Perché l'ho fatto? Just why would I kiss him like that?

For the umpteenth time since they'd begun their arduous task, Adriano scolded himself for his earlier action. He hadn't wanted Lionardo to leave him alone and had resorted to the only language Lionardo spoke with him. But because of that, he'd reignited a flame he'd have preferred to see simmered down.

From the moment they'd set sail, Lionardo had been seeking Adriano's company, and before he knew it, they'd been meeting in the privacy of the little room in the ship's stern that had served as the surgery whenever Lionardo felt like it. He just had this... alluring radiance. Like the sun. A sun that could scorch, burn, and kill without mercy. But while Lionardo was Phoebus, Adriano was a mere mortal. What interest would a God have in one such as him?

Only one thing, he thought bitterly. It's all he ever wants to do. And I always let him.

Adriano peered at Lionardo from between his lashes. The man had removed his shirt and was almost done closing the pit, shovelling the last of the dirt onto the skeletons and bodies. The surrounding torches made his sweating torso gleam. Little droplets trickled down his well-defined abs, further sculpting his muscles. Truly Phoebus reborn...

"See something you like?"

Adriano blinked at Lionardo's teasing voice. Had he been staring? Merda... He averted, hoping Lionardo hadn't caught his fluster. The Maestro d'Armi was capable of jumping to conclusions, leading to things Adriano definitely did not want to do.

"I don't mind," said Lionardo with a grin. "Besides, it's not like we haven't seen each other naked before."

"Can we not talk about that while we're doing this?" reacted Adriano, sharper than he probably should have.

Lionardo stopped shovelling. He straightened his back, standing at his full, impressive height, and narrowed his eyes at Adriano. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," replied Adriano with a weary sigh.

"No, go on," urged Lionardo. "Out with it. You clearly have something you want to say."

Oh, there were a lot of things Adriano wanted to say. But there was a time and place, and it wasn't here or now. Nor had it been on board the Fedelle Vitoria. It just... it would never be the time and place.

"I'm sorry. I'm just tired," he lied. "Let's finish this so we can get some rest."

Lionardo licked his lips and then gave a curt nod as he threw away his shovel. "I'm done. Go ahead."

Adriano mimicked his action and took the little crucifix he wore around his neck between his fingers. A fresh wave of shame hit him as the pendant that had once belonged to his mother felt colder than usual.

"Something wrong?"

Adriano looked up to find Lionardo standing next to him. He scowled at the man's bare chest. "Put your shirt back on. You're the one who always says the dead should be treated with respect."

Lionardo pinched his lips, but gave no reply. Instead, he snatched his shirt and pulled it over his head. Adriano then closed his eyes, kissed his cross, and recited a prayer for the deceased. All the while, he became more aware of Lionardo's presence next to him. So close, so warm, so... suffocating.

"In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti," he whispered, moving his right hand in the sign of the cross over himself. "Amen."

"Amen," echoed Lionardo.

They stood in silence for a moment, hearing nothing but the rustle of the leaves as a soft breeze made them dance. Adriano thought of all the men he'd known on the Vittoria. How many had survived the battle, seeking refuge on the scattered islands in the lagoon? How many had found a watery grave, never to be seen or heard from again?

It could've been me. It could've been...

He turned his head and nearly flinched. Lionardo was eyeing him again with that damn wistful gaze. Adriano had often caught him doing this from behind the helm whenever he'd gone up on deck. His heart wrenched inside his chest, and before Lionardo could slip his hand into Adriano's, he turned on his heels and walked away, back into the town.
They had opened every house to look for more skeletons, but had only found a few in the first. Not wanting to disturb their ghosts, he went on until he found a stable. He glimpsed inside, finding some straw and torn horse blankets on the ground. Just what he needed.

Worn down by exhaustion, Adriano flung himself onto the straw. It stung a bit, but he was too tired to care. He lay on his side and covered himself with a blanket, but the soft thud of approaching footsteps prevented him from instantly falling asleep.
Adriano rolled over, away from the opening of the hovel. The straw crisped as Lionardo entered and lay down next to him. A hand touched Adriano's arm. He shut his eyes, willing himself not to react. But the moment Lionardo lifted the blanket to press his body flush against Adriano's and placed a chaste kiss in the crook of his neck, he was wide awake from the anger prickling underneath his skin.

"No," he said, jaw clenching in restraint. Another kiss, his cheek this time. The hand on Adriano's arm travelled down to his hip. He bristled. "Lionardo, I mean it. Please stop."

"You were the one who kissed me," pointed Lionardo out. "Who wanted me to stay."

Adriano bit his lip. He knew that was going to come back and bite him in the ass. "I did," he said. "But not for this. Now go to sleep."

Lionardo gently pressed his lips to the corner of Adriano's mouth, whispering between every kiss. "I almost lost you tonight. Don't deprive me of you now, amore, please. Ti voglio sentire. I need to feel you."

His hand slipped beneath Adriano's waistband, his caressing fingertips exploring further. Rage flared instantly, and Adriano seized Lionardo's wrist to pull his hand away from him with a snarl. "Mannagia, I said no!"

"Wha... Adriano?" Lionardo leaned up on his elbow, looking down at Adriano in bewilderment. "What's got over you?"

Adriano threw the blanket off and got back up. "When I say no, I mean no. What part of that don't you understand?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to —"

"To what, huh? To push me down and take me whenever you want?"

"Excuse me?"

Adriano whirled around to face a frowning Lionardo. "You heard me. Every goddamn time we have a moment to ourselves, you ruin everything by pressing me to the table or onto my cot to fuck. Does it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want to have sex? That maybe I want to have a conversation once in a while or just sit together without you pulling my pants down?"

Lionardo finally broke out of his bewilderment. He pushed himself up and stood in front of Adriano, nostrils flaring, indignant at the accusation. "Ma che cazzo dici? I do nothing you don't want me to do!"

"That's all you do! You're always chasing your own pleasure and are completely ignorant of what you're doing to me!"

"Oh, and what's that, then?"

"You're hurting me!"

It was out before he knew it. Lionardo recoiled, his face aghast at Adriano's outburst. "What?"

Adriano pressed his trembling lips together. His hands balled at his sides, nails biting into his palms. He wanted to look away, but was too drawn to Lionardo's amber wide-eyed gaze. 

"I... I don't mean physically, but..." Adriano swallowed the lump in his throat. "Lio, I don't feel what you feel. Your passion, your heat, your enthusiasm. My body doesn't react the same way. Not... Not always."

Heat rose to his cheeks. His fury dissolved, giving way to something he didn't want to give into. But he couldn't hold it back any longer.

"I can't keep doing this," Adriano continued in a broken voice. "It's been months since... I just... I've been trying to... If you knew how many times I... I had to fake... Y-You don't deserve that, and it just... hurts so much that I can't... Please, I beg you, don't... don't make me... I don't... I can't pretend anymore."

Adriano dropped to the ground. He clutched his shaking body. The tears he had so desperately tried to hold in rolled down his cheeks. He'd finally reached his breaking point.
The straw crunched in front of him as Lionardo also sank to his knees. He reached out, but halted half-way, his hand lingering in mid-air. It closed into a shuddering fist, which he slowly dropped. Then he heaved a sigh and asked, "Adriano, why did you never talk to me about this?"

"How?" answered Adriano weakly. "If I don't understand why I don't feel as aroused by you as you are by me, how could you? How could I possibly tell you without making you think I regretted being with you? Without making you think I was rejecting you because... because of..."

His words fell away. The crucifix dangling from his neck was an unbearable anchor, weighing him further down. He clutched it in his hand, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as the bells in his head resounded with the booming voices of the priests. How many times had he heard the sermons? The warnings? How many times had he scoffed and rolled his eyes at their incredible narrowmindedness?
Before Lionardo, Adriano had never feared the Church. To them, he'd already committed a sin by studying medicine and languages with the infidels instead of the 'proper institutions', even after the diocese had looked away when he and his mentors had cared for plague victims when others refused. Sodomy, though, was considered a greater depravation, and not only in the eyes of the Church.

From the moment the onetime fling with Lionardo became a recurring, serious affair, Adriano had been filled with terror. He had insisted on being careful; only meeting when everyone else was busy or asleep, always locking the door of the surgery, always holding something between their teeth to stifle their moans so no one heard them.
Had anyone suspected, they would've informed the captain, and he would've turned them over to the Ufficiali di Notte at the first harbour. They would've imprisoned them. Put them on display. Maybe even executed them.
Yet that fate wasn't what had instilled such anguish in Adriano. He wasn't afraid of dying. He could've died from the plague, or during the many battles the Vittoria fought. Death was a part of life and not something to fear. No, what scared him most was losing someone dear to him again. Losing Lionardo... that was his true agony.

Lips pressed softly against his forehead. Adriano raised his head at Lionardo's rueful smile, his fear staring him right in the face. "I'm sorry if," Lionardo's mouth pressed into a thin line for a second, "that I hurt you by not considering you and keeping you from expressing yourself. I assumed you felt the same since... I clearly should've known better. Get some rest. I'll keep watch. We'll try for the mainland in the morning. After... you don't have to see me again."

Adriano's heart sank. "W-What? No, Lio, I —"

"AIUTO!"

Both men snapped their heads toward the terrified scream. What the devil? Was that... Giovanni?
Adriano scrambled to his feet and rushed after Lionardo, who was already out of the stable. He hurried through the town, without a care for own safety. Agitated voices guided him, and he quickly found his crewmates, just a few feet away from the closed plague pit. He searched the treeline ahead, but nobody else came out of the woods. All was quiet except for Giovanni's uncontrolled sobs.

"What happened?" he asked. "Venetians?"

"I don't know," answered Lionardo as he held Giovanni up. "Gio, what's going on? Where's Luca?"

A pair of frenzied eyes looked up at both of them. Adriano had witnessed men screaming out in terror and pain for their mothers, begging him not to let them die. But the sheer panic in Giovanni's expression was unlike anything he'd seen before. As if he'd seen the Devil himself.

"Morto," uttered the sailor. "È... È morto!"

Lionardo gripped him firmly by the shoulders and gave him a hard shake. "What do you mean, he's dead? What happened?"

"M-Mostro."

Adriano exchanged a silent glance with Lionardo. Giovanni and Luca were pranksters, but surely even they wouldn't dare after everything they'd seen that night. And nobody, no matter how good an actor, could fake the absolute dread Giovanni was showing now.
Still, the sailor noticed their doubt and exclaimed, "It was a monster, I swear! I saw it with my own eyes! It had no legs but a tail, a-and long hair that swirled around its head like smoke, and... and shimmering eyes!"

A chill ran down Adriano's spine at those words. Shimmering eyes... like the ones he'd seen between the reeds. He hadn't imagined it!
His gaze travelled to the plague pit. To where the skeletons with mismatched bones lay. Bones... with bite marks.

"Show me," said Lionardo then. "Take me to where it happened."

"What?" Adriano's head whipped toward him. His heart stilled at the determination in Lionardo's beautiful eyes. "No, you can't!"

"Are you fucking insane?" Giovanni hollered. "That thing tore Luca's face off! We go there and we're next!"

Lionardo's fist collided with the sailor's nose before Adriano could blink. Giovanni cried in pain and stumbled, but Lionardo was quick to yank him back by his shirt. Adriano recoiled, never having seen the man this angry before.

"Listen, you fucking coward," hissed Lionardo. "I've watched too many men perish tonight, and I'm not letting anyone else get killed. Monster or Venetian, it ends now. You're going to show me where you left Luca to die, or so help me God, I will snap your neck myself and leave your body as a meal for your monster!"

Giovanni nodded vehemently, too scared to contradict his commanding officer. Lionardo released him and gave a rough shove to make Giovanni move. Not once did he look at Adriano, who gawked in silent dismay. What had possessed Lionardo? Why was he risking his life and seeking danger when they could just run and —?

It's because of me, he suddenly realised. He's doing this because I rejected him. He doesn't care what happens to him anymore. God, no!

Adriano flung himself at Lionardo, taking him by surprise. He dug his feet into the ground and gripped his wrist, keeping his arms locked around Lionardo's neck, just as he'd seen him do to stop crew members from coming to blows.

"Adriano!" Lionardo squirmed and clawed at Adriano's shirt. "Che diavolo stai facendo? Let go!"

But Adriano refused to do so. Letting go meant losing Lionardo, and he couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't!
Summoning every ounce of strength, Adriano tightened his grip, muscles straining, and pulled down hard, trying to force Lionardo to his knees. Sweat ran into his eyes, stinging, but he didn't dare blink. 

Just a little more... Just enough to hold him.

Lionardo, however, was not so easily subdued. The Maestro d'Armi twisted sharply and struck with precision. Pain flared as he delivered a sharp blow to Adriano's side, right at his liver, stealing the air from his lungs. He gasped, staggering, but refused to release his hold.
Another jab came higher, below the ribs. Adriano doubled over, gritting his teeth through the ache. His vision blurred at the edges.
A third strike slammed into him as he stumbled to one knee. The earth gave way beneath him, and for a fleeting heartbeat, fear and fury tangled in equal measure. Strong hands found Adriano's hips, gripping with force, and a shove jerked him backward, tearing him from the hold.

Adriano collapsed to the ground, pain lancing through his side. His chest rose and fell in uneven bursts, mind spinning with panic and regret. Lionardo stood over him, back straight, chest heaving, amber eyes blazing.

"No... No, Lio, please!" 

A boulder-like fist struck his temple.Something warm trickled down the side of his face. His head was pounding. Another blow. Adriano's body fell limp. His eyelids fluttered as his head lolled to the side. 

Then darkness consumed him.