I had never believed in grand declarations of love. People proposing to their partners in front of a huge crowd, in a restaurant inside a cake (which also meant the diamond would be covered in icing), or in a glass of wine, which was more of a choking hazard than a romantic gesture.

Like autoerotic asphyxiation—unasked for.

Our fingers remained intertwined, Elliot snuggling against my side like he did, his bare shoulders rising and falling slowly. He had fallen asleep shortly after, but my mind kept me awake even if my body was exhausted.

I gazed up at the high ceiling, thoughts that I did not want to think about rushing in and out of my head.

My phone buzzed again, and I picked it up, already anticipating the call. It was almost three a.m., and nobody else would have called me at this time. Not anymore. I did not have to look at the screen to know who it would be and pressed it against my ear. 

"Hey Lu-" I began, in a uselessly low voice, a yawn interrupting me instantly. 

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN 'HEY'? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? YOU RANDOMLY GET ARRESTED, ALL I CAN DO IS KEEP CALLING YOUR STUPID FUCKING LAWYER, NO ONE KNOWS ANYTHING, APPARENTLY THEY ARE WORKING ON THE CASE, THE NEWS CHANNELS, SOCIAL MEDIA IS GOING ABSOLUTELY BONKERS—"

"It's nice to hear from you," I chuckled.

"Ugh, are you okay?" Lucy asked breathlessly. "I just found out. There is so much misinformation in the media here. I literally found out you've been released through a meme page? Like, hello? Can journalists do their goddamn job!"

"As much as I love the idea of discussing journalistic integrity and its disappearance in the modern world with you—" I sighed deeply, "—it's three a.m., and I've kinda been through some shit in the past forty-eight hours."

"Oh, you don't say—" she groaned. "God. I'm so glad you're okay. I was about to get a flight ticket, but realized I have no fucking money and Dad said I was acting hastily or something."

I fell silent, almost having forgotten about him. A masochistic part of me wanted to ask her how he had reacted to the news. Smugly— perhaps. I had gone on and proven to him that I was dangerous after all and shouldn't be around my sister. 

"It was just a media stunt," I said, only half-joking. "You know, to really cement my new bad boy image."

"Oh yeah, that's the last thing you need now." She took a deep breath, and I could picture her massaging her temple. "But anyway, are you, like... home?"

I glanced once at Elliot, who had stirred a little. Whatever had happened over the past week— one thing was for sure—the media would be driven absolutely insane. The idea of Lucy finding out something that intimate about my life from an outside source made the base of my throat taste bitter. I steeled myself and answered slowly. "I'm... I'm with El."

"Elliot... Hayes—" she gasped, speaking in a scandalous whisper. "Ohmigod, are the rumors true? Are you and Elliot—"

"We... are figuring things out," I laughed weakly, raking my fingers through my hair. "But yeah."

"Dating?"

"I would say so. I think," I admitted, realizing that we were probably way beyond that specific conversation in our relationship. 

"How do you not know—?" she grumbled, and I pictured her crossing her arms in front of her chest and tapping her foot in the way she did when she was impatient. 

"I do know. It's just—" I shrugged, turning to lie on my stomach and pulling the warm pillow into my chest. "—it's complicated. My brain is slow."

I rubbed my eyes, struggling to comprehend her words as I yawned again.

"What's new about that?" she muttered. "But..." she paused for a second, "I mean... I guess I always kind of knew."

"Really? How?" I asked, momentarily awake. 

"Your music taste is too pop to be fully straight."

I burst out laughing, slapping my hand over my mouth so I wouldn't wake Elliot up. "Pop is catchy."

"Well... that wasn't the only thing," she sighed. "I mean... I kind of knew... just the way you talked about Elliot. Or even... looked at him. I got secondhand embarrassment from your googly eyes and vaguely debated gouging them out."

"That's graphic," I muttered, my face warming from her observation. 

"So what now? You're going to do some big coming out speech or—"

"No," I said, picking at a stray bedsheet thread. "I'll go back and start practicing for the World Cup. And he will do the same."

"I mean, yeah, obviously—"

"How are things there?"

"You mean—"

"With..." I took a shuddering breath, "—him."

"Oh." She fell quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time. "It is... nice."

"You don't have to spare my feelings, Luc," I assured her. "Your school, the house—how's everything? I've barely got time with all this shit going on."

"Yeah, hard to keep track of your sister when you're a convict," she groaned.

"Ex-convict," I corrected her, grinning.

"Well, the house is really nice." I heard her moving, the sound of a door clicking before she spoke next. "His fiancée is, like, really rich. But the worst part is—she is very nice. She hired this new Italian chef so I could have 'a taste of home'—as she calls it. Although... I'm pretty sure her Italian is fake, but still."

"Hey, it's the thought that counts," I said. 

"Dad's working on some new venture. Beatrice—"

That was the name of his new fiancée. Information I had known but somehow subconsciously filed it away.

"— has two kids. A girl and a boy. The girl is twelve, the boy is nine." She paused, and I remained quiet, waiting for her to continue. "And they are oddly... not misbehaved. Like, they're really calm, actually. I almost thought she sedated them—but that was back when I was still coming to terms with the stepmother thing."

"And your school? Making any friends?"

"Oh, yes, a few," she answered. "It's... not like we have seen in the movies, though. I barely have any memories from my school days back from childhood. But I do enjoy some of the AP classes here. And there's a great college nearby that Dad said I should look into."

I ignored the pang in my chest. "So you'll—" I cleared my throat, "—you'll attend university there?"

"I... I haven't decided yet," she admitted. "Maybe it would be easier... in the sense that I wouldn't have to move again."

"Yeah," I said, my heart sinking. "Well, you still got a couple of years. You can figure it out by then."

"That's the hope," she said. "Actually, listen—Chiara wanted to come visit me, and I told her to. You should come with her. Bring Hayes, too. There are lots of great places here—"

"I know, Luc," I said. "I... I was there, too, remember?"

"Right," she chuckled. "But now you can... almost legally drink."

"Yeah, cause Italy is infamous for its wine shortage," I smirked.

"It would be great to have you, still," she insisted. "With my school..."

"I go there next year anyway—" I yawned as I reminded her, turning and slumping with my back against the soft pillows. "Worlds."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I forgot it's here next year. Wow. That's perfect. You gotta get me three tickets. I got two friends, and they've been bugging me—"

"Will do," I yawned again. "I gotta go back to sleep, Luc. You take care."

"You too... stay out of trouble," she added, and I could picture her trying to stifle a laugh.

"That's my line," I groaned before hanging up and placing my phone back on the nightstand.

"Lucy?"

I turned as Elliot stirred, blinking slowly up at me, his voice low. "How is she?"

"Yeah," I nodded at him, leaning close to plant a kiss on his forehead so he could see my lips. "She is doing good. I should see her soon."

"That's good," he muttered sleepily, snuggling into my chest, his arm holding mine. "Stay still, I am trying to sleep."

"As you wish," I murmured, melting into his touch, my heart finally daring to hope.

I had barely fallen asleep, however, when I heard a loud ring downstairs, and the blinker above Elliot's bed started flashing. I opened my eyes and sat up in bed, glancing at Elliot, who was already awake. "What time—?" he muttered, his voice raspy.

"Seven," I answered, checking my phone and showing him the screen. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, reaching for his phone, which was also flashing.

"It's Mum," he said to me as he picked up the video call, squinting at the screen. "Morning."

"Elliot!" Charlotte Hayes shrieked from the other end. "I'm so sorry for waking you up so early, love. I'm outside."

Elliot blinked a few times before he nodded and hung up, getting to his feet. I watched as he reached for his discarded clothes, pulling them on hurriedly— his face flushed crimson. I leaned back and smirked at him, studying the way his muscles flexed, the curves and ridges, his slender fingers over the fabric.

"Oh yeah, definitely don't want to be naked in front of me. Especially when I could draw you from memory at this point," I teased, lying on my stomach with my arms swinging off the mattress. He wasn't looking at me, though—from the way the pink flush had now reached the tips of his ears—I was sure he knew I was teasing him. 

"I think this might be related to Philip," he muttered, snapping me back to reality. I nodded and got to my feet, dressing quickly before stepping out into the hallway. We made our way downstairs as Elliot put in the lock code and swung the door open.

"Eli—" she said breathlessly, stepping in. "We have a—" she paused, her eyes widening slightly when she spotted me. "Oh, Luca, I didn't realize you were staying here."

"El insisted," I said, nodding my head toward him.

"Right," Charlotte nodded before grabbing Elliot's hand and leading him to the couch. "Okay then, sit. Both of you. This is going to take a while, so—" She plopped onto the coffee table, rummaging in her handbag to take out a notepad and a pen, placing it on her thighs as she looked up at us expectantly. "Take a seat."