The savory scent of garlic and onions filled the man’s nose. It was a comforting smell he’d grown fond of over the years in food service. He wore the scent like a badge of honor, just like the callouses on his hands, a reminder of his hard work and late nights. “Mads, stir the sauce it’s boiling!” a gruff voice bellowed from the front of the kitchen. Dozens of sweaty men shuffled about, slaving over stovetops and cutting boards. Laughter and Italian slang bubbled and lulled as the crowd worked. Maddox looked up from the vegetables he was chopping and quickly whisked the simmering liquid. With a clean spoon, he dipped it and tasted it. Bobbing his head, Maddox retrieved a glass jar stuffed with dried herbs and tossed in a pinch. 
He returned to his prep work and listened to the sea of voices. It was a typical Friday night at Vito’s Eatery, not a table empty and a waiting list out the door. The evening sun flickered off the stainless steel appliances and ignited the kitchen in a warm glow of orange.

Vito’s was an upscale Italian restaurant in Florence frequented by locals and tourists alike. It was a small stone building with traditional Florence decor and a tangle of grapevines. Vito's was named after the great living chef Giovanni Vito. Giovanni's reputation preceded him and Maddox understood why. He was a genius in and out of the kitchen. 

“Get the focaccia, Maddox and the good olive oil,” a willowy old man shouted as he burst through the kitchen door. His black suit was impeccable and the ivory apron tied around his waist was spotless. 

“Yes, Chef Gio.” Maddox barked. He quickly removed the flatbread from the oven and dressed it in oil on a clean plate. The man took the dish from Maddox and disappeared into the dining room.

The night hurried on in a whirlwind. Patrons streamed in one right after another. Maddox prepared at least a hundred dishes and cooked until his hands ached and his feet throbbed. Once the last customer was served, Maddox sunk into a wooden chair in the corner of the kitchen with a sigh. It was a quarter past midnight and the boy was exhausted. His black hair was slicked back with sweat, an unidentified red sauce stained his apron. The bags under his pale eyes had deepened to a plum color and his cheeks looked hollow and sunken. Maddox rubbed his face with his hands before surveying the damage that had been done. Saying the kitchen was a mess was an understatement; dishes were piled in the sink and the dishwasher was nowhere to be seen. Scraps of food and dirty cutting boards littered the countertops. 
Rising to his feet, Maddox followed the sounds of laughter coming from the propped-open back door. Four men stood at the dumpster smoking cigarettes and chattered under the starlit sky. 

“Got a light?” Maddox asked, pulling a pack from his pocket. One of the guys muttered an agreement and lit his cigarette. Maddox sucked in twice before exhaling. The cloud of smoke was ashen against the black sky. 

“Some night, huh,” Dante murmured. He was a thin Italian man in his late fifties. He’d been working at Vito’s longer than Maddox had been alive. The other men grunted in response, their energy low but still in good humor. 

“Yeah, I hate to admit it, but I’ll miss this,” Maddox replied with a shrug of his shoulders. He was only twenty-two but his body felt sixty. His bones ached and he hadn't been to a doctor since he got his middle school vaccines. Healthcare was for the privileged and Maddox was not. 

“When do you leave?” Enzo asked. His dishwasher’s apron was drenched with sink water and was speckled with flecks of pasta and tomato. He sat on a milk crate, a beer in one hand and a cigar in the other. 

“Sunday,” the words sounded far away, causing Maddox to frown. He’d lived in Florence all his life but he couldn’t imagine he’d ever miss the place. There was no home for him, just a few pit stops along the way. Vito's had become the closest thing he'd had to a family besides his potential adoptive parents. But he rarely let himself dwell on what ifs and should haves. 

"It was real nice of Papa Gio to get you that spot at Saint … Saint," Enzo frowned at his memory. "That fancy college for you and all." 

Maddox nodded. Giovanni Vito, Papa Gio to his friends, was a very lucrative man who kept his secrets close and his enemies well-fed. He appeared to have ties to the mafia but it was never confirmed. Between the constant high-value customers that came and went from his office and the strings he was able to pull, there was no way he wasn't. 

Maddox was grateful for the opportunity Vito acquired for him but he was suffering from imposter's syndrome. It was a fluke that Maddox saved Isabella. He knew it and soon enough, everyone else would. He replayed the day it all started over and over again, wracking his brain for answers. 

It was a rainy spring morning. Maddox was walking to work at his part-time job at the auto-body shop. He'd had a late start and the weather hadn't helped. The rain was light but persistent. A thick fog had fallen over the city street, blanketing the people of Florence on their commute. As he was about to cross 3rd Street, an image flickered in his mind. It was like he'd been flipping through channels on the TV and caught a glimpse of an old movie he'd seen before. The sound of screeching tires and crushing metal echoed in his ears. Blood and rain washed down the cobblestone like a crimson river. A young girl's face flashed through his vision. Raven hair and chubby cheeks, he recognized her as Isabella Vito, his boss's tween daughter. All of the elements clicked into place and suddenly Maddox was running. Frantically he searched for the street he'd seen. He blinked raindrops from his eyes and pushed his damp hair from his face. Just as he rounded the corner, he spotted Isabella with her pink umbrella about to cross the street.

When she stepped onto the crosswalk, suddenly a black sedan barreled down the road emerging from the fog. Without hesitation, Maddox lunged for the girl and tackled her to the ground. They fell to the cobblestone with a sick thwack. Behind them, the sedan slammed on its brakes. Hydroplaning, the vehicle wrapped itself around a light post. On his hands and knees, Maddox loomed over Isabella's limp, wet body. He frantically checked her for injury. Her chest rose and fell rapidly like a frightened rabbit. A small cut gaped at her hairline, blood trickled down her eyebrow. She blinked up at him in shock. After a few painfully quiet moments, she burst into tears and wrapped her arms around his neck. She wailed and wailed until the medics arrived. All Maddox could do was whisper. 

Vito arrived shortly after the emergency vehicles. He spoke in quick, frantic Italian and rushed to his daughter. Maddox found himself watching the scene in third person. His boss in his perfect black suit on his knees on the muddy sidewalk smothering his child with affection. When he'd asked what happened, Maddox couldn't form a coherent story. He couldn't explain how he'd known Isabella was in trouble. In the end, he'd shrugged and given a halfhearted, right place right time. 

As payment for saving his daughter's life, Vito scored a seat at Saint Francis University, the most prestigious private college in Europe. Maddox wasn't sure he deserved such a gift or whether he actually wanted to attend college, but Papa Gio didn't take no for an answer. Nearly six months later Maddox had no explanation for his premonition. Now he had his dingy one-bedroom apartment in boxes and a bank account with a few extra zeros heading for Austria in twenty-four hours. 

When he thought about it, maybe it was the smell of tomatoes he'd miss. Vito's Eatery had a rooftop garden where the restaurant grew most of its vegetables and Maddox was rather fond of the earthy smell of soil and green sprouts. Or maybe it was the constant hustle and bustle of the kitchen. The men were a family and were always getting in each other's way. No, he would miss all of it. The laughter and vulgar language had become his favorite sound. He'd miss Italy and he'd miss Florence. Most of all, he'd miss Giovanni Vito. 

Papa Gio had sent an unmarked black SUV and a driver a little after 3 AM on the Sunday of his departure. He'd told Maddox that he didn't trust airplanes just like he didn't trust banks and wanted to provide a reliable form of transportation. He'd offered two SUVs but Maddox turned him down due to the lack of things the boy actually owned. All of his belongings fit in one cardboard box and a backpack. 

The night before, the guys from both Vito's and the auto shop had thrown him a huge going-away party and Maddox was feeling the hangover in his eye sockets. He tried to sleep during the ten-hour drive but found himself plagued by glimpses of vivid visions as he slipped in and out of consciousness. Their drive flew by in a blur. Maddox tried to savor the view as the scenery changed from one country to the next. He’d never been out of the country, let alone Florence. As the architecture and foliage changed, Maddox couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling inside of him. 

Maddox was exhausted by the time they pulled up to the old stone chapel. His body ached and his head throbbed. Climbing out of the SUV, the boy nearly crumbled to his knees. The driver who he’d come to know as Gino, met him at the trunk of the car and handed him his bags. After they’d said their goodbyes, Gino handed Maddox a folder and an envelope full of cash. Frowning, he tried to object to the sudden gift but Gino shook his head and murmured, “Boss’s orders.” 

Exhaling, Maddox made his way up the stairs toward the church. The church was a beautiful small chapel made from a cool, pale stone. It had a dark oak door with iron studs and knockers. Overhead loomed a church tower with several small stained glass windows depicting biblical stories. Maddox was taken by the rich colors of blues and purples. He wondered what the rooms looked like in the morning light. When he had heard he’d be living in a renovated church just outside of the city, he had a hard time imagining it. But now, standing before the stone relic, he felt at ease, like he was meant to be there all along. 

After he was finished admiring the building, he rapped the knocker twice with one hand, the iron cool in his palm. A few moments passed with no answer. Maddox frowned and looked over his shoulder at his driver. Was he in the right place? Gino gave him a thumbs-up of encouragement. Just as he was about to knock again, the door clicked open. 

A young man around Maddox’s age stood before him. He was tall and lean with messy champagne hair. His pale grey eyes were alert despite the faint bags beneath his lower lashline. Maddox had met his fair share of people in his life but this boy was by far the most beautiful he’d ever seen. He had a face that artists made portraits of, angular and fair.

“Hello,” the man greeted; his voice was even and warm like syrup. He eyed Maddox, his expression gave away his confusion. 

“I’m Maddox.” Maddox introduced himself with a slight wave. He kicked himself internally for the stiff gesture. Small talk had never been his strong suit. 

The man nodded his head slowly, his eyes narrowed as he processed the information. Clicking his tongue, he smiled. “Nice to meet you, Maddox. I’m Kendrick,” he said, offering a hand. Maddox felt the urge to look away or shield his eyes like he was looking at the sun. “So, what’re you doing here?” Kendrick asked. 

Maddox’s frown deepened. He, for sure, wasn’t in the right place. “I’m your new roommate. Or at least that’s what I was told.” 

“Oh shit, it’s Sunday, isn’t it? You’re Gio’s friend, right? Come in, come in.” He ushed his guest inside. “Can I help you with your other bags?” Kendrick searched behind him and raised an eyebrow when he didn’t find anything. 

“Nah, this is all I brought.” Maddox shrugged. 

“You know I did that once when I was visiting Thailand. I only packed the essentials and just bought new clothes when I landed. I can take you shopping tomorrow if you want.” Ken waved his hands as he spoke. A permanent grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

Maddox curled his lip in disgust and eyed Kendrick like he had two heads. Who was this guy?

“No,” he barked. It came out harsher than he intended, so he cleared his throat. “I mean, no, I’m good. Thanks for the offer.” 

He followed his new roommate through the corridor. Maddox was surprised at how light the church was despite its stone walls. The worship hall had been converted into a kitchen and living room. It had a dozen uniform stained-glass windows on either side of the room—technicolor light cast patterns on the flagstone floor. His eyes followed the dark oak beams up to the high ceilings. Vibrant fresco paintings of cherubs and angels lounged in a pale, clouded sky overhead. Maddox audibly gasped. 

Kendrick turned to see what had caught his guest’s attention. “Those are originals for the 16th century. I had to go through hell with the Historical Society so they’d let me restore them. I didn’t have any experience with fresco at the time but it was fun to learn,” he said with a nonchalant air like he was recalling a warm summer day. Maddox stared incredulously at his new roommate. 

“Okay, so that door is to the bathroom. It’s got a shower and everything. The door on your right is to my room. The one next to it is the guest room. Back through the hall we just came through leads you to the stairs. Your room is in the tower. There’s a private bathroom and a study that you can claim if you’d like.” He pointed rather than leading him on a tour. Maddox appreciated that; he hated feeling like he had to perform. “Over there,” he pointed past the kitchen to a set of large glass doors, “that leads to the annex, which is the most recent addition to the church. It’s the only part of the house that isn’t original. That’s where the library is and my studio. Feel free to look around and make yourself at home. I need to go into town this evening if you’d like to come.” He added. 

Maddox’s first instinct was to say no but he couldn’t bring himself to turn the guy down. “Sure.” 

Maddox took the staircase up to his new bedroom. He took a moment to look at the small study before pushing the wooden door open. There was an old desk beneath an arching window. Two bookshelves reached the ceiling on either side. Maddox could see himself working there and it was a nice feeling. He was relieved that his bedroom was small and sparsely decorated. In the middle of the room, there was a queen-sized mattress and a large ornate rug that appeared to be imported. On the furthest wall from the door, he had an antique wardrobe and a lounge chair. It was simple, just the way he liked it. He was content to find that his windows were the same stained glass he’d noticed outside earlier. After he dropped his bags on the chair, he inspected the ensuite bathroom. When he finished, he flopped on his bed with a sigh. He was in desperate need of a nap.

Augustus Zachariah Leroy Kendrick the V started the morning like he did every morning, with a line of his favorite coffee and reruns of Gilmore Girls. He sat in the sunlit living room, leaning over the low oak table, his eyes transfixed on the tv. Lorelai and Rory were fighting over a random miscommunication like always. Kendrick wouldn’t say he was a fan of the show but rather an enjoyer of the aesthetic. He liked the soft, warm glow and the small American town in fall. He was in desperate need of a chilly fall day and a cup of cider. 

Sniffling, Kendrick rubbed his nose with his fingertips. The rush had finally hit his brain and he was on a roll. A knock at the door pulled his attention from the tv. He cocked an eyebrow and thought for a moment. He wasn’t expecting anyone, was he? Rising to his feet, he tied his silk bathrobe tight and padded down the corridor and wrenched open the door. The midday sun was hot in August, making the man sweat in his kimono. 

Standing on his doorstep was a man he didn’t recognize. He appeared to be around Ken’s age but his face seemed older. Hardship had marked his flesh with hard lines and bruises and he wore it well. His light eyes seemed tired, yet his gaze was steady. Ken felt naked underneath their intensity. The man was handsome in an unassuming way, not flashy but rather a hidden gem. He stirred under Kendrick’s stare. It wasn’t that he lacked confidence, Ken thought; no, he seemed to prefer to fade into the background like a wallflower. 

They introduced themselves and Kendrick was surprised to discover that it was Sunday and not, in fact, Saturday as he’d thought. Not that it really mattered anyway; it was summer, after all. Ken recalled his conversation at the beginning of the season with an old friend needing a favor. In exchange for housing for his prodigy, he’d cook all of Kendrick’s favorite dishes. Ken was a reasonable guy and agreed without hesitation, he was already thinking about the delicious food he’d been promised. But now, with the said prodigy standing before him, Kendrick had to admit he’d forgotten entirely about the deal. Despite this minor slip-up, Ken invited the stranger in and showed him around. 

He observed Maddox as he gave him a general tour. His guest was quiet but his eyes were inquisitive as he soaked up his surroundings. The small details, like the stained glass windows and the fresco murals that were usually overlooked by others, were enchanting to Maddox. That was a good sign, Ken thought. 

After their short tour, Maddox wandered off toward his bedroom. Ken took his place on the couch and resumed his lounging habits. With a wave of his hand and the sound of a summer breeze, a bottle of black nail polish appeared in his hand. He twisted the top off and painted each nail with care, periodically looking at his tv show. Once his nails were dry, he puttered around the kitchen. He wasn’t much for cooking. Well, he couldn’t cook at all, with the exception of grilled cheese or microwave Hot Pockets. Usually, his housekeeper prepared several meals for him when she worked on Mondays and Thursdays so he had something to reheat when he got hungry. But by the time Sunday rolled around, his options were minimal. He opened the freezer and frowned. He closed it and reopened it in hopes something better would appear but it didn’t. Glancing at his watch, he pursed his lips. It was nearing 8 PM and takeout was sounding better and better. They’d have to stop somewhere on the way to his appointment. 

Ken pushed the door open to his room and stepped through the gauntlet of dirty clothes. He picked a fresh wine-colored dress shirt and charcoal dress pants. They were pressed with the perfect line down the front of the leg just the way he liked it. Discarding his robe and pajamas, he slipped into his new outfit and finished it with a black leather belt. He took a moment to admire himself in the mirror; his pale blonde hair was untamed. His eyes traced the line of his jaw to the small mole beneath his lower lip. Letting out a sigh, he ran his hands through his hair once before exiting the room.  

Once he was in the living room, he texted his new housemate to meet him downstairs. A few minutes later and Maddox appeared in the mouth of the hallway. He was clad in all black, a worn sweater and jeans; even his Vans were black. Kendrick noted that the look suited him. Maddox frowned when he saw Ken. He eyed the man up and down before looking at his own clothes. 

“Should I change?” He asked. 

“No, I have a quick meeting somewhere with a dress code,” Ken said with a wave of his hand. “Do you like Chinese food?” 

“Yeah, who doesn’t?” Maddox replied dryly. 

“Weirdos, I guess.” Ken let out a laugh.

There wasn’t a food the blonde didn’t like. His favorite was the kind he didn’t have to prepare himself, though. “Alright, I’ll drive.” He grabbed a black sportcoat, slung it over his shoulder, and retrieved his keys.

Ken led the way through the glass doors and out the back. In the driveway was parked a sleek red antique Porsche sports car. It was obnoxiously expensive and a gift from Kendrick’s father, one of the many luxurious things his family showered him with rather than genuine affection. Maddox had instinctively wandered up to the hood. He ran his hand over the smooth finish. 

“I can open her up for you tomorrow. She’s an original.” Ken offered, waiting for an offer.

“Wow, yeah, I’d like that. I’ve seen my fair share of European cars but this one is a gem,” he praised. 

Ken beamed. He didn’t know much about cars, but he knew the one he had was special. Unlocking the doors, he climbed into the front seat and turned over the engine. It roared to life and Maddox was gitty with excitement. 

“Alright, first we’re picking up dinner at Hot Wok. Then I need to meet up with someone at the Midnight Riot. It’s a club in town just a few streets over from Hot Wok. Anywhere else you want to go?” Ken asked as he maneuvered out of the gravel drive and made his way down the hill. The Oxner Cathedral was a beautiful twenty-minute drive from town. It passed through farmland, lush greenery, and a few old villages. 

“No, I’m just along for the ride,” Maddox hummed, his eyes glued on the passenger window. 

Maddox wasn’t thrilled when Ken offered to pay for dinner, but he eventually relented. Kendrick handed the cashier his Black Card in exchange for several bags of Chinese food. They piled their dinner in the back and returned to their seats. The savory smell of noodles and meat filled the car. Ken’s mouth watered at the thought of tearing into the styrofoam cartons of hot food. 

After a few minutes of driving, Kendrick pulled up to an old textile factory and parked. A large black metal sign read ‘The Midnight Riot’ over the front entrance. A long line of people snaked around the street and out of sight. Maddox eyed the building warily but didn’t say anything. 

“Okay, I just need to make an appearance and then we can leave. Do you want to come in or hang out here?” Ken asked, turning to his roommate.

“I’ll stay out here. I need a smoke anyway,” he said, patting the pack of cigarettes in his front pocket as if to make a point. 

Kendrick nodded; his blonde locks fell into his eyes with the gesture. They climbed out of the car and a man in a valet uniform approached them silently. Kendrick handed him the keys and whispered something. He gave a small wave to Maddox and approached the bouncer. The two exchanged words and Kendrick erupted with laughter. People in line poked their heads out to see what was happening but were disappointed when Kendrick disappeared inside. 

Maddox wandered into the alleyway and lit a cigarette. The summer sun was nearly set and the day was starting to cool off. He wondered what kind of meeting Ken had at a nightclub on a Sunday evening. Maybe he was a hooker? To be fair, Maddox didn’t know a thing about his new roommate and he didn’t care to find out.

Inside the club, Ken made his way through a sea of sweaty bodies. Loud trap music blared overhead; its bass vibrated in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. He squeezed past a group of people and stepped into a clearing of leather couches. A woman armored in gold sequents sat on a loveseat, one tan leg crossed over the other. Her dark hair was tied in neat Bantu knots and a gold circlet rested on her forehead. She rested her hazel eyes on Ken and smiled coyly. Patting the seat next to her, she invited Kendrick into her lion’s den. 

Without hesitation, Ken joined her and rested his knee against hers. She rested a hand on his thigh and leaned in close to speak in his ear directly. 

“Here, your majesty,” she murmured. A small white baggy appeared between her fingers and she tucked it in the front pocket of his dress shirt. “And another.” She fished out a folded piece of paper and placed it in his palm. 

Kendrick let out another warm laugh and squeezed her fingers lightly– a hundred-dollar bill passed between their grip. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek before ushering him away. As Kendrick swam through the crowd, he stopped when he spotted a raven-haired boy at the bar. He felt a pull to approach like he was a string pulled taught. 

A wave of bodies crashed into Kendrick nearly knocking him to the floor. One of the drunk girls who'd knocked into him slurred an apology. When she recognized him, she quickly brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of her face and tried to speak to him properly. Uninterested, Ken did he best to let her down gently and turned his attention back to the boy he'd see earlier. Much to his disappointment, the raven-haired boy had disappeared. Glancing at his flashy old-wrist watch, he decided he could spare a few minutes looking before he had to return to Maddox. Running his fingers through his messy pale hair, he let out a deep breath. The volume of the music kept time with his pulse–bump, bump, bump.

Magenta and cerulean lights spiraled over-head, catching the expensive liquor glasses and flashy nightwear that adorned the Midnight Riot guests. Kendrick pushed forwards towards the bar. He passed several people who begged for his attention but he waved them off, he'd left his princely facade with the valet. It was hard to find anyone in the dense crowd and despite Ken's height, he couldn't see over the bobbing heads and dancing bodies. Just as he was turning to leave, a small figure collided with him. A wet, sticky liquid splattered his chest and soak through to his skin. The smell of fruit assaulted his nostrils mixing with the scent of sweat and cigarettes of the nightclub.  

A small swear came from  assailant and an apology but he was cut off when he saw Kendrick's face. His light eyes were wide with shock and recognition. “Prince Charming! Oh, sorry, um,” he paused, searching for his words, “I apologize, Augustus, I didn’t realize the star of campus was behind me. Feel free to bill me for you dry cleaning if that stains,” he apologized again, more formally this time. 

Ken winced at the sound of his full name but he gave the boy a smooth smile. He didn't recognize him but Ken was surprised to note he was even prettier up close. His doe-like eyes were wide and caught the party lights like a gemstone, reflecting the colors back in fractals of blues and pinks. Kendrick was significantly taller than the stranger so he had to leaned down to speak directly into his ear. As much as he enjoyed the club, he hated yelling. "Don't worry about it. And please, Augustus is my father. You can call me Kendrick," he said, his smile steeping his words. The sweet smell of an expensive perfume lingered at the nape of the boy's neck. Ken swallowed hard, he wanted to drink in the sugary scent. Desire was an old friend Kendrick never expected to see again let alone at a club on a Sunday. He wanted to steal the boy and hoard him for himself, like a dragon with a princess. Even the boy's voice has been delightful over the sound of the loud trance music. "Have breakfast with me and we'll call it even," Ken said instinctively, his boldness unsurprising. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. Catching a glimpse of his watchface, he swore to himself. He'd already been there too long. "Listen, I gotta run, but I look forward to seeing you again," he said gently tilted the boy's chin up with his knuckle before disappearing into to crowd. 

It was dark when Kendrick emerged from the club, the night air was cool and bit at the wet stain on his shirt. His chest felt weird with the absence of the loud bass and roar of the crowd. He smelled something savory like pizza coming from the storefront next door. His stomach rumbled, remembering the Chinese food waiting for him in the car. Glancing around the corner he spotted Maddox, his roommate's looming presence only illuminated by a cigarette ember. 

Sirens wailed from a few streets over, the sound echoing in the large alley way. Some things never changed city to city, the faint roar of cars flying up and down the streets, soft voices on balconies and laughter from couples strolling up and down the sidewalks, the smell of greasy food and trash. Maddox had to admit the night life was a comfort. He wasn't sure he would easily adjust to the quite old church yard and unique roommate. However, he promised Papa Gio he'd try his best and there was no letting the man down. Taking a drag off his cigarette, he exhaled through his nose; the bitter tobacco burned his nostrils. 

A loud creak overhead caught his attention and a voice called out to him. Instinctively, he reached for the knife in his pocket, but the voice was too fast for him. A boy his age loomed next to him, his heat haunting at his side. Maddox couldn't get a good look at his face but he had a feeling his knife would be useless against someone like this stranger. He had an energy about him that Maddox didn't understand. As the man stepped into the setting sunlight, Maddox caught a better look. He was handsome like a movie star, broad shoulders and a slender waist. His face was all angles and thick locks of dark hair that ignited like bronze in the summer evening light. Maddox's eyes fell on the exposed flesh at the man's collarbone, pale against his white tee shirt. He swallowed hard and squared his shoulders to appear more confident rather than allowing himself to gawk any longer. He hadn't caught what the man said at first but the way he leaned in, Maddox registered he'd asked for a smoke. 

Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out another cigarette and handed it over. To his dismay, the man took the smoke between his lips and pressed himself in close enough to light it off of the one in Maddox's mouth. Their bodies were so close, Mads could smell the man's cool aftershave and sweat. A shiver snaked up his spin and goosebumps blanketed his skin, betraying his almost calm demeanor. After the cigarette was lit, Maddox expected the man to move aside but he didn't, their shoulders brushed making his skin tingle. 

Growing up, Maddox never understood why he felt so charged around other men his age. He thought maybe it was the desire to impress his peers or some sort of innate primal instinct to bond with his species, but once high school hit, he realized it might be something else–something more. But that was a secret Maddox never touched. It was a secret he kept in his lock box right next to his first kiss with Daniel Locke and the time he crashed his foster parent's Lexus on prom night. 

Maddox took another hit and then cleared his throat. When he smoked with the boys back at Vito's, the conversation was good and plenty. But now that he was alone again, he wasn't sure he knew how to make small talk. He was out of practice and this stranger was a little intimidating. 

"Nice night," he said, nonchalantly. With a free hand, he gestured to the now-blackened, sky. The yellow of the city lights turned the smog pink. Faint twinkles of starlight flickered just at the edge of Maddox's vision just enough for him to know they were there. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it. There was something familiar about the man but he couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe he was famous? No, it wasn't that. He was familiar the way a classmate was, someone you saw every day in the hallway or jumped into in the lunchroom. A boy from a dream. 

Sirens wailed from a few streets over, the sound echoing in the large alley way. Some things never changed city to city, the faint roar of cars flying up and down the streets, soft voices on balconies and laughter from couples strolling up and down the sidewalks, the smell of greasy food and trash. Maddox had to admit the night life was a comfort. He wasn't sure he would easily adjust to the quite old church yard and unique roommate. However, he promised Papa Gio he'd try his best and there was no letting the man down. Taking a drag off his cigarette, he exhaled through his nose; the bitter tobacco burned his nostrils. 

A loud creak overhead caught his attention and a voice called out to him. Instinctively, he reached for the knife in his pocket, but the voice was too fast for him. A boy his age loomed next to him, his heat haunting at his side. Maddox couldn't get a good look at his face but he had a feeling his knife would be useless against someone like this stranger. He had an energy about him that Maddox didn't understand. As the man stepped into the setting sunlight, Maddox caught a better look. He was handsome like a movie star, broad shoulders and a slender waist. His face was all angles and thick locks of dark hair that ignited like bronze in the summer evening light. Maddox's eyes fell on the exposed flesh at the man's collarbone, pale against his white tee shirt. He swallowed hard and squared his shoulders to appear more confident rather than allowing himself to gawk any longer. He hadn't caught what the man said at first but the way he leaned in, Maddox registered he'd asked for a smoke. 

Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out another cigarette and handed it over. To his dismay, the man took the smoke between his lips and pressed himself in close enough to light it off of the one in Maddox's mouth. Their bodies were so close, Mads could smell the man's cool aftershave and sweat. A shiver snaked up his spin and goosebumps blanketed his skin, betraying his almost calm demeanor. After the cigarette was lit, Maddox expected the man to move aside but he didn't, their shoulders brushed making his skin tingle. 

Growing up, Maddox never understood why he felt so charged around other men his age. He thought maybe it was the desire to impress his peers or some sort of innate primal instinct to bond with his species, but once high school hit, he realized it might be something else–something more. But that was a secret Maddox never touched. It was a secret he kept in his lock box right next to his first kiss with Daniel Locke and the time he crashed his foster parent's Lexus on prom night. 

Maddox took another hit and then cleared his throat. When he smoked with the boys back at Vito's, the conversation was good and plenty. But now that he was alone again, he wasn't sure he knew how to make small talk. He was out of practice and this stranger was a little intimidating. 

"Nice night," he said, nonchalantly. With a free hand, he gestured to the now-blackened, sky. The yellow of the city lights turned the smog pink. Faint twinkles of starlight flickered just at the edge of Maddox's vision just enough for him to know they were there. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it. There was something familiar about the man but he couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe he was famous? No, it wasn't that. He was familiar the way a classmate was, someone you saw every day in the hallway or jumped into in the lunchroom. A boy from a dream. 

The stranger hummed absently; Maddox could feel his intense stare hanging on his every movement. The attention made him a little uneasy; he'd always been a wallflower, unnoticed and uninteresting. Sweat pricked at his browline and he tried to ease his nerves by clearing his throat again. Maddox kicked himself internally, he was rarely knocked off balance yet here he was shaking like a dog in front of a wolf. 

“I want to know your name,” the man murmured–the words reverberated in Maddox's chest. His heart skipped a beat when he felt fingertips press against his hip bone. The cigarette in his hand slipped from his fingertips, landing soundless on the cobblestone. Maddox was frozen for a moment, encapsulated by his captor. He forced himself to crush the still-lit butt beneath his black Vans, never taking his eyes from the stranger. 

"Maddox Klein," he answered slowly. His name felt foreign in his mouth. He wasn't sure why he gave his name so freely but he felt there was nothing he wouldn't tell this man. His head told him to run but his body denied the request, it screamed with the desire to press closer, drink more. "And you are?" He asked; his voice finally falling into a more casual range. Maddox searched the stranger's pale green eyes for his own answer. Why was he so familiar? His voice, his scent, even the way their bodies fit together felt easy and known. Realization washed over him, chilling the heat burning from head to toe.

Months earlier, Maddox had the same dream three nights in a row. Everything came to him in threes like the past, present, and future. He'd found himself in a meadow caged by stretching evergreens, the smell of winter clung to his senses despite the flowers beneath him in full bloom. Wildlife haunted the woods; he couldn't see them but he felt their eyes, watching and waiting. In the patch of wildflowers, another man waited for him; the midmorning sun blanketing his skin in a warm glow. A falcon called overhead, drawing Maddox's attention away from the boy. When he looked back, the boy was draped in his lap like he'd always been there. Maddox had a strange tilting sensation, like he was in two places at once. A string of rich red beads tethered one of Maddox's wrists to the boy in his lap. 

The two slumbered and lounged together until the sun set and when night came, the boy disappeared from Maddox's grasp. An unbearable ache always woke Maddox from his dream when the boy left, tears streaked his cheeks, his chest throbbing. At the time, Maddox thought it was from drinking too much hot chocolate before bed, but now, with the boy from his dreams standing next to him, he felt the world tilting again. 

A hundred questions came to mind and before he could decide on where to start, the familiar sing-song voice of his roommate stole the moment. Maddox couldn't hide his disappointment. This wasn't the kind of thing for prying eyes and suddenly Maddox remembered the man's hand on his waist. 

"Hey Mads, ready to go?" He called at the mouth of the alley; the streetlights backlit his tall frame giving him a pale halo. 

Great, he had a nickname for him now, Maddox thought. He turned to say something to the stranger and was surprised to see he was alone. Frowning, panic bubbled in his chest. Had he imagined it? It wouldn't be the first time he'd seen things that weren't really there but he'd thought it was under control. Hesitating for just a moment, Maddox scanned the alleyway for his ghost. But to his disappointment, he truly was alone.

"Yeah, coming." Maddox replied, dragging himself towards Kendrick.

Kendrick flicked his eyes to where his roommate was staring down the alleyway but he saw nothing but darkness. After a few long moments, Maddox trailed after Kendrick towards the main road. The car was parked at the curb with a young valet waiting for them. A few people in line for the club ogled the flashy vehicle but Ken ignored the attention. He'd grown accustomed to staring eyes in his childhood; it didn't matter what he did or what he wore, he was always the center of attention. His mother loved to dress him up and parade him around like a small dog in frilly dresses. He was her precious little doll, her flashy toy. 

The smell of warm Chinese food soaked the interior of the car. Ken's mouth watered as he imagined tearing into his dinner right at the steering wheel. "I'm starving. You ready to head home and gorge ourselves into a food coma?" Ken asked and he pulled into traffic. He glanced over his shoulder and merged onto the one-way street, the Midnight Riot disappearing in his rearview mirror. 

"Yes, I'm starving," Maddox replied, his eyes fixated out the passenger window. His attention seemed far away but Ken didn't care to ask. Maddox would share if he wanted to, Ken though. They were strangers after all. 

When the boys pulled into the driveway of Oxner Cathedral, it was nearing 10:30 pm. Ken gave Maddox an apology as he unlocked the back door and led them into the dark kitchen. He'd thought the outing would have been short and sweet, but someone short and sweet had caught his attention. 

Maddox took a seat at the marble kitchen island as Kendrick unloaded the Chinese food. They'd acquired noodles, rice, chicken, shrimp, beef, and pork dishes. Takeout containers covered the countertop corner to corner. Maddox seemed a little uncomfortable at the amount of choices but Kendrick urged him to dig in. After a few moments of uncomfortable hesitation, his roommate caved and began piling his plate. Kendrick filled a bowl with a little bit of everything, the sauces mingling in a dark pool. Sweet and savory scents filled his nose as he took the three steps into the attached living room. He'd shed his sport coat and dress shoes and sunk into the couch. Flicking the TV on, he picked up where he'd left off with Gilmore Girls earlier that morning. 

A few minutes into the show, Maddox joined Ken on the couch. The boy was careful to stick to his corner and carefully kept them from accidentally touching each other. Ken thought the action was peculiar but he didn't judge. 

"What are you watching?" Maddox asked genuinely through a mouth full of noodles, sauce clinging to the corner of his mouth.

Ken's eyes snapped to Maddox, a dramatic expression plaguing his face. "You don't know Gilmore Girls? What do you watch in the fall to get you in the mood for sweaters and pumpkin spice?" He demanded. 

"Uh, I guess I like horror movies. But I honestly don't-didn't have time for TV I guess," he corrected with a shrug of his shoulders. There wasn't any shame or sadness in his tone, just honestly. He said it like he'd report the weather or say the sky is blue. 

Kendrick frowned and wondered how often his roommate actually got to relax. He'd noticed the calluses on his hands and his muscular body when they'd met but Ken hadn't thought about how he'd gotten that way. 

"Hmm, we'd better start with the first episode to get the full experience," Ken decided. 

The two sat and chatted through a few episodes as they filled their bellies. Maddox seemed to get into the show and began to understand the appeal of a small New England town. 

"Alright, I wish Stars Hollow was real," Maddox admitted as he placed his empty plate on the coffee table. He pulled his legs into a crossed position and leaned into the couch cushion. During their marathon, Maddox had nestled under the handmaid quilt Kendrick had pulled over his legs. Kendrick was happy his roommate was beginning to relax. 

"You and me both. I try to capture the magic of a small town here in Oxner but it's not the same." Ken said with a wave of his hands. His family always pointed out the way he talked with his hands and how unprofessional it was, but it was a habit he couldn't kick nor did he particularly want to. "At least we have the lovely Norway Maple growing on this very holy ground," he said, gesturing to the window. "It's gorgeous here in the fall."

"I'd like to see that," Maddox said with a yawn. 

Kendrick beamed. His roommate wanted to stay and that was enough. 

“Did you really give up my room?” Eli said into the phone pinched between his ear and shoulder. He was multitasking by scribbling in a notebook balanced in his lap and nibbling on a piece of toast. Exams were barreling towards him at a breakneck pace and he was feeling the heat. Despite his photographic memory, he did have to arrange the wild thoughts and ideas that brawled in his mind. 

“Well, yeah. I thought you’d be gone the whole year. Most people don’t test out of their program.” Kendrick explained on the other end. Eli had lived with Kendrick over the last decade, whether it was in the guest bedroom of his childhood home or the Oxner Cathedral. He’d been the only constant friend in his lifetime besides Tian. 

Kendrick had been a force to reckon with and Eli was still feeling the aftermath of their friendship ten years later. The two had met in school the year of Eli’s 9th birthday and he remembered the day vividly. During his primary school years, Eli had recoiled on himself and rarely spoke, even when spoken to. Adults and children alike didn’t like having their feelings analyzed or their lives meddled with, causing a lot of disproportionate anger directed at the young boy. His peers avoided him, and his teachers scrutinized him. Augustus Zachariah Leroy Kendrick the V was a warm summer sun on his cold winter heart. Just being in his presence melted his hard exterior and welcomed spring. Eli was impressed by the sheer openness that Kendrick had; he felt things so deeply and unburdened. He’d promised himself little by little that he’d bloom like Ken.

“It’s not my fault the Americans are so behind in their education. I don’t know vat I expected. I thought maybe they’d have something to teach me,” he exclaimed, his German accent making an appearance on his vowels and his w’s. 

Laughter erupted on the other line causing Eli to break out into a smile. “Vat, Vat? I’m serious.” He chuckled. 

“Okay, fine. I hear you. So when do you move out of the dorm? I’ve been in contact with my contractor. I’m imagining a sleek double garage with a studio apartment. Thoughts?” His friend had always been a dreamer and a bit of an architect buff. Of course, that was how the man had ended up buying a 16th-century catholic church and restoring it single-handedly. 

“Hmm, alright. But I want a walk-in closet and a fancy stone shower,” Eli replied indignantly. He had a luxurious taste and wouldn’t be ashamed. “Oh, miss? Yes, you,” he called to a tall woman who’d strolled passed him in the library. She stopped and looked over her shoulder; her long blonde hair tousled with the motion, glittering gold like warm honey. “I see a small child in your future. Brown hair, brown eyes, Italian father. You should take a pregnancy test and tell your boyfriend. No, vait, your hookup from last Monday,” Eli remarked, tapping his pencil to his chin. 

The woman stared at him incredulously. Fury, then understanding, washed over her round face. A gasp escaped her lips and she hurried from the room without another word. 

“Sorry, vat vere ve talking about?” He said into the phone. 

“That power of yours is crazy, Elijah Krämer. You just ruined that poor girl’s day,” Ken said, unable to hide his impression. 

“Vat? I didn’t ruin her day any more than a child would,” he sniffed indignantly. “Alright, I have to go. I expect the apartment to be done by the time I get back. Tschüss” he said and hung up the phone.