đź–¤ Chapter 13: Softness & Consequences
Ethan wasn't expecting anyone.
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That was the first thing he noticed.
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The second—
was the smell.
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Warm.
Familiar.
Unexpected.
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Food.
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He paused at the entrance of his own house, brows slightly furrowed.
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That didn't make sense.
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He didn't cook.
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And he definitely didn't remember inviting anyone over.
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Carefully—
he stepped inside.
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The lights were on.
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The house… felt occupied.
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Not invaded.
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Just… lived in.
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His gaze shifted toward the kitchen—
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And that's when he saw him.
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Vincenzo.
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Standing there like he belonged.
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Sleeves gone.
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An apron tied loosely around his waist—
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Nothing over it.
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Bare skin exposed under the soft kitchen light.
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Focused.
Calm.
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Cooking.
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Ethan didn't move.
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Didn't speak.
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Because for a second—
he just watched.
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A man like him… shouldn't look this good doing something so simple.
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The thought came uninvited.
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And stayed.
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"You're staring."
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Vincenzo's voice broke the silence.
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He didn't turn.
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But he knew.
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Of course he did.
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Ethan leaned slightly against the doorway, arms crossing.
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"Didn't know mafia bosses cook."
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Vincenzo hummed softly.
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"We do what's necessary."
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Ethan's gaze didn't leave him.
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"Do you cook often?"
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There was a slight pause.
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Then—
"No."
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Simple.
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But not the full answer.
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Ethan noticed.
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"For someone like you," he continued, "I assumed you'd have people to do everything."
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Vincenzo turned the stove off.
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Then—
slowly—
he turned around.
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Meeting Ethan's eyes directly.
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"It's reserved."
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Ethan raised a brow slightly.
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"For?"
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Silence stretched between them.
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Then Vincenzo stepped forward.
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One step.
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Measured.
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"Before…" he started calmly, "just me."
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Another step.
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"Sometimes Adrian."
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Closer now.
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Too close.
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Then—
his voice softened.
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"Now… you."
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Ethan didn't move.
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Didn't step back.
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But something in his expression shifted.
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Barely.
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A flicker.
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Something warmer.
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Something unfamiliar.
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"…You're confident," Ethan said quietly.
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Vincenzo's lips curved faintly.
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"I'm honest."
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A pause.
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Then—
Ethan reached out.
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Fingers brushing lightly against Vincenzo's jaw.
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Testing.
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Not pulling away.
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"Feed me then," he said.
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Soft.
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But not weak.
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Vincenzo didn't hesitate.
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"Sit."
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Ethan didn't argue.
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A few minutes later—
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they sat across from each other.
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Simple table.
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Simple food.
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But nothing about the moment felt ordinary.
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Ethan took a bite.
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Paused.
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Then looked up.
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"…It's good."
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Vincenzo watched him.
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"I know."
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Ethan scoffed slightly.
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"Arrogant."
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"Accurate."
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Silence settled again.
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But it wasn't uncomfortable.
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Not anymore.
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Ethan leaned back slightly.
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"You don't seem like the type to do this."
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"Do what?"
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"This," Ethan gestured lightly. "Cooking. Being… this."
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Vincenzo's gaze didn't waver.
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"People are different depending on who they're with."
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A pause.
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"And what am I bringing out?"
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Vincenzo didn't answer immediately.
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Instead—
he stood.
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Walked around the table.
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Stopped right beside Ethan.
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Close.
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Then—
his hand lifted—
resting lightly against Ethan's jaw.
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"Something I don't mind keeping."
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And before Ethan could respond—
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Vincenzo leaned down—
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and kissed him.
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This time—
it wasn't sudden.
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It wasn't testing.
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It was slow.
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Deep.
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Intentional.
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Like he meant every second of it.
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Ethan didn't resist.
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Didn't hesitate.
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His hand moved—
gripping the edge of Vincenzo's apron—
pulling him slightly closer.
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The kiss deepened—
breath uneven—
closer—
heavier—
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Then slowly—
they pulled apart.
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Foreheads nearly touching.
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Silence.
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"…You're dangerous," Ethan murmured.
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Vincenzo's lips curved slightly.
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"And you're still here."
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Elsewhere—
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the night wasn't as calm.
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It happened fast.
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Too fast.
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Noah didn't even fully register it—
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just a sudden movement—
a presence—
danger—
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And then—
impact.
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But not on him.
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Adrian.
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Standing in front of him.
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Taking it instead.
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A sharp breath escaped Noah.
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"Adrian—"
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"I'm fine."
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The reply came instantly.
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Too quickly.
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Too dismissive.
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Noah stepped closer—
eyes scanning—
seeing it clearly now.
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Blood.
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"You're not fine."
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"It's nothing."
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Adrian straightened slightly.
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Like the injury didn't exist.
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Like pain didn't matter.
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Noah's jaw tightened.
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"Let me treat it."
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"No."
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That—
made something snap.
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Noah's voice dropped.
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No humor.
No teasing.
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Just serious.
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"Then you shouldn't have saved me."
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Silence.
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Adrian stilled.
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Because that tone—
was new.
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He looked at Noah.
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Really looked this time.
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And what he saw—
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wasn't the playful man from before.
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It was someone else.
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Someone shaken.
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Someone… angry.
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"…I'm a doctor," Noah continued, voice tight. "It's my job."
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Adrian didn't respond immediately.
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Because something else was louder.
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A question.
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Why did I do it?
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He didn't have an answer.
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But he knew one thing.
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Noah wasn't joking anymore.
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"…Fine."
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The word came quieter.
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Almost reluctant.
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A few minutes later—
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Noah worked carefully.
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Focused.
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Serious.
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His hands steady—
but not entirely.
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Adrian noticed.
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Of course he did.
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"You're overreacting."
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Noah didn't look up.
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"You're bleeding."
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"That happens."
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Noah's hand paused slightly.
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"…You got hurt because of me."
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There it was.
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The truth.
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Simple.
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Heavy.
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Adrian watched him for a moment.
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Then—
unexpectedly—
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he reached out.
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Pulled Noah closer.
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Into a hug.
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Not gentle.
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Not soft.
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But firm.
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Grounding.
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"It's nothing."
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Noah didn't respond immediately.
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But he didn't pull away either.
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Because for the first time—
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it didn't feel like nothing.
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It felt like something neither of them fully understood.
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And that—
was far more dangerous than any injury.
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Some moments were chosen.
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Some weren't.
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But both—
left marks.
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Whether you wanted them to—
or not.