The hallway smelled faintly of antiseptic and old air, the kind that lingered in hospitals long after cleaning. Matteo's footsteps were slow, his coat whispering against his legs, the bouquet of lilies clutched tightly in his hand.
He didn't acknowledge the nurses. He didn't need to. They'd learned by now—when Don Matteo arrived, silence followed.
The door gave a soft click as he pushed it open.
And there he was.
Felix.
Still. Unmoving.
Bathed in the dull half-light that seeped through the blinds.
Machines hummed with steady rhythm, his chest rising and falling as if pulled by invisible strings.
Matteo paused at the threshold, breath caught in his throat. He stood there for a long, aching moment—just watching. Just breathing.
Then he stepped inside, his shoes hushed against the tiled floor.
He set the bouquet on the table gently, as though afraid of waking something fragile. His gaze never left Felix. Slowly, Matteo reached out and brushed back his lover's hair with careful fingers, as if each strand mattered.
"Hey," he whispered, voice low like a secret. "I bought you something."
His eyes traced Felix's face, pale and quiet, too quiet.
"You liked lilies, didn't you?" His tone softened. "You always said they made the apartment smell like spring."
He sank into the chair beside the bed, fingers brushing invisible dust off the blanket.
"I used to say they were too soft," Matteo admitted quietly. "And you told me that was the point."
A breath trembled through him. He leaned closer, lips almost brushing Felix's ear.
"I never bought you flowers before," he confessed, the truth heavy on his tongue. "Not when you were awake, at least."
His hand found Felix's wrist, just above the IV line. His thumb lingered, feeling the faint warmth of skin.
"I used to think… you already had enough softness around you. You didn't need mine."
He smiled faintly, but it didn't touch his eyes. "Maybe I just didn't know how to give it."
The machines kept their rhythm. Matteo's thumb stroked slowly across Felix's knuckles, grounding himself.
"I went to church today," he murmured, as if changing the subject might ease the weight pressing on his chest. "Didn't pray much. Just sat. Didn't feel like I should ask for anything. Just wanted to… sit."
His gaze flicked back to the bouquet. "Then I saw those. And I remembered you, humming while watering the balcony plants. I never told you, but sometimes I'd stop just to listen."
His voice caught.
"It's been a rough week. I yelled at Alfredo. He didn't even do anything wrong. Papers piling on my desk like they're breeding. I don't sleep much."
Matteo leaned back slightly, his hand still wrapped around Felix's. His voice cracked into something raw.
"I miss your noise," he admitted. "The way you'd complain about burnt toast. Or laugh too loud at stupid movies. I miss the way you filled the silence."
He let the words hang, heavy in the sterile air.
"I don't know what you're waiting for… but if you're fighting, Felix—I want you to know I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
He didn't expect an answer. Not today. But he stayed.
Because maybe staying… was its own kind of prayer.
Matteo's thumb brushed the silver band on his finger—their ring. He rolled it once, twice, the metal glinting faintly in the sterile light. A sigh slipped from him before he realized it.
And then—
the past stirred.
---
It had been spring.
The estate gardens burst with color, blossoms spilling like paint across the grounds. White roses, freshly cut that morning, lined the paths. Crystal glasses glinted. Soft piano notes carried through the air.
Felix's smile wouldn't leave his face.
He stood near the fountain, cheeks glowing in the afternoon sun. His suit was too crisp, his tie slightly crooked despite multiple attempts from the staff to fix it. His fingers fussed with it nervously.
"Matteo's going to tease me," he muttered.
An older maid chuckled beside him. "Or maybe he'll fix it for you."
Felix bit his lip, laughing softly. "He barely looks at me these days. But he will today." His voice carried quiet determination. "He has to."
A commotion by the garden arch drew his attention.
Matteo had arrived.
Twenty-two. Tall. His dark suit sharp and severe, his expression unreadable, carved from silence. Gold cufflinks glinted at his wrist like sparks of fire.
Felix straightened, his heart thudding wildly.
Matteo's steps were steady. Too steady. Eyes forward, gaze not searching.
When he reached the waiting circle of family and allies, someone pressed a small box into his hand.
Felix's breath caught. He stepped forward, excitement barely contained.
Matteo opened the box.
The ring inside gleamed.
Soft claps and smiles rippled through the gathering. But Matteo said nothing. He simply took Felix's hand and slid the band onto his finger with a touch so light it barely lingered.
Felix searched his face, hopeful. "You're not going to say anything?"
Matteo's dark eyes met his, just briefly. "This was your father's wish."
Felix's smile faltered. "But is it yours?"
A silence thickened between them before Matteo said quietly, "It doesn't matter."
The words landed like stones, sinking deep.
Still, Felix held his hand tighter. Still, he smiled again—brighter, wider, as if his light alone could pull Matteo closer.
"Then I'll wait," he said softly, pressing their fingers together. "Until it does."
Matteo's gaze drifted away, settling on something distant. Or someone not there at all.
---
Back in the hospital room, Matteo still turned the ring on his finger, slow, deliberate.
He placed it gently on the blanket beside Felix's hand. His voice dropped into a whisper.
"You were always waiting, weren't you?"
The machines beeped on.
The lilies stayed still, untouched but alive, filling the room with presence.
---
Somewhere else.
Felix stood barefoot on a white floor that stretched endlessly, the world stripped of sky, ceiling, or sound. Only stillness. Only silence.
And then—
a shimmer.
A wall that wasn't a wall. Clear as air, solid as glass. Every time Felix reached, his hand struck something unseen but unyielding.
He pressed his palm against it. Nothing moved.
On the other side—fog.
"I know you're there," he whispered. His voice echoed back, a question unanswered. "I know you're trying."
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the barrier. His breath misted faintly, proof that warmth still clung to him.
Then a voice. Low. Calm. Male.
"Why fight so hard for someone who never truly saw you?"
Felix didn't turn. "Matteo sees more than he says."
The voice came again, softer now. "He didn't smile when he placed the ring on your finger."
"I know," Felix whispered.
"You were duty. A weight. Not love."
Felix pressed harder, palms flat to the invisible wall. "Even when duty hurt him, he stayed. That means something."
Fog shifted. A faint outline appeared—a hand pressed faintly against the other side. Hesitant. Trembling.
Felix's heart skipped. "See? He's coming."
The voice darkened. "He was always late."
"But he came," Felix said, voice breaking.
He lowered himself to his knees, forehead leaning to the cold barrier, fingers splayed. "I've seen it… the way he tries. Every silence, he tries to make up for now. And I see him."
Quiet.
Then, softer: "And you'll just… wait?"
Felix didn't move. His eyes closed.
"I'll wait," he whispered, "until he tells me it's okay to leave."
The fog stilled. The faint hand trembled—once—then vanished.
Alone again, Felix stayed kneeling.
But warmth stirred beneath him. A single crack split across the barrier—thin, fragile, but real.
The white stretched on.
But now… a window. Like fabric torn open, floating mid-air.
And through it—Matteo.
Sitting by the hospital bed, head low, shoulders heavy. Flowers in hand.
Felix's breath caught. "Matteo…"
He reached for the window, fingertips brushing the edge. Warmth sparked faintly, then dulled.
Matteo lifted his head inside the vision, eyes rimmed red.
Felix's chest ached. "You've been crying…"
"I bought something for you," Matteo murmured, voice distant like it traveled through water. "You like flowers… don't you?"
Felix's lips trembled. "You remembered."
Matteo leaned forward, brushing hair from Felix's forehead—the real Felix, lying still, pale. Machines steady.
Felix pressed his palms against the window. "I'm here, Matteo. Can't you see me?"
"I never asked you…" Matteo's voice cracked. "If you wanted this. I just… followed the promise. Your father's will. I didn't know how to love you right."
Felix's tears blurred his vision. "But you tried. Even when you couldn't say it—I saw you."
Matteo turned the ring on his finger slowly. "I wish I could go back. Do it over."
Felix pressed harder. "I wouldn't change anything—if it meant I still get you."
The image flickered.
"No—don't fade—please—" Felix's voice cracked as he reached desperately. "Just let me stay, a little longer."
"I should've said I loved you more," Matteo whispered.
Felix's lips quivered. "You didn't have to. I always knew."
The window blurred, edges dissolving like ice melting away.
Felix stood in the white again, fists trembling. Alone.
But then—
a sound.
A heartbeat.
Not just his.