Chapter Text
It was late, Leonardo was out. After his first completed portrait commission for the Auditore matriarch, he had been paid handsomely for a job well done. La Donna Maria had been so excited for another to be done by him that she elected to pay in advance for future services. A guarantee for her loyal patronage and a generous repeat client for Leonardo. His luck was certainly picking up now.
After a scandal that cost him his relationships and reputation in da Vinci, it was difficult to find steady work in his new residence in Florence. So far, he had been working more for less and it was more toll on his energy and finances, considering the material costs it took to produce even small pieces of work. Not many had been willing to pay more for a no-name artist regardless of the skill required to produce “such fine portraits!” as his various clients would exclaim. Not fine enough to pay him fairly, in their opinion at least. Fortuitously, his work for the Madonna Auditore had gone well, her good word might prosper him clients among the nobility, those who could pay him his due. Then, he might be able to support his other endeavours not just as an artist. Oh, the hardships of being talented but poor!
Following that line of thinking, he knew it was crucial to save his coins for rainy days, but still, t’was time to celebrate! No good celebration was complete without wine or a handsome but humble feast of good bread stuffed with cheese. He had just returned from his trip to the market, and while he was not able to get anything fresh because of the late hours, there was still enough to get him something delicious from the evening bakers. On a whim, his feet took him for a stroll by the Arno. He decided to make a small detour and take the long route to his residence. Then, he would be able to enjoy the peaceful evening and watch the setting sun light the sky in a garden of warm hues. Life was beautiful!
Leonardo enjoyed his slow pace as he took in the bustle of the thinning evening crowds. He had one hand securely holding the strap of his pack that he slung across his chest while the other held the bottle of wine he purchased. It was already open and he had taken occasional swigs from it like any man of his time. When he finally made his way to the bridge’s centre parapet which was thankfully unoccupied of other whimsical sunset appreciators. He critically eyed the various gondola that would sail under it. Their designs were mostly plain and unadorned but there would be the rare gondola that was decorated most luxuriously. They were either privately owned or charged heavier coins from their passengers. Most of the gondoliers would not spare him a glance but some who were polite and perhaps looking for passengers would greet him. He was leaning on the bridge’s parapet with his elbows when one of them said, “Buona sera! Looking for a ride?” They already had a passenger, a handsomely dressed young man, but they seemed to have dozed off, probably from drink, told by the pink tint to their cheeks and the red wine stains on their lips. “Buona sera, messere, no thank you,” Leonardo called back. He toasted to the gondolier with his bottle and the gondolier tipped their cap back before sailing on.
At some point, he had taken out the bread from his pack and was making his way through with finger bites. He threw a bit in the pond when he spied a stray fowl floating by. It eagerly stayed for more but Leonardo wasn’t about to let the fat little urchin make him another sucker for its cute and feathered ways. Little did he know that this thought would be tested not even a minute after it passed.
A young man no older than what he guessed was 14 summers or so appeared at his side. It wasn’t so much as suddenly appearing but a slow pace taken on silent feet. Leonardo was struck by beauty and inspiration the moment the young man came into his vision. His immediate features were what begged his attention. Short black curls delicately framed a caramel brown complexion. Where his skin, even under a layer of dirt, looked supple, unblemished, unheard of for anyone grown to that age. Many lords and ladies would envy such skin, free of the pockmarks that he often had to leave out from his portrait commissions. Their neatly shaped and thick brows impressed a gentle but strong character. A straight roman arched nose which any nobleman could only wish they were born with. Dry lips centred with a cupid’s bow, the corners of his mouth curled enigmatically and served to tempt with the plush of his bottom lip. Lastly, his eyes. Oh, what pretty eyes! A dark shade of chocolate brown shaped like almonds and framed with thick, curled lashes. Heavy lids drooped but only made them look more alluring. Though still large and bright with youth, the soul-tired expression that made them wan was contradicted by a glow Leonardo could see was not just from the sunset. The young man looked both like a prince and a pauper.
Leonardo, internally, wept. Could he perhaps offer them to be his muse? Before he could continue that line of thought and every other thought that raced through his mind like shooting stars granting wishes, the young man finally spoke.
“Messere, would you be kind enough to share your bread?” The young man said this demurely, not meeting his eyes but eying the bread preciously. In what was a subconscious move, the young man bit the bottom corner of his lip.
Oh! Oh, that made sense. Now that he gave a second, less rosy-eyed look, the young man’s face was thin, like he had been starved for some time but the breadth of his shoulders curved along thinly dressed robes and scarves told of a past of hard manual labour. Speaking of, the young man wore odd robes. Foreign and ill-fitted. Drab and too loose, like they belonged to someone three times larger. They draped over his form unflatteringly and the sleeves extended past the young man’s hands.
“Yes, of course, here,” he coughed. “I’m sorry for staring, you can have this.” The young man no longer seemed to pay him mind and reached for the bread quickly. He seemed to catch himself though, realizing how rude he was being. Holding the bread to his chest, as if afraid it would be taken away from him, he dipped in a light bow. “Thank you very much, you really helped me, messere.” Leonardo was surprised, not expecting the manners, but was curiously taken by it anyway.
“No worries, my young friend! I am glad to be of help. I feel a little terrible now for having thrown some pieces to the birds but hopefully, there is enough left to tide you over.” Leonardo hopes the young man was too hungry to notice his less than sly attempts to observe him. He did not want to leave a wrong impression, but it was hard not to stare at someone with such intriguing contradictions from their looks alone. The strange young man was a walking mystery and he was hard-pressed to leave it unsolved!
“Come, friend, join me here. You may have some of the wine as well. You look parched and I would be a bad host to leave a guest wanting,” he attempted to make friends, motioning to his side by the parapet. The young man hesitated for a second as if to consider whether he should take the offer or just take the bread and go. Understandable. Thankfully, he chose to join him.
The young man stood next to him to face the sunset as well. The bottle of wine between them served as an invisible boundary. What surprised Leonardo was when the young man broke the remaining bread in half and offered a piece to him. “What’s this?” He received the bread but only held it, wondered why the young man who clearly needed it more would return half to the one to give it in the first place.
“Breaking bread, with my friend,” the young man smiled impishly. Leonardo smiled and toasted to that, “Then, to new friends!” They tapped their breads together and laughed at their shared silliness.
“I am Leonardo, from Vinci. Might I know the name of my new friend?” Leonardo started once more on his bread, eating it in even smaller portions in the hope of making the conversation last longer but also save some for later. Perhaps later his new friend would like seconds after finishing his own piece. Desmond ate his bread in little bites as well, somehow with more care and delicacy than he expected from someone dressed so humbly. “My name is Desmond, from nowhere really.”
Leonardo’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I see you have secrets to keep, it makes me curious but I shall not pry. I suppose I would not be too keen on telling strangers my past circumstances as well.” It was Desmond’s turn to look at him curiously. Though not fully, he still seemed hesitant to make full eye contact. Perhaps there was a story there, but that was for later. Once more, Desmond’s lips quirked. “That makes me curious too, but I also shall not pry,” he said with mocking jest. “At least not until we get to friendship level 5,” he added.
“Level 5?” Leonardo asked for clarification. “Oh, that means, uhm,” Desmond turned shyly back down to his bread which his long fingers now fiddled with. “Friendship levels, it’s like when you deepen a friendship with someone enough to start revealing things by the level of familiarity. It’s dumb, sorry—”
“No, no! My friend, I quite understand it now, thank you! It’s quite a way that you have explained it. Most people understand this concept but I have never heard someone put it into words before." Leonardo was delighted by this young man’s odd way of phrasing, as well. “Will you explain to me what the different levels are? How many are there in total?”
Desmond side-eyed him while chewing on his bread. He was probably thinking Leonardo himself was strange, hah!
“There’s Level 1, people are more like friendly acquaintances and they only know each other’s names, ages, place where they live. That kind of stuff.” Stuff! “Level 2 is like favourite colours or hobbies. Shoe sizes, maybe? I’m not too sure.” Desmond turned back to his bread apologetically. He paused for a moment to eat and chew. Desmond did not yet seem to hit the age of puberty yet but his build looked to promise his frame to gain a height similar to Leonardo's or even more. Though, he had the terrible habit of hunching over to appear smaller. It made Leonardo imagine unpleasant scenarios. The self-protective yet servile attitude was a pattern he commonly found among the abused.
“Level 3 is,” Desmond hesitated, gauged his interest, and then went back to his bread. It was nearly finished. “Level 3 is when they start sharing, uh, maybe stories about their pets or work. Level 4 is probably when they start visiting each other at work or going to eat at each other’s house. Level 5 is when they start sharing stories about other friends and family if they have those.” Desmond explained as much and his voice dry-croaked a little by the end. Poor man. Leonardo silently extended the wine bottle closer to him. Desmond dipped his head in a small bow again. “Thanks,” he said then took a swig and coughed. “Oh dear, are you alright?” Leonardo patted him on the back, a useless gesture but automatic all the same. The wine had spilt past Desmond’s lips, painting them a lovely pink. He wiped off what dribbled down his chin with the back of his hand but it was still wet and just smeared farther across his jaw. "I'm alright, just not used to this kind of drink."
Leonardo patted his pockets for a handkerchief and made an “aha!” when he found it. He offered it to Desmond who hesitated once more in taking something but eventually did, with great reluctance. He wiped it across his chin carefully before looking at it worriedly. “Do you want this back?” He held it out to Leonardo who certainly did not mind losing a handkerchief in the service of friendship. “No need, my friend. You may keep it as a token of passing our first trial in friendship, a trial of life and death!” Leonardo said this most seriously and tried to wave the handkerchief away as if it was a troublesome fly. Desmond appeared to find it more humorous than he expected. He threw back his head and let out a sharp laugh that slowly petered down to giggles. He tried to cover it up but it was too late. “Perhaps we may skip the 5 levels and go straight to whichever entails the saving of friends' lives,” Leonardo suggested.
“I suppose that could work out. Thanks for this,” Desmond grinned and Leonardo was put through another internal crisis. How is it that the young man’s smile could light up brighter than the stars? The sun’s setting rays also gave the young man’s skin a radiant glow. He looked divine. Was he an angel, sent to him by Heaven to lead him to the narrow, or was he a temptress meant to lure him down the path of Hell? Ultimately, hell hath spoken.
“We could also do level 4 if you like. I hope this is not too presumptuous of me, but I would like to invite you to my home where we might continue this conversation, without the cold on our backs." Leonardo shivered to emphasis. "I will also gladly offer to put you up for the night if you require lodging?”
Desmond was stunned, told by the raise of his brows and blank confusion in his eyes. “Do you offer your home to just any hobo who asks for bread?”
Ah, he was caught. “I’m afraid not. I am not as altruistic as I would like to imagine myself to be, I apologize.” It was Leonardo’s turn to have difficulty making eye contact. “Perhaps you are already aware of this but, you are very handsome.” Desmond’s brows shot up even further. “I mean this objectively!” Leonardo raised his hands to calm down any concerning concerns that are of valid concern to anyone with concerns. “I am an artist, I paint! Among other things. I find beauty and creativity wherever my eyes turn and it has led me to some troublesome situations, certainly, but I uh,” Leonardo was going to say it, better now than never. “Would you, perhaps, like to serve as my muse?” Leonardo winced at his own words. "I am not very rich, but I have recently come into a bit of luck so hopefully my income will be able to pay you as well for, well, being a muse." He was never so self-conscious about it before, but the delicacy of his position these days made him question certain things now. No more follies of youth, he promised himself. Just, appreciation. Inspiration.
Desmond, who had fully turned to him sometime during their conversation, had crossed his arms but less in machismo and more in a hunched defensive stance. His draped hip cocked slightly opposite from where he leaned a single elbow against the parapet. What a vision. “You are entirely too obvious, Leonardo.”
Shit. He was doomed. He would be hung by the gallows, he would lose his hands, he would lose everything again.
“But don’t worry, I think you're also very handsome.” He would not lose his life!
“You would stay the night?” Leonardo looked at Desmond. Really looked. Desmond looked back. Leonardo looked back harder. Desmond looked back with equal intensity.
“I’ll stay.”