Chasing a Starlight

until the end of my life

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Someone Like You
byakuran
golden_damsel

 

Someone Like You
Pairing: Cozart/Giotto
Rating: PG-13 (One swear word...)
Note: Please offer me constructive criticism but be gentle >-< this is like... my first fi in three years and english is not my first language... my third to be exact xD I hope you find it satisfactory.

Giotto left the house of his friend behind. He sighed, while walking through the spacious garden. The grass looked perfectly trimmed. There was a little beet of roses, seemingly out of place in the lush grass. It was hidden behind a big tree, overshadowed by branches.

A long time ago, they were simply two young men; nothing more, nothing less. There were no responsibilities. When they spent time together at every possible opportunity, they could laugh freely under the clear blue sky of Italy, and follow through with every mischief they came up with.
 
A long time ago, everything was perfect for Giotto, and he wished it could have always stayed that way.
But he shook his head, and reminded himself that it was for the best.
It was for the best, if he would leave Cozart’s life, his best friend’s live, forever.

From the first moment Giotto met Cozart, he knew that they were going to be good friends. He felt an immediate connection to the red-haired man when they laughed together for the first time. 

He wrote many letters to his friend, so that Cozart would know what went on with the Vongola family he inspired. Over the years Cozart had become his most important person next to G, but then it was still a bit different with Cozart.

Giotto was confident that his friend would one day know that they were made for each other.

However, as the months after their first meeting went by, Cozart was still the same as usual, and Giotto began to think that perhaps a negative reaction like avoiding him at first would have been better than no reaction at all. Of course that would only be the first reaction; afterwards they would live happily ever after. He smirked. Yeah right.

One year later, Cozart still didn’t react to his advances. He grew increasingly frustrated because his friend seemed absolutely oblivious; and that when Giotto even went out of his way to see Cozart as often as possible. They spent their days walking about, just passing time, and chatting about their families, books (even though Cozart enjoyed reading far more than Giotto did), and other things.

One day, he heard the rumor that Cozart was dating a girl who was said to be the daughter of a rich merchant in his village.

Giotto tried to be happy for his friend. He really did. It didn’t work.

He rolled around in his bed that night, and got little sleep. He tried to distract himself in any way possible; he even went as far as to go over every meeting he had attended that day, analyzing every paper he wrote. He just couldn’t let it go that Cozart might not have contacted him lately because he had a girl. Giotto felt a surge of jealousy.

The days after he came to know of Cozart’s apparent liaison, he slaved for his work. His guardians went as far as telling him to stop; they didn’t know what came over him G threw his Boss concerned looks when he thought Giotto wasn’t looking, but he knew that Giotto would only tell him what was up with him when he was ready.

For a whole week there was not a night Giotto managed to sleep to daybreak. It was as if he suffered from sudden insomnia, and he grew increasingly agitated day by day. Giotto usually didn’t mind that Cozart didn’t contact him that often, he was used to Cozart’s arbitrary way of life, often postponing the answering of his mails for days, when he found an interesting book to occupy himself with, or if his father demanded help with his business.

Finally Giotto decided to write a letter to Cozart. He had enough of his worrying and an itch to know if the rumor was right. Secretly he hoped that it wasn’t. His hand didn’t write properly, as he was extremely tired and the letters blurred before his eyes. His desk was illuminated by the soft light radiating off his candle, and his eyes were reddened because he had read so many documents that week.

After another week of restless sleep he decided that the next morning he would go visit Cozart. His visit would be disguised as a negotiation of wares, so he wouldn’t come across as a nuisance. After all, it could be that Cozart didn’t answer because he was busy spending time with his lover. And who was Giotto to foil the plans of his friend if he wanted to spend time with his lover that wasn’t Giotto…

That night someone knocked on his door. He opened a bleary eye, and rubbed it to get the sleep sand out. He looked at the clock sitting on his nightstand, and if his eyes didn’t deceive him, it had to be two in the morning. He made his way to the door, too tired to school his features that betrayed his irritation.

Only the pale moonlight shining through his curtains lit the way, and he cursed, as he found himself stumbling over a book that he forgot to pack away. It was a book that Cozart recommended to him, something about star-crossed lovers… Giotto wasn’t sure. He hadn’t read the book, and only listened half-heartedly to Cozart’s exclamations, saying that it was very famous in England or so…

Finally he made it to the door, and opened it.

He was graced with the sight of none other than Cozart Simon who was softly smiling at him.

“Surprise,” he simply said.

Giotto blinked. It was a surprise indeed.

“Cozart, what are you doing here?” He asked, and suddenly he found himself conscious of the state he was in. He had messy hair, and the worst: he was only dressed in underwear. In his sleepy haze he had fully pushed his state of undress aside.

“Sorry, I will get something to wear first.” He rushed off, and went back to the door moments later, dressed in a white shirt and black trousers.

“Okay… what are you doing here?” He asked a bit breathless because he had gotten himself dressed as fast as possible.

“I thought I’d pay you a visit. You asked me if I was really dating a girl, and I thought I’d make it clear to my best friend that it’s not true, and he doesn’t have to be jealous because I won’t have time for him anymore.” He winked with an amused smile on his face because he knew that Giotto was a person who liked getting attention.

“Really funny,” Giotto rolled his eyes. “Come in.”

He made tea, and they sat down at his kitchen table. The candlelight gave the room a comfortable atmosphere. The two of them were smiling at each other, chatting about their families. Despite the strange setting in which they talked, it was in the middle of the night, they were comfortable around each other.
Then Cozart asked that question.

“Giotto, do you have a woman you like?”

Giotto froze. He didn’t know how to answer that question, and they had never talked about women before.

“Yes, there is someone I like. It’s unrequited.” Giotto choked out.

Cozart looked at him solemnly. “How can someone not like you?”

Despite himself, Giotto chuckled. That statement lifted the awkwardness off his shoulders. Cozart was really oblivious, but endearing.

“Cozart… it’s you.” He regretted saying it the moment the words tumbled out of his mouth, but he could no longer hold back. While anticipating Cozart’s answer with nervousness, he closed his eyes.

Cozart looked at him, smiling. “Giotto, I like you too.”

And Giotto opened his eyes and smiled back. Who would have known it would be that easy.


After they confessed to each other, Cozart came over to Giotto more often. Since his family was wealthy there were no problems concerning money due to the travelling. Besides, Cozart could always claim that he wanted to visit his grandmother.

They couldn’t make their relationship public because such “abnormalities” were frowned upon, but Giotto was satisfied with the two of them being happy with each other.

Whenever he could find the time in between his busy schedule, he and Cozart spent the night together, in Giotto’s bed. They slept close together, their legs tangled, and hands intertwined. Giotto had never felt so close to another person before, and it made him happy; so happy that he thought his heart would burst sometimes when he saw Cozart smile at him.

“Cozart… This is all so new to me,” Giotto said breathlessly.

“It’s the same for me,” Cozart stated, “but you are the only one I would do this with.” He added a reassuring smile.

Giotto felt inexplicably happy at the response he got, and fell asleep immediately, his hand on top of the other’s hand.

Sometimes it was scary how Cozart became even more important to him day by day, it seemed so surreal that he was finally with the person he waited so long for.


Their first fight was unexpected- at least on Giotto’s behalf. Half a year after they became lovers, Giotto confessed to Cozart that he had told G about their relationship. He would have never guessed Cozart’s reaction. Cozart became furious, like Giotto had never seen him before.
 

“You know how this will tarnish my family’s reputation! My father has problems because of the bad weather at sea already!”

Giotto grew uneasy himself. “You know that G would never tell anybody,” he tried to reason.

“You never ask me before you do something. It’s always about you. Why can’t you think of my situation?” Cozart replied dryly, ending with a hint of exasperation.

“You know I would never do anything to tarnish your reputation- and G is trustworthy,” Giotto responded honestly. “I didn’t think it would bother you that much.”

After Giotto said his last sentence with such honesty, Cozart turned around to leave.

“So that’s it? You just leave without settling this matter?” Giotto was genuinely surprised. Somehow Cozart was acting exceedingly strange because he was neither one to hold grudges, nor did he walk away from an argument without reaching a compromise at least.

Cozart had an indefinable look on his face before he left.
Giotto rushed to the window to see him walking down the street. He bit his lip, and contemplated what Cozart had said.

Now that he thought further about it, it was true that he was very headstrong. Cozart’s wishes had really been fading in the background because he never disagreed with him. Giotto decided that he would need to pay more attention to the wishes of his lover, however subtle the display may be.

But when he thought that Cozart had implied that G was untrustworthy, he felt his cheeks hot with anger. G would never betray Giotto’s trust.

What if Cozart decided that he no longer wanted Giotto after this? Or worse, had he found someone else that he was so worried the state of their relation might be known to the public?
What would happen if Cozart no longer wanted him as a lover, or even in his life?
Giotto took a deep breath to calm down. There was no use in making silly assumptions.


The day after the fight between them, Cozart left. That was what his grandmother told Giotto when he went to her house to apologize for his behavior.

Giotto was worried that Cozart was not going to return, but then he reprimanded himself. It would be exaggerated to just end their relationship over such a little argument… Or maybe it wasn’t little for Cozart.

Giotto continued to ponder how to go about the situation while strolling about the market, until he saw Cozart, walking around. He almost ran over to him, until he saw the woman at his side. She had curly brown hair, and wore an expensive dress, woven of fine fabric.
He immediately felt a little jealous, as the woman seemed to be touching Cozart a lot causally with her glove-clad hands, and he was sure that it was not only his overactive imagination.

He nonchalantly made his way over to them.

“Hey Cozart.” He greeted, and nodded at him.

The woman narrowed her eyes a bit when she was utterly ignored by Giotto.

“And who would this nice lady be?” Giotto added as a mere afterthought, trying to put on a sweet smile which may or may not actually resembled one. Normally he was good with smiling when it was necessary, but with Cozart it was always a bit different. He also couldn’t stand the woman from the first moment he laid eyes on her.

“Maria, can you wait for me at grandmother’s house? I need to talk to my friend.” He said calmly, and first she looked as if she was about to argue, but shut her mouth when she saw Cozart’s look, and understood that Cozart was serious.

She turned around and left without saying goodbye to either of them.

“Can we talk at yours?” Cozart asked.

Giotto nodded, and they made their way silently to Giotto’s apartment. Giotto was kicking stones on the ground with his hands in his pocket, but he allowed himself to act that way because his conspicuous blonde hair was hidden underneath a brown hat and clothes of cheaper fabric disguised his true identity.

He didn’t like it when the vendors wanted to give him their food for free when they recognized him because he thought that everyone should work equally for it.

When they went inside the apartment, Giotto grabbed Cozart by his shirt, and kissed him roughly. Cozart kissed back. Giotto unbuttoned Cozart’s shirt, but when his hand sneaked inside his trousers, Cozart’s hand stopped him.

“No Giotto, we need to clarify this between us. And please stop your jealousy,” He said earnestly.

“I’m not jealous,” Giotto said distractedly because he was still stroking the expanse of Cozart’s smooth chest accessible to his hand. With his hair disheveled due to Giotto’s aid, he looked positively edible.

“Did you think I didn’t see how you were looking at Maria?” Cozart rolled his eyes.

“So her name is Maria huh…” Giotto mumbled.

“She is my cousin if you must know.”

Giotto wasn’t really convinced that the Maria girl had no further intentions despite their degree of relation, but he just shut up that moment because he was thinking about what Cozart had said during their argument. It was true that he sometimes didn’t pay enough attention to Cozart’s needs, so he decided to redeem himself and become a better partner for Cozart.

“Clarify things? What do you mean? Aren’t you still with this handsome man, the boss of the Vongola family?” Giotto leered at him.

Cozart rolled his eyes again, “Sometimes your ego is just too huge, Giotto.”

Giotto winked.


Although he anticipated an improvement in their relationship that was not what happened.A week after they made up, he found Cozart sitting in the Vongola Headquarters, seemingly waiting for him.

His face was visibly pale, and he looked as if he was about to vomit on the letter he was reading. When he saw Giotto approaching, he swiftly crumpled the letter, and pushed it into the pocket of his trousers.
 

Giotto knew that Cozart left something undisclosed because he would sometimes have that distant look in his eyes. Every time Giotto asked though, his lover said that there was nothing wrong, followed by a reassuring smile.

Cozart had decided to stay for two weeks longer. He told his father that he wanted to spend some time with his grandmother. Although he had to spend much time studying also because that was expected of him by his father, he found time for Giotto every day.

Still, Giotto sensed that there was something wrong. Sometimes Cozart would react awkwardly when Giotto tried to kiss him. It seemed as if there was always a tension preventing Cozart to relax in Giotto’s presence.

During the time Cozart stayed, Giotto felt them drifting further apart. He found less time for Giotto, and he spent more time with his cousin. He told Giotto that his father said so, but Giotto thought that his lover was avoiding him.
The day before his departure, the two slumped exhausted on the bed, Cozart because he had endured a seemingly endless shopping tour of his cousin, and Giotto because he had to work on too much paperwork that day.

They were too tired to do anything else, and fell asleep.

When they woke up in the morning together, their backs faced each other.

“Cozart, when will you be leaving? I want to accompany you to your grandmother’s house,” he smiled warmly at Cozart.

Although he was sad that his lover was leaving, he assumed that he didn’t have to wait too long to see him again. Besides, he wanted to spend as much time as possible with Cozart.

Then he sensed that something was wrong. Cozart was in the process of dressing himself, and hadn’t answered Giotto’s question. When he was done, he turned around, and looked at Giotto solemnly.

“Giotto, it’s over between us.”

There was no emotion evident in the way he said the words. Giotto gaped at him, and he could bet that his mouth was actually open. A moment later he fully processed the meaning of Cozart’s words, and got up quickly to grab Cozart’s shirt.

But the other man easily evaded his antics, and took a step back. He looked at the ground; his face hidden by his bangs.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered in a hoarse voice, and then he left.

Giotto was still sitting on his bed.

“That’s right Cozart- just take it all with you… Take everything that we had away, you selfish bastard…” He whispered. His hands were clutching his sheets as if holding onto a lifeline, rendering his knuckles a ghostly white.

Giotto knew that Cozart was serious this time.


After that day, he didn’t hear anything from Cozart in two years. His friends didn’t tell him anything about his old best friend because they wanted to avoid his temper which flared up every time Cozart was mentioned.

Perhaps they just knew nothing at all.

However, G always sent him a concerned look when he looked at the photo of Cozart and him on his desk. He never had it in him to remove it, but it was dusty because it remained untouched since Cozart had left. On the only picture that he had kept, the both of them looked happy; Giotto with a small smile and Cozart with a grin, while holding a bag of money in his hand. Giotto was looking at Cozart from the corner of his eyes.

And although G always immediately tried to conceal his concern because he knew that his boss did not appreciate it, Giotto still noticed. He never said anything about it.

Day after day he had tried to analyze the unfortunate night. However, he always had the feeling that he missed something. Something he said or did must have set Cozart off. He couldn’t figure out what it was.

Giotto sighed. The sun was already setting, and it gave the room an orange hue. He was still sitting hunched over his paperwork, when G burst into the door.

“Boss, I have news from Cozart Simon!” he declared, and Giotto tried to stay calm.

“I see,” He said in what he hoped to be a nonchalant voice; he hoped to keep the interest from his voice. For two years he had acted as if his former best friend had died, and no one had questioned him.

“Today is his wedding.”

Giotto was shocked. That he was still so sad about Cozart, while the other had gotten himself a wife…

“I see. Thank you.” He gritted out, and G knew that that was his cue to leave. He nodded, and threw one last glance at his boss.

The clock on his desk was ticking away, completely unfazed by the inner turmoil of its owner. Giotto was so agitated by the noise that he threw it against the wall.

The utter silence made him think clearly. He would pay Cozart a visit. He spent the whole night pondering over his relationship, his friendship, and everything else he had had with Cozart. Somehow he still found it unreal that he suffered greatly over their liaison while Cozart got married; found himself a wife with whom he would settle down. Cozart never struck him as a person who wanted to settle down so early.

He arrived at Cozart’s house in the evening. Through G he was also provided with the new address of Cozart. His house was not small, but it looked inviting rather than intimidating. His garden was full of flowers. That was probably his wife’s doing, Giotto thought bitterly.

He knocked on the door, and waited for a moment. Then the door was opening. Giotto saw Cozart, and he was assaulted once again by all the feelings he thought he had already buried. He felt nauseous, and supported himself on the doorframe, one hand on his forehead.

Then he saw Cozart’s face. He looked pained, and perhaps he was contemplating how he should greet Giotto, and whether he should invite him inside.

That decision was taken from him.

“Cozart, who is it?” Giotto heard a smooth voice, and he cringed. That had to be his wife. When she stood beside Cozart, he could see her properly. She was taller than Cozart, and had almost black hair which was tied back in a ponytail. It was quite unlike the usual hairstyle women had in their time. She had a stern look on her face.

Giotto couldn’t believe that Cozart deemed her better than him.

“Oh, you must be a friend. Why don’t you come in?” She then said in understanding, when she lay eyes on Giotto, and motioned for him to get inside. He brushed past Cozart who still stood there.

She let him sit down at the table in the kitchen, and prepared tea for them. Then Cozart finally walked into the room, and sat down. He put his hands on the table and it looked vaguely like he was getting ready for a prayer. He didn’t look at Giotto.

“Congratulations. I heard that you got married last week.” Giotto smiled. Although he knew that it looked clearly insincere, he didn’t care. Neither Cozart nor his wife answered. Whether it was because they got married earlier, or heard the tone of his voice, Giotto wasn’t sure.

Then Cozart’s wife served them tea. She smiled at them, and excused herself. She said that she would spend the evening at her friend’s house.

Cozart just nodded absentmindedly, and Giotto tried to force a smile on his face. She didn’t seem to notice that he didn’t mean it, and nodded at him. When he heard the door shut, he stood up.

Cozart also stood up, and they were looking at each other like two predators fighting for a prey. Suddenly Giotto grabbed Cozart by the hair and kissed him, and they kissed each other across the table.

Giotto didn’t remember how, but they somehow ended up in a bedroom. They got rid of each other’s clothes, a few buttons popping, but they didn’t care. The time they had spent apart had been too long.

When Giotto woke up the next morning, he couldn’t recognize where he was. He looked around confused, until he laid eyes on the red-haired figure sleeping soundly next to him. He smiled softly, and caressed the other’s hair gently. He really missed the feeling of Cozart’s hair between his hands, and it had been a very long time.

Slowly, Cozart stirred. He opened his eyes, and looked at Giotto. First he smiled contently, but then he seemed to realize the situation. He sat up quickly, shaking off Giotto’s hand.

“Giotto- You can’t stay! My wife…” He said frantically.

“You don’t seem to be so intimate.” Giotto retorted in a slightly sarcastic way, but with a hint of triumph in his voice.

Then he sighed.

“I understand Cozart. It’s okay. I will just find someone else. I wish nothing but the best for you and your wife. I guess sometimes the love lasts, and sometimes it doesn’t. I was unlucky. But you will always be my friend. Don’t forget me.” With those words, he got himself dressed.

Cozart looked at him, as if he wanted to say something. His eyebrows were furrowed, and maybe it was important, but Giotto left. He couldn’t stay in the presence of his beloved who was betrothed to another anymore.

With a lump in his throat he made his way through the garden. By chance he laid eyes on a small beet of roses hidden behind a tree, looking desolate from the lack of sunlight. Giotto thought they greatly resembled his situation. He was the rose, growing on nourishing earth but deemed to wither eventually, overshadowed by the tree which blocked the sunlight. Was the tree Cozart’s wife? Or the whole society who was against their relationship?

Giotto still remembered the passionate nights the two spent with each other on the bed he was sleeping now. He traced the empty spot beside him with his left hand because he always slept on the right side. The left was reserved for Cozart, and it would always be. Well, until he got himself a new bed.

But after his visit, he finally felt a sense of closure. He no longer bore any grudge towards Cozart, and although the other man would always have a piece of his heart, he was okay. He wished his friend well with his new wife.

Anyway it would be him missing out, with Giotto experiencing all the new adventures the bigger the Vongola got, and the more time he spent with his friends, now that he was no longer gloomy because of Cozart. It was what he tried to tell himself.

Nonetheless, he kept contact with Cozart. They never saw each other anymore, but Giotto sent him letters, many letters which not all received a response.

Giotto kept on writing.

He was okay as long as he knew that his beloved was somewhere out there in the world, happy, and maybe with a fat child or two.

His hand traced the place Cozart used to sleep in. He closed his eyes, and it was almost as if he could feel the subtle touch of Cozart on his cheek. With a content smile on his face, he fell asleep.
 

End ~
Next will be the story from Cozart's perspective

 


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omg that's soooo nice of you <3 I didn't expect any reply hihi ^-^
yeah I know, I think he is a quiet person, too but I just had this list of songs that I wanted to include xD I could write one from Cozart's POV too ^^

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