Chapter 11
“Me,” Enzo muttered.
Seven bit the corner of his lip as he watched Enzo practically writhing in embarrassment. How was this the same man who made Seven weak when he called him brat? The same man who took care of him so well when he was falling apart? Like tonight. How was he such a perfect contradiction?
“Where?” Seven asked, squinting at the phone, looking at what must have been a family photo.
Twenty plus people were crowded together—kids looking in every direction but at the camera, and adults trying to smile through their aggravation.
“You do remember how many siblings you have? And, no offense, but your mom kind of just hit copy-paste. I have no idea which one is you.”
Enzo uncovered his face long enough to jab a finger at his pre-teen self. “That’s me.”
Seven’s breath caught taking in the image before him.
Enzo was shorter than most of his brothers, stockier, with broader shoulders, and he was adorably chubby.
He had an unfortunate pair of brown plastic frames resting crooked on his otherwise perfect nose, and a face full of acne and that little shadow over his lip that some boys got when they hit puberty.
Seven began crafting a text to Enzo’s mother in his head. He needed more photos of baby Enzo. All the photos. Immediately.
“Aww,” Seven simpered. “Look at you. So cute.”
Enzo dropped his hands to give him a pouty glare that made Seven’s heart trip behind his ribs. How could anyone be so hot and so adorable at the same time? “I meant the chunky one with the big glasses, bad skin, and facial hair.”
“I know who you meant,” Seven said around a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re kind of an asshole, roasting a little kid like that. You were so fucking cute.”
Enzo continued to stare at him with the vexation of a wet cat. “I was that little kid. I can roast myself,” he protested. “God knows everyone else did.”
Oh. Right. Enzo was bullied. Seven knew how that went.
His friend group had all been bullied in middle school, too.
Mostly, just for being small, awkward, and gay.
That was why they’d banded together. Maybe it didn’t impact Seven as much because he’d found his life-long friends that way.
Playing D&D and then, eventually, Paladin in the back of Jericho’s garage had saved them, turning otherwise shitty days into good ones.
Seven gave him a soft look, reaching out to ghost a finger down the bridge of Enzo’s nose. “Kids are dicks, baby.”
“Don’t act like you don’t see what I see,” Enzo grumbled, flopping onto his back to stare at the ceiling.
Seven might have laughed if not for Enzo’s miserable expression. Instead, he sighed. “I don’t see what you see. At all. But that’s the thing about perspective. You don’t like how you look because it reminds you of a shitty time in your life. I love how you look because I lo—like you,” he stumbled.
Enzo met his gaze, more serious than Seven had ever seen him. “I lo-like you, too,” he said.
Seven got lost for a few minutes just looking at him.
Enzo didn’t look away.
When Seven snapped out of it, he felt his face grow hot, the tips of his ears burning. He took out his phone and thumbed through a dozen folders to find what he was looking for, then handed the device to Enzo. “Take it. Look.”
Enzo took the phone Seven thrust into his face, then sat up.
Seven followed, scooting closer to hook his chin over his shoulder.
It was an old picture Jericho had found and sent to them weeks ago.
A picture of a picture, really. Seven kids strewn across couches in the back of Jericho’s garage, game controllers in hand, wearing superhero pajama pants and graphic tees with images and sayings that hadn’t been popular in well over a decade.
Seven smiled down at the photo. They’d been between the ages of eleven and twelve.
It was a sea of scrawny boys whose limbs looked slightly too long for their bodies, some sporting the same patchy facial hair as Enzo, others with faces full of acne.
Seven pointed to himself. He was the second smallest next to Levi, his wild hair sticking out in all directions, frizzy and unkempt.
He had a mouthful of old-school ugly metal braces, the pain of which still haunted him today.
“That’s me,” he said, chin bumping Enzo’s shoulder with every word. “I wasn’t exactly signing any model contracts either.”
“You’re adorable,” Enzo said, running his finger over Seven’s image.
“You only think so because you lo-like me, too,” he teased.
Enzo turned his head, pressing a lingering kiss to Seven’s cheek. Butterflies erupted in his belly. Yeah, Seven really did lo-like him. Was this why all his friends were so fucking crazy once they got in relationships? Did being in love alter your brain chemistry?
“You were definitely cuter than me,” Enzo said, pulling him from his thoughts.
“I think all little kids are adorable in their own way,” Seven countered.
“My siblings never had an awkward phase. It was annoying,” Enzo admitted with a sigh.
“They just went from being pretty little kids to pretty teens to pretty adults. Unlike me. I started putting on weight in fourth grade. I had terrible vision, bad skin. The only thing that saved me was randomly shooting up seven inches practically overnight my sophomore year of high school, then discovering kickboxing in eleventh grade. After that, I got contacts. A Proactive subscription. But before that…I dreaded school. Kids were mean. Especially my siblings.”
Seven kissed his cheek back, then moved so he could drape himself across Enzo’s shoulders, hugging his neck from behind.
“I’m gonna be honest,” Seven said. “I don’t trust anyone who didn’t have an ugly phase. It’s weird. You shouldn’t look like a twelve-year-old supermodel. You should have acne or bad teeth or greasy hair or be in a body that just doesn’t quite feel like it belongs to you.”
Enzo’s hand landed on Seven’s forearm and squeezed. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Seven said, nipping at his ear. “You could put on another fifty pounds and still be the hottest man alive. You’ve got that villain energy.”
Enzo snorted. “Villain energy?”
“Yeah, look at you. There’s not a girl alive who wouldn’t take one look at you and think that you’re some vicious criminal with a tragic past that became your origin story. The BookTok girlies would love you.”
“What’s a BookTok girlie?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Seven said. “The point is, it’s your aura that makes you hot. If you had walked into that conference room fifty pounds heavier and totally bald, I still would have called you Daddy. It’s all about confidence, and you have that in spades.”
Seven watched the blush stain his cheeks. “ Sure.”
“I’m serious,” Seven promised. “You’ve seen my dad.
He looks like a toe and he’s got ten kids with ten different women…
that I know of. Look at how hot my mom is.
He bagged her, and it’s not because of his looks.
He’s fat and has a huge scar on his face that makes him look borderline terrifying to young children and people who owe him money. ”
“That’s different.”
Seven’s tone grew sullen. “If I gain weight, are you going to ditch me? Tell me now, ‘cause I feel like it’s pretty inevitable with my laziness and genetics. I hit the gym pretty often now, but I refuse to do crunches forever. Once I lock you down, there’s a really high chance that I’m gonna just let myself go. ”
Enzo seemed to laugh against his will. “We can let ourselves go together. Trade the gym for beer and chicken wings on the couch. Fat and happy as my Nona used to say.”
Seven gave a pornographic moan right against Enzo’s ear, crooning, “You’re kind of turning me on right now.”
“Is it the chicken wings or the couch that’s getting you going because one is downstairs and the other can be here in twenty minutes.”
Seven laughed, feeling lighter than he had since his mother’s phone call earlier. Somehow, Enzo had made it all go away for a while. “No. Well, yes to the couch, though I prefer the bed. No to the wings. You promised me your mom’s tortellini and tiramisu, and now, I can’t think of anything else.”
Enzo laughed, handing Seven his phone back in exchange for his own.
He hit a button then waited several seconds for someone to answer.
“Hey, man. It’s Enzo. I need to place a delivery order.
” There was a delay as the other person spoke before Enzo said, “For me, idiot. Why would I be placing an order for someone else?”
Seven snickered as he listened to Enzo place their order.
Once he ended the call, he rolled off the bed in one graceful move, then leaned down to give Seven a kiss that lingered just enough to have Seven making a needy sound when he pulled back. “Now I’m gonna go shower.”
“Noo,” Seven whined. “What am I supposed to do without you? I’ll be bored.”
Enzo kissed his forehead, then kissed it again. Then his nose. Then his chin. Seven’s heart felt like it was two seconds away from exploding tinier hearts everywhere. “Text your friends. I’m sure they’re worried about you.”
His friends.
“Oh, right.”
He was supposed to play online with them tonight.
By now, Jericho had probably filled them in on the situation.
They were probably all freaking out. He waited to open his phone until he heard the water running.
He giggled to himself as Enzo began to loudly belt out something from what Seven could only assume was an Italian opera.
He navigated to his voice recorder and let it pick up about two minutes of Enzo’s dramatic aria on his phone for blackmail at a later date, then opened his group chat.
The minute he saw the pages of talk he missed, he decided he didn’t have time to try to catch up.
Hopefully, if he missed something important, they’d catch him up now.
The few messages he did read were all his friends fretting about why they hadn’t heard from him yet.
Seven
I’m alive.