Felix approached slowly, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement.
Matteo stood upright as he neared, sliding his phone into his coat pocket.
"You didn't have to come," Felix said, voice steady despite the surprise in his eyes. "I could've found my way."
Matteo's gaze flicked over him — calm, unreadable. "It wasn't a request."
A beat of silence passed between them, not uncomfortable, but cautious.
Felix gave a small nod, adjusting the strap on his shoulder.
"Still… thank you for coming."
Matteo didn't answer that. Instead, he moved to the side and pulled open the back door.
Felix hesitated only for a second, then stepped in smoothly, careful not to scuff the interior.
Once the door shut, Matteo circled the car without a word and slid into the seat beside him.
"Let's move," he said to the driver.
The engine purred to life.
Outside, the chatter of campus life faded quickly, replaced by the quiet hum of the city as they pulled away.
Inside the car, Felix sat upright, hands folded neatly—a posture drilled into him over years of being watched, even when Matteo wasn't looking.
He glanced sideways, only once, at Matteo—admiring, curious, but careful not to linger.
Matteo stared out the window, his jaw set, fingers tapping once against his thigh.
There was no warmth in his presence—but no ice either. Just something closed off.
Still, Felix stayed quiet.
Not because he was afraid.
But because that was always how it had been.
The ride was mostly silent, save for the muted sound of traffic and the occasional shift of gears.
Felix looked out the window, the passing city blurring into streaks of motion. "You came during work hours," he said finally, voice low. "Wasn't expecting that."
"I manage my time," Matteo replied without turning. "Besides, my father insisted."
Felix offered a faint smile. "He always insists."
Matteo didn't answer, and the silence returned—but this time, it didn't feel cold. Just... there.
Felix leaned his head back slightly, letting the calm settle between them.
A few minutes later, the car slowed, pulling into a quiet lot shaded by tall trees.
They didn't get out right away.
Felix's gaze drifted sideways, landing on Matteo's tie—again, slightly crooked, the knot just a bit off-center like always.
He stared at it for a second, hesitated, then shifted in his seat.
"Hold still," he said quietly.
Matteo turned, brow raised.
Felix leaned in, careful and precise. His fingers brushed the fabric, gentle as they adjusted the knot, tugging it into place with small, practiced motions.
Close enough to feel Matteo's breath, but never looking him in the eye.
Matteo didn't move. Didn't speak.
When it was done, Felix sat back.
"There," he murmured, eyes finally meeting his. "Fixed."
Their gazes locked, quiet and still.
Matteo didn't say thank you.
He didn't need to.
Felix didn't expect one anyway.
The car door opened with a smooth click.
Matteo stepped out first, straightening his coat as his eyes lifted to the familiar facade before them—tall glass, warm lighting spilling from behind velvet curtains, the gentle hum of elegance wrapped in silence.
Felix followed, his footsteps slowing as he looked up at the building.
It wasn't just any place.
It was the place.
The one they always came to.
The restaurant where every memory felt quieter, easier, less watched.
Where the tables were always empty, the lights low, and the world faded the second the door closed behind them.
Matteo never commented on it.
Never even glanced around when they came here.
He rarely spoke during their dinners—just ate, listened, let time pass.
But he always booked the entire place.
Every time.
Without a word.
For Felix.
And somehow, Felix knew.
Not because Matteo said it.
But because he never once forgot.
Now, as they stepped inside, the same soft glow welcomed them.
A waiter greeted Matteo with a bow, then turned to Felix with a warm smile. "Welcome back, sir."
Felix offered a small nod. "Thank you."
Matteo didn't slow his stride—he never did—but when they reached the table near the far window, he stopped just long enough for Felix to catch up.
No words.
Just a glance over his shoulder.
Then they sat down, the space between them quiet and familiar.
A soft pop broke the silence—
The champagne bottle hissed gently as the waitress tilted it with precision, pouring the pale gold liquid into crystal flutes.
She set them down without a word, bowing lightly before stepping away.
Moments later, a second waiter arrived, arms full. Then another. And another.
Plates were placed with delicate care—saffron croquettes, grilled scallops, tiny bowls of caviar, smoked cheese tartlets, slices of honeyed pear with prosciutto, and half a dozen other dishes Felix didn't even know the names of.
The table was full before he'd even touched a fork.
He blinked. "We're... not feeding an army, are we?"
Matteo didn't look up.
He cleared his throat once, quietly. Then, without shifting his tone or gaze, he gestured toward the spread.
"Eat whatever you want it's all yours."
His voice was low. Almost detached.
But that was the apology.
That was all he ever offered.
No explanations. No guilt.
Just… this.
Felix looked at him, studied the slight tension in his jaw, the way he poured only half a glass for himself.
And he smiled—small, quiet, but genuine.
"Thanks," he said, picking up a fork. "You remembered I liked these."
He nudged the grilled scallops closer.
Matteo's gaze flickered down—just once. That was enough.
They ate in a silence that felt… different. Not cold.
But not a cold one.
A familiar one.
Felix set his fork down, fingers brushing the rim of his glass.
He didn't look up right away, just let the soft clink of cutlery settle between them.
"You know…"
His voice was low, even. "You don't have to pick me up if you're busy. I mean, it's okay. I could've taken a cab."
Matteo didn't glance up. "It's not like I have a choice."
Felix's lips parted slightly, but he let the words fade. His gaze drifted toward him.
"Can I ask you something?" he said, quieter this time—careful, almost too polite.
Matteo finally lifted his eyes. He didn't speak. Just gave a single, silent nod.
Felix hesitated.
Then asked, "Do you… ever love me?"
The question didn't hang—it hit the table between them like a stone in water, rippling through the space.
Matteo's expression stayed exactly the same, but his fingers tightened slightly around the stem of his glass.
He reached for his glass instead, his grip too practiced.
"Do I have to?" he said calmly.
Then added, without a trace of warmth, "We're engaged. I figured that's all you wanted."
Something in Felix's face shifted—softness pulling taut.
He kept his voice level, but there was something raw beneath it.
"I want us to love each other. That's kind of important when you're marrying someone."
Matteo leaned back slightly, eyes unreadable.
"Is that an order?"
Felix exhaled, shoulders tightening. "You don't have to say yes if you don't love me," he said, trying to keep it from sounding like a plea. "And you have to love me if you want to marry me."
Matteo looked away. "We're engaged because that's what our families want. I can take care of you, protect you, give you anything you need—"
"But you can't love me?"
Felix's voice cut in, not sharp… just tired.
Matteo went quiet.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't explain.
Didn't say anything at all.
Felix waited—one breath, then another.
When nothing came, he nodded faintly to himself, pushing his chair back with care.
"Fine."
He stood, hands trembling as he smoothed his shirt—a nervous habit he hated Matteo seeing.
Then he turned for the exit, his silence speaking louder than any goodbye.