Sorry I've been gone forever :( *has been missing less than a month* 

A month is still longer than I've ever been missing before. Don't worry They didn't take me ashfkjadshfks

So ... what now??

A soft beginning, that's what :))

Enjoy!:)

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Spot wakes to a gentle forehead kiss from Race and soft murmuring in his ear. "Buon giorno, mio tesoro. Amore mio. La luce di mi vita. Occhi miei. Mio cuore."

A smile spreads on Spot's face while his eyes are still closed. Slowly, he opens his eyes to see his beloved's face above him, beautiful brown eyes shining, a soft, caring, loving facial expression--one that makes Spot wish he was good at art, so he could capture this lovely face forever.

His smile widens. "Good morning, sweetheart. Cuore mio."

Race's eyes light up. "That was Italian!!"

Spot chuckles. "That was the point, tesoro."

Race beams. "Music to my ears, amore mio."

Spot has no response, so he just stares up at Race, hoping he can convey how much he adores him, and how he would give Race the moon and the stars if that was possible.

Race tilts his head. "What?"

Spot lets out an amused chuckle. "Nothing. I just..." he looks into Race's eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

Race blinks warmly with a nod, a sign Spot has learned is a silent way that Race says yes.

And so, with a smile, he gently pulls Race's head down towards his, closing his eyes as their lips come into contact.

Spot will never get tired of this.

He's so grateful he has Race. He has no idea what he would do without him.

Last night was...not easy. Seeing Stargazer like that.

But Race was there for him. 

And because of Race, everything was just a little bit more bearable.

"Nonna made colazione and I made hot chocolate," Race tells him when they separate.

Spot grins. "What are we waiting for then?"

-------------------------------------------------------

"Funny, could've sworn we saw you recently," Andrea muses as Race and Spot enter Box A--Race's box. "You come here quite often. Are you sure you don't have a gamblin' problem?"

"Funny, I could say the exact same things about you," Race returns easily. It took a while to get used to Andrea's sense of humor. But now that he has, he doesn't hold back.

Giacomo snorts. Andrea glances at him, looking fake-betrayed. And so Andrea retorts to Giacomo, "y'know, I think you fit the bill as well as Race and me."

"Nah, I'm not the one betting heaps on every race, I'm levelheaded," Giacomo responds easily. Spot and Giacomo grin at each other.

(A/N: they would have high fived here but high fives aren't invented for another 70 years)

"Say, we did wanna talk about somethin' a lil heavier," Race mentions in a more serious tone as he and Spot sit down.

The mirth in Andrea's eyes is replaced by a more serious look, all attention on Race. "What's that?"

Race moves his lips around, trying to figure out how to start. "I mean...we were wondering...I...I mean..." he glances over to Spot for help.

Spot, picking up on Race's faltering and silent ask for some help, supplies, "we've been trying to figure out how we can help those affected by Them."

Race sags a little with relief when Spot sums it up perfectly.

But he can't help but feel a little bad that he couldn't come up with that himself.

He's supposed to be good with words. Or at least, that's what his family has told him. Heck, he even led a rally. So why is this so hard?

"Well you can start by financially compensating us," Andrea answers.

Giacomo shoves him. Race blinks as it takes a moment to register that he's not serious.

Andrea clears his throat and adopts a more serious look once again. "They hurt a lot of people, in a lot of different ways. They took many things. Dignity, time, sense of worth...things that are harder to get back. Honestly, for me? This right here is healing. Coming to Sheepshead to gamble. Something I couldn't do in the years behind Their bars. For me, it's gaining back the autonomy that I lost in there."

"For me, it's having someone who listens," Giacomo says quietly. "We had our voices silenced in there. That was the worst thing for me: having my voice taken away. And I think many people feel the same. I think it would help to just listen to a lot of folks, you know? About anything. About their families, their lives, their interests, or what They put them through. Healing doesn't just happen overnight. But, I think...if you listen...it could definitely help the healing process go faster."

Throughout that time speaking, Giacomo scrunched his shoulders in, trying to take up less space. Race frowns. They also probably beat it into him to take up as least space as possible.

Andrea puts an arm around Giacomo comfortingly. Giacomo leans into Andrea.

"Non ti preocuparti," Andrea murmurs softly to Giacomo. "Mio raggio di sole. Lo ripararemo. Insieme." Don't worry, my ray of sunshine. We'll fix it. together.

Race smiles.

"What's raggio?" Spot whispers to Race.

"Ray."

"Ray of sun?"

"Yeah."

"Ray of sunshine?"

"Yeah."

"Aww."

Race glances back at Andrea and Giacomo. No matter how they define their relationship, they're sweet. Very sweet. Race has a feeling that they are going to stick together for a very long time.

In fact, it wouldn't surprise Race if "a long time" turned out to be forever.

There's been a small high voice shouting every now and then that's become more frequent now that there is a pause in the races. Race hasn't paid much attention to it, but he turns his head when he hears something that sounds an awful lot like one of the colorful Italian words Andrea and Giacomo taught him at age eight, one that they made him swear not to tell anyone he knew.

He sees a kid with brown skin, who looks like he's probably the age Les was during the strike. He's selling buttons and ribbons, and is muttering to himself in a language that is not English. Race's eyebrows knot, trying to understand what sounds so much like Italian but is not quite Italian...

It's when he hears ¿qué es la palabra en inglés? that it clicks that this is Spanish.

He walks up to the kid, with maybe one or two Spanish phrases under his belt. "Hola chico. ¿Que tal?"

The kid looks up at Race with wide brown eyes, then proceeds to start speaking in faster Spanish.

Race interrupts apologetically. "Lo...siento chico. No mucho Español. Italiano o Inglés."

The kid deflates. "Oh." He tilts his head. "Then why...are you talking to me?"

Why is Race talking to him? "Well, I heard a word that I wasn't quite sure your...abuelos would wanna hear."

The kid stares up at Race defiantly. "You judging me?"

"'Course not," Race responds. "Just wanted to know why a kid your age would know such a word."

The kid squares his shoulders. "And how old do you think I am?"

Shoot. Race is awful at telling kids' ages. "Uh..."

The kid raises his eyebrows.

"Ten?" Race guesses. "Dieci--uh, diez?"

The kid hmphs. "Eleven. Once."

"Close enough."

The kid rolls his eyes--all the way around, like Race does, instead of only part way like other people do. Because apparently "rolling your eyes" wasn't supposed to mean all the way around. That's something he didn't learn until about a year ago.

But this kid does. And that's when Race notices that he's flicking his fingers in a way that Race is all too familiar with, one that has gotten him many odd looks, a way that Ray encouraged when he figured out it helped Race.

...And this kid dropped the eye contact as fast as he could.

Maybe Race should start with a proper introduction. Instead, he says, "you're... like me."

The kid tilts his head. "How?"

And so Race lets his mask fall. He moves his hands how he likes to. He hums a tune he likes repetitively. His tongue flicks out and in. And he makes sure throughout it all that his eyes are having eye contact with the ground

Race glances at the kid's face after a beat to see his eyes widen in wonder. "You...you do that too?"

Race grins. "I do."

The kid's jaw drops in awe. "Wow. I thought...I am the only one."

"I thought I was too," Race admits. "But it seems not." He glances again at the kid. "I ain't so good with words all the time-"

"Me neither," the kid interrupts eagerly. "Spanish or English. And sometimes the words don't come, you know?"

Race nods emphatically. "Oh yes." He knows all too well. "And it's hard to describe how you're feeling."

"Yes, yes yes!" the kid bounces excitedly. Then he stops. "sorry. that was..."

"You've been told it's 'too much' too?" Race asks sympathetically.

The kid's shoulders sag. "Sí."

Race purses his lips and thinks for a few moments. "Well...I know that not everyone likes it..." he glances fondly back at where Spot is. "But you'll find people who'll accept ya."

The kid brightens. "¿De veras?"

De veras...

...Sounds kind of like davvero.

And so Race smiles, pretty sure he knows what that means. "De veras."

And then he remembers introductions. "I'm Race." He offers his hand.

The kid takes it. "Emiliano."

They pull their hands away quickly, both rubbing the hand absentmindly on themselves to get rid of the sensation.

"Where are you from?"

"I'm from here. Brooklyn. But my parents are from Cuba."

Cuba. Not pronounced how Race heard Americans pronouncing it the only time Cuba really mattered to them, which was the Spanish American War--"cew-buh". There was no ew coming out of this kid's tongue--la sua lingua, his...-"what's the word for language? It's like lingua yeah?" "Yeah, in Spanish we say lengua."-...su lengua.

(Race notices that when Emiliano says Spanish, he adds an e sound to the start of the word. It hits him that it's probably because Spanish in Spanish is Español. But in Italian, Spanish is just spagnol without the e sound. He wonders what other words Italian and Spanish have in common that would be nigh identical if not for a single letter.)

"And you are from Italy?"

Race shakes his head. "I'm from Manhattan. But my grandparents are from Italy."

Emiliano nods wisely. "Ah. So we are the children of those who left their homes for something better."

Race stops a moment. For someone who says he's not good with words, that was pretty eloquent. 

Race gestures to the buttons and ribbons in his hands. "And you're helpin' provide for the family?"

Emiliano stiffens. "No. Just me."

"How come?"

"Gone."

"Oh. I'm sorry, kid."

Emiliano goes quiet for a moment. Race worries that he made Emiliano shut down, in a way all too familiar to Race. "It was...bad people."

Race stops. "Bad people?"

Emiliano nods solemnly. "Greedy people. My parents knowed...knew what they do. They tried to stop them, and then..." he trails off.

Race's thoughts go fast.

"What were their names?" Race asks quietly.

"Estefan and María."

Race thinks a beat. "Come with me over here, chico. I wanna introduce you to some folks."

Emiliano eyes him wearily. "And I should just trust you?"

Despite everything Race chuckles a little. "Fair point. but these are my friends. Nothing's gonna happen to you. Ti prometto."

Emiliano raises his eyebrows. "Muy bien."

And so Race leads Emiliano back to his friends, and hears Emiliano mutter "te prometo, ti prometto..."

"Hiya fellas," Race announces his presence. "I brought a friend."

"Ciao, ragazzo!" Giacomo greets him. Spot gives him a little wave.

Race whispers to Andrea, "Say, you wouldn't happen to know an Esteban and María, would you?"

Andrea's eyes go incredibly wide. "You don't mean..." he glances at Emiliano.

"Yep."

Race thinks of how he's going to tell Emiliano.

But it turns out Andrea has already got something in mind. "Hey kid, uh-" he turns to Race, who supplies his name. "-Emiliano. I'm Andrea. And this is Giacomo." He puts his hand on Giacomo's shoulder. "We worked with Esteban and María Cisneros."

Emiliano's eyes go wide. "You...knew my parents?"

Giacomo nods solemnly, catching on fast. "We did. They were good people. And they were brave. Very brave."

Emiliano blinks as his eyes begin to water. "Gracias."

Giacomo gives him a small smile. "Prego. De nada."

Race pulls him into a hug. "Sta bene, chico. They took my parents too. Long before I could ever really know them."

"Really?"

"Really." He hugs Emiliano closer.

Spot whispers in Andrea's ear, "Is there any chance they survived like you did?"

All Andrea can do in response is shake his head sadly. But how he knows that for sure is a story for later.

"Say, I have an idea," Race murmurs to Emiliano.

"¿Qué?"

"Stick with us. Take some of the stress of surviving off your shoulders. We can work together to learn what happened to them together, and find a way to make it all better, okay?" 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Emiliano hugs him tighter, and Race makes a decision right then and there that he is keeping Emiliano. This is his new fratellino, his new--("what's 'brother' in Spanish?" "hermano." "Thank you. And what's 'little brother'?" "hermanito".)--hermanito. No, he's not entirely sure what he meant by "find a way to make it all better," but that's something that they'll figure out later.

Suddenly, for the first time in a while, Race has found a new purpose.

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Doot doo dooo up past my bed time

So how was that?!

UnFORTUNATELY, high fives and fistbumps in the 1970s. So I could not have used either of those here sadly.

Emiliano is my OC :) I did not know much about him before writing this story and I still really don't, but he is going to become an important part of this story, and Race's found family.

For the beginning...I may or may not have just lied down on my back to see if it was comfortable to bring my neck up or body up for a lying down kiss and wrote the passage based off my findings haha

Autonomy became a word in the 1500s, and became associated with autonomy of the self in the 19th century.

So,, I have been a writer for some time, and as much as I would love to say that I'm more secure I do gotta admit I do feel more gratification when I see people interacting with the story, like voting or comments. You are under no obligation to, but I found that sometimes I get more motivated when I see people comment on my latest chapter. Now I feel guilty for saying any of that...

I think I thought all my thoughts. I should probably go to bed now.

(Yes, I'm posting this at 11 am, but I wanna keep my original sleep deprived notes for posterity or whatever haha)

Please, no homophobia/transphobia/aphobia, profanities directed at other users, hate etc in the comment section at all times.

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who is begging all of you to read The House in the Cerulean Sea and its new sequel Somewhere Beyond the Sea by TJ Klune, or just any TJ Klune book in general)