god's breath ✬ enzo&novak

l o r e n z o    e m b e r s t a t t   .

The morning after.

He awakens with a migraine, eyes flinching in the brightness of a bedroom at eight a.m.. There's a pounding behind his eyes and the smell of liquor on his tongue - whiskey? Bourbon? It's not an unfamiliar scenario, just an unfamiliar setting. Lorenzo has been here a dozen times in different rooms, and so he gives way for a moment, laying in the bed with his face cupped in his hands. He rubs at his temples and pulls his knees to his stomach, cuddled up in the warmth of himself. 

Oh, I'm naked. Still? Must have been a good night. 

Enzo feels the smooth of his exposed thighs meet with his stomach as he folds himself in bed. Besides the smell of his own breath, the room smells of burnt wood and a dark cologne. When he finally opens his eyes, he's greeted by the far wall first, and then black sheets. Soft, a higher thread count than he has in his own homely abode. He mentally paints a picture of who he wound up going home with without moving a muscle. 

It's in this stir up that he feels a muscular arm wrap around him, gripping him by the chest and pulling him closer. Lorenzo feels a warmth in his face as he's greeted by the sensation of someone's exhale on his neck and ears. Warm is all he feels, and it's part of his philosophy to let himself enjoy this for just a second. Part of the fun is a mystery, from the arm alone and the musk he pictures a farmer. Too on the nose; perhaps a mechanic. 

Yet, he remembers the nights in flashes. Namely drinking with Jimmy, and one too many whiskeys. Okay, perhaps a few too many. His drink of his choice, a poison that always gets him in these deadly positions. Lorenzo clears his throat before finally checking over his shoulder, and it comes back to him quick. "Oh shit," he says under his breath, a paralysis coming over him as the situation registers. 

Adrian Novak, in the flesh, his arm draped around Lorenzo's chest. 

He settles back next to him for a second as he decides what to do next. How to do this, rubbing his eyes until stars emerge, and then the rest of his face to the temples once more. What a headache, literally. It's hard to think through the pounding in his forehead, but he comes to the decision to rotate himself, coming face to face with the one and only. 

"Good morning, Mr. Mayor," he says, voice deepened in his sleepy stirring. "What a surprise, meeting you here like this," come here often? 

l o r e n z o    e m b e r s t a t t   .

He sees the regret in Novak immediately and tries to convince himself not to feel insulted. 

Perhaps the mayor just isn't one for aftercare. Enzo feels hurt for a moment, shrinking in his body as he chews his bottom lip. Was it bad? Lorenzo was something to admire, a hail piece of the district, and to not be treated as such was a dagger to his ego. Enzo's thick skin was dove soft in the morning, he props himself up on an elbow as Adrian Novak leaves the bed. Informal as it may be, Lorenzo should have known better than to expect anything of a man like him. 

Besides, it was just a drunk one night stand. 

That's all it was. Lorenzo had had plenty and surely Novak had enough notches on his bedpost through his years. With how easy it was to wind up in this situation with the man, he couldn't have regretted it too terribly. He watches from the comfort of the covers and Novak straightens the room first, and himself after. Just curiously, eyes surveying the bedroom that belongs to his mayor before looking over that of his body once more. 

A sight for sore eyes - he couldn't be too upset. Sure, it'd never happen again, his self-worth would take the hit once Novak never talked to him again, but it might just be worth it once he gets to tell Jimmy all about it. It'll make a good story, from the pool to the strip poker to waking up as two warm bodies together. Novak throws clothes from the night before at him and he takes that as his cue to drag himself out of the covers, sitting on the edge of the bed fiddling with a button up and a pair of socks. 

"This was a serious lapse in judgement," he says, as if Lorenzo wasn't insulted enough. 

"I can't agree more," Enzo responds bitterly under his breath. It must have been pretty bad, all things considering. A lapse in judgement? Call it a mistake why don't you; Lorenzo had enough of those to last. The train ride to eleven, that dim room on floor 4 in the Capitol, they both come to mind before Enzo can shake them out again. "You have to get dressed," the mayor commands, and who is Enzo to say no? 

Clearly, he must leave, the sooner the better. 

He slinks out of bed, leaving the black sheets behind for boxers and a pair of slacks. His hair a mess, surely, his breath something deadly. The remnants of Lorenzo was a disaster but it could be worse, he could have no- ah, "where are my shoes?" He asks, dejection in his voice. He walks the perimeter of the bed and comes up with nothing, scratching at his chin as he gives up his search lightly. They must have kicked things off quick, his loafers never making it to the bedroom with him. 

It couldn't have been that bad - Novak must simply regret Lorenzo altogether. 

Most people do. 

He doesn't look Novak in the eyes as he walks towards the door of the bedroom, yawning as he reaches for the handle. 

l o r e n z o    e m b e r s t a t t   .

A glimpse of the hallway is all he peeps before the door is shut in his face, Novak hunched over him, face-to-face in an unexpected hurry to keep it closed. Lorenzo's face drops as he overhears the butler's call out - has there always been company? How drink had he even been not to remember this? It still fogs his mind, the hang over just as brutal as the migraine pounding away behind his eyes. He looks into Novak's as they stand in the doorway, keeping his gaze even as the mayor looks elsewhere. It registers poorly to the Emberstatt boy, confused moreso than anything else. 

Why so intense? He didn't dislike it so - truthfully, it brought a flush to his cheeks he couldn't deny. Lorenzo was beginning to hate how attracted he was to this man who clearly wanted less and less to do with him as the minutes passed; they were nothing, and would continue to be nothing. It wasn't his taste, a hit and run hook up with no contact after, and he imagined that would be the most Novak would want from him. 

The mayor seemed angry in a way, as if Enzo was nothing more but a guy in the way of the start of Novak's morning. And in the way he was, squeezing his way from beside Novak and the doorframe back into the bedroom, his socks gripping to the carpet with each step. What was that about, he wonders as his mayor points to large closet. "You're joking," the closet? Really? It had been a while since Lorenzo was forced into one of these in a hook up, since his teens surely. 

It was with a hesitation expectation that he believed Novak meant hiding in it, but Adrian meets him at the frame and shows him what appears to be a hidden tunnel. It's the most Lorenzo can do to keep his "the hell?" to a mutter minimum. In a strange manner, he felt overwhelmed with the need to laugh at the situation - who exactly did he sleep with last night? "You can leave this way," Novak tells him, and he feels stunned in disbelief. 

Definitely one of the weirdest hook-ups he's had for sure. 

Just wait until he tells Jimmy all about this. 

Still, the mayor leads the way, climbing down and into the hole as Lorenzo still works through the shock of the situation. "Fine," he spits, "but I'm taking these," Lorenzo says as he picks up a pair of size twelve dress shoes. Leather in their make and more expensive than he could afford on his own now, surely. It seemed Novak was more than willing to pay the price to get him out of his hair, so Enzo would make sure to make him pay in his own ways. 

Now taking a step in Novak's shoes, he follows after the mayor into the crawl space below. It feels like something out of a rebel movie, if he didn't feel like such an annoyance he would be enamored with how cool it seemed. Slim as he is, a hint of claustrophobia sets in as he feels the tunnel close around him, yet he follows after Novak just as ordered. "Just stay behind me," he says, and Enzo obliges. He wonders to himself how long this much run, and how long it must have been apart of the house above. 

The two walk in a muffled silence, just the sound of shoes meeting rock filling the air as Enzo, for once, had nothing much to say. A sense of shame fills him on the trail; the more he interacts with Novak, the less he understands the man entirely. "So, what," he starts, "did the tunnel come with the house or something?" Lorenzo jokes, a sick curiosity emerging from him as he thinks over how one comes across a secret exit in their own home. Even stranger, how one goes about getting one made to begin with. 

l o r e n z o    e m b e r s t a t t   .

The mayor confirms Lorenzo's strange suspicion: that this is all by his design. 

Odd. From his knowledge, there were no hidden tunnels in the Emberstatt estates - neither his dad's, nor Kieran's. The thought of Marlboro having anything of the sort seems like a joke, but being in the rocky passage knocks the smile out of it before it ever forms. In a way it was cool; if he was younger, he might be enjoying himself a bit more. But the combination of the hook up, the hang over and the hole in the closet, Lorenzo couldn't find it in him to be enamored. 

They stop at a fork, with Novak explaining the road less travelled as the path to his secret hide out. It sounds like something out of a superhero comic, "an apocalypse, huh?" He repeats back, tongue in cheek. What could cause that in District 10? A question that makes his mind wander in concerning ways; maybe the mayor knows something the Emberstatt boy didn't. Maybe... the Capitol? 

"Left is to hunker down, right is to escape."

"Right it is," he says, the less I see, the better. At this point, he was becoming less and less interested in repeating this to Jimmy, nevertheless anyone else. He couldn't even picture how Saff would respond to the whole thing - you did what with who?! It was becoming a part of his reputation, between Beck, the Izar princess and now Adrian Novak, that he couldn't resist a relationship with a little drama to it. Only this time, even he knew he had made a mistake. 

This can't happen again, he tells himself, but how often is it that he actually listens? 

Catching up to Novak, Lorenzo wonders how much further it must lead, and where exactly they would shoot out of when they left here. He imagined a shack in the middle of nowhere, inconspicuous in its design. Comical, but in reality he had no clue. A laugh sneaks out of him though, and his mouth starts running before he thinks it over twice, "you always sneak your men out this way? See, I normally just use a back window," he says just before they come to a stop. 

Destination reached, he presumed. A large red door with a spinning handle stands in their wake, and he can only wonder what surprises Novak has left behind it.  

l o r e n z o    e m b e r s t a t t   .

As they inch closer to the exit, Lorenzo breathes a sigh of relief. It's easier to pretend that this isn't crazy now that he's almost to the other side, taking space in what seems to be an underground storage room. Crates line the walls and spill into the center of the room while thoughts cram inside of Enzo's mind quite the same. Cluttered, overwhelmingly so, mostly of Adrian Novak himself. It felt as if he was learning a bit too much of the man, he didn't seem the type to open up easy. Part of it was endearing, seeing how caught off guard Novak has been with the aftermath of their hook up. Perhaps Enzo just enjoys being someone else's mistake, for it feels more familiar than being asked to stay. 

Easier, too, to walk away himself. The circle continues itself, Lorenzo long giving up on anything of substance coming out of sex. It's just sex, and here, even less so. He doesn't even remember the act, the night before a blur as well; however, he doubts he'll forget travelling through this secret tunnel. That will stay will him for a while, just like the pair of boots he took with him. Something about sleeping with the mayor feels special, like he can cross out another line of his bucket list now. Novak admits he doesn't do it often, and Lorenzo waits to see his face crack, a shift that'll expose a lie but it never comes. 

Guess I'm just that bitch! 

A smirk grows that he hides over his shoulder, turning his back to Novak to stick his nose where it doesn't belong. If the doomsday vault was anything to go off of, he wondered what Novak hid here. By the time he looks up again, Novak is back down the stairs, waiting for him by the far wall. Lorenzo meets him there, greeted with a handshake... "really?" There's a huff that escapes his lips - what is this, a business deal? How clueless, Enzo crosses his arms and bares his chest, disapproval evident on his face. 

The mayor gives him brief instructions on how to find his way home- or at least, to the main road. "I'm sure you can find your way," he says.

"You'd be surprised," but Lorenzo settles for walking home alone, as he often does. As disappointing as it may be, he should be used to it by now. Adrian gives him an apology just as any politician would, but it isn't enough to satisfy - why is it that Enzo still looks for something more? What more could he really want, he already snagged a new pair of boots here, what, his jeans too? "It's fine, really, I'm sorry too," more so to himself than to Novak. 

Another one night stand down, he'll see him again at re-election and pretend this never happened. They won't spare two words for each other, and Lorenzo will be happy about it. He makes his way up the stairs and through the exit without another exchange of words or glances, shutting the door behind him and embracing the outside air. 

"Ah shit," my belt! No going back now, really. He whistles to himself as he walks to the nearest phone booth, calling down his dad to pick him up and save himself from the walk of shame.