Page 36 of Brave Truth

It was at that point that someone threw something across the room. Claudio actively flinched. Matthew hadn’t seen that before. He immediately said, “Look, want to come to mine and keep talking? I’ve got a tea kettle and some things to drink, and a sofa without risk of— what was that?”

“Ball. Leather, modelled on an American baseball, but the size is wrong.” Claudio said it automatically, then he shook his head like a dog flinging water out of its coat. “Sure I’m not putting you out?”

“Sure. Come along, it’s not far?” They’d already paid up, so it was a matter of waving a hand at York so he’d clear the table and gathering their things. The air outside felt crisp, but it was a pleasant feeling, since it was only a few blocks to Matthew’s flat. He let them in, touching the warding and then going ahead so he could get the lights. As his hand touched the lamp and brought up the charmlight, he was suddenly nervous. He’d left the place tidy, as he always did. But he had no idea what Claudio would make of it.

In point of fact, Claudio stood in the doorway to the sitting room for a moment, then let out a long sigh. “Boar, right. But not one of the ones who thinks everything has to be red. This is snug, isn’t it? And quiet, you’re right about that.”

“Loo’s on the other side of the kitchen, past where we came in.” Matthew gestured at the two half-open doors. He didn’t close those routinely. Mum had a thing about air flowing freely, and he couldn’t say she was wrong about it. “Tiny library with a desk there, bedroom’s that door. Sit where you like?”

Claudio came in properly, then let out a soft whistle as he took in the lamp. “Now, that’s lovely. Both the lampshade itself and the way the light comes through. Gabe’s mother has quite a line in stained glass history, but I’ve not seen something like that before.”

Matthew perched on the sofa, leaving plenty of space for Claudio. “From that shop, the one we were looking at a while back? Aelfdane’s Art and Antiques. The cushions are from there, and he’s got someone making a rug to go with them.” Matthew had put in the request, what, three weeks ago now. Then, because he might as well keep going. “Look, we haven’t known each other terribly long. But you’ve said things, a couple of times, that make it clear that you think what you have is sort of conditional. Not with everyone, but with most people?”

There was a brief twitch of Claudio’s shoulder. But then he glanced around and sat, close enough that there were only a few inches between their knees, not jammed against the corner. The light from the lamp lit him, and Matthew had to bite his tongue to remind himself not to focus on how attractive that was, all of a sudden. He’d never been someone who cared a lot about looks. Sensible caution or hygiene had won out, depending on whether he’d been looking for something quick or not.

But Claudio certainly brought looks with him, as well as brains and what Matthew had long-since realised to be a deep river of caring about doing the thing right. Whatever thing might be under discussion. And now there he was, on the sofa, where Matthew could reach out and touch him, if he were brave enough.

“Probably because it is. People want specific things from me. Sometimes also for me. Mother’s definitely both prepositions. My friends want me happy, though I don’t know that any of us entirely have a sense what that looks like. And I’m thinking a lot about patterns, they haven’t settled yet. The sort of thing where moving one piece is going to change everything else. I’m sorry, I’m a mess. Boring, too.”

“First, I’m fairly sure I can’t blame other people for being a mess when I’m a mess. I mean, it took me months to work up to decorating this place, not just existing in it. To having habits of seeing people.” Part of him wanted to reach and grab for something. But he still did not know what Claudio actually thought.

Friendship seemed clear enough, but anything more than that had to be wishes and fantasies, surely. He’d had no sign that Claudio was interested in anything else, for one. And he’d become nearly as adept at spotting that over the years as he was at dealing with files and meetings. Now, he shrugged and gestured at the room. “Thanks to you, some of it.” He gestured. “The lamp. The idea I could, what’s the word. Have a space.”

“Really?” Claudio leaned forward. “Me?”

“You.” Matthew had a hundred things he wanted to say, but he wasn’t remotely sure what would be welcome. Claudio had touched his hand a fortnight ago, but he hadn’t done it last time. That could just have been chance— a different table, a different conversation, all that. It could have been something else. Matthew wouldn’t presume. “Anyway. I like your company so far. I’ll tell you if I don’t, clear as I can. I’ll make oath on it if that helps?” Then he paused. “Um. I might want help sorting out the proper wording. I’m used to the set ones.”

Something that made Claudio chuckle. “Someone pointed out to me this past week that I shouldn’t dismiss my ritual skills. Not necessary, actually.” He tapped his fingertips together. “Look. There’s at least three things going on, and I don’t know how they’re going to come out. Well, I’ve got some ideas about one of them, and it’s no help at all. It’s the— let’s say it’s the chaotic factor. Good, probably. I think good?” He looked momentarily haunted.

“What are the three things? Can you say that much?” Matthew leaned forward a little. He felt eager, like the moment before taking off racing, feeling the way the ground slid and felt against his feet.

“The patterns, that’s one. That chaotic factor. And then.” Claudio glanced away, then looked back steadily. Then he tilted his head, as if he’d come to a particular decision. “I suspect I’ve been confusing you. Certainly confusing myself. It’s the sort of thing I don’t talk about much. I’m terrible at wanting things, letting myself want things.”

Matthew nodded slowly at that. That made sense, for one. And it was an entirely common sort of problem in Albion. Even more of one for people from Claudio’s sort of family, he was sure. “I can certainly give you grace about that bit. Easy to.”

Claudio snorted quietly. “I don’t even know what I want exactly. But I like spending time with you. I like how I feel when I’m with you. I think about you when you’re not handy, in a way I don’t do about most people. But I don’t know if I can, um.” He stopped and swallowed hard. “I don’t know if it’s good or kind or ethical to do that, to want that. To do anything about the wanting, whatever it is, when I think I might need to go be incredibly difficult at people as a matter of, of...”

Matthew couldn’t find a word to say, so he didn’t. He just was there, waiting, hanging on the next words.

“Let’s call it a matter of professional diligence. No. Professional devotion. That’s a better word,” Claudio let out a puff of air. “It wouldn’t be fair to you to drag you into any of it. I wouldn’t do that to someone I hated. I definitely don’t hate you. And there are other complications. Especially when I don’t actually have a clue what I want. Or what you want.”

It did not clarify whether they were talking about friendship or about something else one bit. Except that it did. Claudio had said, clearly, that he liked his time with Matthew. Matthew liked time with Claudio. That part was apparently basic maths. They could work their way up to more complex ones in time if they chose to.

“Well,” Matthew hesitated, then he carefully reached out to rest his fingers against Claudio’s hand, the same way Claudio had a fortnight ago. Lightly, they both knew Claudio could pull his hand away easily if he wanted to. There was a tiny jerk, an uncontrolled movement from someone who kept himself under strict limits. But then he deliberately relaxed his hand, letting it rest on his leg. Under Matthew’s fingers. “How about I talk about what I want? What I might want, too. So you have that shape in your head to think about.”

He waited. There was complete stillness for about ten seconds, then Claudio nodded slightly. “Please?” His voice didn’t quite crack at the end. He wasn’t so far gone as that. Though Matthew added getting him to that point, seeing all that careful control gone, to a list of things he wanted but was certainly not going to name right now. Not directly. It would absolutely scare Claudio off. Maybe Matthew, too.

“Things I know I like. You. The way you go at the world, the tenacity. Wanting to improve things, but also being so certain they can be improved. That improvement— no. Optimism is possible. That there’s something brighter ahead, if we reach for it.” Something in that set of words made Claudio’s mouth twitch, but he didn’t argue or interrupt. “I love?—”

He caught himself saying the word, but it was true, and he was applying it to something that he didn’t think Claudio would mind. “I love sitting and talking with you. At the pub. Here, if you turn out to like here. Just being together, wandering over a dozen topics, some shallower glances, some deeper. Mostly deeper. You like the depths. You don’t ignore what’s in them. I don’t think you can.” Something in that got the same reaction. There was the twitch of the smile, something Claudio didn’t show most people.

“And what does that mean about anything else?” Claudio spoke carefully now, far more slowly than he usually did.

“I’d like to think of a time when we get more hours together. Enough that we could be somewhere— here, somewhere else where it’d be fine— just doing things in the same room. The luxury of that time. Knowing there’d be more later, too.” It was one he’d never had with a partner, not for more than an hour now and again. Certainly not one he’d had with a friend he truly trusted in more than a decade. “I’ve tried not to think too much about other things in private. It seems rude to. Not knowing what you might want.”

“I have no idea, honestly.” Something in that was entirely dry and sharp. “My marriage didn’t go in for pleasure much, and I’ve not done— well, much of anything outside of it.” His mouth twitched slightly. “I rather horrified Cammie at one point when she realised I’d never had a fumble in a broom closet. Nothing, um. With that much urgent desire in it, certainly.”

Matthew swallowed hard. He could feel his fingers shift on Claudio’s hand. “That is not discouraging me from wanting to provoke that sort of desire. Just so you realise. See if it’s something you like. I’d stop, of course, if you didn’t.”