2025-01-01 - Confessions, Revelations, and a New Year Resolution

Trace sent a quick text to Enzo to let him know that he was coming by with lunch ahead of time just in case he wasn't up yet after the long night the night before. And so now here he is, standing outside of Enzo's door with what does not appear to be restaurant food. Instead, it looks like something he just made in his own kitchen downstairs and brought up with him. He leans against the doorway a little bit, balancing a couple of covered bowls and a couple of covered plates and a plastic container about as securely as one can given the awkward nature of it.

He's dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a dusty blue cable-knit sweater, and he definitely looks just a little bit tired after the night that they'd had. And whether he's noticed or not, there is a new tattoo that runs along the back of his neck from just below his hairline down into his collar.

Enzo could hardly sleep after last night. He made his bed when he'd told Trace to meet with him here for further discussion, which he wished that he could, perhaps, take back the more he thinks about it, but after having received the text, it was now time to lie in it. Did he change his mind overnight about wanting that talk? Or did that early morning call from his father help fuel some of that paranoia within him? It did freak him out once he realized that it was his father calling, almost as if he were cau-- But no. Word had, at least, reached the elder Castillo about whatever the hell happened during the NYE celebration and he wanted to know more and Enzo had very little to offer him. That is, aside from the fact that he'd found some sort of marking or brand or something on his chest, just as he was on the phone with his dad, too. That was new...

So he's been up and dreading this visit for the remainder of the morning and there were a few moments where he almost texted Trace to cancel the whole thing. But maybe he needed to do this and that's why he didn't cancel. Either way, by the time Trace shows up, Enzo has the balcony door wide open, letting the chill winter air coming in as he just stared out over the waters of Lake Michigan.

He had on a grey sweater over a light blue buttoned down and a pair of rust red trousers to go with a comfortable pair of loafers. It did have that preppy vibe to it.

A heavy sigh is released at Trace's arrival. No need to keep the guy waiting, especially since they paid for (He doesn't know Trace didn't actually just order out!) and brought lunch. Turning from the balcony, he crosses the room to open the door to allow the other entrance and only then does he realize that this is no take-out. "What is that?" He asks a question that he probably already knows the answer to and he looks like he's ready to offer a hand to help and make sure that none of the dishes spill over.

Oh right, the main living area to Enzo's abode is similar to any other. It's tastefully decorated by whatever furniture he did bring with him. The most notable would the sectional and television in the entertainment section of the room. Then then there's also the drafting table which is positioned closer to the balcony and a computer set up next to it. There are a couple of drawings on the drafting table and various more sketchbooks piled up beside them. On the opposite side of the room and closer to the entertainment area is a player piano and that's where the snow globe that Trace gifted him can be found, sitting partially atop a piece of holly with red berries.

"That is lunch," Trace says, handing over the smaller container so that he can manipulate the bowls. He moves to the kitchen area which is not unlike the kitchen in his own place just one floor down, and begins to open up the containers. Each plate holds a fancy grilled cheese sandwich with a garlic herb grilled bread and soft melty creamy cheese inside which he must have literally just scooped off the grill before coming up in order for it to be as hot as it is. This, he passes over to Enzo first and says, "Should eat them before they get cold."

The bowls contain a basil tomato soup, warm and hearty to go with the grilled cheese. He takes the covers off of those next and asks, "Spoons?" He'll let Enzo find those as he's not going to just start digging around in his cabinets and drawers. "And there's a couple of lemon things in the container." Lemon squares.

Food is easy to focus on. Food gave him something to do with his hands and occupy his mind after he got up in the morning, while he went over in his head so many things. And now in this moment, it's easiest to take care of the business of lunch first and foremost.

"When I said to bring lunch..." Enzo murmurs with a furrowed brow, but amused look on his face, "I didn't expect you to actually make... it." Or he'll assume these were made! When spoons are needed, he knows exactly where to find them and goes to fetch them from out of their proper drawer from in the kitchen.

"Well, have a seat. There's room on the couch in front the television or if you'd rather just sit at the kitchen island, be my guest." The door to the balcony was still wide open, he realizes, so that's the next thing he decides to do. No need to air condition the room any further when the weather was already cold.

"Did you make all of these this morning?" Including the lemon squares... It's with all of this moving around that Enzo does catch sight of something, but maybe it's a figment of his imagination or just the length of Trace's hair. He doesn't pay it too much mind.

"I know," Trace laughs as he looks down at the food in front of him. "I thought about ordering something, but then I just really wanted something warm and grilled cheese doesn't travel well. So I just made it myself." He gives a slight shrug of his shoulders. He gathers up a plate and a bowl and he makes his way over to the couch, settling there with his sandwich on one knee and his soup nearby. There is a glance toward the open balcony door, but he doesn't think too much of it. He's certainly gotten out to get some chill air from time to time, himself.

"The soup and the grilled cheese, yeah. The lemon squares are the last couple from.. the day before yesterday," he says, trying to remember this week. It's been kind of a blur. As he settles and takes a bite of his sandwich, he glances around the room, taking it in -- the furniture, the decor, the drafting table, and eventually his gaze alights on the piano and what sits on top of it. At first he notices the snow globe, having so recently gifted it to Enzo. But it's only after a moment that he sees that familiar little bit of holly caught beneath it. He studies it for several long moments and then his gaze drops back to the food in front of him.

"I like to cook," he says. "It's more fun to do for other people than just me. Thankfully Gabe and Fin both don't seem to mind."

"What is it like still living with roommates?" Enzo asks when Trace mentions his. "I prefer my privacy and my space way too much to give that up to some randos." When Trace chooses the couch and coffee table in front of the television, he makes his way there to deliver the spoons and settle in, himself. "Isn't that like living in college all over again?" One spoon is then handed over to Trace.

"How do you even divide your space up to fit that many?" Glancing over at Trace, he notices the other looking around at just the main living area alone which only has Enzo's things in it. With that in mind, he says with lofty brows, "I'd hate to have to cram all of these things into one bedroom alone." Yes, he sure knows how to make people feel bad sometimes and it's as if he does so on purpose.

Rather than spoon up the soup, however, he just dips the grilled cheese into the soup, before leaning over the table to take a bite out of it. "And before I forget... thanks. I was dying for a hot meal all morning."

Trace laughs a little and says, "It's really not bad at all. Gabe's kind of a blanket gremlin who spends most of their time in their own room. Not in a bad way. They just are very introverted and they like their cave. And you know Fin. Fin is incredibly sweet and living with her is, I dunno, comforting. She has her photo processing set up in her room with the en suite bathroom." He looks thoughtful, "Then we just kind of have a mix of our stuff in the living room. It's cozy. A little bit of each of us. But I didn't bring a lot with me, and Gabe didn't have much furniture, so it's mostly just a combination of Fin and my furniture in the livingroom. I have my privacy in my own room. We all leave one another alone in our own private spaces."

He takes another bite of his sandwich, careful to keep the cheese from escaping. He doesn't seem to take any offense to Enzo's preference for being alone or having room for all his things. "I grew up with two brothers and a sister. We were always up in one another's business," he laughs. "Having grown adults for roommates who respect each other's boundaries is actually.. not a bad change. My undergrad roommates were kind of awful. I had my own tiny place during grad school, though. It was nice, admittedly. I can see the appeal of living alone."

The thanks is met with a little nod, "Yeah, sure. It's one of my winter comfort meals. Hot soup and grilled cheese."

When Trace explains what it's actually like living with roommates, or, at least, his roommates, Enzo just listens, but one can tell that it's difficult for him to see the coziness or comfort in any of that. "Yeah, but..." He starts and what he probably was planning on saying is what's mostly on the minds of people who prefer their own privacy: What if you wake up and need to use the bathroom or want to get something from the kitchen one evening? Do you have to throw on clothes to do so to not make things awkward? Or What if you bring a date or two over for the night? They won't mind?

He doesn't actually come out and ask, however, stopping himself beforehand, but those are the usual questions people wonder about when topics such as this come up.

"I feel it much easier to be able to come home at any hour, flip open the lights, turn on the television or the stereo and not feel like I'm bothering anyone else. That's all I'm saying." And here he holds one hand up as if to make that point before taking another bite of grilled cheese. Though at Trace bringing up his siblings, this is when Enzo murmurs, "Right, I'd... figure you'd want to get out of that kind of situation as quickly as you could." At least he ends that statement with light laughter which means he's not all that serious.

Trace grins, knowing full well what sort of concerns one might have for living with other people. "I think you just get used to it," he says. "Just like you get used to living on your own and not having to deal with the things that you do with living with other people. I know some people who would find it really weird and lonely to live alone. I don't mind either situation, myself."

He then grins when Enzo points out the things he likes to do and not have to worry about bothering others, "Yeah, and that's definitely easier." He takes another bite of his sandwich and then asks, "Did you have roommates in college or did you do like, the single room or off campus apartment thing?" curiously. "Have you always lived by yourself?"

Enzo doesn't only eat his soup using his sandwich, he picks up his spoon too now. To Trace's question, it takes him less than a second of thought to remark, "That's when they 1. Start dating, so there's someone else to occupy that space. And hopefully, they don't regret it. Especially if either moves into the other's space. Or 2. Get a pet." He then adds, "As for me, I usually need time to clear my head so..." He then looks over the drafting table, "And there's time when I really need to focus on my work... not that I have to worry about that much here. At least for the time being."

To the college question, he doesn't have to really think on it for too long either, "For the first year, I had a roommate, but then I did an off campus stint the following year. After that, Angelo decided to be a Business major and we roomed together." He then realizes that he hadn't offered anything to drink, "Right, I got bottled water, Coke, beer and other types of alcohol if you're a day drinker."

"I get a lot of that alone time at work. That's kind of where our jobs differ. Yours makes you interact with a lot of people. I get a lot of alone time in the office where I'm just programming the show with the music at my computer by myself. My quiet and focused time is there. Or you know fiddling with electrical panels and stuff, just work that I do alone when the rest of the team is off doing their own things. It's actually really peaceful up there. We have a great view," Trace admits as he considers that time to clear one's head and focus. "I can imagine coming back here after dealing with people all day is way more of a respite."

"You and Angelo were roommates? That's cool! I knew you were in school together for a bit but I don't think I knew you were roommates," Trace says. Then he glances toward the kitchen and says, "Water's good," laughing, "I'm not that much of a drinker usually. And I think I did enough drinking around the holidays to last me a while."

"I am pretty sure when I feel the same when I used to spend all day just doing concept designs and the like for various properties that my dad would have me look into." Enzo says with a slight arch of his brow now, "But then again, even when I'm doing design work, I'll often be tasked with negotiations and more technical discussions anyway." As he says this and after hearing Trace's request for water, he rises to head back to the kitchen and taking out a couple of bottles of water from out of the fridge before returning.

"Yep, we were roommates for two years in college." He says as he offers Trace one of the bottles before setting down his own on the coffee table next to his own plate. This time, he doesn't take a seat on the couch again and he makes his way around the couch to more idly look at a drawing or other that he has on the drafting table, before turning his attention out towards the balcony again, "But we aren't here to discuss my college years, I figure." This is his take on the now or never approach to this topic.

Trace reaches up to take the bottle and twist it open. He takes a swallow from it as Enzo walk around the room and over toward the drafting table. Then he sets it down, and the plate with the last little bit of crust from his sandwich on it, cleaning off his hands on whatever napkins he'd brought over with him. "No, I guess not." He certainly wouldn't have assumed that was the topic of discussion when Enzo had asked him to come by the night before.

He shifts a little on the couch, turning sideways so that his arm rests along the back of it, his head propped on his hand as he watches Enzo standing there by the drafting table, takes in his profile as he looks out over the balcony. A little bit of the tension he'd been staving off with talk about roommates an food starting to coil inside him again.

He knew that it wasn't easy for Trace to come out and admit those things that he'd said last night at the amphitheater and Enzo felt like a coward for not having that same courage to do the same; but was it cowardice, to further undo everything he had been working towards, but this admittance? If he chooses his words carefully, perhaps...

"When I first laid eyes on you, there was no denying that you were..." And here he lets out a sigh, his gaze lowering, though he doesn't move from his position, "Attractive? Handsome? Interesting, maybe. I wouldn't know, because I didn't know anything about you other than you were sitting on the wrong side of the court room." To that, he just has to smile a little in amusement. "I used to bring my sketchbook with me during those court sessions, because there wasn't really much else I could do, so I would doodle a few things, like drawing a cartoon version of the judge or..." Enzo shrugs here, but it's a very subtle motion. "There were a few times where I would sketch pictures of you sitting there with the rest of your family. So... I guess in a sense, you helped cure my boredom. For a time." Here, he turns back towards Trace now.

Trace watches Enzo from where he sits, no longer particularly interested in the remainder of his food. His attention is entirely on Enzo's features, the lowering of his gaze, that little smile, even the very subtle motion of the shrug. His own expression is attentive, just listening, taking in whatever Enzo chooses to share with him. There's a faint little answering smile about the court room. But aside from that, he is silent. It's almost like he doesn't want to break whatever spell is allowing Enzo to talk to him.

Enzo doesn't look at Trace directly when he next speaks, even if he may be looking somewhere in his general direction, but he's more lost in his own thoughts and memories than the present, "There was actually a time during one of the breaks when I saw you just lingering around near the water fountain near the lobby where I thought I should just go up and say 'Hi' or, whatever teenagers say when they want to make small talk. I mean, I wouldn't call myself shy, exactly. Even back then, I was a bit of an extrovert and didn't have that much of a problem networking or making the first move," And here, he makes sure to clarify, "When reaching out to talking to people, you know. Anyway, I remember that my dad was arguing with his lawyer and I think Carla was on the phone and the coast looked clear enough, so I took the first few steps and right then the door behind you opened and your brother, Leo stepped out of the bathroom and began talking to you."

"While I think if the situation were to happen today, I probably would've followed through. Maybe. But back then, your brother was the wrench that ruined my plans and I wasn't very good at adapting and moving forward back then. Or not very well." Enzo seems amused by this reminiscing at the very least, "But in my panic, I turned the corner and just kept walking. To where? I had no idea. Anywhere was better than to be standing out in the middle of that hallway, that's for sure."

Trace can't help but smile a little and says, "I was shy. There were a lot of things I wanted to say when I was a kid that I never did. I did a lot of holding my tongue. I still do, sometimes, hold back the things I want to say. I'm just not nearly as shy anymore." He then adds with a wry little smile, "But I'm glad that I was able to help alleviate the boredom of the courtroom, at least for a little while. Those were some long days." He then falls quiet again, because this is the most Enzo's actually said to him, ever, in one sitting, and it feels like he's being given an unprecedented glimpse into at least a time in their life that they both shared, even if distantly, even if separately.

This is what Trace wanted to hear right? And Enzo wasn't lying to him. Everything said so far, was the truth. As he contemplates how to proceed further, his fingers tap almost nervously against a couple of stacked sketchbooks sitting on the drafting table and he once more looks out at the icy waters in the distance, which brings to mind the conversation from this morning with his father.

On one hand, Trace was right there. On the other hand, his father was growing more and more impatient...

Maybe this will do it, though when he next speaks, Enzo doesn't have the full confidence and conviction that he might have had when he's usually goading Trace on in one way or another. Then again, this isn't that sort of situation. "And... that's that. Whatever teenage fantasies that stemmed from boredom died there." At least his finger had stopped tapping now, "So maybe it's not the story that you wanted, but you're bringing it up, just reminded me of that. The past."

What Trace had wanted was for Enzo to talk to him, to tell him the truth, to tell him something that he could at least make sense of. He studies the way that Enzo's fingers tap along the top of the sketchbooks. He listens to what Enzo says next with the slightest of nods. Then he pulls himself up from the couch and wanders around it, over to the desk where Enzo is standing. "Thank you," he says quietly, "For telling me."

He then reaches out and very lightly brushes his fingers against the back of Enzo's hand, where his fingers had been tapping. "All I wanted was for you to talk to me. And if that's the truth. If that's how you feel; if there's nothing there, then there's nothing there. And I'm sorry for putting you in an awkward position last night." He has the feeling it's not entirely true, but even if it isn't, there's only so far you can chase someone who keeps pushing you away.

Did Enzo expect Trace to accept his statement so easily? He wasn't sure, in truth. There were times where Trace didn't put up much resistance to his antagonism and there were other times where he'd seen something more along the lines of the opposite. Or the potential was there. So Enzo had no idea what to expect, but to hear that earnestness in the other's voice and then watching as he rises from off the couch to step in close and feel the other's hand grazing against the back of his own now, his gaze shifts and focuses on that touch for a moment and he can feel his own confidence begin to shatter.

This burden that he felt that was weighing him down, while it wasn't lifted off his shoulders completely, there were pieces of it that were beginning to crumble due to a combination of several things that had happened in the span of twenty-four hours.

This does leave him in silence for a moment even after Trace's apology for last night and if anything, this conflict and turmoil can be seen in his eyes as they begin to mist and in his body language as he tenses, that hand practically grips onto the surface of the top sketchbook now.

Sometimes Trace backs off, gives space, shows a near infinite patience. Sometimes, he pushes back, stands his ground, tries to get something. What he employs depends a lot on the situation, his own confidence, and whether he feels like a conversation calls for a feather or a hammer. In this moment, in this fragile place where Enzo has opened up enough to give him this view into their past from his perspective, for what maybe could have been -- if Trace hadn't been so shy, if Leo hadn't come over to him at that moment, if they hadn't been on the wrong side of a courtroom from one another -- he's not going to take a hammer to it. It doesn't answer his questions. It doesn't make things less confusing. But at least he has a direct answer from Enzo, whether it's the whole of the truth or not. Whatever might have been is just that -- what might have been. He'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt. But at least he had an answer.

He lifts his gaze from Enzo's hand and back to his eyes in that silence and sees the turmoil there, sees the slight mist there, and glances back down toward his hand gripping the sketchbook. And for a moment he moves just a tiny bit closer, lifting his hand, but catches himself, and pulls back, turning toward the door. "I'm gonna.." he starts, and figures he doesn't need to end that sentence, as he begins to move away.

"He said..." Enzo starts quietly as Trace backs off, his voice wavering with his words being mixed with a hint of laughter now, "He asked me, 'Did you dive in and take a look yet? You're a good swimmer.' It's January. In Michigan." That was part of his conversation with his father this morning. Just the callousness of the request without any regard for his well-being had upset Enzo this morning, that was caught in the middle of the New Years Eve Kiss and this conversation he promised Trace that they would have today.

It's only then that he actually realizes that Trace had brought up their intention on leaving and something inside of him begins to panic. Turning to look over his shoulder, if only to catch sight of the other, it takes a lot of effort for him to finally say, "Trace... I," He wanted him to stay, but knew that after what he'd said and attempted to do, he didn't deserve that company. Realizing that, he follows up with the only other thing he believes fits best, "--I'm sorry."

Trace pauses, at first confused, but quickly realizing that Enzo is talking about his father, and turns back toward him, brows knit. There are a lot of things that run through his mind, all of them jostling out of the way whatever he was thinking as he had turned for the door. First, who on earth asks their kid to just jump in a freezing lake in the winter like that's just a thing to do? Second, Enzo's father knows he's here. Third, Enzo's father wants him to find something in the lake. Enzo Castillo is a source of an exponentially growing collection of questions for every single answer that he manages to acquire.

But none of that is quite what has his heart do a strange little twisting maneuver as hearing Enzo actually use his name. It should be the smallest of all these things. It should be the thing that matters the least. Even the apology should matter more. He can see the panic. He takes a slow breath, and lets it out, and then he walks over to Enzo and he takes a hold of his arm and pulls him -- not into a box, not into a kiss -- but just into his arms, to wrap them around him. "Your father isn't here right now. I am," he says quietly.

All morning Enzo was this bottled up keg of gunpowder just waiting to blow and with the urgency of his father's request, he did almost cancel this meeting with Trace to see if he could get a wetsuit somewhere and investigate. Not usually the emotional type, or... the overly emotional type, especially in the public eye, he's used to keeping things under wraps, even with his closest of friends. Especially, when it came to his problems.

He knew that he'd have a lot to answer for when it came to Trace. The cat was out of the bag and some of the things he'd lied about, well, the One big thing, was now out in the open. Then there was his father...

And Trace is there to remind him that Alejandro Castillo isn't here right now...

When drawn into Trace's comforting hold, Enzo's own arms move to embrace him in return. He only wishes that he could be as confident as Trace is about his father not being here, but for the moment, he'll take this soothing, those caring words, and just Trace's presence to help set his mind at ease.

Trace can feel all that tension in Enzo and for a moment, everything else can wait. Yes, there are a lot of questions. Yes, there have been some lies. And he'll come back around to all of those things, but right now he can sense there's something so much bigger than the tip of the iceberg and all the clues that have been riddled throughout their conversations and these interactions. And whatever it is, it doesn't take an empath to see whatever it is has been putting a tremendous amount of pressure on Enzo. For a little while, he's just present, quiet and steady.

"Just breathe a little. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere," he says after a few more moments. Then he asks quietly, "What happened? Did something happen with your father this morning?" There are a lot of other questions, but this one seems to be the one with the most immediacy, the one that caused the crack in the dam to finally burst.

When Enzo was frantic and in meltdown mode, it was much easier to simply sink in against Trace and try to force himself to be as catatonic as one can be, even when his own thoughts continued to race. As time went on, however, and he begins to become far more self-aware and self-conscious, while he doesn't immediately move from this comfort, there is this feeling of shame that begins to wash over him.

What had he done in his moment of weakness? There's only the slightest of shifts that Trace might feel now and he might realize or notice that Enzo was slowly beginning to snap out of whatever deep despair he was going through and was beginning to gain some semblance of composure.

Could he still lie to Trace now? After all of this?

Drawing in a deep breath, Enzo finally speaks, his voice still wavering a touch, "I got a call from him this morning..." He then takes a heavy swallow, before coming out with the truth, "I'm here... because he still has interest in these islands. And he'd heard about what happened on New Years Eve." That should answer most of Trace's questions.

Trace can feel the shift and he loosens his hold a little, drawing back enough so that he can look at him. He doesn't fully let go of him, but he makes it easier if Enzo wants to withdraw. There's a slight nod when Enzo says that he's here because of his father. It doesn't surprise him. He'd always figured there was some other reason that Enzo was here, and it wasn't just because the triplets were.

"Okay," Trace says. "So he wants you to try to figure out what happened and he what? Just wants you to go dive headfirst into a giant lake and just swim around until you see something?" He then says, "We're going to need a boat. And wetsuits for that. And possibly someone who is SCUBA certified, or who can turn into a harbor seal. Do we know anyone who can turn into a harbor seal?"

He does withdraw a little bit once Trace's hold on him loosens. You couldn't really have serious discussions and making plans being huddled so close, but it wasn't Enzo's idea to loop Trace into any of this, but the other seems to have taken charge of the endeavor despite it having been a lie to begin with.

The first question asked, however, has Enzo nodding slowly, "That was the idea, yes..." It's when he realizes what's going on that he lifts a finger to state, "You don't have to involve yourself in my father's affairs, Trace. I know that this most likely would go against your family's best interest, even if you aren't playing by their rules." He makes sure to let the other know that he understands that part. "I know I asked the group last night if anyone had a boat or anything that we could use, and it's like what Angelo and Saint have been telling me before: Sometimes, I get ahead of myself and I don't think about what impact any of this might have on anyone else."

Though when asked if he knows of anyone who can turn into a harbor seal, he does turn to side and murmurs, "I might know a guy.. who could possibly change into one of those."

"I know," Trace says. "I know I don't have to do anything at all. And I don't do anything that I don't want to. I think you know that." He lets his hands slip into his pockets as he takes a step back, "But.. I want to know what's going on as much as he does. And If we all work together," he says making a little swirl with his finger indicating those on the island, "Then maybe we'll have a better chance at figuring that out."

"And," he says, "I want you to stop lying to me. I am on your side. Not your father's. Not my father's. Yours. And I want to help you. But you need to tell me the truth."

"Even if I report our findings back to my father?" Enzo asks, his gaze looking directly at now. He knows full well what the Kerekes think of his father and in his mind, they underestimate the elder Castillo.

As to the lying, that's when his gaze lowers and he looks off to the side, which might not be the best sign. "I lie to protect myself." He'll admit. But did he need to continue to lie to protect himself from Trace? Or, his feelings for Trace? "I guess if you're on my side then I don't need to protect myself from you." That's spoken with a a little grin. They both know by now that that's not why he was acting up against Trace, but he will seek out the other's eyes now. "Okay."

"I think.. that's a bigger conversation for another day," Trace admits. "For now? The short answer? Yes, even if you tell your father. But we can have a longer conversation about that whole situation.. later." He doesn't shy away from it. But he needs a lot more information and has a lot more questions before he can really form his own thoughts on that.

He nods slightly when Enzo says that he lies to protect himself. He can sort of understand that. "Okay," he says, meeting Enzo's eyes and holding them. Then he walks over to the piano, and he lifts the small snow globe, and he takes that little bit of holly out from beneath it, and twirls it in his fingers the way that he had in the throne room. "I didn't.. really believe you when you said there was nothing. I'm willing to fight. But I'm not willing to be turned into a crazy stalker."

Enzo won't argue with needing to discuss his father and this mission that he was sent on for the man. Even after he practically had a nervous breakdown just a few moments ago due to his father's mission and his father's wants and desires. There's no vocal response from him, but he does give a slow and easy nod to get the point clear that he understands the request.

He then follows Trace with his eyes as the man walks over to the piano like he owned the place and lifts the gifted snow globe. At first Enzo doesn't realize what's going on, but once that bit of holly is picked up and Trace begins to twirl it in that infuriating... okay, maybe it wasn't as infuriating as he had the other believe at the time, but it's time to put his best poker face on despite what he'd agreed to, oh, a few seconds ago, as he makes his way over to stand beside the other now, arms crossed.

"What are you talking about?" He looks between Trace and then down at the piece of twirling holly with the straightest of faces. Trace would know this act very well by now. He'd seen it, okay, perhaps, heard the tone in the present when asking about the shove. He then narrows his eyes a bit, "Am I... missing something?" Brows furrow. All of that gets undone though, when he starts to laugh at the absurdity of just watching Trace twirl the holly like that and soon his arms uncross and he gestures, "You know... I could've picked up a piece of holly from anywhere, right?" That does mean he remembers what holly and what moment this is referencing.

Trace takes that bit of holly and he taps it lightly against Enzo's chest above his folded arms when he puts on that poker face and comes to stand beside him, arms crossed. He is in fact, familiar with this act, and that face, and that tone of voice. And it makes him smirk just slightly. One brow lofts just a little bit but he answers neither of those questions.

"Sure, you could have. But you didn't," Trace says. "You picked up this piece of holly, with the little droplets of gold paint on the leaves, that I left on the throne." Then he tilts his head and smiles crookedly, "How infuriatingly good you looked, waltzing into the throne room and sprawling there on the throne like some magnificent modern Prince Charming."

He places the holly back under the snow globe. "I just hung around after Louise told me to supervise so I had an excuse to talk to you."

When Trace points out the little details that make this particular holly stand out from the rest, Enzo just has to shake his head as he's truly been found out, before his brow lifts, "Was that you're setting up some kind of trap? Or did it just happen? And then you recognized it somehow on my piano, underneath the snow globe?" He's very interested to know this part. Had he been played!

The description given of how he looked when he did just waltz into the castle for that selfie, gets a soft chuckle out of him. "While I didn't expect the place to be empty, I figured that the decorating should have been done by now and... I was doing some investigating on my own." Enzo has been caught snooping around and under the castle on a few occasions.

"I was actually glad for the company." He then adds, "Still a little disturbed by the telepathy," He remembers the outraged comment he'd made the very first time Trace invaded his mind, "Admittedly, you would look hot with a pair of horns." It's not something he'd allow himself to agree with at the moment Trace had brought it up.

Trace laughs, "God I wish I was that premeditated. That'd be diabolical. No, I.. I picked it up out of the decorations because it had paint on it and I was only using the ones without any spatter on them around the train set since people would be looking at it up close. I was going to just keep it, but I forgot it when I left." He glances over toward the piano. "I didn't even remember it until I saw it there under the snow globe and saw the gold paint." He then nods a little when Enzo mentions investigating of his own. "Like in the storage room, I guess. With the map, and the pictures. Where you wriggled out through an air duct to get away from me as fast as possible," he laughs.

As for the telepathy? "Sorry. Aside from your great escape, I have pointedly not used it again with you," he points out. "If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't." Though his eyebrows do bounce as he flashes a grin, "I totally would." Look hot. With horns. Then he admits, "I like when I speak Italian and you speak it back to me." Which may have been why he made that compliment in Italian the night before.

That gives Enzo some sense of relief that he hadn't fallen so easily for one of Trace's diabolical traps. When the storage room debacle is brought up, this has him shaking his head slowly. "I knew that the longer I was locked in there with you..." There's a soft smile on his lips when he says this, which is soon followed by a quiet pause when his gaze lifts to meet with Trace's and here's his smile slowly fades, "I didn't trust myself to be able... " He then sighs, gaze finally lowering, "resist being so close to you. So I was panicking in a sense and... while I'd like to say that I won't be climbing through the air ducts again, who knows, there might be something there." That is something that he hadn't touched on and that had gone unanswered as of yet. This act he'd put on and this need to make Trace hate him.

He is then quick to interject, "It's not that... or, the second time around, I think I got used to it and I kind of liked having someone there to talk to while I was crawling through a narrow, janky tunnel. I was just glad that it was you." Now that they're confessing to things, he has to laugh when he says, "I actually liked it when you called me Lorenzo." He does follow up with, "It's not something that I like everyone saying... and not so much in public, but..." Maybe for him, it's something more intimate. Even if his father calls him that...

Trace's smile skews a little crooked as Enzo goes through a couple of false starts trying to explain his rapid escape through the air ducts, but it softens a bit even as Enzo's fades. And he leans in to gently bump his shoulder against Enzo's. "So that's.. what all that was about, huh? The whole.. needing me to hate you thing?" But then he says, "Well, if you do have to go back in there, at least we know that I can act as a kind of radio so if anything does happen.. at least you're not stuck in there alone. And.. I can't hear everything you're thinking or anything. It's not mind reading. I can't read your mind. No matter how much I may have desperately wanted to a few times in these few months. You have to kind of be thinking AT me, deliberately, for me to hear you. Just in case you were worried about that."

"I like Lorenzo," Trace says, "Not that I don't like Enzo. I just like the sound of your full name." Then there's a quiet pause before he says, "Thank you.. for finally using mine."

Feeling that bump at his shoulder, which is far more gentle that then shoulder-check he'd given Trace at karaoke, Enzo nods once, "Yeah. And no matter what I did, what I said..." Here he lets out a quiet snort of laughter, making his shoulders lift in the process, as he turns away, "That was infuriating. I knew that I slipped at some points and went easy on you at others..." He then turns to look back on Trace, "But someone is so darn stubborn and persistent." Which is probably why they were here today.

The explanation and reassurance to the telepathy gets another slow nod. It's not something that he's terribly worried about now that things are more or less out in the open.

Turning to face Trace directly now, a hand finally reaches out to trace along the other's arm. It's the first actual physical contact that Enzo had initiated since, well, that kiss in the giant present. "And here I was hoping you'd tell me that you actually preferred being called by your last name." Obviously, he's joking...

Trace smiles a little wryly, "I am not going to say that it didn't give me whiplash, because it did. And that I wasn't really fucking confused about what was going on. But yeah, why am I like this?" He chuckles, remembering the question from the hall. "Because pretty much everything I have worth holding onto is something I got by being stubborn and persistent." He pauses, "And sometimes just very, very lucky." Never underestimate the power of pure dumb luck.

"Oh," and he adds to the confession train while they're on it, "I totally slid into the ditch because I was watching you ski instead of watching where I was going."

He tilts his head just a little as Enzo turns to face him, his posture relaxed now, not wound up and tense, not lost in abject confusion. He seems far more at ease. The touch along his arm makes him smile, but it's the comment that makes him laugh.

Even despite this gentle touch as Enzo brushes his fingertips along the length of Trace's arm, there's still this hesitation on his part, unlike their time in the giant present. Then again, there was the ruse of a distraction that he could fall behind when questioned at that point. So there was obviously something still on the man's mind. Still, he moves a step closer now, seeing them standing once more face to face, but closer than they were than when waiting to board the ferry that one day.

For now, Enzo just shuts his eyes to relish in this closeness. He takes in a deep breath, taking in the other's natural scent mixed with whatever fragrances and soap that he uses most likely, but he's simply just basking in Trace's essence in this moment.

He then speaks, "I still really wish that I could've..." His eyes then open, gaze lowered, "I asked what would make you hate me, because I needed you to."

When Enzo steps closer, dark eyes take in his features up close. Trace is just a few inches taller but it rarely seems it until they're practically nose to nose. And when he closes his eyes, Trace lifts one hand and lets it drift over Enzo's shoulder, down the length of his arm, eventually finding his hand and brushing along the back of it again. Trace has a scent that is a light citrus with a bit of cinnamon and spice, probably the soap that he uses, the shampoo. He doesn't tend to wear anything in addition to that save for specific occasions.

When Enzo opens his eyes, Trace says, "I still don't understand why. When there would have been far easier ways to just.. get me to go away. If that's what you needed."

"I can't just ask you to go away..." Enzo says in slight exasperation as he turns his head to the side. "Because I wouldn't mean it. And the easiest way to build this wall between us would be through animosity and I," Here, he starts shaking his head, before he adds emphasis to the next thing he says, "Very much needed that wall built. If I knew that you hated me, that there was no chance," He doesn't finish that statement, but he does take a step back, withdrawing from the touch as he makes his way over to the drafting table as he speaks, "Then whatever I felt, it wouldn't really matter."

Tilting his head to the side, he eyes the date written on one of those sketchbooks sitting on the table. When he finds the one he's thinking of, he picks it up and begins to flip through it. "One day, still during the first year of that whole legal thing my dad is entangled in, Carla came into my room to chat and I didn't think much of it, because growing up, she always tried to get on my good side. Being the step-mom. I didn't notice, nor cared, that she was looking through my things, but on later realization, I think she'd seen me drawing this." The page flipping stops and he returns to Trace to show him that sketch, or one of them, that he'd done way back when. Surrounding the sketch of a younger Trace, is cartoony doodles of courtroom things. "And she asked me about it. And I told her that I was bored, so I decided to draw... you. Of course, she didn't buy it and she threatened to tell my dad about it, unless," And here he just shakes his head, "Let's just say that she thought my dad was shooting blanks and that she was falling out of favor with him. And there was always this power struggle with me when it came to her. Who would inherit? The son? Or the second wife who didn't give him any kids?"

While there was a lot of unnecessary information there, Enzo's telling gives it a more personal touch. "And that's not the last time she used you against me, but by them I'd made sure she couldn't find the sketchbooks, so there wasn't anything concrete that she could pin on me." He then adds, "But if my dad knows that you're here, then he might remember that incident." Wetting his lips, he then just laughs, "I guess I've been beating around the bush long enough, but I think you get the point by now, right?"

Trace listens, brow furrowed slightly, and lets his hand fall away as Enzo moves over toward the sketchbooks and pulls one out. He looks down at the sketch of himself and he smiles just a little bit, but he's focused as much on the story as he is on the book. He reaches out and touches the sketchbook, not the drawings, of course, but just along one of the edges of the pages, imagining Enzo sitting in the courtroom drawing these. He probably even watched him draw some of them at some point.

But he can listen between the lines of the story, extrapolate the reasons why she might use him specifically as ammunition in that sort of an argument. "So that's.. why the question about my mother using you against me. If she'd try it again. Why you were surprised that they didn't care that I was gay. Or that I was kissing a guy, just that it was a convenient way to try to raise a fuss, in general, because we were coworkers."

"How bad would it be?" he asks, assuming a baseline of 'bad' from everything Enzo's shared thus far.

How bad would it be? Enzo had thought about that time and time again, but he's never known his father to be a bluffing man. "I don't think I want to know or to find out. But believe me, when he confronted me about it after that bi--" He definitely has no love for his step-mother, "After she, despite my telling her that whatever is going on is her problem not ours," Her lack of pregnancy, "still told my father about a picture I had sketched several years back, I knew that he wasn't playing around. I always knew. And by this time, you were already off doing your own thing, that I never got to see you at those meetings or in the courtrooms by then anyway." It's almost as if he added that part, because despite the fact that he was in denial of his own sexuality, or, at the very least, hiding it, there was no longer anything to look forward to during those long court sessions.

"What do you know about my dad anyway?" This he has to ask. The Accardi firm must know a lot, but even he has to wonder to what extent.

"Okay," Trace says, taking that in and considering it for some time, lifting a hand to rub at his face a bit. Definitely not an ideal situation. "Did he threaten you?" he asks. "Is that why all the questions about whether they'd ever threatened to cut me off, and what I'd do if they did?" Because that all makes much more sense right now.

"I .. don't honestly know a lot. Most of what I knew I overheard when I was young and while I hung around a bit and made the appropriate noises while I was in undergrad, by the time I went to grad school I didn't even bother to go along at all to pretend I was 'learning the ropes'. Like, when it all started I was still pretending I was semi-interested in law and going along to learn about the process and what actual lawyers do and all that. But I wasn't, really."

He considers and says, "What I remember of the case was that the company my folks are defending sucks and is probably shady, and your dad's company is probably shady, and they are both trying to out-shady one another and pin whatever it was on the other one. Some bad deals that happened with properties in a few cities across the East Coast," he squints, trying to pull what he knows of the case itself from memory. "I just remember he was intimidating and intense and that's about it."

"Of course, he threatened me..." Enzo says with a furrow of his brow, looking as if Trace asked a ridiculous question, even if it was actually a fair one. In fact, he kinda expects most parents to threaten their kids in one way or another. "Sometimes you don't know if he's joking or not too, but you wouldn't really want to push your luck." This is where Enzo sort of laughs a little, despite the content, "He said that I might be his only kid, but he's still young enough to have more. I mean, sure? Carla's not giving them to him, so if I were her, I'd watch my back. I doubt, not with this long court case, he'll want to be another huge amount in alimony like he did with my mom. And he has Victoria or... I don't remember the name of the other one, but he's got a few replacements waiting in the wings."

Listening to Trace talk about this case that's been going on for years now, Enzo nods, "Yeah... I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but he has some important people on call, people he's taken bribes from to bulldoze place and erect whatever building they want to stroke their ego. But yeah, I think you've got a pretty good understanding of him."

Trace raises both brows a little bit when Enzo treats it like it's a foregone conclusion. In his father's case, Trace sort of figured it was, but not so much in general. But he nods a little to the rest of the information. "So.. why did you say you wished I'd tell my family about you?" Yet another question that Enzo had refused to answer when he'd asked it. And since he was in the process of getting them all out there. "After you made me promise not to tell either of our families that you were here."

"Oh. That." Enzo says as he sets the sketchbook back down onto the drafting table. With his back to Trace now, he simply states, "If you had told your family about me, that fell into the same category as declaring ourselves as enemies. You couldn't be trusted and... maybe it would make things easier for me to not have any interest in you." He then stops to consider all of the other things that probably would have happened if an enemy Trace did tell his parents. "And maybe this would all be over anyway. I'm sure my father would've pulled me out of here. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if I was kicked out of here if Vision of Wonder Entertainment found out who I was the son of or why I'm here." He shrugs. "All of the dominos would've started to fall. Maybe even my father's downfall. Maybe mine. But would anything matter by then anyway?"

Trace nods slowly to that and says, "I don't know what they'd do if I told them. I'm sure they'd try to find some way to make it work to their advantage one way or another. It's what they try to do with everything. I kept my promise, though. I haven't told them." He pauses and says, "I told Camilla a little about you, but not who you were. Just stuff about the park, stuff that happened in it. She was crawling all over me to know why I was so distracted and who the mystery guy was that I was buying Christmas presents for and being all moody over. She did finally stop asking after a while. I know she was annoyed with me, though. We usually share all our secrets." He smiles a little wryly. "She'll get over it."

Then he moves over to where Enzo is standing and he gently lays one hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. "So, we're not going to tell either of them anything. I don't want to put you in a potentially dangerous situation. Not because of me."

"I know..." Enzo practically sighs out, before he can't help but smile, "You're the Trace in the timeline that's going to drive me crazy, because I wasn't able to tap into your dark side and start your villain origin story." He then gives Trace a curious look once Camilla is brought up. He did promise that there would be no lies, but was withholding information considered a lie? He did have Camilla's secrets to keep as well.

"You let your sister rummage around on your phone? How trusting of you." The squeeze at his shoulder has Enzo turning around to face Trace directly once again. Whatever threats his father had made, in this moment, it didn't matter. There's this suddenness, very much the way things were in the present, when he reaches a hand to snake up behind Trace's head and to run through his hair as he presses his hungry mouth against the other man's lips, while his other hand wrapped behind his back to pull him in closer. There was a kiss last night, one that was muted on Enzo's part, but he had this tension to work out and it was a breath of fresh air to have gotten all of that off of his chest, while also spending the entire night realizing that the guy he'd had a crush on for all these years, felt the same way about him. At that time, he didn't think there was anything that they could do about, and while this was still dangerous territory in his mind, they were behind closed doors, in his own private domain, so for the most part, he felt relatively safe.

Trace laughs. "Sorry, the hate just does not flow within me. Stuck in traffic." Look, it's a city planning joke, a groaner at that. There's a moment's pause at the mention of his phone and he says, "Rummage around on my phone?" There's a moment or two to look puzzled, but then Enzo is turning around, and his hand is in Trace's hair, and his lips are on Trace's, and any thoughts of his sister fully leave his brain.

It wasn't their first kiss. Nor even their second. But it was a first kiss of a sort. Just the two of them, alone, with a lot of air cleared between them. Was it still complicated? Undoubtedly. But for the moment, it feels good to just kiss Enzo without any kind of uncertainty. Fingertips trace along Enzo's jaw and along the side of his neck as Trace leans in to the kiss, answering that hunger with his own. With every confession, every revelation, the bits of fog had lifted. To feel like he hadn't been alone in that feeling, that pull, was sweet relief.

He pulls him closer, still, palm resting at his lower back, wanting to feel the press of their bodies against one another, his fingers curled just lightly in the fabric of his sweater. This time, all he wants is to savor the moment, to let it draw out, not nearly so hurried, but no less intense than before.

Oh, Enzo had caught that little bit about the phone. Unfortunately, for Trace, that whole thing will remain a mystery for a while longer.

Even despite not needing the boost that he gets from his empathic abilities, Enzo just cannot help himself in the heat of this moment, one filled with years' worth of many years worth longing and several months of sexual tension between the two, but to tap into Trace's emotional high, if only to strengthen what he, himself is experiencing now. This looks to be something that he'll be making a habit of, as he presses both mouth and body against the other, while one hand trails fingers along the musculature of Trace's back to finally come to rest at his rear, which he pulls in against himself. The other hand continues to rake through those dark thick locks.

When his abilities begin to feed him what his partner is feeling, there is a glow over his heart, which can very barely be seen through the fabric of his clothing, especially his sweater. In their distraction, it'll most likely go unnoticed anyway. There is a moment between where he breaks off the kiss, to murmur in a heated breath, "We need to keep this a private matter... I don't know if my father has people in the park."

Right now, Trace really, really does not care about the phone.

He lets out a low sound into Enzo's mouth as he's pulled even closer. It's like he can't get close enough, like he wants to breathe him in, a need after all this time to not even let air get between them. And when Enzo opens up his senses to it, he can feel all of that and more. There's nothing hidden right now. Trace's emotions are stripped raw and laid bare, all of that desire right there, the affection of that longing and lingering crush, the relief, even the stubborn determination. There's no hiding anything from Enzo. He's certainly not trying.

With his eyes closed in the press of that embrace, he doesn't notice the glow, not hidden beneath the layers of fabric. Not even when he opens them as Enzo breaks the kiss. Because the only thing he can see is Enzo's eyes, beautiful and dark in front of him. He nods, in response and murmurs, "Normally, the idea of hiding would piss me off. But these are.. strange circumstances we're in. And I want to be with you. If that means we have to be careful, then I can be careful." It's a little breathless, but earnest.

Enzo knows that it's unfair to ask this of Trace or of any one, but the emotions that he's experiencing tells him that the request is something that Trace would not disagree with. Though when he hears exactly that being expressed from the man's lips, Enzo understands full well where he is coming from, and why having their relationship on somewhat secretive, or private would be considered insulting for Trace, despite Enzo, himself, having kept that side of him a secret from most, except for his closest of friends. Still, it does make him feel guilty about even having even requested the privacy.

However, something said makes him chuckle softly with a shake of his head. This whole time, he had done what he could to try and push Trace away from him and yet Trace still wanted to be with him. After a brief, soft kiss is pressed against Trace's lips, Enzo breathes out, amusement in his tone, "You really are a masochist," before he pushes in further to take claim of the other's mouth once more for another taste, being unable to resist as he's swept up in the both of their desires and need for this closeness.

If he had the choice, he would spend the entire day in Trace's arms, but he knew that there were things that needed to be done. Angelo was ready to help them investigate the occurrences of last night and after his father's call this morning, he knew that he had little time to spare. Following that, he was scheduled to work the evening shift, so with that in mind, though while still drunk on the moment, he reluctantly withdraws even if he doesn't pull away. Instead, he lets his forehead press to lean gently against his, breathing quietly without saying a word for a few seconds, before stating, "I guess we ought to uh... come up with plans to investigate that thing last night."

As much as Trace has never hidden this part of himself, or his relationships, or let what anyone thinks about them stop him; he also knows that with Enzo's father threatening him, and not knowing exactly how dangerous that might be for him, he's not about to be flippant about the situation. There'll be time to figure all of that out. They've been circling each other for years, in this tug of war for months. And now they're finally here, in this moment. Their families are still an issue, but at least now, in private, they can deal with those issues together.

Trace can't help but laugh quietly in return and says, "Maybe a little. No regrets." But maybe he just couldn't resist the current he could feel running beneath it all, the tension, the attraction, the mystery even in the confusion, of what it was that drew him to Enzo. He traces fingertips along Enzo's jaw as they kiss, along the outside shell of his ear, into the soft waves of his hair.

There's no doubt that Trace could spend all day just like this, tasting his lips, lingering in his arms. But he did know when he came over that Enzo had a shift this evening. And they had made plans to do some investigation before the 'trail' such as it was, got cold. And so when Enzo draws back just far enough for their foreheads to rest against one another, he lets that silence linger for just a little, catching his breath.

Then he draws back just enough to look him in the eyes, "Yeah," he says quietly. "We can do that." A little crooked smile touches his lips. "I'm not going anywhere." He draws a slow breath, and only then does he let Enzo go and takes a step back to run his fingers through his hair. "I'll.. clean up lunch." That soup was long forgotten a while ago. "Let's.. start going over what we have.. and what we might need, and where we should start to narrow things down." Sure, he's still catching his breath a little, still coming down from the rollercoaster of emotions, but a problem to solve, he can find a way to focus on it.