This is it.

Wow.

For Good is definitely a good song to listen to in this beginning part.

Here we go.

Enjoy! :)

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It takes an hour to get to Naples from Campania, and it takes a lot of time going through customs and security and whatnot, and a lot of time to just ... get ready in the morning; so once they get up they are determined to at least try and do everything in an orderly and timely fashion.

Now, they're at the airport, and it's getting close to the time where the passengers need to board the plan.

Now, it's nearing 11:00 am, when Sean's flight takes off.

They stare into each other's eyes lovingly, full of sadness.

Neither are ready to say goodbye just yet.

"So. This is it." Antonio states it plainly. They both know if he does anything else, they won't be able to take it.

"Yep." Sean's response is just as flat.

There are a million things Sean wants to say. But just what does he say?

He feels a lump in his throat. If this continues, he won't be saying anything. 

"Thank you," Antonio blurts out first. "Thank you for this week. This has been one of the best weeks of life. I wasn't planning on it happening--who could have planned on something like it? But ... gosh, I feel like I'm repeating myself like a broken record over and over again--I wouldn't change a thing."

"Me neither," Sean agrees whole-heartedly.

A small smile creeps up Antonio's face. "You've said that a lot too."

"Yeah." Sean smiles. "Yeah, I have."

That's when he realizes something. "Did we ever get each other's phone numbers?"

Antonio's eyes widen. "I don't think so." He whips out his phone. "Gosh you're such a genius--I had almost forgotten!" He opens his phone and hands it to Sean. "This'll be quicker."

Sean hands Antonio his phone and they type their phone numbers into each other's phones.

"I'm glad I remembered," Sean says as they hand each other their phones back. 

"Yeah, me too." Antonio bites his lip for a moment. "I don't know what I would have done if I had no way to get in touch with you."

"Me neither."

There's someone making a public announcement in Italian. It's too fast (and too distorted coming through the microphone) for Sean to understand, but Antonio flinches at it.

"What?" Sean asks urgently.

That's when the same PA is made in English.

"Flight 815 to New York is now boarding."

Sean looks at his ticket, wishing the numbers would scramble, or something.

It states clearly on the ticket that his flight is flight 815. 

And the gravity of the situation hits him.

His flight is boarding now.

He needs to board the plane.

He looks back up at Antonio, knowing Antonio has come to the same revelation.

Sean closes his eyes. He knows it won't stop his eyes from beginning to water, but he stubbornly holds on to the idea that it will. He exhales deeply and opens his eyes. It appears Antonio is having the same problem.

"I'm going to miss you," Antonio says tearfully. "Molto."

Wordlessly, Sean hugs Antonio.

They stand there, holding each other, in a tight embrace. They hold on to each other like they're each other's singular lifeline, like something bad will happen if they let go.

Neither one wants to let go.

"Ti amo," Antonio whispers in Sean's ear.

Sean closes his eyes. "E ti amo."

They hug tighter.

Until they finally pull away.

They look into each other's eyes, their hands still clasped together.

"I will see you again," Antonio says determinedly. "I will."

"And I you." Sean hesitates. "So this is the final goodbye, isn't it."

Antonio bites his lip and shakes his head vigorously. "Not goodbye. Goodbye means forever."

"...What about arrivederci?"

Antonio smiles, but still shakes his head sadly. "That doesn't change anything."

"Then I'll settle on 'I will see you again'."

"Me too." 

Then, finally, after a few last lingering moments, they pull away.

And Sean boards the plane.

Sean finds his seat quickly. It's a window seat. He goes through the motions of putting his carry-on up in the overhead cupboard, then takes his seat.

He pulls out his phone and earbuds and presses shuffle on the playlist and leans his head against the window.

He's convinced he can still see Antonio behind the glass windows of the airport.

When the plane finally gets on the runway and takes off, it's Una Cosa Più Grande that starts playing.

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

Antonio doesn't know how long he stands there, just staring out the window. He watches the plane take off.

And then finally he leaves.

He gets in his car, and immediately starts his favorite playlist--the one he trusted Sean enough to listen to--to try and keep him sane, to keep him from stewing in his emotions.

It doesn't work.

He almost breaks down as he backs out of the parking lot as Una Cosa Più Grande is the first song that plays.

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Sean knew he was signing up for an eight hour long flight--nearly nine hours, even, but just like his flight here, it finally hits him just how long it is as the hours drag by going over the Atlantic.

He isn't bored, to say the least: he loves looking out the window at the clouds and the water below, and he has his phone (looking fondly at all the photos he took) and a book with him. He's just ... lonely. To some it may seem hard to be lonely when there are two people sitting next to him in the same row, but that's not what's making him lonely.

It's that he here, and Antonio isn't.

He hadn't realized just how close they had become. Yes, he knew how close they became--but not how close. Closeness as in ... he doesn't know what he's going to do when they're apart.

He knows. Or at least, he knows what he's been told. He's done with college; so now it's time to move on in life. Now it's time to start applying for jobs that are more than just part-time jobs trying to live through college, to find a rhythm, contribute to his trade and therefore society as well. Make a down payment on a house, have a stable job, make money, be successful. Something that he's just accepted is how it's going to be.

But is that really what I want?

He remembers what Antonio said one of the earlier days--or it may have been the day they had met.

What counts as a real job?

So ... what does count as a real job? Or a successful life? What is important? What should he spend his life doing?

Who should he be spending his life with?

Sean only wishes he knew all the answers.

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

Antonio gets home and he does absolutely nothing. He doesn't want to do anything. He just ... lies on the couch and thinks; promising himself he'll do things tomorrow.

Normally, when he denies himself food and water and sleep and other things, he blames it on executive dysfunction and ADHD. But now it's something different that's stopping him from doing something: he can't move on.

Why, why did I say goodbye?

He looks through all his playlists, knowing that there's gotta be something he created to fit his mood. Finally, he finds one, presses play, and closes his eyes.

At least I did get some closure, Antonio thinks, trying to find something positive. I said ti amo and he said it back.

True, it's good that they started out as friends instead of rushing into a relationship. 

But they were too scared of making it anything bigger. And now it's too late.

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

Finally, Sean's flight lands. It took off at 11:00 am, and now it's 20:00 in Italy.

Meaning it's only 5:00 pm here.

Nothing like coming back to America on the Fourth of July, Sean thinks wryly. Go patriotism.

Then he realizes that it's only an hour to dinnertime.

He's just gotten so used to waiting until 20:00 at earliest to eat dinner.

He remembers the dinner that he and Antonio had last night. That was one of the best meals he's ever had. 

He remembers Antonio showing him how to prepare the food, and laughing when he wasn't doing it exactly right. Him spilling flour didn't help. There was a lot of laughter last night.

And delicious bread. Lots of delicious bread. And tiramisù for dessert.

Sean loved it all.

He misses it. It hasn't been that long, and he misses it.

It always is strange coming home from a trip; Sean's had years of experience. Traveling somewhere is like going to another world, and coming back is like crossing the threshold back to what's familiar but somehow different because you were gone and it's slightly disorienting at first.

He's feeling that now, but on a much greater scale than he usually feels.

Going to Italy, spending nearly the whole time with Antonio, that was another world. And it wasn't anything like this one. But now he's back to this one, and not only is it disorienting, it's surreal. It's so surreal.

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

It's 21:21 right now, meaning it's 6:21 pm in New York, meaning that Sean is probably back to his house or wherever he lives and is possibly eating dinner right now. The idea that Antonio has no idea where exactly Sean is in this moment frightens him.

He stares at Sean's phone number on the phone's small screen.

He could call him.

He can call him right now.

But he knows he's too cowardly to do that.

He's done a lot of brave things lately. Saying that he liked Sean, saying that he loved him. Those were brave impulses.

This is him just have an inner crisis over whether or not he should.

And right now the call him now! side of his brain is losing.

He has a life, remember?

He sighs.

He has a whole life without me. He's probably happy right now. He doesn't need me bothering him.

Was this last week even real? It doesn't feel like it was real. It's almost like it was all a dream. And without Sean here, it's even more like waking up from a dream: there's no proof that it had ever happened.

Except he does have proof. 

Not only does he have the contact that he can't stop staring at, he also has photos. True, he doesn't have as many as Sean probably does (seeing as Sean was the tourist and Antonio was not), he still got some good ones.

Some of those 'good ones' are him taking pictures of Sean when Sean wasn't aware of it. He grins at the faces Sean is making in some of them, having been caught unawares of the camera. Then he encounters a good one: the wonder on Sean's face after they came out of the Blue Grotto.

Antonio remembers telling Sean one of the things he believes in: that pictures can never truly capture the soul of the moment. Maybe they can, maybe they can't.

He continues looking through them. They took a lot at the Cesare Cremonini concert, and at Milano Pride. And the places he took of places while Sean was sleeping on the ride home.

Looking through these photos, he realizes he was wrong. It's not that these photos don't capture the soul. It's just that he's living in a world where those moments are over. And all he has to remember them with is in these photos.

And he's okay with that.

Suddenly, the song comes up. The song that will always now be their song.

He forgot that it was a part of this playlist.

For the past few hours, he's just been going through his playlists, still not feeling much. Of course this song would appear at some point.

But this time, he takes the time to truly, truly listen to the lyrics, to understand them.

And in a way, it's telling the story of them. It's telling the story of everyone. It's telling the story of them, of Luca and Alberto, of everyone on this Earth who has lived and laughed and loved. They're all a part of one thing bigger.

Antonio knows that he can't let Sean go.

So he begins to initate the first move to them continuing keeping in touch.

He starts typing a text message.

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

Sean is sitting on the couch eating a microwave dinner that possibly could have expired while watching the movie Luca when his phone pings beside him.

Having no idea who could be texting him right now, he picks up his phone curiously.

It's one single word: Ciao

It's from Antonio.

Sean starts smiling.

He turns the TV volume down as he stares at the text.

And suddenly, lyrics come to him: Dimmi, ciao (ciao).

The opening lyrics of the song that Sean knows he'll never forget now.

He stares at it longer.

Antonio is telling him ciao.

Whether or not Antonio purposefully did that to go with their song, Sean will never know. It's up to him to interpret it however he wants.

Sean could say ciao back. Or hi, or any other greeting. Or technically, anything he wants. 

After some contemplation, he settles on Come stai?

He smiles when a few moments later he sees the three dots that means Antonio is texting him back.

He looks outside the window, noting the place of the sun in the sky. It, along with every other element of this moment, contributes to creating this feeling, to this moment that he's in. He feels the wonder and awe of it.

And in this moment, he realizes that this isn't an end. This isn't the end of the story. It doesn't have to be the end of the story.

This can be the start of a new beginning.

After all, every thing is just a part of something bigger.

THE END

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Oh my gosh, there it is. That's it. That's the ending.

I ... have no clue what I'm feeling right now.

I threw myself into a bigger rollercoaster of emotions with these past three chapters than I was anticipating.

Well. When I first had this story idea, it was 100% fluff. So technically, this is more emotions than I was anticipating in general haha.

I ... can't begin to say just what this story means to me. Can't begin to describe what it was like watching this story grow. How much I freaking loved writing it. Even if it didn't always go where I thought it went, or when I was stressing over whether it was good or not. It's not up to me anymore, anyway, if it's good or not: that's for all of you to decide. No matter what your emotions are right now, I hoped you enjoyed reading this story.

And I hope I got you to think, at least once--I love writing stories where I make people think.

Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I say goodnight till it be morrow.

Of course, that line loses its meaning if this is the last chapter.

Unless, of course ... there is an epilogue.

This is me we're talking about--of course there's an epilogue! haha

Hey, I left a lot unsaid. I tried to make it relatively satisfying ending-wise, but there can always be more.

I think I'm out of words now.

Love you all <3

Please, no homophobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section.

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who can't believe they're wrapping up this story, and loved writing this story so, so much)