Simon’s not about to complain. Silvio’s been nothing but kind in choosing to look after him. It may not be Michelin star level meals, but Simon never expected that. It was tasty and warm and sat well in his stomach even when his appetite was absent. It smelled good which gave him an excuse to close his eyes and breathe it in (instead of staring at his friend’s very nice body).

No, stop. Don’t think like that. That’s what got him in trouble to begin with.

He sank into one of the chairs, eyes fixed on the plate Silvio set in front of him. It took him a moment to compose his thoughts and he sucked in a long breath before he spoke.

“I owe you…” What? An explanation? Wasn’t it just a dumb excuse? “An explanation, at least. That’s going to require some transparency and… It’s not wholly comfortable for me to talk about it. But when it’s done, if you don’t want me here, I’ll understand.”