25. Chapter 25
Ody wasn’t sure he’d heard right, not at first. But Mano’s eyes didn’t lie. Not with the softness in them, not with the way his thumb lingered for a moment longer before he pulled his hand away.
Ody swallowed hard, a strange tightness forming in his stomach. He didn’t understand it, couldn’t name it, but it made his chest feel too small.
Mano blinked, almost shy, and turned his face toward the wall. “…Give me the soup,” he murmured.
Ody was still frozen, trying to process the words he’d been waiting for and dreading at the same time. Mano didn’t want him gone.
“The soup,” he repeated, looking at him.
It pulled Ody back to reality. “Oh. Right.” He reached for the tray, handed it to Mano, and watched as he settled it on his lap.
He ate slowly, flinching whenever the warmth stung the split inside his lip.
Ody couldn’t look away. Mano shifted under the attention, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks. “Stop staring at me like that.”
“S-sorry.” Ody tore his gaze away and grabbed the remote, needing something to do with his hands. He turned on the TV. A chase scene filled the screen, shouts and gunshots echoing through the room.
“Change it!” Mano snapped.
Ody switched the channel. He glanced sideways and saw Mano’s shoulders tense, eyes unfocused, breath too quick. He blinked the panic away and returned to his soup in silence.
Ody waited until Mano’s breathing evened out before speaking. “What is it… that you can’t watch?”
Mano’s eyes flicked up to him, then away just as quickly. He didn’t answer.
When he finished eating, Ody took the tray and returned with a small tube. “Put this on your gums.”
Mano inspected the tube, turning it between his fingers with clear disinterest. “Is it safe to put cream in my mouth?”
“It’s a soothing gel. It helps with the irritation.” Ody nodded toward the sink. “Go wash your hands first.”
Mano slouched back on the couch with a sigh. “Oh, come on.”
Ody crossed his arms. “Mano.”
Mano glanced at him.
“Go.”
He sighed, got up, and disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back to the couch, Ody handed him the tube without a word.
Mano applied the gel and grimaced. “It tastes awful.”
“Stop acting like a baby,” Ody said, trying not to smile.
Mano glared at him, but the edges of the glare were soft.
“There’s leftover soup,” he said. “I’ll pack some for you to take home. You won’t be able to chew for a few hours. Unless you want me to drive you home. Or call a taxi. Your bike’s still at campus.”
Mano hesitated, brows knitting. Right. The bike. “I’ll… get a taxi,” he said, starting to rise.
“Or you can stay here tonight if you want,” Ody said.
Mano went still. Their eyes met as the thread of tension between them tightened again. “Can I?” he asked, voice small, unsteady.
“Of course,” Ody answered, with a note of tenderness he didn’t bother hiding.
Mano sat back down, shy the way he only ever was with Ody.
“If you wanted to stay, why didn’t you just say—”
“I don’t want to. I just…” Mano blinked quickly, glancing away. “I don’t know how to make soup.”
“I’d put it in a container.”
Mano’s cheeks reddened instantly. He turned his back to Ody and lay down. “I don’t like containers,” he muttered, making Ody laugh under his breath.
“Do you need anything else?”
“Cover me up.” He blinked, realizing what he’d just asked.
Ody let out a warm laugh, pulled the sheet from the couch, and draped it over him with gentle movements.
Mano pretended to be uninterested, staring at the wall, but every careful tuck of the sheet set something warm behind his ribs.
“I’ll be in the room,” Ody said, stepping away.
A buzz lit Mano’s phone. He opened Stella’s message, already knowing it would drain him.
Why do you keep doing this Mano? He said you hit him. Are you okay?
He stared at the screen with the same numb detachment he’d felt for weeks. He didn’t have the energy for this. Not tonight.
Stop texting me. Don’t make me block you
Another message followed, frantic and dramatic, just like always. Why are you like this? I’m coming over
Don’t bother. I’m not home
Where are you?
His jaw clenched. I’m sleeping somewhere else. Leave me alone
It’s not my fault you… He didn’t read the rest.
He locked the phone, tossed it face down, and shut his eyes.
Stella belonged to a part of his life he was trying to shed, a part filled with noise and pressure and versions of himself he didn’t want anymore.
Tonight, he didn’t have the strength for any of it.
Not when his whole mind was already wrapped around Ody.
His jaw loosened as he lay there, staring at the ceiling. Everything inside him felt raw, too exposed. He didn’t want to think about it, but his mind kept drifting back to Ody’s hands, his voice, his eyes.
The bedroom door opened, and Ody stepped out. “When’s your next exam?”
Mano blinked. “The day after tomorrow.”
“Same. Shouldn’t you be studying?”
“I’m set for theory. I need to practice the pieces.”
Ody tilted his head. “What pieces?”
“Guitar and flute.”
“Will you have time tomorrow?”
Mano hesitated. “Yeah, but…” He glanced toward the window. “If I were home, I’d be working on them now.”
“I can go get them,” Ody offered.
Mano blinked again. “What?”
“I can bring them here.”
He frowned. “Don’t you have studying to do?”
“I’ve got toxicology.” Ody waved it off. “I’m fine.”
Mano rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll make noise. I’ll bother you.”
Ody shook his head. “No, you won’t.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “I’d love to hear you play.”
Mano’s eyes flicked up to him. Something in his chest softened. “I’ll go with you.” He sat up and tossed the sheet aside.
“Don’t you want to rest?”
“He hit me in the face, not the legs.”
Ody’s shoulders tensed at the reminder, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. He didn’t say anything, just walked beside Mano toward the door. They stepped into the elevator together.
“Can we stop by campus? I wanna take my bike,” Mano asked. “If you don’t want to drive, I’ll take the wheel.”
“You have a car license?” Ody asked, eyebrows lifting.
“Since I was eighteen.”
Ody frowned. “You never told me.”
Mano lifted a shoulder. “You never asked.”
They stepped out of the elevator and out of the building, the cool air hitting them.
Ody studied him for a moment, then tossed him the keys. “Go ahead.”
Mano caught them easily, unlocked the car, and slid into the driver’s seat.
Ody buckled in beside him. “When’s the last time you drove?” he asked.
“Not since then.”
Ody’s eyes widened. “Then… maybe I should—”
“Relax, mikre. You’re safe.” Mano smirked. He turned the ignition and eased the car onto the road with effortless precision.
Ody watched his movements, surprised by the confidence. “You sure it’s been five years?”
“My bike’s got gears too, mikre.”
Ody smiled faintly, then frowned. “You’re kind of a speed demon.”
Mano’s expression shifted, serious. “If you want me to slow down—”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t mind speeding in the car.”
Mano eased off the gas anyway, eyes returning to the road. “Accidents happen in cars too.”
“I know, I just… I feel safer in a car. On a bike, you’re exposed. One wrong move and you’re on the ground.”
“You’ve got a point,” Mano admitted.
“You’re careful, right? You don’t go too fast?” Ody asked.
Mano glanced at him with a teasing grin. “Are you worried about me, mikre?”
“I have been for a while now,” Ody said, his voice quieter.
Mano’s smile slipped, his fingers easing off the wheel. He looked straight ahead, ears tinting red with the kind of blush he’d die before admitting to. He didn’t dare look at Ody again.
By the time they reached campus, he parked beside his motorcycle. He grabbed his helmet from the backseat and stepped out. Ody slid into the driver’s seat and followed him out of the lot. He already knew the way to Mano’s place almost by heart.
When they arrived, Mano disappeared inside the building. A few minutes later he returned carrying two instrument cases. He loaded them into the back seat and walked to the passenger door.
“You’re not driving?” Ody asked.
“What, you liked how I handled the wheel that much?” Mano teased.
“I trust you,” Ody said, holding his gaze.
Their eyes lingered on each other longer than either of them intended. Then they switched seats.
“Can I stay and watch you practice?” Ody asked on the way back.
“Uh… I don’t really…” Mano hesitated.
“I won’t bother you. I’ll just sit and listen.”
Mano gave him a quick glance before looking ahead again. After a moment, he nodded and Ody smiled.
When they reached the apartment, they carried the instruments upstairs.
“What’s this?” Ody asked as they entered.
“The sheet music.”
“Oh. And… what’s it for?”
Mano huffed a quiet laugh. “It shows me the notes I need to play.”
“You don’t have them memorized?”
“I play a lot of pieces during the year. Some exams require sheet music, some don’t.” He unpacked the flute and laid the sheet music on a chair.
“Wow, it’s bigger than I remember. I thought it was shorter and wooden.”
Mano chuckled. “You’re thinking of a recorder. Different instrument.”
Ody flushed. “Oh.”
Mano positioned his fingers on the flute, eyes scanning the notes before he played.
Ody sat at the edge of the couch, watching him.
The sound was soft and controlled. Mano’s lower lip rested on the lip plate, the split from Kash’s punch still visible.
His fingers moved with practiced ease. Ody’s eyes followed every movement, unable to look away.
After a minute, Mano paused to check his notebook.
“You play beautifully,” Ody said, the admiration clear in his voice.
Mano gave a small smile and returned his attention to the sheet.
“How long have you been playing the flute?”
“Since I was twelve.”
“Wow…” Ody leaned back, still watching him.
Mano lifted the flute again and played.
“This piece is beautiful,” Ody said when Mano stopped.
“It is.”
Ody tilted his head, studying him. “Still… I can’t get used to seeing you with a flute.”
Mano lowered the instrument a little. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” Ody smiled faintly. “You don’t seem like the type. No one would look at you and think, ‘That guy plays musical instruments.’”
Mano raised an eyebrow. “And what would they think?”
“I don’t know… ‘That guy does kickboxing or extreme sports.’”
Mano watched him carefully. “And where does this come from?”
“Your personality. And your build. The motorcycle fits you, for example.”
“But not music, huh?” Mano asked.
“No, that’s not what I mean,” Ody said quickly. “It’s amazing that you play music.” Even across the room, their eyes held. “And it’s nice that… even though you seem distant, you’re…” Before Ody could continue, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. “It’s Anna. One sec.”
He stepped into the bedroom and shut the door halfway. “Hey, babe.”
Mano could hear only Ody’s side of the conversation now. Ody’s tone softened. “I’m good. Yeah.” There was a pause. “Uh… I’m actually with Mano. I’m hosting him.” Silence. “Kash hit him at the university today.”
Mano’s fingers stopped over the strings for half a second before he forced himself to keep tuning the guitar.
“Yeah. There was blood, but he’s better now.” A quieter stretch followed. “I can come see you in a couple of hours,” he said. “Or we can go out.”
Mano lowered his gaze at that, quick, barely noticeable, then looked back down at the guitar.
“Okay. Two hours. Kisses.”
Ody returned a moment later. Mano had already positioned the guitar, eyes fixed on the fretboard like nothing had happened.
“I’ll head out in a couple of hours. Is that okay?”
“You don’t need my permission,” Mano said, not looking up. “Go.”
“I can set up my laptop for you, if you wanna watch something.”
“Nah. I’ll keep practicing.”
“Alright.” Ody sat back, watching Mano’s fingers find their place on the strings. The melody that flowed out was gentle, steady and beautiful.
“Mano?”
“Yeah.”
“When did you start playing the guitar?”
Mano paused, notebook open. “When I was eight.”
“And you were in England then?”
He nodded.
“When did you move there?”
Mano set the pen down. “When I was two.”
“And how long did you stay?”
The question darkened his expression. He lowered his gaze, before answering. “Until I was ten.”
“And then you came back to Greece?”
“Yeah.” Mano lifted the guitar again and played, cutting him off before he could continue.
Ody watched silently. He didn’t know the whole story, but he could feel there was pain there. Fear. Something scarred and deep.
Mano finished the piece.
“I always wanted to learn guitar,” Ody said. “I never did. I’d just watch other people play.”
“Here.” Mano gestured.
Ody walked over smiling. Mano lifted the guitar from his lap and set it on Ody’s, their eyes locking for a heartbeat.
“This hand here… and this one here,” Mano said, guiding him.
Ody tried strumming, but the sound came out sharp and wrong.
Mano let out a small laugh and muted the strings with his hand. “Gently. Like you’re stroking it,” he said, demonstrating how.
Ody watched closely.
“Your left hand presses the notes on the fretboard,” Mano went on, moving to sit on Ody’s left. “If you press here…” He placed Ody’s fingers. “…and play here…” He strummed the strings, producing a rich sound. “You’ll hear this. Try.”
Ody tried again, but it was clumsy. “It didn’t sound good,” he said, embarrassed, glancing at Mano’s face so close to his.
“You need to place your fingers here,” Mano said, gently adjusting Ody’s hand.
The space between them disappeared.
“Like this…” he whispered, honey eyes lifting to meet green ones.
He shifted closer to guide Ody’s hand properly, his shoulder brushing his without meaning to.
Ody’s breath hitched. His gaze dropped to Mano’s lips before he could stop himself.
He knew Mano was injured.
He knew the first kiss had been a mistake.
He knew this was wrong.
So why did he want to kiss him again?