“Soo…” Mateo drawled out, hoping to break the awkward silence he’d started.

Why couldn’t I have just opened the damn gift right away like a normal person? He berated himself.

They were at a red light, GPS indicating they had another fifteen minutes to go before they got to the restaurant. Mateo didn’t want to spend those fifteen minutes in silence, he wanted to talk like they had before on the phone or when he had driven Emilio home. 

Those times, they'd been so engrossed in conversation that neither could find the strength to end the conversation simply because they had arrived at their destination or because they were running late for something.

“Soooo…” Mateo tried again. 

Emilio’s eyes remained transfixed on the road.

“Should I open it now?” Mateo said, lifting the gift from his lap.

Emilio, head unmoving, mouth still glued shut, glanced at Mateo.

“Hey, before, when I said I can’t believe we're still in the parking lot or whatever, I didn’t mean it like in a bad way. I meant it like in a ‘wow I was so caught up talking with you that I became completely oblivious to the time and world around me'. Honestly, that’s all I meant.” Mateo urged.

Finally, Emilio’s head turned slightly. He stared at the box and sighed, all the previous glee gone. 

“It’s stupid,” He said. “You probably won’t even like it. It was a dumb idea.” 

His shoulders slumped as he looked back at the road, continuing to drive when the light turned green.

He could feel Mateo staring at him, trying to read his emotions. 

Damn it, he knew he should have left his sunglasses on, why did he have to take them off when he gave the gift to Mateo? 

Ugh, the gift. 

Emilio should have never mentioned it. Mateo obviously didn’t want anything from him. Probably didn’t want to have anything to remember him by, the drunk bastard who took his bed. 

He quickly shut up the part in his head yelling if he didn’t like you then why would he draw you in his sketchbook? 

Mateo was an artist, he explained to himself, he just drew stuff, it didn’t mean anything to him. 

He risked a glance towards Mateo. 

Yup, he was still staring at him.

Emilio let out in a tired sigh. “What?” 

“It’s mine now," Mateo said resolutely, a soft smile on his face. 

Emilio sent him a questioning look.

"The gift," Mateo explained. "You aren’t gonna get it back no matter how much you ask. I’m going to treasure it forever,” he said, leaning firmly back in his chair, hugging the gift tightly.

Emilio eyed him. “You don’t even know what is.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s from you,” stated Mateo, all matter of factly, and he saw a little light come back to Emilio’s eyes.

“It’s not a towel.”

“The towels are fine,” Mateo said, not wanting to lie anymore. 

And they were fine, it’s just, Mateo could no longer see them and not go a little stir crazy thinking about what they once covered a few days prior.

“Okay. Well, hold on, don’t open it now. It’ll distract me too much from driving. We're almost there.” Emilio perked back up a little.

Once they were sitting down in a booth and had already ordered, Mateo tentatively placed the gift on the table. 

The pure joy that had filled Emilio's eyes earlier was now fused with a feeling he was trying to mask, terror.

Oh god oh god oh god, Emilio was screaming in his head, why did I make him a phone!?!? 

He’s going to hate it. 

He's happy with his phone, he already told you that. 

He’s going to think you're some desperate puppy in need of attention.

You idiot you went too far, you always go too far. 

Emilio's thoughts were racing. He forced on his 'confident for the cameras' smile as Mateo began to unwrap the gift. 

That’s what Ginny always says, I'm too much, always take things out of proportion. He’s going to hate it and then he’s going to hate you. 

He watched, his big eyes opening even wider, as Mateo unwrapped the gift, revealing a silver box.

Mateo’s jaw dropped as he picked up the box. It was beautiful. 

And engraved.

Mateo began to read the carefully handwritten engravings on the box, a smile tugging on his face and something else tugging on his heart.

There were various motivational and inspirational quotes. Quotes Mateo had told Emilio he'd always liked reading. Emilio, of course, had found it incredibly adorable but had decided to tease him about it instead. 

Mateo read a few of them, his smile growing even wider, then he remembered the nervous man in front of him. 

He glanced up, his smile reaching his eyes as he took in Emilio, who was, to Mateo's surprise, almost cowering in his chair trying to make himself smaller, like a child who was about to get a lecture, like he was no longer proud of the work he had done.

“Emilio!” Mateo exclaimed, “this is amazing! This is your handwriting!” He said looking back at the box. Then he quickly added a, “Right?” so as to not sound like some crazy stalker.

It wasn't his fault he could recognize Emilio's handwriting, he was just very good at his job, all good journalists did their homework.  

“Emilio," Mateo tried again, looking back up at Emilio in amazement and wonder, "did you write all these?”

Emilio nodded, cleared his throat and said, “there’s more. You have to open it.”

Mateo looked back down because of course there was more. Mateo knew that Emilio never did anything halfway, he always poured his heart and soul into whatever he was working on, whether that be one of his new A.I.s or a present for some stranger that he felt he had to be nice too. That was one of the many things Mateo admired about Emilio.