of person. He must’ve seen the pictures very early in the morning but, as always, he waited. Benitez wasn’t a proactive person in that sense. When he saw a problem coming, he usually waited in prayer until it reached him, generally through the mouth of his brilliant Secretary of State or his new Camerlengo — Sabbadin, from whom he definitely was informed about the whole situation. Vincent always had a very silent, non-anxious response to everything. Aldo both admired and envied it.

“Cardinal Bellini, please sit down.” His soft voice sounded like a scream for the now very sensitive ears of Aldo. He noticed that he was already inside the office. The Pope was seated on the couch, as always — he clearly hated his chair behind the desk, too formal — and indicated the armchair across him to Aldo to accommodate himself.

Aldo couldn’t remember if he had already greeted the Pope properly, but Vincent rarely cared for that type of protocol when it involved him. Especially in a private meeting. And Bellini wasn’t particularly eager for any kind of human touch right now, he barely survived Thomas hands just now.

So he seated, crossed his legs and stayed with his head down.

“ Como estás, Aldo? ” 

In some meeting weeks ago, Bellini told him they could talk in any language he preferred, because it was Aldo who was at his service. It was, indeed, very clever of him to choose Spanish — a language less known in the Curia, and one few nuns could speak. So in a way, it was always very private conversations and words they shared. But, usually, they switched tongues a lot between topics, but when Thomas was present they usually spoke English. But when they were alone, Aldo liked to practice — and show Vincent he had been practicing for his benefit — Spanish. Aldo liked it, and Vincent knew it. Their relationship was indeed very formal, but nonetheless interesting. Aldo wondered if it would ever be as it was with the late Pope. He knew it would be impossible, but getting to know Vincent was a good turn of circumstances. 

How are you?

“ De pie, al menos …” His pronunciation a little clearer than Thomas’, Vincent would always remark. “¿ Leíste la declaración que preparé ?”

Have you read my statement?

“Sí, sí…” He pointed at his desk where Aldo’s folder was lying. “ Sabbadin me trajo y ya hice mis consideraciones a él.”

Of course Sabbadin was here and talked to you about it, Aldo shook his head in disbelief.

“¿Y cuales serían?”

“Yo créo que deberíamos esperar que te sintas preparado para decidir que camino seguir…”

We will wait for you to decide.

Aldo passed a hand on his own face, scratching his cheek, and looked down to his fascia. Red like the blood of Christ.

It was his decision, then?

He went silent for long minutes, a silence the Pope swallowed with grace and kindness. Vincent was not surprised when the next words that popped out of Aldo’s mouth were in raw, rough New-York-English.

“Will you take my confession, Father?”

“ Claro que sí. ”

Vincent nodded, softly, and waited for Aldo to adjust himself in the armchair, hands in prayer.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been…” He sighed. “A month since my last confession.”

“It’s been quite some time, my child.” Vincent leaned on the couch as well. “What do you need to confess?”

Aldo closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, his body betraying him in a way he couldn’t help it. He needed to appear stoic and firm. But his body started to shiver all over, his hands sweating as he felt every cell of his skin tingling uncomfortably. He felt his breath becoming unsteady, difficult. He tried to swallow it, but it looked like there was not enough space on his chest. 

“I…” He tried to start, but warm tears went down on his face as soon as his voice escaped his mouth.

Vincent waited patiently, but his heart was broken to see that poor man fighting so roughly with himself, with his body, only trying to form words to describe his pain. Even if he couldn’t do it, it was clear in his body, emerging from every pore, a painful, irreconcilable tension. Vincent felt an unparalleled compassion for the man in front of him and, for the first time, felt him human. This suddenly made his affection and admiration for Aldo grow.

The Holy Father offered him a kind look, and leaned on the couch to place a hand on Aldo’s. The touch burned the cardinal's skin, causing him to recoil for a second.

“I’m sorry…” He managed to say, taking off his glasses to dry some tears. Vincent adjusted himself on the couch again.

“Don’t apologize, please.” The Holy Father was, indeed, preoccupied. “What is bothering you so much?”

Bellini looked up at him for a second and the face Vincent saw was a destroyed one. He bowed his head again and kept moving his fingers as if trying to pull them off his body.

“I’ve been profoundly selfish, Father.” He swallowed his involuntary need to sob. “I find myself… Wanting things I shouldn't. My duties and sacrifices are being obliterated by my insatiable desire to..." He lowered his eyes again, staring at Vincent's red shoes and noticing, with grace and curiosity, that they were sneakers and not the usual slippers the former pope used to wear. "To be more than my title. I find myself wanting to be more of a man than a man of God.”

He went silent. Vincent waited again but he noticed that his Secretary would need a little pressing.

“Is this related to the photo our friend brought me to today, or…” Aldo didn’t dare to look at him, afraid to denounce himself more. He felt like Vincent could see in his flesh the marks of kisses and that his eyes could tell all the things he was too afraid to say out loud. He waited in silence. No, Pope Innocent wouldn’t address it, right? “Are we talking about your relationship with the Dean?”

Bellini looked at him with wide eyes, announcing his guilt without beating around the bush. His body continued to tremble and his chest had no room for any more emotion.

The tone Innocent used was not accusatory. It was soft, carrying, and that made everything so much worse for Bellini.

“It…” He had to start speaking again, even if it was to defend himself. But for what, from whom? “It’s related to everything.”

Vincent blinked his kind eyes again, not leaving his gaze. He knew Bellini would break, because he never confessed to him. He never showed to the Pope any affliction or pain or weakness. Vincent knew, when he requested a private meeting, that Aldo needed guidance that didn’t come from his friends or well known, but from someone that might actually blame him. Or, at least, judge him.

Aldo needed some kind of salvation.

“And how exactly are you being selfish, Aldo?”

Bellini blinked and tears escaped his eyes.

“Today I wished a different photo was the famous one printed on the cover of that newspaper.”

Vincent took a breath but before he could ask, Aldo continued.

“But last week, I wished I didn’t have to participate in a meeting in Milan just because I wanted to spend more time with-” He lowered his head again, trying to control a rebel sob that popped out of his mouth. “And the other week, I didn’t sleep because I was debating with myself if it was ethical to ask a dear friend to break a vow that is important to him.”

“Aldo…” Vincent whispered. “You can speak freely here.”

“But I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Vincent offered him his hand, smiling. “Come, my child.”

Aldo Bellini grabbed the Holy Father’s hand and kneeled before him. Charmed by the kindness of that look and by the brightness of that figure, Aldo held his hands and bowed his head to the Pope’s lap. 

And then, only then, he let himself cry freely. In between sobs, Vincent heard his broken voice.

“I wanted to be remembered with Thomas by my side.” 

Vincent nodded, well aware of that.

“That is not a sin, Aldo.”

“I wanted to refuse my duties at the Holy See because I wanted to be with him only.”

“But did you?”

“No.”

“So not a sin.”

“I want him.” He looked up at Vincent. “That is a sin.”

The Pope went silent, profoundly moved by the pain he saw travel in the eyes of his cardinal.

“I’ve known you not for long, Aldo…” He felt the cardinal hold his hands a little tighter. “But one of the qualities I’ve come to most admire in you is the enormous and sincere devotion you hold to Thomas.”

Aldo’s mind felt silent. The urge to cry was softening but he bowed his head again.

Vincent knew. Of course he knew. All the Curia knew as well what Aldo’s body was impossible to hide. He tried so hard not to vocalize it to himself he forgot his body was a living thing and that his eyes — windows to his soul — were not exactly discreet anytime Thomas entered or exited a room.

He was right, after all. The kissing made everything worse. Now, it was not just gossip — everyone was fully aware of his feelings.

Like a switch was pressed on his mind, Aldo swallowed his cry and looked up again. Wounded, his next words were desperate. He wasn’t thinking. It was his fear talking.

“I’m ready to take my resignation, if you want me to.”

“I’m incapable of accepting your resignation if I don’t believe the nature of that is reasonable.”

“Everyone will benefit from it.” 

You don't even believe that, coward.

“I don’t see how it benefits you.”

“I-” Aldo started to cry again, desperate with how easy he broke his own decisions to himself, with how easy he always chose the way out. The running.

“Tell me again about the photo.” Vincent was feeling quite desperate too, he never thought he would see Aldo Bellini in such a vulnerable state.

“I wished my love for Thomas was the one recognized. And that’s selfish.”

“You understand that this feeling is a perfect-”

“I wish my body wasn’t for the Church or for God, I wish my image to be perpetuated as a-” He felt powerless, giving up the last that remained of his pride. “I wish my body was…” 

His. 

“Aldo, your body was not made to fight your spirit. All I see you do every day, and especially today, is trying so hard to make your mind win this strange fight.”

Bellini was clinging to the Pope's lap in a despair he couldn't remember feeling. Protected by the laws of confession, he cried in the lap of a man he had not long ago considered unworthy of stepping into that place.

Aldo felt pathetic, like all suffering lovers do, but deeply desperate to get answers for his afflictions from a God who seemed to enjoy putting him in those situations. His last resort before imploding — begging for the help of the now most divine man he had ever known.

“You are not at war, Aldo.” Vincent was firm in his words. “Stop fighting yourself.”

“My body wants unholy things.” 

And then Vincent, with a less desperate measure, more like a divine one, pulled Aldo out of his lap so he could kneel on the floor beside him. He leaned closer to Aldo and whispered in his ear all about him. His body and his fight. Aldo widened his eyes, wide awake again.

Benitez smiled at his shocked face.

“I’m happy to keep your secrets if you shall keep mine.”

Aldo nodded, still processing the information. He was shocked, it was true, but in the same way he would be if he witnessed a miracle happening in front of him. He looked at Vincent, his white robes reflecting the morning light that came from the window, and knew he was in the presence of a Saint. Vincent looked at him carefully, expecting hundreds of different reactions, but was happy to see Aldo was feeling comforted by it. What was said to Thomas was certainly proved right. Vincent’s difference was the reason he was useful because he could reach the difference in others. His difficulty in fitting into any standards in the world did not isolate him, but made him close to those who experience quite the same.

Vincent smiled. Bellini almost responded with his own.

“Tu cuerpo es sagrado, así como el mío. Escucha-lo. ” The Pope grabbed Aldo’s hands. Your body is sacred, just like mine. Listen to him. “You need to make peace with your body. This is hurting you.”

“Father-”

“Thomas is at peace, and seeing you hurt yourself that way hurts him too. Hurts me, too.”

Aldo felt exposed, imagining Thomas confessing his feelings to Vincent.

“I love him.” Bellini said in a tone that was the same as if he was confessing to a third-degree-murder. Vincent smiled. 

“And isn’t it a beautiful thing?”

“ Vincent , estoy confesando amar a un hombre de manera no fraternal.”

I am confessing to loving a man in a non-brotherly way.

“I know that.”

“I can’t-”

“Aldo, you can’t expect to change the whole world, the whole Church's acceptance of others, if you can’t find the same in yourself.” That broke him. Vincent watched as Aldo closed his eyes and sat on his feet, exhausted. “You have to accept it. What exists there is between you, Thomas and God himself.”

Bellini bit his lower lip.

“So what should I do?”

“I cannot respond to it directly, for I don’t live in your body and mind, but I feel quite clarified by the present situation to just advise you this.”

Vincent sat on the floor, his legs crossed on the other, as he always did as a toddler. He felt his words were too simple, as a child would say it, and smiled at it. Living in the simple could be marvellous. Aldo should try it sometime.

“You should always choose to love, my friend.”

Aldo grabbed Vincent’s hand and kissed it, finally greeting his Holy Father properly, but now it felt more real, intimate, true. They were finishing that conversation on the floor, exhausted, both with tears in their eyes.

God never left him, after all.

“Thank you, Father.”

Before he parted, Aldo Bellini told the Holy Father he preferred to use the bold statement, number three. Let’s show the Church isn’t afraid.

Just like he wasn’t anymore.

***

Aldo knew he was about to have a very enlightened conversation with Thomas that evening, but before that he would have to fix another mistake for the day.

Sabbadin. 

His friend got angry — reasonably — for his omission on the kiss matter. He deserved to know. And Aldo didn’t reach him because telling him was addressing the issue, and telling Thomas and Raymond and everyone else before he could even rationalize it all.

When he entered Raymond’s office — the place Sabbadin appeared to seemed to prefer working, besides his both official and unofficial offices, weren’t even near that tiny space Raymond was gifted with — Aldo Bellini realized that his blindness to feelings seemed to blind him to a series of other things in the world. When he entered, Giulio and Raymond were mere millimeters apart. In a second, Raymond's hand quickly moved from where it was — Sabbadin's shoulder — and suddenly their bodies were no longer so close.

Aldo was not startled, nor did he make any expression that would reveal his thoughts. He thought about Vincent's words. Isn't love a wonderful thing? Bellini wondered about all the little pieces of love that he let go unnoticed in the world while being so desperate to hide his own inside himself.

“My sincere apologies for the interruption.” His cheeks were red for embarrassment for interrupting such a delicate moment. “Giulio, would you spare me a moment to talk?”

Sabbadin nodded and, without looking back, he exited the room in Bellini’s company, trying to avoid the tingling in his own mouth from the kiss that didn’t happen.

Bellini closed the door and they headed to the balcony. Giulio lit a cigarette and adjusted the ashtray — an object no one dared to move away from that place — on the parapet. 

“You better have an impressive and heartbreaking speech for me now.”

Aldo sighed. 

“I just had, now it seems I’ve lost all my words.” He leaned on the parapet with his elbows, thinking.

“ Really? ” He studied the face of his friend. “Were you crying just now?”

“I was… Confessing.”

“Ah!” Giulio took a pull and exhaled, covered in a cloud of smoke. “Is this your penance?”

“No, Giulio, come on!” He turned his face to the Camerlengo. His irritation dissipated as he saw the questioning expression on Sabbadin’s face. Aldo shook his head. “I’ve been struggling. And the photo- It stirred up a wave of feelings in me that are not very easy to deal with.”

Giulio nodded, indicating he was attentively listening .

“But you were right,” Aldo continued. “I should have informed you. I should have asked for your advice and should have let you help. I was selfish and only thought about my feelings, above you and above the Curia.”

“Of course I was right.” He rolled his eyes.

“Ti devo delle scuse, Giulio.”  

“ Bene, bene.” He took another deep pull and waved his other hand intensely. “No need to do that.”

“But I-”

“Aldo, stop playing the martyr.” He smashed the finished cigarette on the ashtray. “We’re dealing with it. Have you chosen the statement?”

Aldo blinked again, shaking his head in disbelief about how Sabbadin went fast to the practical issues.

“Yes, the third one.”

“Perfect, the best of them.” He moved to indicate he was about to leave the balcony. “Let’s do it and then I’ll let you take your penance talk with the Dean.” 

Aldo followed him with angry eyes as they entered the building again.

“I would watch my glass ceiling if I were you…” He managed a short smile. “What exactly was the subject of your conversation with Monsignor O’Malley?”

Sabbadin smiled widely as they passed two nuns on the corridor, heading to their shared office. They reached the stairs and climbed in silence until Giulio laughed.

“We are not talking about this.”

Bellini laughed softly with him. Pathetic.

When they arrived at the office, Thomas wasn’t there.

***

Bellini decided to go home early, just after lunch time (he didn’t have any, though) hiding in an official car to avoid any problems — on normal days, he would happily walk home. Thank the Lord the press was unable to reach him until he entered his apartment. 

His apartment was a very comfortable one. Even though he appeared to be very strict and clean in his habitual life, his home actually held a lot of colour. The blue couch matched the tone of some walls, and his endless bookshelves were full of color due to an incredible number of books from everywhere. His kitchen with light blue tiles also had various colors scattered around. Red and yellow mugs, for reading nights, white and black, for when he had visitors, green and lilac for most mornings, all safely inside the white cupboard that no one ever saw but him. Each one bought in a different part of the world, at a different moment in his life. His favorite cup at the moment was actually quite simple, light green with a small drawing of a branch of flowers near the base. It was in it that he poured the water for the tea as soon as he stripped off his cardinal clothes.

Exhausted from the day, he threw himself into the armchair in the middle of the room and sipped the tea with an unusual slowness. His mind replayed each event of the day as if he were reliving the same emotion from hours ago. After endless minutes, he placed the mug on the coffee table and hugged himself, pulling his legs up onto the armchair. His eyes closed, and, exhausted, he fell asleep in the middle of the afternoon.

***

When he opened his eyes again, it was already too dark. Steady knocks on his front door had awakened him. Aldo blinked a few times before recognizing where he was and why. He rose up, his back obviously hurting from falling asleep on a damn armchair instead of his very comfortable orthopedic bed, and reached the door. 

He opened it without much thinking, it was very unexpected for a visitor there. If it was someone from the press, he would be in a lot trouble.

But it was the only person that was no trouble at all.

“Good evening, Aldo.” A very preoccupied Thomas Lawrence was standing in the hallway of the building, holding a bag in one hand, a light coat in the other. He was not wearing a cardinal wardrobe.

“Hey, Thomas.” He rubbed his eyes and made space so Thomas could enter the apartment. Only then did Aldo remember to turn on the lights of his living room. He rubbed his eyes again, the light being too much for a still sleepy Aldo Bellini.

“Is everything alright?” Thomas studied the apartment and Aldo with speed, like a crime scene. Aldo was wearing a wrinkled grey shirt and black sports pants. It was quite uncommon for him, even at home. “I tried to call but-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I fell asleep.” He tried to hide the yawn that emerged from him, not quite awake yet.“What time is it?”

“Past nine, I’m afraid.”

“Oh…”

“That is why I came here, you left early and then nobody could reach you.”

“I see…” 

“Have I woke you?”

Aldo finally looked him in the eyes.

“Yeah.”

“ Oh!” Thomas' cheeks burned. “I’m so sorry, Aldo, I didn’t think-”

“That's fine.” He noticed the bag again, and nodded his head in its direction. “What you got there?”

“Ah, this.” Thomas appeared to recall it only now too. “Giulio told me you had not eaten  before you left the Palazzo, so I-”

“ You brought me food? ” Aldo was both shocked and amused by the sweetness of the gesture. A bit suspicious, he smiled softly before asking. “Which place?”

“The one we went on a birthday of yours, not sure which one, but it is-

Celestia.”

“Celestia!

They said it at the same time with enthusiasm and ended up laughing a little.

“Great choice, Lawrence.” He said it, amusingly. His hand refrained before trying to get the bag of food. “Would you mind if I took a quick shower? I feel absolutely dreadful in these clothes and I’m not sure I’m totally awake again… I can’t possibly have dinner with you in this state.”

“Of course, yes, but I only brought you the food. I don’t have to stay, I just passed by to make sure you were… Feeling better after this morning.”

Aldo tensed again. Alright, maybe he didn’t want to stay, he was just checking.

“I see…” His enthusiasm was replaced by an awkwardness in Thomas’ presence. “Well, then, thanks for the concern. I assure you I am perfectly fine.”

He reached for the bag and Thomas held onto him, now feeling a bit tense too. It was, in fact, the very first time Thomas visited him after the kissing season had started. There was a tension unspoken in his movements that now he could feel in his bones.

“Are you, really?”

“Yes, I am.”

Thomas wanted to press it further, but he knew it was not the time or place. Aldo was at his own home, he didn’t deserve to be trapped there in a perhaps difficult conversation. 

“So I will let you rest well for the night, my friend.” Thomas bowed his head a little and pressed his fingers against the beige coat. He headed to the door and opened it. 

Aldo didn’t respond, heartbroken for seeing Thomas leaving so easily, and stood by the open door just as pathetic as he felt, holding the bag of food like a baby. Thomas had already took a few steps in the hallway when he suddenly turned his body to Aldo’s door again.

He had an excuse ready to flee his mouth, something about he thought Aldo had borrowed him a book and not returning it, but he just turned back and looked stupid with his puppy blue eyes.

They stayed there in silence, staring at each other. Aldo had the horrible thought that he was watching Thomas leave forever. He knew it was a lie. Still, something in his body was yelling at him not to let that man go away in the middle of the night.

Don’t fight. Listening to your body.

So he gathered some courage and opened his mouth.

“You didn’t even kiss me goodbye.”

Without hesitation, Thomas advanced through the door again and, throwing the coat on the floor, held Aldo's face between his hands. He kicked the door shut. The bag of food was suddenly on the countertop. And Aldo Bellini was pressed against the wall and Thomas' body, kissing him deeply. 

Aldo was responding to the energy that Thomas was bringing to the kiss, fiercely. Both tongues too messy, both mouths too desperate. Aldo didn’t notice he was groaning into it, too immersed in the feeling of Thomas’ hands leaving his face and traveling through his shoulders, only the thin t-shirt to protect his fingers to find his arms.

And then, his fingers reached his forearm, his skin totally exposed. Aldo grabbed Thomas by the neck and kissed him with more enthusiasm. Lawrence was pressing his fingers on the muscles of the naked arms of Bellini. Curious fingertips traveled around his skin, feeling its textures, the fabric of the shirt, the smoothness of his skin and his unbelievably soft body hair.

Thomas broke the kiss, gasping for air. Aldo felt he was dreaming from his little nap.

“I’m sorry, I-” Thomas swallowed.

“Will you stay for dinner, then?” Aldo’s cheeks and lips were redder than ever. He blinked and widened his big brown eyes.

“I am, but only because-” He smiled a little. “I think I have to find a book that I left with you a while ago.”

Their bodies were still pressed together, their heat dizzying the thoughts in Aldo’s mind.

“Only because of that?”

“Certainly.” They laughed softly, the tension forgotten outside the apartment. “I can heat the food while you take your shower.”

Aldo nodded, smiling.

“Alright, then.” 

He managed to free himself from Thomas' arms and headed to his suite. 

Bellini locked the door of the bathroom and opened the cold water. His body was still burning.

***

When he showed up in the living room again, he seemed more like himself. The button blouse and the black linen pants somewhat resembled the cassock he always wore, although much more informal and lighter. His body was almost entirely covered again, except that he was barefoot.

Thomas had set a table for two, but no cups.

“I didn’t know if you would want wine or-”

“Of course I’m drinking tonight, I’m now famous for kissing Tedesco, how do you expect me to cope with this?”

Thomas laughed and started to serve the food for him. In the end, the both of them ended up eating — Aldo would never let Thomas just watch him eat — as they talked about the statement, and how Sabbadin just did a great job with the press.

“Vincent told me it was your decision, the approach I mean…”

“Yes, we decided it after my meeting with him.” Aldo drank a little from his cup.

“I suppose it went well?”

Aldo smiled a little mysteriously, and nodded. 

“It went well, yes. The Holy Father is, hm, a very kind and attentive person.”

Thomas tilted his head slightly to the side, thoughtful.

“Care to tell me what was the main topic of that?”

Aldo narrowed his eyes.

“You’re a bright man, Thomas, I’ll let you guess.”

Lawrence couldn’t help the blush that covered his face at hearing that compliment and at the edge of that insinuation.

“Have you told him?”

“I-” He finished his plate, biting the last piece of soft meat before continuing with that conversation. “I didn’t tell him anything he wasn’t already aware of.”

But he did tell me a secret I cannot share with you.

Aldo picked up his glass again and finished the wine. Thomas offered his hand above the table, and his lover took it.

“So… You’re… Okay?” Thomas felt stupid as the words left his mouth. Bellini must’ve felt his feelings because he laughed softly.

“I’m working on it.” He placed the glass on the table. The bottle was empty but he desperately needed another.

Thomas smiled at him and caressed his fingers with his thumb. A simple gesture, but that held a lot of significance. They had been friends for years now, but now words they used to share with simplicity were covered by a new weight they would need to learn how to balance. Aldo was feeling loved by him, and in that moment it didn’t scare him.

“What are we even doing here, my friend?” Aldo asked out loud, firm and wide awake. Thomas was at his home, possibly drunk, holding his hand in a very romantic way. In a very romantic dinner. It was a date.

“We’re having dinner, like we do all the time.”

Bellini raised his eyebrows.

“You never hold my hand that way when we have dinner.”

Lawrence smiled.

“I suppose I do now.”

“Honey…” He almost felt ashamed of how easy the word fled his mouth. “I do not plan on resigning or changing a single beat of my life here.”

“Oh, I know that.”

“So… I’ll ask again.” He looked very deeply in the blue ocean of Thomas’ eyes. “What are we doing?”

“... Being friends?” He joked again.

“Thomas.”

“But I am being serious. And quite reasonable. Otherwise, what else should we call it?”

“I don’t have a clue.” He shook his head and began to rise up. “I’m going to need more wine before continuing this subject. Don’t move.”

But when he came back, Lawrence was on his couch. He seated by his side and crossed his legs above it, the glass in his hand and the bottle on the floor. They have arranged that same position for years now. But now, it seems so different. Somehow, only on this day Aldo saw the proximity they had shared for so many years. An intimacy built into small pieces, each and every day. An intimacy they would never recover from, no matter how they would try to force the opposite. What they were living today felt like a natural development of that beautiful story they shared.

Aldo sighed.

“What frightens me the most is the possibility of ruining our friendship for a feeling I don’t even know how to name it right.”

Thomas nodded, taking a sip of his wine.

“It haunts me too, in a way…” He smiled. “But all fears go away when, well…”

They both shared a knowing and placid look. A naughty smile crossed Aldo’s mouth while he played with the rim of the glass, slowly circling his fingers over it.

“Are we having an affair?”

“Hardly.” Oh, he was fast. “Whom are you betraying? God?”

“In a way, yes.” Aldo confirmed, vividly. “The Church, my vows. Your vows. ”

“I have my consciousness crystal clear, now, I’m not cheating on anyone.”

“You can’t possibly be serious!”

Thomas rolled up his eyes.

“What are you fighting for, exactly?”

“ Excuse me ?” His drunk voice held on a New-York accent that melted Thomas’ heart.

“Do you need a name? Great. Do you want to have an affair with me?” Aldo went silent. Thomas held his eyebrows almost on the top of his head. “Perfect, I’ll take that as a yes. ”

“What changed you?” Aldo was now calmer, curious and suspicious like a cat in a new environment.

Silence. Thomas only looked into his eyes, impossible for him to articulate anything because his new approach to everything had thousands of layers. He sighed.

“I’m believing again that God is responding to my prayers.” Not the answer Aldo was expecting. “I asked him for joy. I begged him to improve my relationship with you, after the Conclave I thought-”

Bellini tensed again.

“Thomas, what we do here is wrong in so many-”

“I don’t believe you. I think it is quite a natural improvement.”

“Of what?”

“Our love.”

“Is that your name for it?”

“Obviously.”

Aldo wanted to protest again. But then, his body betrayed him, and his torso was magically pulled onto Thomas. He rested his head on Thomas’ shoulder. Tired of fighting. Tired of argumenting. His next words were in the form of a whisper.

“What if it goes wrong?”

“I trust God will guide our way.”

Aldo laughed and raised his head again.

“I’m not quite convinced but today was an exasperating day, so I’ll let you win.” He placed his glass on the floor.

“If it helps you fall asleep at night, I’m letting you believe you just let me win.”

They stared at each other, like they did a thousand times, but now it held a new anticipation. Thomas broke the boundary again, pulling his hand on Aldo’s knee, caressing it softly. He held his gaze, his brown eyes darker than ever. Aldo didn’t ask before taking his glass and putting it on the floor too. Once he looked at Thomas again, he held his breath when he felt his hand beginning to rise on his body. His first instinct was to take off his glasses and throw them on the center table.

His body was pulled again by a magnetic force right into Thomas’. Their lips inches apart, both partially drunk, an unbelievable heat between them. Aldo’s hands travelled through Thomas’ chest feeling his heart beating fast and rested them on the base of his neck.

“What about…” He started talking, while their noses played a soft dance together. “Lovers?”

Thomas smiled, rubbing their lips together almost imperceptible.

“I’m not having an affair. Friends with benefits?”

Aldo laughed as he caressed Thomas face, hair, ears and chin. He almost felt like moaning when Thomas brushed against his skin under the sleeve of his blouse.

“Too straight.”

“Boyfriends?” He teased.

Aldo felt his touch burning on his skin, and his shivers made him feel alive in a new way. Something he never felt before.

“I’m 64, Thomas.” He opened his eyes again and saw his very dear friend — lover, boyfriend, colleague, his Thomas — with his mouth opened, in desperate want of a kiss. “But I sincerely don’t give a fuck about names now.”

He finally ended that torture and offered Thomas a languid kiss, savoring a new type of kiss and touch. It was not as delicate as a morning kiss. The heat started to burn in Bellini’s body from the top of his stomach and it spread all over. 

Thomas’ hands were everywhere . Aldo felt Lawrence all over him, leaning towards his side of the sofa. Aldo felt like laying on the couch, and his body was desperate to have Thomas weigh on him. He moaned when Lawrence grabbed his neck firmly and deepened the kiss a little more. The little snaps from flesh and saliva intoxicating him in a much more dangerous way than the wine.

He lets his more feverish instincts guide him. His hands grabbed the fabric of Lawrence's blouse and pulled him closer. Aldo adjusted his legs on the couch, opening them to make way for Thomas' body. His eyes were closed, but his body opened completely to receive Thomas' warmth and love. But before he could lie down, a new feeling. A very specific pain in his groin woke him from that cloud of desire and love. He pushed Thomas away.

He gasped for air and watched Thomas feel the same way, all red in cheeks and lips. He could feel their bodies completely electrified. 

Lawrence looked at him, a little worried.

“Is everything-”

“Ok, yes, just… Too much.”

Thomas agreed, trying to catch his breath too. He distanced himself from Aldo and leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Bellini couldn't help but let his gaze slide down Thomas' body, staring at the middle of his legs, expecting something that didn't appear. Probably better that way.

“Didn’t mean to overstep.”

“You didn’t, it’s ok.” Please, keep your eyes on the ceiling.

Aldo risked a glance at his own groin and, by a miracle, there was nothing there that would betray him so much . Still, he couldn't risk that happening next to Thomas. At least, not today. Not for now. The palpable subject of their obvious attraction — and its possible outcomes — was very much present even though neither of them would address it directly. But none of them were stupid. They were human bodies made of flesh and blood. Today, it might be too much to think about. But Aldo had to show Thomas he wasn’t running away from it in a long term.

“Just to have you know…” He started and Thomas turned his face to look at him. “I would never sleep with you on our first date, I'm not that kind of man, you know.”

Thomas laughed even though Aldo knew in his bones that he was profoundly ashamed of that comment. Perhaps the alcohol made him a little bit lighter.

“I wouldn’t dare to think such a thing of you, my darling.”

Aldo refrained from laughing by biting his lower lip. He would have to leave that sofa, otherwise he would be attracted to Lawrence's arms again. And the second time there, he wouldn’t be able to escape.

“Let’s go, old man.” He rose up and offered Thomas his hand. “Help me with the dishes.”

***

It was past midnight when Thomas actually left Aldo’s apartment. 

They didn't talk much about what happened, both exhausted from the day and also overwhelmed by the makeout session on the couch. When all the dishes were washed, Thomas picked up the coat and tucked it under his arm.

"Do you want me to call you an Uber?" Aldo offered.

"It's a five-minute walk, I think I can survive it."

Before leaving, Thomas caressed his face with the back of his fingers and kissed him gently. One, two, three, four, five . Five whole seconds.

See you tomorrow.

Now, Thomas had left, but Aldo was not afraid of losing him. He would see him again tomorrow. And he would probably see him almost every day until the end of his life, because he didn't intend to leave that place or that job. The time to discuss the million implications of that thing between them could wait a little longer. After all, they had waited more than 30 years for a simple kiss. Aldo shaked his head in disbelief. 

There was no mundane word sufficient to describe what they were.

When Aldo said his prayers before going to sleep, he thanked the lack of words. He thanked God for the poverty of language in describing the greatness of his love for Thomas. What existed between them only concerned those two souls, and God. 

Even if God had no idea what it was like to be loved the way Aldo Bellini had felt today.