Gypsy wind

~2~

"And yet... how did you end up in Spain?"

Vegas lost count of how many old streets and colorful neighborhoods they walked through that evening, holding hands. And now they're somewhere in the middle of a deserted patio. Pete suggested that we sit right on the old wicker furniture. Vegas's feet are buzzing, he can hardly imagine how Pete trampled his feet.

"It's a long story."

"Uh..." Vegas looks around the empty terraces, "are you sure no one lives here?"

Pete tosses a ripe apple in his hands and throws the other to Vegas.

"About my question: I'm not in a hurry."

Vegas has a reservation at the hotel, but he probably won't get there soon today.

"Hmm," Pete chews and turns his gaze to the open sky, "ten years ago, my mother and I had to get out of Thailand."

To get out... so abruptly?

"Why?"

"Well... something like a change of scenery. Or get lost among strangers."

"And your father?"

It was impossible to hide from Vegas how the muscles on Pete's pretty blond face tensed. Lowering his head, the guy answers:

"He died... back there in Thailand."

Vegas frowns and answers quietly:

"My father... died too. And I hardly knew my mother."

Probably, purely intuitively, Vegas is waiting for some kind of sympathetic gesture or word. But instead, Pete, oddly enough, curls his lips into a kind of cold smile.

Vegas is not at ease. There was no trace of the carefree, cheerful guy who stood there among the gypsies. However, after a few seconds, the old good-natured smile lights up Pete's face.

You can switch mood modes quickly.

"Tell me, how did you get to the gypsies?"

"Ramirez took me under his wing once. Well, he saw that Mom had a hard time in a foreign country at first."

"Really? There was no one here except the gypsies who decided to help you?"

"Yes. What surprises you? Why are they worse than other people? No, well, the fact that some of them don't mind stealing something is a fact... But in the rest - people are like people. However, with their own laws. And everyone in their community obeys the gypsy baron. Even Ramirez. Although he is very cool. And also... they're so free. Like the wind."

But Ramirez is not the most important... Vegas almost grins out loud with bitterness: he knows well what it's like to spend your whole life on the sidelines and being at the beck and call.

"Eat an apple, why are you rolling it in your hands? Vitamins. One apple a day keeps the doctor away. That's what my mom always tells me."

"Thanks for the advice," Vegas opens his backpack and puts the fruit in there, "but you don't mind if I eat it later, do you? I really don't feel like it right now," Vegas takes out a bottle of water, "will you?"

"No, the apple is juicy, I don't need water."

To confirm his words, Pete opens another one, and apple juice begins to flow from the edges of his lips, getting on his chin and neck.

"What are you looking at?" Pete asks jokingly, " if you like me - just come and take."

Vegas is almost choking on water. Embarrassed, he decides to relieve the tension with a light flirtation:

"Just like that? We barely know each other. It's very risky. I would even say... dangerous."

Pete gets up and walks over to him:

"And it's dangerous to live at all. People die from it."

The last word seems to take Vegas off the handbrake. This is what he so wanted to escape from, what he so wanted to forget: the sight and smell of death. And if right now the only thing that will let him forget is this guy's lips and hands, then so be it.

Pete takes him to a pile of old sheets under a canopy of plum tree branches that grows wild right inside the patio. At first, they kiss each other gently and carefully, and then Pete, with a touch of savagery, bites his lips into his shoulder. His hands and lips, the warmth of smooth skin and nimble fingers. That's all Vegas wants to see and know right now.

°•★•°

The sweet apple taste is still felt in the mouth. Vegas stretches tiredly but contentedly, hoping to feel a pleasant body on the side with his hand.

But there is only emptiness.

Vegas sits down and sees a naked back. And then he hears:

"If you want to hide the truth, tell it by a third. Right, Vegas Kornwit Teerapanyakun?"

"Uh," Vegas looks around at his backpack with the documents. "I see. You looked there."

Pete looks over his shoulder.

"I just knew you had to end up here sooner or later. Don't ask me where from. Gypsies have their own sources."

"Well... and what's next?"

"Next?" Pete's eyes narrow. 'Indeed. What's next... I remember giving you one attempt to guess my story. I'm giving you a new one."

Vegas lowers his head. Her thoughts swarm like midges in the heat. And then he remembers that cold, mocking grin when he talked about his father's death. And the most unkind guesses begin to be born in my thoughts. He looks up at Pete with an anxious look, and Pete, as if reading his mind, says:

"Yes, Vegas. You see how, sometimes, the lace of life is intricately braided."

"I've killed people many times, Pete," Vegas admits, seeing no point in pretending. "But your father... I wasn't there. I was too small…"

"I know. Your father's hand did it."

"And now what? Will you take revenge on me? I'm not getting out of here alive, am I?" Vegas grins, putting his hand in the back of his head. "You know what? Go ahead! I'm already fucking tired of running away from myself!"

In response, they look without malice at all, as before — good-naturedly and with mischief. Pete reaches out to his head and removes a blade of grass from his hair. And then he puts his hand on Vegas's cheek and gently strokes it:

"Why are you yelling?"

"I'm like a gypsy myself, Pete. I don't have a home or a shelter If it wasn't for the younger brother... I would have finished everything myself long ago."

And Pete suddenly squeezes the strong bindings of his wrists with his fingers. And he whispers right into Vegas's ridiculously protruding lips:

"Do you want me to be your shelter?"

They don't part until dawn. Vegas feels calm no matter what. Resting his head on Pete's shoulder, feeling the curls of his hair tickle his forehead and temple due to the free wind, Vegas is at peace with himself for the first time in a long time. He doesn't want to run anywhere, he has no need to explore new countries and wander through unfamiliar cities. He still has something to keep silent about. But now there is someone in his life with whom he can share this silence.