Road to Rome

Marco ended up slipping into the library, the common dining room, and the garden, of course, and in that order.Few things are more alluring to such veteran troublemakers than bans.If Theo didn't say anything, Marco wouldn't be interested in a place like a library at all.The dining room was even more boring, with bare stone walls on all sides, two long tables placed side by side, and the air smelled of boiled potatoes and stale beer.Marco had stolen a silver napkin ring, which Antonio confiscated when he discovered it, and smuggled it back into the sideboard before dinner.

The gardens are a bit more interesting and much larger.Labor was part of the daily routine, and the monks cultivated potatoes, cabbage, tomatoes, and various herbs themselves.They even set up a greenhouse to care for edible plants that are afraid of the cold.On a small table in the corner was a single pot of orchid, spreading its fat leaves hopefully, facing the bleak sunlight outside the glass.The two make love at this table, lying on the tarp, sweating from the fake summer in the greenhouse.The glass roof looked like it hadn't been cleaned in ages, and many heavy rains had left a dry riverbed like trail.Antonio rests his head on Marco's arm and looks at the dirty sky with him.

The singing came from the direction of the chapel, a chorus, a Gregorian chant[*1].Monotonous, with little ups and downs, Antonio imagined the singing as an infinitely extended black woolen thread that twists and turns on the terrazzo floor and ends in a bottomless cavern.The darkness of the cave is not frightening, but like a pool of undisturbed warm water, like sleep, or death, or the calm after orgasm.

"Is this the life you wanted to live when you came to Rome?" Marco asked. "Pray, sing, grow basil?"

"Almost." Antonio turned his head, "but not quite."

He stopped here, and suddenly regretted taking the conversation, he didn't want to say that dream about the Vatican library, as if if he just put it into words, even just once, it would blow away like ashes in the wind, never to be realized again.What's more frightening is that the library seems to have exited his dream. Antonio now wants the cardinal's ring and bright red robe, and also wants others to add the word "Your Excellency"[*2] when addressing him.Marco looked at him sideways, waiting, and asked "What is it?" after the silence exceeded expectations.Antonio glanced at the sky again, looked away, and leaned over to kiss him. Marco made a surprised sound, gently supported the back of his neck with his palm, and accepted the kiss.

"I don't think I'd mind if you evade problems that way a lot," Marco said, rubbing his cheek lightly with the tip of his nose.

It wasn't my intention, Antonio excused himself in his mind, it was the angle of the light, the senseless impulse of the moment, and the fact that the place was just too hot.More balmy weather to come.April creeps slowly into May, wildflowers burst into clumps overnight in the grass, and raccoon paw prints appear on the window sills, very fresh, and the muddy water on the edges has not yet dried.Antonio and Marco, on an early morning walk the day after the bloody incident of a fox attacking a captive chicken, noticed two fox cubs fighting over a gnawed bird breastbone.At the moment when the two said "Look" in unison, the cub suddenly raised its head, its ears pricked up, dropped its chicken bones and fled, its two small tails swayed between the lichen-covered tombstones, and disappeared not see.

They spend more and more time outdoors, partly because of the weather, partly because of polite evictions.If that wasn't obvious enough, Theo's next line, "If If you want to go, the chef will prepare simple sandwiches for you," leaving no room for misunderstanding.Antonio thanked his old friend for his "good advice" and said that he has always wanted to see the red-tailed falcon, and he might be lucky enough to witness it in the mountains at the end of April.Theo looked relieved and smiled gratefully at Antonio.

The red-tailed falcon, which was used as an excuse, turned up in the end.At that time, the two had just spread the tarp stolen from the greenhouse on the edge of the woods. Marco was looking for stones to flatten the edge of the tarp while continuing to tell anecdotes about the pier. Had two bites of the corned beef sandwich.Marco, who was waving his arms and playing the role of the furious Panamanian captain, suddenly stopped, lay down on the tarp, tugged on Antonio's sleeve, and motioned him to follow suit.

"why--"

"Shh, keep your voice down, look." Marco pointed down the hillside, "On the left, in the red birch forest, the tallest tree should not be difficult to see."

Pretty conspicuous, by wild bird standards.Antonio quickly found the red-tailed falcon parked on the top of the red birch. The branches are soft. The wind is strong today. The bird swayed gently with the crown of the tree. Brown-red tail feathers.

"It's beautiful," whispered Antonio, glancing at Marco.

The falcon spread its wings and flew up, hovering for a while, then suddenly half-folded its wings and dived towards the grass, grabbed a writhing little black spot, pulled it up again, and flew away with its prey.

"Yes." Marco replied in a low voice, holding his hand, "a charming little killer."

Antonio glanced at their hands: "It's too cold here."

"We brought blankets."

"You know I mean more than just temperature."

Marco looked puzzled. If Antonio didn't know him, he would believe it was true: "No, I don't understand exactly what you mean, Father."

"It doesn't matter." Antonio withdrew his hand, "Just pretend I didn't say it."

Marco laughed and leaned over to kiss him, moving sideways little by little until he was on top of Antonio.The priest shivered, but not entirely from the cold.Marco groped and pulled the blanket over. This blanket was no bigger than a normal bath towel and could only cover their heads and shoulders.Antonio pointed out the wrong use of the blanket, and Marco laughed again, still continuing the kiss, not in a hurry to rip Antonio's clothes off as usual.This made Antonio feel uneasy, and at one point wanted to protest that we are not lovers, stop it, if you are going to fuck me, do it directly.Being too intimate always gives him the urge to run away, and straight sex is far better than kissing, more like a mutually beneficial agreement, and an agreement is always manageable.But Marco didn't give him a chance to speak, and Antonio didn't really want to break free, and his desire to escape was not as strong as he imagined, not yet.This time they do it slowly, face to face, and hug each other.Both were still wearing thin sweaters and shirts, the fabric sliding and rustling.Marco gasped against the crook of his neck, his cock fully withdrawn, then slowly slid back in, and he repeated this until Antonio called his name and scraped his nails hard on his back.Marco pulls out and rubs their erections against each other, not a good idea and it takes at least 15 minutes for the two of them to realize the mistake.Wet marks left on the sweater were fairly noticeable, and wiping wasn't very helpful.Marco proposes to cover up a bad idea with a bad idea, pouring beer over the sweater to create a bigger water spot, so that to unfamiliar eyes, it looks more like the two have accidentally fallen into a puddle, while Not just performed mating tricks in front of squirrels and birds.

"You expect people to believe that we slid into the same puddle at the same time and somehow didn't wet the pants, but got a similar water stain on the sweater."

"Yes, very accurate." Marco took out the neckless glass bottle[*3] containing beer from the picnic basket and shook it, "Are you coming first or am I?"

In fact no one paid attention to their clothes at all.The sun had already touched the treetops when Antonio and Marco saw the bell tower of the monastery in the distance.By the time they were sneaking across the garden, it was completely dark.Marco took him in from the kitchen and greeted the cooks naturally. Antonio didn't even know when he knew these people.The kitchen is steaming, everyone is busy, the meat has just been put into the pot, and the mushroom soup on the stove has not been cooked yet, it is estimated that the dinner bell will ring in about ten minutes.They returned their picnic baskets, ran down empty corridors, smirked like little boys, and retreated safely into their bedrooms to change into clean clothes.

"Reminds me of the rare good times in middle school, especially the days when I got the booze stolen."

"I'm afraid I haven't had a similarly pleasant experience of theft."

"Your loss."

One must be careful not to get too accustomed to such days.The next morning, after waking up again in Marco's arms, Antonio warned himself.It was the last day of April, and it was gray outside the window, with rain running down the glass.Soon Father Clement will be here, they will make a deal, and I will have nothing to do with Marco Costa. "Rain." Marco suddenly uttered a word inarticulately, hugging Antonio tightly, rubbing his chin lightly on the top of his head.

"Yes, Mr. Costa, it's raining."

"Do you think Brother Oliver would bring breakfast to bed?"

"He's not a hotel employee."

"Fortunately not, otherwise I would have been fired the first week."

Antonio briefly imagined Brother Oliver wearing the uniform of a doorman and receiving guests in an expensive hotel, and held back when he was about to laugh, lest Marco would be encouraged to continue verbally attacking the poor monk.Marco closed his eyes again, obviously intending to sleep a little longer.While Antonio was staring at the window, wondering if the bells had rung for the morning prayers, there was a sudden knock at the door, which startled them both.Antonio got up immediately, put on his shirt and sweater, and walked towards the door. He remembered something halfway, went over and messed up the unsleeved bed on the right, and pressed a hollow in the middle of the pillow with his hands, and then opened the door.

Friar Oliver stood outside, without breakfast of course.While talking to Antonio, he kept watching his shoes carefully.Father Clements set off from New York City early this morning, the young monk declared, very fortunately, before the weather turned bad, and he would be there in half an hour at the most.

"Please tell Monsieur Costa." Brother Oliver looked at Antonio, even though Marco was less than six feet away. "Father Clement wishes to have breakfast with him."

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Note:

[1] Gregorian Chant, an unaccompanied Catholic hymn.

[2] "Your Eminence."

[3] After the end of the prohibition period (after 1933), beer companies used neckless glass bottles (called stubbies) or short-necked glass bottles (called steinies) to fill beer, and the long-necked glass beer bottles we are familiar with until the 1950s just became popular.