Tango and Other Dangers
by zimena
- Scumbags! Do you still not understand that you're not welcome here?
The voice of the middle-aged woman carried easily across the dance plaza, piercing the silence and the peaceful morning atmosphere. However, Sergio didn't even react. The angry tone stung only slightly as he continued sweeping the ground to clean up after last night's dances. He was used to this; growing up on the edge of society had long since taught him to ignore such insults.
Still, he bowed his head slightly to avoid one last hateful look before the lady directed her attention elsewhere.
"Kun?" He almost jumped at the sound of his name, before refocusing his mind to the little girl who was still skipping about with a jump-rope near him. "Why was that lady mad at you?"
The simple question caused a wistful smile to cross his lips as he crouched to be on the same height as the girl. Long corkscrews of black curls tickled against his face as she stepped closer and embraced him, but she had not forgotten the question. "Why?" she repeated innocently.
Sergio choked back a sigh. She was still young enough to view each case of hostility and malice separately; still too innocent to understand that it targeted her as much as him. Their lifestyle made them different, and their only safety was in each other. However, she would learn soon enough, and he was not going to remove the veil of child-like trust right now.
"Florencita," he began. "Do you know what I think? I think people are sometimes mad at what they don't understand, because it's easier to be mad than to be afraid or sad." He could feel a light squeeze at his hand as the girl nodded thoughtfully. "Just like when I'm mad at uncle Ariel because he can play the violin?"
Sergio could not even answer. A split second later, Florencia had skipped off again, dropping a few words over her shoulder.
"But I wanna learn to play the violin, too!"
Already moving on to the next thing. Already forgetting the serious question from a moment ago, and safely back in a reality where their campsite and the dance plaza formed her entire world.
Sergio's lips curved into a warm smile as he continued his work.
***
Diego could feel the anger burning in his veins. In fact, it was more than just anger; it was fear mixed with the discomfort of stepping over an invisible border he had not even been consciously aware of, but all he could feel was pure, unrestrained rage.
"No!" he shouted fervently. "Aren't you going to understand? I am not going to get married!"
Beyond the cloud of rage that kept him from thinking clearly at the moment, he was aware of the fact that his father had been trying to arrange his marriage and find him a good husband for a while already. However, he had only heard bits and pieces of conversation relating to possible candidates, proposals and groom's wealth, and what he heard did not seem to form part of his reality in any way.
It did not become real to him until now.
"You are lucky because you will have a good husband," his father continued, unaffected by his outburst. "One who has been married before will have learned how to treat his husband kindly and respectfully."
Has been?
The words were the first thing that pierced through his anger and made him at least slightly curious. However, he had no desire to ask; no desire to show any interest. After all, he was still not going to get married.
There was nothing enticing, nothing exciting about the thought of sharing his future with some guy much older than himself. Not even if he was rich enough to be willing to pay a good groom's wealth.
Diego hated his own cynical thoughts. Even through the haze of anger, he was able to recognize the fact that all his worst fears kept replacing themselves in his mind. He felt sacrificed and sold; there wasn't a hint of the happy excitement that should otherwise have accompanied such news. He was not ready to deal with any of this yet, and certainly not ready to get married. Tradition or not; the thought was too much for him at the moment.
"No!" he insisted again, kicking the chair away as he got up. "Listen up, I'm not…!"
Even the words would not come as he stormed off, and only the slam of the door behind him allowed him to release some aggression. Still, he was barely allowed to catch his breath before the door opened again. Quietly, with his father filling the doorway and speaking with calm authority.
"Come back inside. We have a lot to discuss."
The calm reaction scared him as much as it surprised him. It would have been easier to be met with the same anger and shouting he felt himself. That would have been a reaction he could understand; something he could relate to. This calmness only made him feel even more foolish than before. Still, he swallowed hardly as he took a step back.
"No!" he hissed, unable to conceal the fact that he was upset. "There is nothing to discuss. I don't want to…"
He took another few steps away, and had to fight the urge to run away from further discussion. Right now, there was only one thing he wanted to do; only one thing that could relieve the chaos in his mind for a few hours.
"Where are you going?"
"To the dance plaza," he murmured over his shoulder, as if the answer was obvious. Dancing, tango was his only true passion; the one thing that could always take his mind off his irritations. However, he was also aware that his parents considered it a waste of time and perhaps even a sin, even though they had never said much against it before.
They probably thought it was an interest that would pass; not a passion that gave him the only true joy he had ever known.
"Then go," his father sighed, before his tone sharpened considerably. "But remember that you're supposed to be a decent man now. Think about your reputation and don't spend your time on such lascivious activities."
That argument was new. Perhaps even something he'd be unable to counter after tonight. His impending marriage was already adding obstacles to his life. As he ran off with light steps and blonde curls dancing around his face, Diego caught himself thinking that he wished he could have remained a year younger forever.
Still too young to care about marriage. Still able to dance for the joy of it, and not take it as painkilling lethargy injection.
***
The discussion with his father was still on Diego's mind as he approached the dance plaza. Even though the sound of a familiar tune almost managed to penetrate his thoughts, he was still upset to the point that the music did not register in his mind right away. It took him a moment to realize that it was different this time; richer and more alive than the tunes he was used to hearing from the local organito players.
This was the real thing. Live music, complete with violin and viola and bandoneóns and double bass. The thought made him smile before he had even turned the next corner.
If there was one thing Diego loved about the spring, it was the fact that there would sometimes be live music at the dance plaza. Traveling groups of musicians and dancers would set up their campsite nearby, and then play and dance in exchange for money. Ever since he was little, he had always been fascinated with the music and with the skill of the dancers. These were not the amateurs he saw at the plaza every other night; these were professionals who had made tango a lifestyle of sharing the joy with everyone, but teaching their art only to those willing to pay for each dance.
However, not everyone in town appreciated the visit to the same extent he did. Even his own father had repeatedly tried to convince him that these people were nothing but tricksters and thieves, using their skills only as means to get close to you and steal whatever they could. Hearts included, his father used to sneer years ago, before Diego had grown old enough to understand such implications.
That probably explained the fact that they were usually met by intense dislike from married women or shopkeepers or anyone who did not appreciate the beauty of their art. The dislike often turned to hatred and confrontations within a few weeks, and the dancers and their musicians would usually just pack up their caravan and move on to the next town before the conflict escalated beyond control.
Such freedom suddenly fascinated Diego even more than before. For now he was determined to enjoy the visit as much as he could. As he checked his pockets for money, he realized that tonight would be his first dance with a true professional since last year.
He refused to think that it could also be the last.
***
The boy who asked if he wanted to dance was probably even younger than himself.
Still, the details of his appearance registered in Diego's mind with astounding precision after just one look. The white silk shirt had been left slightly open under the leather vest, and the loose black pants had no belt attached. However, even such teasing elegance paled in comparison with the beautiful face and those alluring dark eyes beckoning him closer.
Of course it was only a game. Diego was more than aware of it, and more than adept at cocking his head slightly in modest interest before finally following onto the dance floor. That was his acceptance, as dictated by the rules of the game.
However, as soon as he felt the boy's hand lock in his, he stopped thinking of rules altogether. For a few blissful moments, there was the music surrounding them and the joy of the dance consuming him to such an extent that he moved only with the flow of the rhythm inside. There was no need to think, no reason to stress. There was only natural joy and pure passion, the way the dance was supposed to be.
"You dance very well," the boy remarked later, with a small bow and a hand lightly touching Diego's while subtly exchanging the payment for the dance. The move was still sensual enough to mask the cynicalness of the situation, but as they parted only one thought remained clear in Diego's mind.
At the very least, the compliment had sounded sincere.
***
"There you are! I thought you had run off with a random caravan of riffraff."
There was a laugh behind the contemptuous tone, but Diego ignored it. He bit back a sharp reply that the idea actually sounded tempting before taking a step closer. "No," he murmured dejectedly. "I told you I was only going to dance."
"I know," his father nodded earnestly. "But that's not the full truth, you know. You wanted to avoid talking about your future, and I let you go because I know it must have been quite a surprise and a lot to deal with at the same time. However…" he paused and fixed Diego with a piercing gaze, "there is still no denying that you are getting married soon, and the shameless behavior of a tango dancer is not suitable for a man who's about to get married. It's important to be as pure as you can on your wedding day."
"Such a pity," Diego remarked with more icy confidence than he felt. "But it doesn't matter, as I'm not going to get married anyway!" He shifted his weight to the other foot and swallowed the hard tone in favor of a slightly more respectful one. "You realize that arranging marriages is ridiculous to begin with? I don't want to marry someone I haven't even met, or someone who could be a complete jerk."
"Those are the same arguments every young man has used since the beginning of time."
"Yes, but…"
"There is no 'but'," his father interrupted. "I was arguing in the exact same way you do now before I got married to your mum. Look at us; it turned out fine. You have to trust me to find you a good man, and even if the love between you is cold now, it will grow warmer after a while."
Diego was not sure of that. He was still defiant; still adamant that his marriage was not something to plan behind his back just like that. However, his defiance was met with determined authority as his father went on to talk about his future husband.
"Álvaro is a good man. Marrying him will secure your future. He has a big estancia and more than 20 000 cattle. You will have a far better life with him than anything you have known so far. Believe me, you are lucky and many young men in this town would be glad to be in your position. Why are you still so reluctant?"
"Because…" Diego began, uncertain of how to get his point across, "there is still the chance that he's a creep. Didn't you say he had been married once before? What happened to his ex?"
"He is widowed," was the simple reply. "But you should think about your own joy and not the sorrows of the past. Which reminds me…" his father scratched his chin thoughtfully before letting his tone drop to a level that clearly indicated that the discussion was finished for tonight.
"He wanted to see you at least once before the wedding."
The message felt like a physical blow in the face, but Diego didn't say a word as he followed his father back inside the house. It was simply another proof that he had no say in this at all. Everything was already decided, and his own feelings about it simply did not matter anymore.
He choked back a dejected sigh as the sinking feeling of defeat began to settle inside.
***
It took more than a warning from his father to keep him away from the dance plaza. Dancing was not simply a hobby he could quit; it had become an addiction a long time ago. Of course some kind of tango music would always seep through the windows even at home, and of course the movements had long settled in his body to the point that he could do some of them even with an imaginary partner. However, that did not soothe the need for the real thing and certainly did not calm the way his blood boiled from the withdrawal.
Dancing, Diego decided, made him feel alive and hopeful. The fact that he was already losing on every other account that mattered had forced him to make up his mind. He couldn't allow himself to lose on this account, too.
However, there was a difference this time. Before, he had been care-free and focused only on the dance. This time, he was cautious and on guard; constantly on the lookout for anything that could give him away, any half-familiar person who could spill his secret to his father.
Still, he slipped easily through the narrow streets of the town, towards the plaza that was nestled between the last few town houses and the first few trees of a nearby forest. He suspected that the dancers had their campsite in a nearby clearing in the forest, as he had seen people disappear in that direction the last time around, but it didn't actually matter.
In fact, it puzzled him slightly that the detail had even registered in his mind.
Diego stifled a sigh as he scanned the small crowd in front of him with his eyes. Most of the faces were already familiar; the same crowd that usually gathered at the plaza. He felt safe around them and the claw of nerves he had been feeling since leaving home slowly began loosening its grip. However, he was not prepared for the way his heartbeat seemed to lose its rhythm as he caught sight of another familiar face.
The guy from the other day. The stunning dark-haired boy who had danced with him all evening and even complimented him on his skill at the end. This time he was certainly not that lucky with his partner, as the man kept making simple mistakes and even stepped on the boy's feet more than once.
Diego hid his grin behind the back of his hand, but he could not quite get rid of the feeling that he was being unfair. Most people did not have tango in their feet the way he did, and the mistakes the man was making were neither uncommon nor especially hopeless. However, the sight still gave him a moment of savage enjoyment that he could do better than that, before he remembered that it didn't matter.
Professional tango dancers taught their art to whoever paid well enough. Skill alone was not enough to have their attention.
He stifled a sigh that turned to a slight smile only a moment later, as the boy looked up and their eyes met for a brief second. There was recognition in that look, and Diego felt a sudden streak of hope. He could certainly wait another dance.
The thought confused him for a moment. Only minutes ago he had been convinced he was here only to dance, and yet he was willing to wait an extra dance if it meant a few moments with some guy he had only seen once in his life before. That was stupid at best, insane at worst.
The simple word 'attraction' never even crossed his mind.
***
"You come here almost every night?"
The boy asked with real curiosity in his voice, but Diego could only nod and murmur evasively. He was not sure he wanted to answer questions; even such a simple one felt too risky. However, as the boy held out his hand in invitation for the next dance, he took a tight grip.
He wondered briefly if it was a trick of his mind, or if he was indeed rewarded with a smile slightly wider than it had to be.
Such awareness to detail was a new experience. It scared him at first; he had never expected to be so aware of the boy's hand in his or the subtle movement of a smaller body against him as he hooked his leg briefly around the boy's thigh in a perfect gancho. For the first time, he did not lose himself in the dance. However, he wasn't sure how he felt about this new ability - no, need - to keep his mind focused and his body open to those enhanced sensations he had never felt before.
This was the way tango was supposed to be. Exploring. Close. Daring. More so with each move.
By the time they cleared the dancefloor as the orchestra played a cortina, he was no longer afraid of losing the boy to some other dance partner when the dances started up again. This was no longer the simple, cynical game from last time; he could feel it in the way the boy remained pressed up against him while regaining his breath against his chest.
"What's your name?"
The question was a surprise, but he could read honest interest in the dark eyes that suddenly locked with his. There was a slight twinkle behind the cloudy look, more enticing than anything else Diego had seen all night.
"Diego," he answered easily, no longer as cautious about questions as he had been a while ago. "And yours?"
"Sergio," the boy said with a sudden bright smile. "Or Kun," he said in a lower voice after a moment of hesitation. "Everyone says Kun, really."
Diego could feel his heart flutter in sudden pride and joy as he tasted the unfamiliar name on his lips. "Kun," he repeated softly as he slipped his hand to the boy's lower back and tightened the embrace they had been standing in unknowingly for the last few moments. Only as he was rewarded with another smile and a slight laugh did it register in his mind that they had both broken the unwritten rules of the tango.
Never ask the name of an unknown partner. And for the professionals, never share a nickname outside the family.
However, he was too happy to feel neither shame nor pride.
***
The thin, golden chain weighed heavy around his neck.
Diego had no desire to dress up for the meeting with his future husband. In fact, he had no interest in the meeting at all, and if he ever felt even a slight curiosity, that had been violently quashed last night. Until now, he had only been adamant that he didn't want to get married. Now, he had other dreams instead.
So unreachable that he did not dare to think of them in full.
Still, he closed the lock on the golden chain and opened the top button of his shirt in an effort to comply with his father's orders and look suitably tempting. The whole idea was ridiculous in his own mind, as he was obviously supposed to look tempting but at the same time be pure and innocent.
Traditional arranged marriages were nausea-inducing like that. There was no other word for it.
***
At the very least, they couldn't force him to talk or be friendly beyond normal politeness.
Diego sucked his lips in ever so slightly as he watched his father try to excuse his unwillingness in front of the man who was still a stranger to him. He knew the name, Álvaro Recoba, and he certainly knew the reasons his father had given him about why he should consider himself blessed and lucky. However, he had no desire to get to know the man, and even just watching him from this distance gave him a slightly bitter taste in his mouth.
It was real, now. The trap was closing around him, and there was nothing he could do to escape.
"I'm sorry that he doesn't quite see what is good for him yet."
"It's not uncommon," the stranger answered with a half-concealed sneer. "I assure you, he will learn to appreciate what you did for him in arranging this. In due time."
Diego bit his lip harder as he heard the tone. It pierced easily through his wall of protection with its icy confidence, and it seemed to match the man's looks perfectly. His face was as sharp as the tone; undoubtedly once beautiful, even though the Asian-like features had hardened too much by now to be beautiful anymore. However, it was neither the tone nor the facial features that finally caught Diego's interest.
It was the gaze that locked on him for a long moment. He felt naked under the devouring look; vulnerable as if the man was seeing right through him in search for his flaws. However, the question that was finally directed at him sounded genuinely interested and almost warm.
"You're keeping silent," his future husband remarked. "I know this is not easy for you, but isn't there anything you would like to know yourself?"
Diego almost fell for the trick. Almost. "Only one thing," he said slowly, crossing his arms protectively in front of his chest. "Do you dance? Tango?"
He could feel his own lips curve into a smile as the question escaped his lips. Not the shy smile that was expected of him, but a slightly unpleasant one revealing the fact that he was now on safe ground, talking about the one thing that truly mattered to him.
The fact that he could feel his father's angry gaze in his back gave him a twisted sense of pride. At the very least he had managed to push the conversation in his own direction, without following the foolish rules of tradition down to every last detail. That was a tiny victory in itself; one that made his smile widen with expectation as he dared to hold his future husband's gaze for the first time.
There was a blink of surprise, but they didn't break eye contact. Álvaro took a step closer and lowered his voice. "As a matter of fact," he hissed softly, "I do." He paused for a second and placed his hand over Diego's on the table as he leaned closer. "But not with someone who's learned theirs from those hustlers down at the plaza."
The grin as he pulled back could not be mistaken. Diego couldn't have felt more chastised if he had been physically slapped in the face.
***
Even days later, the words did not fade from Diego's mind.
He turned them over in his head time and time again. Not that he cared about his reputation or the fact that it was already tainted enough to cause such harsh words. Rather, he cared about the fact that escaping to the dance plaza had just become much more difficult. He had always thought he kept his eyes open enough to keep himself out of sight, but now he was almost sure he had been unintentionally exposed.
Álvaro had to know. He couldn't have taken the words and that dangerous grin out of thin air.
No matter how many times Diego turned the words over in his mind, he always came to the same conclusion: It had to be a warning.
The only one he was going to get.
***
The next time he walked to the plaza, he did it with slow steps and many nervous glances around. It bothered him that the warning had settled so firmly, and for a brief moment he wondered if he was starting to accept the horrible truth of his marriage. After all, he should have been grateful for this possibility to blow his chances with Álvaro, not fearful of what could happen to him if he did something his new husband wouldn't approve of even before the wedding.
Surely, coming here one last time was not dangerous?
Diego pushed his worries to the back of his mind as he heard the first faint sound of a bandoneón. It was still a sound he connected with joy and freedom; still one that pulled him closer just as effectively as the sound of laughing voices and pointed shoes against the wooden dance floor. However, it was not his main reason for being here tonight.
Kun. He had to see him again. Every time the name crossed his mind, he ached with need to touch, and hold and if nothing else, just see him again. One last look from afar; one last image to add to his recurring dreams.
The hand that slipped into his immediately convinced him that he has made the right choice.
"I'm so glad you came back," Kun murmured softly next to him, before shifting into the same close embrace they had formed so naturally the last time around. For a long time, they stood like that without exchanging another word. Diego could feel the light shift as they breathed and the silky touch of Kun's hair against his face as the younger man finally muffled a question against his neck.
"Did it mean anything to you? You don't come as often as before anymore?"
It was painfully direct, just like the wide-open eyes that were suddenly fixed on him. If Diego had not planned to give away his worries and be honest, he had no choice now. That look was so open, so pure in its search for answers that he could not keep silent anymore.
"Yes," he whispered. "Yes." He swallowed about half of the word in an effort to keep the tears hidden inside, but a few droplets still spilled from the corners of his eyes. "Believe me when I tell you it meant… means everything."
"But?" Kun asked carefully, reaching out to wipe the tears with his finger.
The word was like a cue, and for the first time the words spilled easily from Diego's mouth. Disorderly at first, but still without forgetting a single detail about the unwanted marriage, dancing to forget his despair and the feeling of being forced into a future he neither wanted nor truly understood.
"You have a strange way of forming family ties," Kun remarked thoughtfully. "Tradition is a pitiful excuse to sell you for a good groom's wealth."
Diego nodded and hid his face in his hands. The remark hit home harder than he had expected; he had thought the same thing without daring to put it into such brutal words. That was, however, the harsh truth. His marriage was never about tradition - only about money and about getting him married to a man rich enough for the pride to encompass the rest of his family, too. The thought hurt so much that he had to shrug to hide a light shiver.
"Watch out for a rich man," Kun added a moment later. "We have always known that happiness cannot be bought with money. Come?" he asked, holding out his hand in an invitation to dance.
"You will forget for a while, and I get to hold you in my arms at least once more."
***
- Scumbags! Corrupting decent people with your sinful dances for weeks already!
The angry voices cut through the music like a knife, and scattered the dancing crowd in mere seconds. People ran off in all directions, leaving the dance floor empty and the musicians and dancers exposed to face the anger of the two furious men. Despite the fact that Diego had recognized the danger immediately, he remained by Kun's side for a second too long, unable to untangle his hand from the grip that had become natural already.
"Go!" Kun commanded, giving him a hard push in the back. "I promise we'll manage!"
Diego nodded and turned to leave. The motion was still reluctant, but as he caught sight of the men and their dark blue uniforms, he was suddenly much quicker on his feet.
"It's not you they want," he murmured out of the corner of his mouth as he stormed off.
That was true; the men shifted their attention to Diego the moment they caught sight of him. He could hear them shouting as he slipped between the first few trees of the forest, but even though he was still a couple of steps ahead, he knew that they would soon catch up with him. Without the scattering crowd to hide him from view and with most of his energy already spent on the dance floor, he was mere prey.
The uniforms were all too familiar. The same one Álvaro's coachman wore on the day of the meeting.
***
Kun tightened his hands to fists in frustration as he began to understand what happened around him. He had seen the brief flicker of fear in Diego's eyes before they parted, and also heard the warning that had not made sense at first.
"It's not you they want."
It was not the first time he saw men scatter the dancing crowd with angry words and rash movements, but he was used to it happening out of contempt for his own kind. This was the first time he had seen it happen in search of one specific person in the crowd. His stomach knotted as he watched the men catch up with Diego between the trees, and it took every bit of his willpower to remain in place and not run off to take them on single-handedly. The rage mixed with helplessness in his body as he watched them drag Diego towards an abundantly decorated carriage on the outskirts of the forest.
Kun sighed as he realized that Diego wasn't even fighting or trying to free himself from their iron grips. Did they hit him and knock him unconscious first?
So low. Such cowards made his blood boil.
"Kun?" The little, questioning voice startled him out of his thoughts. "My dad said I was to tell you not to fall in love and meddle in the affairs of outsiders."
He sighed heavily as he crouched next to the girl. "Florencita, darling, your dad says a lot of useful things. But even he cannot choose with whom I fall in love."
***
They kept him out of view on the carriage floor.
The smell of stale air and dried dirt was the first thing Diego remembered as he began to regain consciousness. It hit from every angle, so strongly that he had to draw only short breaths to avoid being sick. However, a moment later that was just a minor discomfort as the situation began to register in his mind.
His hands were still tied painfully behind his back, and the tip of a pointed boot heel poking him with almost sadistic determination somewhere just below his neck reminded him that even the smallest move could be dangerous. However, the harsh treatment still made him wonder as he made a subtle move to curl up tighter in an effort to ease the discomfort.
"Oh? Awake yet?" The heel of the boot pressed so hard into his back that he couldn't suppress a yelp of pain. A moment later, the sound was rewarded with a low chuckle and a strong hand on the back of his neck, quickly shifting its grip to pull him up into a sitting position.
"Álvaro told me to treat you respectfully. Guess it's time to comply with that wish. Come on, it's safe for you to sit up in the seat now. Nobody's coming after us, anyway."
Another laugh added to Diego's gloomy mood. Even though the seat was obviously more comfortable than the hard and dirty floor, he could still feel the ropes cutting into his bound wrists and his head was still spinning with thoughts replacing themselves in his mind faster than he could grasp.
He still didn't understand what they wanted.
***
"Such a foolish boy. You didn't heed my warning?"
Despite the fact that a hard push in his back made Diego stumble as he stepped down from the carriage, it did not fail to register in his mind that Álvaro's lips curved into a disdainful smirk as he spoke. The expression seemed to fit him much more naturally than the faked warmth from their first meeting, but Diego did not even think much of it. He was too dazed to notice the elegant surroundings and too terrified to think of the fact that in a week he would be back here for a different reason than the one that brought him here now.
"Let me go!" he insisted hardly, almost surprised that the words formed so clearly in his dry throat, "you have no right to take me here yet!"
A laugh and a hand against his cheek was the only reward. Still, he couldn't tell if it was the words or the touch that made him flinch the most.
"You've got spirit. I like that!"
He felt Álvaro's hand slip behind his back in a mock embrace, and a second later there was a harsh pull at the ropes around his hands. The motion made the rough material rub against his wrists, even though the ropes remained secure enough for Álvaro to give a content nod as he turned his attention towards the coachman.
"Give me the whip."
The simple command made Diego gasp in shock and pull against his restraints. However, he could only watch in silence as the coachman reached for the horse whip beside him and tried to hand it over.
"Not that one." Álvaro shook his head and muttered discontentedly. "Don't you have anything more effective than that?"
The coachman shrugged. "There's a braided bullwhip just inside the barn door," he explained emotionlessly. "That might be better suited to your purposes?"
***
"You can't do this! Let go of me!"
Diego was already trembling slightly, more with anger than with fear. He hated being so helplessly trapped; hated the fact that he couldn't even move without the risk of hurting himself. The touch of a dagger against his skin forced him to remain still as he felt his shirt loosen around his body and leave him more exposed than before.
Álvaro grinned coldly as he brushed the fabric aside. "You have no idea what I can do," he whispered. "None at all." Another cut along a seam shredded the rest of the shirt and left a small scratch on Diego's arm, but Álvaro did not even look twice at it. "Even if I can't touch you properly until a week from now," he murmured, licking his lips. "And believe me, you are tempting." A moment later, he had regained his composure enough to continue: "I think I'm in my full right to show you what happens to those who do not respect my word. After all, I gave you a warning the last time we met."
The smile that widened with practically every word left no doubt that he enjoyed every moment.
"We are not married yet!" Diego protested fiercely. "You have no right to do this yet!"
He took a step aside in an effort to align himself with the barn door. It was closed, but not locked, and there was a small chance it could open with a kick even if his hands were still tied behind his back. However, Álvaro was too fast for him, immediately mirroring the sidestep and reaching for the bullwhip in one swift move.
The first lash took Diego by complete surprise. Braided leather and studded pieces of metal caused such a searing pain as it brushed over his chest that he doubled over while catching his breath. A second, harder stroke was all it took to have him on his knees, gasping in sudden agony.
It was only then he truly understood.
This was serious. His first glimpse of just how serious things would be in a week.
***
"I don't like it when others touch what will be mine so soon."
Another lash burned against his skin, but Diego still refused to give in. He bit his lip hardly and tensed up in determined defense as the whip hit again. Too fast for him to adjust to the pain from the previous impact and hard enough to blur his perception. However, he still remembered the words.
The ones that made him someone's property. Soon.
The lashes scorched his back repeatedly, stinging more intensely by the moment. His breath hitched as he felt the first trickle down his spine, even though he couldn't tell yet whether it was sweat or blood. Still, it scared him more than the beating itself, and he couldn't hold back a half-choked scream.
- No! Stop!
Álvaro paused for a moment, obviously enjoying the despair. He took a few steps closer and caught Diego's jaw in a strong grip, forcing him to look up. "I will," he smirked. "If you tell me the name of that guy you were with when my men found you. You are in love with him?"
Diego kept silent. It was the only thing he could do without tainting his own memory with a lie. However, a hard slap in his face told him that silence was not an acceptable answer.
"Tell me! Now!"
"No!"
The refusal to comply with a seemingly simple demand took every bit of Diego's courage. His voice was barely more than a breath and his mind was a blur of pain and confusion. Yet, he was convinced that he had to keep the information to himself. However, another slap across his face made the task harder as he coughed and had to spit blood on the hay-covered barn floor.
"You are defiant," Álvaro remarked amusedly, with a disdainful glance at the blood. "I simply want to know the name of the little whore who had the courage to tempt you away from me, so that I can deal with him appropriately. But very well, if you think he is really worth so much suffering, we will continue a while longer."
The words only barely made sense in Diego's mind. He felt only a brief relief as the grip on him loosened, coupled with a sharp sting of anger at the contemptuous choice of words. Referring to the one glimmer of hope in the constantly darkening cloud that had settled around him lately as "temptation" was not just disrespectful; it was as tainting to his memory as the lie he had managed to avoid just a second ago. However, he was left with no time to ponder as the whip struck again.
This time there was no doubt in his mind. He could feel his skin breaking under the brutal assault, and the thick liquid streaming down his back could only be blood. More strokes followed in quick succession, with such precision that each one always hurt more than the last. Despite the fact that Diego's hands were already numb from being tied to his back for so long, he tightened and stretched his fingers in a vain effort to minimize the pain.
It engulfed him like a crimson cloud as he lost control of his thoughts and reactions. Suddenly, nothing mattered anymore.
"Is this what you did to him?" he spat uncontrollably. "Your ex?"
Much to his surprise, the lashes stopped immediately. "You are more intelligent than I took you for," Álvaro admitted with a sudden grin. He snapped the whip once against the floor, before slipping it between his fingers to remove the film of blood. "He was a foolish man anyway. The town gossip has it that he was caught by the waves while swimming, and then crushed against the rocks after drowning." His smirk widened: "Nobody ever checked the marks more thoroughly."
A moment later his attention shifted towards Diego again. However, there was a new light in his eyes as he spoke; a new shade of darkness over his features as he cleared his voice.
"At the very least it seems you have learned your lesson now. Think about it when I take you back to your father. I am sure he'll be pleased to keep you safely locked up for a week."
***
Diego had never expected to be locked up in the literal sense of the word. However, that was exactly what happened; his father kept a close watch on him and didn't even allow him to leave the house unaccompanied. Much to his relief he was at least allowed the privacy of his own room, even if it came with constant check-ups and questions through the door.
"Why are you so stubborn?" his father asked dejectedly. "Don't you care at all about your future?"
"I do," Diego hissed with determined resistance. "Do you?"
The question was not even necessary. If he had ever hoped that there was a genuine concern for his well-being behind this ridiculous marriage arrangement, such hopes had been thoroughly shattered when he got home the other night. His father had scolded him for letting his soon-to-be husband take him home, and bought Álvaro's deceitful story about keeping him safe and out of trouble at once.
The thought of the groom's wealth obviously made him blind to the signs of abuse on Diego's body. There wasn't a single question - neither about the grimace of pain crossing his face as he stepped down from the elaborate carriage nor about the clearly visible scratches on his wrists.
Diego stifled a sigh. Even such a small movement caused a light burn in the scars on his back. However, those would heal and become no more than a minor itch in due time, unlike the betrayal of his father.
That remained an open wound as he collapsed on his bed, hoping for a few hours of dreamless, thoughtless sleep.
***
The knock against his window did not even register in his mind at first. It was barely more than a small peck; a single, sharp sound that turned to silence before he had time to grasp it. However, the fact that the sound persisted made Diego aware that he had indeed heard it the first time around as well.
Still, he was reluctant to get up to check what it was. Even sitting up in bed made him sigh, but another more insistent knock made him curious. The sound was too systematic to be natural, yet Diego had no expectations when he pushed the window open.
"Hi! I thought you'd never open that window!"
Even if it took him a moment to locate the small frame of the speaker in the almost complete darkness, he would have recognized the voice anywhere.
"Kun!" he exclaimed in a whisper, "what are you doing here?"
Diego hated himself for the slight hint of accusation in his voice. Just the sound of Kun's voice had given him a brief sense of bliss, and yet he was pushing him away with such an unfriendly tone. The question felt like a pierce into his own heart. However, Kun did not seem to mind.
"I had to see you once more," he said warmly, reaching up in an attempt to touch Diego's hand with his fingers. However, the window was a little bit too high, and even though Diego leaned to meet the touch, they could only reach each other with the fingertips. Still, that was enough to take the edge off Diego's next worry.
"Don't you understand that this is dangerous for you? If my dad sees you here…"
He fell silent and leaned even further out of the window in another, desperate attempt to touch. Even if they managed to hook their fingers slightly together this time, it was still not enough. A small moan escaped Diego's lips; a longing, needy breath that gave him away much more clearly than the attempts at rational thinking that made him form the cautious, hated words from a moment ago.
"He won't," Kun shrugged confidently. "It's too dark." He paused and allowed Diego's hand to slip from his own as he shifted position to stand directly beneath the window. "Come with me?" he pleaded, with eyes that widened with each word. "We're packing up the caravan tonight."
"But…"
Diego struggled to make sense of the question. It was too much; a glimpse of hope that he was eager to grasp with both hands and a terrifying prospect that filled him with doubt at the same time. He could feel Kun's expectant gaze on him as he turned the possibilities over in his mind.
Those laughing eyes full of promises. He couldn't bear the thought of never seeing that again. Still, he remained silent for a moment as he felt the safety of normality slip between his fingers. It should have been an easy choice; an easy way out of his current misery. However, misery was still safer than leaving behind everything he'd ever known.
"Choose wisely, with the heart" Kun interrupted his thoughts. "I will only ask you this once."
Diego nodded carefully as he climbed out of the window. A moment later he landed softly in the grass below, wincing only slightly as the impact made the cuts on his back burn more intensely.
"Yes," he whispered as he allowed Kun to catch his hand and pull him to his feet.
He did not look back as they slipped away from the house and into the blissful darkness shielding them from view. As the grip on his hand tightened and he felt their bodies tangle together as they walked, he finally understood the meaning of belonging.
The smile that formed on his lips in that moment was one of pure joy. He knew that they had made the right choice in taking this first step towards their future.
- Scumbags! Do you still not understand that you're not welcome here?
The voice of the middle-aged woman carried easily across the dance plaza, piercing the silence and the peaceful morning atmosphere. However, Sergio didn't even react. The angry tone stung only slightly as he continued sweeping the ground to clean up after last night's dances. He was used to this; growing up on the edge of society had long since taught him to ignore such insults.
Still, he bowed his head slightly to avoid one last hateful look before the lady directed her attention elsewhere.
"Kun?" He almost jumped at the sound of his name, before refocusing his mind to the little girl who was still skipping about with a jump-rope near him. "Why was that lady mad at you?"
The simple question caused a wistful smile to cross his lips as he crouched to be on the same height as the girl. Long corkscrews of black curls tickled against his face as she stepped closer and embraced him, but she had not forgotten the question. "Why?" she repeated innocently.
Sergio choked back a sigh. She was still young enough to view each case of hostility and malice separately; still too innocent to understand that it targeted her as much as him. Their lifestyle made them different, and their only safety was in each other. However, she would learn soon enough, and he was not going to remove the veil of child-like trust right now.
"Florencita," he began. "Do you know what I think? I think people are sometimes mad at what they don't understand, because it's easier to be mad than to be afraid or sad." He could feel a light squeeze at his hand as the girl nodded thoughtfully. "Just like when I'm mad at uncle Ariel because he can play the violin?"
Sergio could not even answer. A split second later, Florencia had skipped off again, dropping a few words over her shoulder.
"But I wanna learn to play the violin, too!"
Already moving on to the next thing. Already forgetting the serious question from a moment ago, and safely back in a reality where their campsite and the dance plaza formed her entire world.
Sergio's lips curved into a warm smile as he continued his work.
***
Diego could feel the anger burning in his veins. In fact, it was more than just anger; it was fear mixed with the discomfort of stepping over an invisible border he had not even been consciously aware of, but all he could feel was pure, unrestrained rage.
"No!" he shouted fervently. "Aren't you going to understand? I am not going to get married!"
Beyond the cloud of rage that kept him from thinking clearly at the moment, he was aware of the fact that his father had been trying to arrange his marriage and find him a good husband for a while already. However, he had only heard bits and pieces of conversation relating to possible candidates, proposals and groom's wealth, and what he heard did not seem to form part of his reality in any way.
It did not become real to him until now.
"You are lucky because you will have a good husband," his father continued, unaffected by his outburst. "One who has been married before will have learned how to treat his husband kindly and respectfully."
Has been?
The words were the first thing that pierced through his anger and made him at least slightly curious. However, he had no desire to ask; no desire to show any interest. After all, he was still not going to get married.
There was nothing enticing, nothing exciting about the thought of sharing his future with some guy much older than himself. Not even if he was rich enough to be willing to pay a good groom's wealth.
Diego hated his own cynical thoughts. Even through the haze of anger, he was able to recognize the fact that all his worst fears kept replacing themselves in his mind. He felt sacrificed and sold; there wasn't a hint of the happy excitement that should otherwise have accompanied such news. He was not ready to deal with any of this yet, and certainly not ready to get married. Tradition or not; the thought was too much for him at the moment.
"No!" he insisted again, kicking the chair away as he got up. "Listen up, I'm not…!"
Even the words would not come as he stormed off, and only the slam of the door behind him allowed him to release some aggression. Still, he was barely allowed to catch his breath before the door opened again. Quietly, with his father filling the doorway and speaking with calm authority.
"Come back inside. We have a lot to discuss."
The calm reaction scared him as much as it surprised him. It would have been easier to be met with the same anger and shouting he felt himself. That would have been a reaction he could understand; something he could relate to. This calmness only made him feel even more foolish than before. Still, he swallowed hardly as he took a step back.
"No!" he hissed, unable to conceal the fact that he was upset. "There is nothing to discuss. I don't want to…"
He took another few steps away, and had to fight the urge to run away from further discussion. Right now, there was only one thing he wanted to do; only one thing that could relieve the chaos in his mind for a few hours.
"Where are you going?"
"To the dance plaza," he murmured over his shoulder, as if the answer was obvious. Dancing, tango was his only true passion; the one thing that could always take his mind off his irritations. However, he was also aware that his parents considered it a waste of time and perhaps even a sin, even though they had never said much against it before.
They probably thought it was an interest that would pass; not a passion that gave him the only true joy he had ever known.
"Then go," his father sighed, before his tone sharpened considerably. "But remember that you're supposed to be a decent man now. Think about your reputation and don't spend your time on such lascivious activities."
That argument was new. Perhaps even something he'd be unable to counter after tonight. His impending marriage was already adding obstacles to his life. As he ran off with light steps and blonde curls dancing around his face, Diego caught himself thinking that he wished he could have remained a year younger forever.
Still too young to care about marriage. Still able to dance for the joy of it, and not take it as painkilling lethargy injection.
***
The discussion with his father was still on Diego's mind as he approached the dance plaza. Even though the sound of a familiar tune almost managed to penetrate his thoughts, he was still upset to the point that the music did not register in his mind right away. It took him a moment to realize that it was different this time; richer and more alive than the tunes he was used to hearing from the local organito players.
This was the real thing. Live music, complete with violin and viola and bandoneóns and double bass. The thought made him smile before he had even turned the next corner.
If there was one thing Diego loved about the spring, it was the fact that there would sometimes be live music at the dance plaza. Traveling groups of musicians and dancers would set up their campsite nearby, and then play and dance in exchange for money. Ever since he was little, he had always been fascinated with the music and with the skill of the dancers. These were not the amateurs he saw at the plaza every other night; these were professionals who had made tango a lifestyle of sharing the joy with everyone, but teaching their art only to those willing to pay for each dance.
However, not everyone in town appreciated the visit to the same extent he did. Even his own father had repeatedly tried to convince him that these people were nothing but tricksters and thieves, using their skills only as means to get close to you and steal whatever they could. Hearts included, his father used to sneer years ago, before Diego had grown old enough to understand such implications.
That probably explained the fact that they were usually met by intense dislike from married women or shopkeepers or anyone who did not appreciate the beauty of their art. The dislike often turned to hatred and confrontations within a few weeks, and the dancers and their musicians would usually just pack up their caravan and move on to the next town before the conflict escalated beyond control.
Such freedom suddenly fascinated Diego even more than before. For now he was determined to enjoy the visit as much as he could. As he checked his pockets for money, he realized that tonight would be his first dance with a true professional since last year.
He refused to think that it could also be the last.
***
The boy who asked if he wanted to dance was probably even younger than himself.
Still, the details of his appearance registered in Diego's mind with astounding precision after just one look. The white silk shirt had been left slightly open under the leather vest, and the loose black pants had no belt attached. However, even such teasing elegance paled in comparison with the beautiful face and those alluring dark eyes beckoning him closer.
Of course it was only a game. Diego was more than aware of it, and more than adept at cocking his head slightly in modest interest before finally following onto the dance floor. That was his acceptance, as dictated by the rules of the game.
However, as soon as he felt the boy's hand lock in his, he stopped thinking of rules altogether. For a few blissful moments, there was the music surrounding them and the joy of the dance consuming him to such an extent that he moved only with the flow of the rhythm inside. There was no need to think, no reason to stress. There was only natural joy and pure passion, the way the dance was supposed to be.
"You dance very well," the boy remarked later, with a small bow and a hand lightly touching Diego's while subtly exchanging the payment for the dance. The move was still sensual enough to mask the cynicalness of the situation, but as they parted only one thought remained clear in Diego's mind.
At the very least, the compliment had sounded sincere.
***
"There you are! I thought you had run off with a random caravan of riffraff."
There was a laugh behind the contemptuous tone, but Diego ignored it. He bit back a sharp reply that the idea actually sounded tempting before taking a step closer. "No," he murmured dejectedly. "I told you I was only going to dance."
"I know," his father nodded earnestly. "But that's not the full truth, you know. You wanted to avoid talking about your future, and I let you go because I know it must have been quite a surprise and a lot to deal with at the same time. However…" he paused and fixed Diego with a piercing gaze, "there is still no denying that you are getting married soon, and the shameless behavior of a tango dancer is not suitable for a man who's about to get married. It's important to be as pure as you can on your wedding day."
"Such a pity," Diego remarked with more icy confidence than he felt. "But it doesn't matter, as I'm not going to get married anyway!" He shifted his weight to the other foot and swallowed the hard tone in favor of a slightly more respectful one. "You realize that arranging marriages is ridiculous to begin with? I don't want to marry someone I haven't even met, or someone who could be a complete jerk."
"Those are the same arguments every young man has used since the beginning of time."
"Yes, but…"
"There is no 'but'," his father interrupted. "I was arguing in the exact same way you do now before I got married to your mum. Look at us; it turned out fine. You have to trust me to find you a good man, and even if the love between you is cold now, it will grow warmer after a while."
Diego was not sure of that. He was still defiant; still adamant that his marriage was not something to plan behind his back just like that. However, his defiance was met with determined authority as his father went on to talk about his future husband.
"Álvaro is a good man. Marrying him will secure your future. He has a big estancia and more than 20 000 cattle. You will have a far better life with him than anything you have known so far. Believe me, you are lucky and many young men in this town would be glad to be in your position. Why are you still so reluctant?"
"Because…" Diego began, uncertain of how to get his point across, "there is still the chance that he's a creep. Didn't you say he had been married once before? What happened to his ex?"
"He is widowed," was the simple reply. "But you should think about your own joy and not the sorrows of the past. Which reminds me…" his father scratched his chin thoughtfully before letting his tone drop to a level that clearly indicated that the discussion was finished for tonight.
"He wanted to see you at least once before the wedding."
The message felt like a physical blow in the face, but Diego didn't say a word as he followed his father back inside the house. It was simply another proof that he had no say in this at all. Everything was already decided, and his own feelings about it simply did not matter anymore.
He choked back a dejected sigh as the sinking feeling of defeat began to settle inside.
***
It took more than a warning from his father to keep him away from the dance plaza. Dancing was not simply a hobby he could quit; it had become an addiction a long time ago. Of course some kind of tango music would always seep through the windows even at home, and of course the movements had long settled in his body to the point that he could do some of them even with an imaginary partner. However, that did not soothe the need for the real thing and certainly did not calm the way his blood boiled from the withdrawal.
Dancing, Diego decided, made him feel alive and hopeful. The fact that he was already losing on every other account that mattered had forced him to make up his mind. He couldn't allow himself to lose on this account, too.
However, there was a difference this time. Before, he had been care-free and focused only on the dance. This time, he was cautious and on guard; constantly on the lookout for anything that could give him away, any half-familiar person who could spill his secret to his father.
Still, he slipped easily through the narrow streets of the town, towards the plaza that was nestled between the last few town houses and the first few trees of a nearby forest. He suspected that the dancers had their campsite in a nearby clearing in the forest, as he had seen people disappear in that direction the last time around, but it didn't actually matter.
In fact, it puzzled him slightly that the detail had even registered in his mind.
Diego stifled a sigh as he scanned the small crowd in front of him with his eyes. Most of the faces were already familiar; the same crowd that usually gathered at the plaza. He felt safe around them and the claw of nerves he had been feeling since leaving home slowly began loosening its grip. However, he was not prepared for the way his heartbeat seemed to lose its rhythm as he caught sight of another familiar face.
The guy from the other day. The stunning dark-haired boy who had danced with him all evening and even complimented him on his skill at the end. This time he was certainly not that lucky with his partner, as the man kept making simple mistakes and even stepped on the boy's feet more than once.
Diego hid his grin behind the back of his hand, but he could not quite get rid of the feeling that he was being unfair. Most people did not have tango in their feet the way he did, and the mistakes the man was making were neither uncommon nor especially hopeless. However, the sight still gave him a moment of savage enjoyment that he could do better than that, before he remembered that it didn't matter.
Professional tango dancers taught their art to whoever paid well enough. Skill alone was not enough to have their attention.
He stifled a sigh that turned to a slight smile only a moment later, as the boy looked up and their eyes met for a brief second. There was recognition in that look, and Diego felt a sudden streak of hope. He could certainly wait another dance.
The thought confused him for a moment. Only minutes ago he had been convinced he was here only to dance, and yet he was willing to wait an extra dance if it meant a few moments with some guy he had only seen once in his life before. That was stupid at best, insane at worst.
The simple word 'attraction' never even crossed his mind.
***
"You come here almost every night?"
The boy asked with real curiosity in his voice, but Diego could only nod and murmur evasively. He was not sure he wanted to answer questions; even such a simple one felt too risky. However, as the boy held out his hand in invitation for the next dance, he took a tight grip.
He wondered briefly if it was a trick of his mind, or if he was indeed rewarded with a smile slightly wider than it had to be.
Such awareness to detail was a new experience. It scared him at first; he had never expected to be so aware of the boy's hand in his or the subtle movement of a smaller body against him as he hooked his leg briefly around the boy's thigh in a perfect gancho. For the first time, he did not lose himself in the dance. However, he wasn't sure how he felt about this new ability - no, need - to keep his mind focused and his body open to those enhanced sensations he had never felt before.
This was the way tango was supposed to be. Exploring. Close. Daring. More so with each move.
By the time they cleared the dancefloor as the orchestra played a cortina, he was no longer afraid of losing the boy to some other dance partner when the dances started up again. This was no longer the simple, cynical game from last time; he could feel it in the way the boy remained pressed up against him while regaining his breath against his chest.
"What's your name?"
The question was a surprise, but he could read honest interest in the dark eyes that suddenly locked with his. There was a slight twinkle behind the cloudy look, more enticing than anything else Diego had seen all night.
"Diego," he answered easily, no longer as cautious about questions as he had been a while ago. "And yours?"
"Sergio," the boy said with a sudden bright smile. "Or Kun," he said in a lower voice after a moment of hesitation. "Everyone says Kun, really."
Diego could feel his heart flutter in sudden pride and joy as he tasted the unfamiliar name on his lips. "Kun," he repeated softly as he slipped his hand to the boy's lower back and tightened the embrace they had been standing in unknowingly for the last few moments. Only as he was rewarded with another smile and a slight laugh did it register in his mind that they had both broken the unwritten rules of the tango.
Never ask the name of an unknown partner. And for the professionals, never share a nickname outside the family.
However, he was too happy to feel neither shame nor pride.
***
The thin, golden chain weighed heavy around his neck.
Diego had no desire to dress up for the meeting with his future husband. In fact, he had no interest in the meeting at all, and if he ever felt even a slight curiosity, that had been violently quashed last night. Until now, he had only been adamant that he didn't want to get married. Now, he had other dreams instead.
So unreachable that he did not dare to think of them in full.
Still, he closed the lock on the golden chain and opened the top button of his shirt in an effort to comply with his father's orders and look suitably tempting. The whole idea was ridiculous in his own mind, as he was obviously supposed to look tempting but at the same time be pure and innocent.
Traditional arranged marriages were nausea-inducing like that. There was no other word for it.
***
At the very least, they couldn't force him to talk or be friendly beyond normal politeness.
Diego sucked his lips in ever so slightly as he watched his father try to excuse his unwillingness in front of the man who was still a stranger to him. He knew the name, Álvaro Recoba, and he certainly knew the reasons his father had given him about why he should consider himself blessed and lucky. However, he had no desire to get to know the man, and even just watching him from this distance gave him a slightly bitter taste in his mouth.
It was real, now. The trap was closing around him, and there was nothing he could do to escape.
"I'm sorry that he doesn't quite see what is good for him yet."
"It's not uncommon," the stranger answered with a half-concealed sneer. "I assure you, he will learn to appreciate what you did for him in arranging this. In due time."
Diego bit his lip harder as he heard the tone. It pierced easily through his wall of protection with its icy confidence, and it seemed to match the man's looks perfectly. His face was as sharp as the tone; undoubtedly once beautiful, even though the Asian-like features had hardened too much by now to be beautiful anymore. However, it was neither the tone nor the facial features that finally caught Diego's interest.
It was the gaze that locked on him for a long moment. He felt naked under the devouring look; vulnerable as if the man was seeing right through him in search for his flaws. However, the question that was finally directed at him sounded genuinely interested and almost warm.
"You're keeping silent," his future husband remarked. "I know this is not easy for you, but isn't there anything you would like to know yourself?"
Diego almost fell for the trick. Almost. "Only one thing," he said slowly, crossing his arms protectively in front of his chest. "Do you dance? Tango?"
He could feel his own lips curve into a smile as the question escaped his lips. Not the shy smile that was expected of him, but a slightly unpleasant one revealing the fact that he was now on safe ground, talking about the one thing that truly mattered to him.
The fact that he could feel his father's angry gaze in his back gave him a twisted sense of pride. At the very least he had managed to push the conversation in his own direction, without following the foolish rules of tradition down to every last detail. That was a tiny victory in itself; one that made his smile widen with expectation as he dared to hold his future husband's gaze for the first time.
There was a blink of surprise, but they didn't break eye contact. Álvaro took a step closer and lowered his voice. "As a matter of fact," he hissed softly, "I do." He paused for a second and placed his hand over Diego's on the table as he leaned closer. "But not with someone who's learned theirs from those hustlers down at the plaza."
The grin as he pulled back could not be mistaken. Diego couldn't have felt more chastised if he had been physically slapped in the face.
***
Even days later, the words did not fade from Diego's mind.
He turned them over in his head time and time again. Not that he cared about his reputation or the fact that it was already tainted enough to cause such harsh words. Rather, he cared about the fact that escaping to the dance plaza had just become much more difficult. He had always thought he kept his eyes open enough to keep himself out of sight, but now he was almost sure he had been unintentionally exposed.
Álvaro had to know. He couldn't have taken the words and that dangerous grin out of thin air.
No matter how many times Diego turned the words over in his mind, he always came to the same conclusion: It had to be a warning.
The only one he was going to get.
***
The next time he walked to the plaza, he did it with slow steps and many nervous glances around. It bothered him that the warning had settled so firmly, and for a brief moment he wondered if he was starting to accept the horrible truth of his marriage. After all, he should have been grateful for this possibility to blow his chances with Álvaro, not fearful of what could happen to him if he did something his new husband wouldn't approve of even before the wedding.
Surely, coming here one last time was not dangerous?
Diego pushed his worries to the back of his mind as he heard the first faint sound of a bandoneón. It was still a sound he connected with joy and freedom; still one that pulled him closer just as effectively as the sound of laughing voices and pointed shoes against the wooden dance floor. However, it was not his main reason for being here tonight.
Kun. He had to see him again. Every time the name crossed his mind, he ached with need to touch, and hold and if nothing else, just see him again. One last look from afar; one last image to add to his recurring dreams.
The hand that slipped into his immediately convinced him that he has made the right choice.
"I'm so glad you came back," Kun murmured softly next to him, before shifting into the same close embrace they had formed so naturally the last time around. For a long time, they stood like that without exchanging another word. Diego could feel the light shift as they breathed and the silky touch of Kun's hair against his face as the younger man finally muffled a question against his neck.
"Did it mean anything to you? You don't come as often as before anymore?"
It was painfully direct, just like the wide-open eyes that were suddenly fixed on him. If Diego had not planned to give away his worries and be honest, he had no choice now. That look was so open, so pure in its search for answers that he could not keep silent anymore.
"Yes," he whispered. "Yes." He swallowed about half of the word in an effort to keep the tears hidden inside, but a few droplets still spilled from the corners of his eyes. "Believe me when I tell you it meant… means everything."
"But?" Kun asked carefully, reaching out to wipe the tears with his finger.
The word was like a cue, and for the first time the words spilled easily from Diego's mouth. Disorderly at first, but still without forgetting a single detail about the unwanted marriage, dancing to forget his despair and the feeling of being forced into a future he neither wanted nor truly understood.
"You have a strange way of forming family ties," Kun remarked thoughtfully. "Tradition is a pitiful excuse to sell you for a good groom's wealth."
Diego nodded and hid his face in his hands. The remark hit home harder than he had expected; he had thought the same thing without daring to put it into such brutal words. That was, however, the harsh truth. His marriage was never about tradition - only about money and about getting him married to a man rich enough for the pride to encompass the rest of his family, too. The thought hurt so much that he had to shrug to hide a light shiver.
"Watch out for a rich man," Kun added a moment later. "We have always known that happiness cannot be bought with money. Come?" he asked, holding out his hand in an invitation to dance.
"You will forget for a while, and I get to hold you in my arms at least once more."
***
- Scumbags! Corrupting decent people with your sinful dances for weeks already!
The angry voices cut through the music like a knife, and scattered the dancing crowd in mere seconds. People ran off in all directions, leaving the dance floor empty and the musicians and dancers exposed to face the anger of the two furious men. Despite the fact that Diego had recognized the danger immediately, he remained by Kun's side for a second too long, unable to untangle his hand from the grip that had become natural already.
"Go!" Kun commanded, giving him a hard push in the back. "I promise we'll manage!"
Diego nodded and turned to leave. The motion was still reluctant, but as he caught sight of the men and their dark blue uniforms, he was suddenly much quicker on his feet.
"It's not you they want," he murmured out of the corner of his mouth as he stormed off.
That was true; the men shifted their attention to Diego the moment they caught sight of him. He could hear them shouting as he slipped between the first few trees of the forest, but even though he was still a couple of steps ahead, he knew that they would soon catch up with him. Without the scattering crowd to hide him from view and with most of his energy already spent on the dance floor, he was mere prey.
The uniforms were all too familiar. The same one Álvaro's coachman wore on the day of the meeting.
***
Kun tightened his hands to fists in frustration as he began to understand what happened around him. He had seen the brief flicker of fear in Diego's eyes before they parted, and also heard the warning that had not made sense at first.
"It's not you they want."
It was not the first time he saw men scatter the dancing crowd with angry words and rash movements, but he was used to it happening out of contempt for his own kind. This was the first time he had seen it happen in search of one specific person in the crowd. His stomach knotted as he watched the men catch up with Diego between the trees, and it took every bit of his willpower to remain in place and not run off to take them on single-handedly. The rage mixed with helplessness in his body as he watched them drag Diego towards an abundantly decorated carriage on the outskirts of the forest.
Kun sighed as he realized that Diego wasn't even fighting or trying to free himself from their iron grips. Did they hit him and knock him unconscious first?
So low. Such cowards made his blood boil.
"Kun?" The little, questioning voice startled him out of his thoughts. "My dad said I was to tell you not to fall in love and meddle in the affairs of outsiders."
He sighed heavily as he crouched next to the girl. "Florencita, darling, your dad says a lot of useful things. But even he cannot choose with whom I fall in love."
***
They kept him out of view on the carriage floor.
The smell of stale air and dried dirt was the first thing Diego remembered as he began to regain consciousness. It hit from every angle, so strongly that he had to draw only short breaths to avoid being sick. However, a moment later that was just a minor discomfort as the situation began to register in his mind.
His hands were still tied painfully behind his back, and the tip of a pointed boot heel poking him with almost sadistic determination somewhere just below his neck reminded him that even the smallest move could be dangerous. However, the harsh treatment still made him wonder as he made a subtle move to curl up tighter in an effort to ease the discomfort.
"Oh? Awake yet?" The heel of the boot pressed so hard into his back that he couldn't suppress a yelp of pain. A moment later, the sound was rewarded with a low chuckle and a strong hand on the back of his neck, quickly shifting its grip to pull him up into a sitting position.
"Álvaro told me to treat you respectfully. Guess it's time to comply with that wish. Come on, it's safe for you to sit up in the seat now. Nobody's coming after us, anyway."
Another laugh added to Diego's gloomy mood. Even though the seat was obviously more comfortable than the hard and dirty floor, he could still feel the ropes cutting into his bound wrists and his head was still spinning with thoughts replacing themselves in his mind faster than he could grasp.
He still didn't understand what they wanted.
***
"Such a foolish boy. You didn't heed my warning?"
Despite the fact that a hard push in his back made Diego stumble as he stepped down from the carriage, it did not fail to register in his mind that Álvaro's lips curved into a disdainful smirk as he spoke. The expression seemed to fit him much more naturally than the faked warmth from their first meeting, but Diego did not even think much of it. He was too dazed to notice the elegant surroundings and too terrified to think of the fact that in a week he would be back here for a different reason than the one that brought him here now.
"Let me go!" he insisted hardly, almost surprised that the words formed so clearly in his dry throat, "you have no right to take me here yet!"
A laugh and a hand against his cheek was the only reward. Still, he couldn't tell if it was the words or the touch that made him flinch the most.
"You've got spirit. I like that!"
He felt Álvaro's hand slip behind his back in a mock embrace, and a second later there was a harsh pull at the ropes around his hands. The motion made the rough material rub against his wrists, even though the ropes remained secure enough for Álvaro to give a content nod as he turned his attention towards the coachman.
"Give me the whip."
The simple command made Diego gasp in shock and pull against his restraints. However, he could only watch in silence as the coachman reached for the horse whip beside him and tried to hand it over.
"Not that one." Álvaro shook his head and muttered discontentedly. "Don't you have anything more effective than that?"
The coachman shrugged. "There's a braided bullwhip just inside the barn door," he explained emotionlessly. "That might be better suited to your purposes?"
***
"You can't do this! Let go of me!"
Diego was already trembling slightly, more with anger than with fear. He hated being so helplessly trapped; hated the fact that he couldn't even move without the risk of hurting himself. The touch of a dagger against his skin forced him to remain still as he felt his shirt loosen around his body and leave him more exposed than before.
Álvaro grinned coldly as he brushed the fabric aside. "You have no idea what I can do," he whispered. "None at all." Another cut along a seam shredded the rest of the shirt and left a small scratch on Diego's arm, but Álvaro did not even look twice at it. "Even if I can't touch you properly until a week from now," he murmured, licking his lips. "And believe me, you are tempting." A moment later, he had regained his composure enough to continue: "I think I'm in my full right to show you what happens to those who do not respect my word. After all, I gave you a warning the last time we met."
The smile that widened with practically every word left no doubt that he enjoyed every moment.
"We are not married yet!" Diego protested fiercely. "You have no right to do this yet!"
He took a step aside in an effort to align himself with the barn door. It was closed, but not locked, and there was a small chance it could open with a kick even if his hands were still tied behind his back. However, Álvaro was too fast for him, immediately mirroring the sidestep and reaching for the bullwhip in one swift move.
The first lash took Diego by complete surprise. Braided leather and studded pieces of metal caused such a searing pain as it brushed over his chest that he doubled over while catching his breath. A second, harder stroke was all it took to have him on his knees, gasping in sudden agony.
It was only then he truly understood.
This was serious. His first glimpse of just how serious things would be in a week.
***
"I don't like it when others touch what will be mine so soon."
Another lash burned against his skin, but Diego still refused to give in. He bit his lip hardly and tensed up in determined defense as the whip hit again. Too fast for him to adjust to the pain from the previous impact and hard enough to blur his perception. However, he still remembered the words.
The ones that made him someone's property. Soon.
The lashes scorched his back repeatedly, stinging more intensely by the moment. His breath hitched as he felt the first trickle down his spine, even though he couldn't tell yet whether it was sweat or blood. Still, it scared him more than the beating itself, and he couldn't hold back a half-choked scream.
- No! Stop!
Álvaro paused for a moment, obviously enjoying the despair. He took a few steps closer and caught Diego's jaw in a strong grip, forcing him to look up. "I will," he smirked. "If you tell me the name of that guy you were with when my men found you. You are in love with him?"
Diego kept silent. It was the only thing he could do without tainting his own memory with a lie. However, a hard slap in his face told him that silence was not an acceptable answer.
"Tell me! Now!"
"No!"
The refusal to comply with a seemingly simple demand took every bit of Diego's courage. His voice was barely more than a breath and his mind was a blur of pain and confusion. Yet, he was convinced that he had to keep the information to himself. However, another slap across his face made the task harder as he coughed and had to spit blood on the hay-covered barn floor.
"You are defiant," Álvaro remarked amusedly, with a disdainful glance at the blood. "I simply want to know the name of the little whore who had the courage to tempt you away from me, so that I can deal with him appropriately. But very well, if you think he is really worth so much suffering, we will continue a while longer."
The words only barely made sense in Diego's mind. He felt only a brief relief as the grip on him loosened, coupled with a sharp sting of anger at the contemptuous choice of words. Referring to the one glimmer of hope in the constantly darkening cloud that had settled around him lately as "temptation" was not just disrespectful; it was as tainting to his memory as the lie he had managed to avoid just a second ago. However, he was left with no time to ponder as the whip struck again.
This time there was no doubt in his mind. He could feel his skin breaking under the brutal assault, and the thick liquid streaming down his back could only be blood. More strokes followed in quick succession, with such precision that each one always hurt more than the last. Despite the fact that Diego's hands were already numb from being tied to his back for so long, he tightened and stretched his fingers in a vain effort to minimize the pain.
It engulfed him like a crimson cloud as he lost control of his thoughts and reactions. Suddenly, nothing mattered anymore.
"Is this what you did to him?" he spat uncontrollably. "Your ex?"
Much to his surprise, the lashes stopped immediately. "You are more intelligent than I took you for," Álvaro admitted with a sudden grin. He snapped the whip once against the floor, before slipping it between his fingers to remove the film of blood. "He was a foolish man anyway. The town gossip has it that he was caught by the waves while swimming, and then crushed against the rocks after drowning." His smirk widened: "Nobody ever checked the marks more thoroughly."
A moment later his attention shifted towards Diego again. However, there was a new light in his eyes as he spoke; a new shade of darkness over his features as he cleared his voice.
"At the very least it seems you have learned your lesson now. Think about it when I take you back to your father. I am sure he'll be pleased to keep you safely locked up for a week."
***
Diego had never expected to be locked up in the literal sense of the word. However, that was exactly what happened; his father kept a close watch on him and didn't even allow him to leave the house unaccompanied. Much to his relief he was at least allowed the privacy of his own room, even if it came with constant check-ups and questions through the door.
"Why are you so stubborn?" his father asked dejectedly. "Don't you care at all about your future?"
"I do," Diego hissed with determined resistance. "Do you?"
The question was not even necessary. If he had ever hoped that there was a genuine concern for his well-being behind this ridiculous marriage arrangement, such hopes had been thoroughly shattered when he got home the other night. His father had scolded him for letting his soon-to-be husband take him home, and bought Álvaro's deceitful story about keeping him safe and out of trouble at once.
The thought of the groom's wealth obviously made him blind to the signs of abuse on Diego's body. There wasn't a single question - neither about the grimace of pain crossing his face as he stepped down from the elaborate carriage nor about the clearly visible scratches on his wrists.
Diego stifled a sigh. Even such a small movement caused a light burn in the scars on his back. However, those would heal and become no more than a minor itch in due time, unlike the betrayal of his father.
That remained an open wound as he collapsed on his bed, hoping for a few hours of dreamless, thoughtless sleep.
***
The knock against his window did not even register in his mind at first. It was barely more than a small peck; a single, sharp sound that turned to silence before he had time to grasp it. However, the fact that the sound persisted made Diego aware that he had indeed heard it the first time around as well.
Still, he was reluctant to get up to check what it was. Even sitting up in bed made him sigh, but another more insistent knock made him curious. The sound was too systematic to be natural, yet Diego had no expectations when he pushed the window open.
"Hi! I thought you'd never open that window!"
Even if it took him a moment to locate the small frame of the speaker in the almost complete darkness, he would have recognized the voice anywhere.
"Kun!" he exclaimed in a whisper, "what are you doing here?"
Diego hated himself for the slight hint of accusation in his voice. Just the sound of Kun's voice had given him a brief sense of bliss, and yet he was pushing him away with such an unfriendly tone. The question felt like a pierce into his own heart. However, Kun did not seem to mind.
"I had to see you once more," he said warmly, reaching up in an attempt to touch Diego's hand with his fingers. However, the window was a little bit too high, and even though Diego leaned to meet the touch, they could only reach each other with the fingertips. Still, that was enough to take the edge off Diego's next worry.
"Don't you understand that this is dangerous for you? If my dad sees you here…"
He fell silent and leaned even further out of the window in another, desperate attempt to touch. Even if they managed to hook their fingers slightly together this time, it was still not enough. A small moan escaped Diego's lips; a longing, needy breath that gave him away much more clearly than the attempts at rational thinking that made him form the cautious, hated words from a moment ago.
"He won't," Kun shrugged confidently. "It's too dark." He paused and allowed Diego's hand to slip from his own as he shifted position to stand directly beneath the window. "Come with me?" he pleaded, with eyes that widened with each word. "We're packing up the caravan tonight."
"But…"
Diego struggled to make sense of the question. It was too much; a glimpse of hope that he was eager to grasp with both hands and a terrifying prospect that filled him with doubt at the same time. He could feel Kun's expectant gaze on him as he turned the possibilities over in his mind.
Those laughing eyes full of promises. He couldn't bear the thought of never seeing that again. Still, he remained silent for a moment as he felt the safety of normality slip between his fingers. It should have been an easy choice; an easy way out of his current misery. However, misery was still safer than leaving behind everything he'd ever known.
"Choose wisely, with the heart" Kun interrupted his thoughts. "I will only ask you this once."
Diego nodded carefully as he climbed out of the window. A moment later he landed softly in the grass below, wincing only slightly as the impact made the cuts on his back burn more intensely.
"Yes," he whispered as he allowed Kun to catch his hand and pull him to his feet.
He did not look back as they slipped away from the house and into the blissful darkness shielding them from view. As the grip on his hand tightened and he felt their bodies tangle together as they walked, he finally understood the meaning of belonging.
The smile that formed on his lips in that moment was one of pure joy. He knew that they had made the right choice in taking this first step towards their future.