39） I Need A Favor
Gio
Tomorrow is the day. Rava is leaving.
I wake up next to him. He's still asleep, with one hand tucked under his cheek. I'm gonna punch him. He is beautiful. Not just hot. Not just cute. Fucking beautiful.
Like, so beautiful it makes me wanna punch myself too.
Like something out of a dream I never thought I'd be allowed to have.
I look at him, and I can't help but think about that younger version of him, the cute tiny Rava with the shy smile and the oversized backpack and the huge green eyes that didn't know how to actually look mad.
That kid would've been so happy to see this.
To see us.
To see that we made it here somehow, after everything. To know that he ended up in bed with someone who looks at him like this. Like I am right now.
But then the guilt creeps in. Because I haven't always been good to him. Hell, I've been awful more times than I want to count.
I've pushed him, scared him, broken him in ways I still don't understand how the fuck he forgave. And sometimes I wonder if he really forgave me.
Or if he just loves me so much he forgot how to stop. I reach out, trace his jaw with the back of my fingers. He doesn't move. God, even his face made it hard to stay mad.
Back then, that sweet little baby face he had, it used to piss me off how fast it made my anger fade. He'd look at me all wide-eyed and soft and I'd feel like the biggest fucking monster for yelling at him. Even when I was ten.
But now…now his face is something else. Angelic. That's the word. It doesn't even sound right coming from me but it's true.
It's scary how good looking he is.
The lines of his face are sharper, grown. It's the kind of face that should belong to someone in paintings.
Someone untouchable. And yet he's mine. He's right here, in my bed. And I'm supposed to let him leave?
No. No fucking way. I stare at him a second longer, soaking it in. The tiny, faint freckles near his nose that you can notice only if you're too close.
Then I pull away gently, trying not to wake him. Because today, I've got shit to do. I've got a plan to set in motion. My only shot to make him come back. To make him stay here with me. I lean in and press a kiss against his cheek.
"Don't go anywhere, baby," I whisper. "I'll be back fast." He doesn't wake up. Good.
In the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face. Today's not just about him. My mom's coming home. Finally.
After the hospital. After the pain and the waiting and the machines and the nights I thought I'd lose her. She's okay now. She's coming back. And so will he.
I'm going back to the room, to get dressed. Black shirt. I leave a few buttons undone. Rava always plays with them when he's nervous. Or when he's thinking about doing things that'll ruin me.
Jeans.
Chain. Watch. My rings. The ones he turns on my fingers when he's too shy to ask for a kiss. The tattoos on my arms peek through the sleeves. I glance in the mirror one last time.
Good. I look like me.
…
The bar is open early. I spot my interest.
Nicola.
I almost laugh. He looks exactly like the kind of guy who got punched at private school and told the principal his father would hear about this.
In my case, I punched his brother. At Sophia's party, that night. He fucking deserved it. I take a breath. This is for Rava. I walk over.
"Mind if I sit?"
He doesn't look up from his drink. "You're already doing it."
Right. Off to a great start. I sit. He sighs. "To what do I owe the honor, Fontana? You here to throw another punch or just ruin someone else's day?"
"I need a favor."
That gets his attention. He raises an eyebrow, finally looking at me over the rim of his glass. "This should be good."
"Your mom works at this university. You've got contacts on the graduate board. There's a program in education, starting this fall."
"You want in?"
"Not for me."
He blinks. Then smirks. "Oh."
He lets the silence stretch. "You want your boy to stay."
I nod. "He deserves to." He leans back. "And I'm supposed to do what? Pull strings? Write letters? Call in favors?"
"Yes."
He laughs. "You're out of your mind."
"Please."
"You beat the shit out of my brother at that party. Broke his nose."
"He insulted Rava."
"And you put fists in his face."
"He's lucky that's all I put."
He leans forward. "Do you hear yourself?"
"I'm not here to fight. I'm here to ask."
"Then ask someone else." He starts to stand. I stop him with just a word. "Please."
He freezes. Looks at me again. "Do you love him?"
I nod once. "Of course I do." He studies me for a moment. Then scoffs. "I don't give a fuck."
And just like that, he walks out. Leaves me sitting there. Pride in pieces. I sit for another minute. Then another. Then I get up. I catch up to him outside the bar, but I don't grab him this time.
I just walk. Quiet and controlled, which is honestly saying a lot for me. "Nicola," I say. "Just hear me out."
He doesn't slow down. Doesn't look at me.
"You had your shot."
"I'm asking again."
"Then you clearly didn't listen the first time."
"I did," I mutter. "Loud and clear."
He stops. Turns. "You think just because you came in here with a pretty shirt and your tragic little love story, I'm supposed to forget that you broke my brother's face and humiliated him?!"
"I'm not asking you to forget."
"You snapped his nose like a twig."
"He was talking about Rava like his a fucking sex toy."
"Oh, poor Rava," he says mockingly. "Can't stand to hear anyone say a bad word about him so you turn into a rabid dog?"
"He said—" I clench my jaw. "He said we should get him drunk and fucking share him. Does that sound normal to you??"
Nicola just stares. "He's my brother. You don't get to touch my family."
"Fine, let him hit me back." Nicola's eyes narrow. "What?"
"Let him hit me. Or you hit me. Doesn't matter. Just get it out. If that's what it takes for you to listen."
"Jesus Christ, Fontana. You think this is some kind of noble act?"
"I don't care what it is. I just want him to stay."
He laughs. "You are out of your fucking mind."
"Maybe," I say, "but I'd rather get punched in the mouth than watch him disappear thinking he wasn't worth fighting for."
He just shakes his head. "You never change."
I swallow hard. Keep my voice steady. "I'm trying.
" He turns to leave again. But I follow, a step behind.
"I know I'm not the kind of guy anyone wants to root for," I say softer now.
"And I know what I did to your brother won't ever go away.
But I didn't hit him because he insulted me.
" I look at him now. "And maybe you still think I'm trash.
That's fine. But Rava's not. And if you let him leave when he has a chance to thrive here, to do what he loves, just because of me, then maybe you're not as different from your brother as you think. "
That lands. I see it in the way his face twitches for a second. But then he shuts down again. "Don't push your luck, Fontana." "I'm not. I'm just trying." He pauses. And this time, he doesn't say no. He just walks away.
I look at the time. Shit. I have to pick up mom.
But I won't let go that easily. That bastard will see my face again.
…
I stop outside her room. Knock twice, even though the door's open. She's sitting up. "Hey, Ma," I say.
"Giovanni." Her eyes light up. I step in, and she opens her arms without saying a word. I drop my guard and fall into them. God, she looks smaller now. "I told you I'd be okay," she whispers.
The doctor walks in a few minutes later, clipboard in hand, expression neutral. He gives me the rundown.
Medication schedule. Check-ins. Rest. No stress. "She needs help," he says gently. "You'll need to keep a close eye. The recovery isn't just physical."
"I've got her," I say immediately. But a part of me clenches. Because I know what it means when doctors say "recovery takes time." I've heard it before. It means it's not over. It means be ready. Still, I look at her again. She smiles at me. And I nod.
"Come on. Let's take you home, Ma." As we leave the room, I hold her hand. Not only because she needs it. Because I do too. Because today I've got two things I refuse to lose.
My mother. And Rava.
And I'm not going down without a fucking war.
…
I drop her off at the house, holding the bags even though she told me three times she could do it herself. "No stress, remember?" I say, half-serious. She rolls her eyes. "You're more dramatic than the doctors."
We walk to the door, and Rava's mom is already there. They look at each other and light up like two high school girls who haven't gossiped in a week.
"Oh, you're here," she says to me, barely glancing. Then she turns to my mom. "I brought the good coffee, girl."
"Finally," my mom grins. "That hospital swill almost killed me." I stare. "Okay…should I leave you two alone?"
"Yes," they say in unison. I blink. "Wow."
My mom turns to me and cups my face like I'm five again. "Go, Giovanni. Let me have girl time."
"I literally just got you out of the hospital—"
"Exactly. I deserve it."
I laugh, and let her push me gently. "Fine. Just don't talk too much shit about me."
"No promises."
…
I walk back into my place, not expecting much.
Maybe a quiet mess. Maybe Rava still sleeping. What I get is domestic fucking heaven. The bed's made. Kitchen smells good. And there on the couch, one hand petting Lulu, the other holding a glass of water like some kind of half-naked husband from a movie, is Rava.
No shirt. Sleep hair.
Content.
I stop in the doorway and just stare. For the first time today my brain shuts up. My heart? Not so much. Is this what married mornings feel like?! Jesus freaking Christ. Because if it is, sign me the fuck up.
I walk over, until I'm right in front of him. He looks up at me with those stupidly green eyes. I don't say anything. Just lean in, and kiss him. His hand is sliding up to the back of my neck. He pulls back, and smiles. But then his smile fades.
"Once we eat, I need to go next door. To, um…pack my stuff. For tomorrow."
Fuck. There it is. Reality.
I try not to show it. Try to stay cool. But fuck me. He's really going. And all this softness, this sweetness, this morning that feels like forever, it's got an expiration date.
"What time's your flight?" I ask.
He looks at me, a little hesitant. "18:15."
I nod. Swallow it down. "Alright," I say.
"Pack your stuff. After that, we're going somewhere." His eyebrows rise. "Somewhere?"
I smirk. "Surprise."
He grins wide. "Ooh, okay! I'll be quick then."
Then he pulls my hand and leads me toward the kitchen. "But first," he says, "come eat. I made breakfast. Hope you don't mind I used your kitchen."
I blink at him.
"What?" he laughs nervously.
"You're the sweetest little creature I've ever seen in my life. I wanna punch you."
His eyes go wide.
"Like, I wanna shake you. You're too much." I pull him into me, wrap my arms around him tight. "I'm gonna eat you instead."
He melts against me with a soft chuckle. "I'd like to see you try."
"Oh, I so will," I murmur into his hair.
"But first…breakfast."