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No one shall ever know my name!
No—yet I will whisper it to your lips,
When the sun is shining…
And—
“My name’s Dante. What about you?”
That was the first time I managed to say it—when we met for the third time.
The first time was when I was ditching the monastery like usual and wandering through town, and one of the kids he was with crashed straight into me. He apologized for the kid being distracted and asked if I was hurt. I told him it was fine and joked that he had quite the big family. He burst out laughing, and for some reason, that smile stuck with me. That was about ten days ago.
The second time I saw him was last Saturday. I’d gotten into a fistfight and was being punished by making me clean around the monastery. I noticed him walking by with a paper bag—probably on his way back from shopping—and without thinking, I stopped sweeping.
He remembered me too. Seeing me clearly stuck on punishment duty, he laughed again, amused as ever. I was embarrassed, and the old man was watching, so we didn’t talk. But I decided then that if I saw him again, I’d ask his name.
And then today.
After lights-out, on a whim, I slipped out of the dorms and walked back to where we’d first met, carrying a tiny bit of hope.
I figured there was no way—but about ten minutes in, I turned a corner and ran straight into him, looking tired.
“Oh—hey. You’re…”
“Y—yeah. What a coincidence.”
He rubbed his forehead under the flickering streetlight, eyes wide.
Is this what they call divine guidance?
Reuniting with him was strangely easy.
“Dante, huh. Nice to meet you. As for me…”
He tilted his head. “Hmm. Secret.”
“What? Why?”
The complaint slipped out before I could stop it. I winced inside—great, now I probably sounded like a kid. But I’d worked up the nerve to ask, okay? It was fair to be a little annoyed.
We were sitting side by side on the only bench in a tiny, run-down park wedged between buildings—barely more than an empty lot. I leaned over to look at him.
With only the faint glow spilling in from the main road and the hazy moonlight, it was hard to tell his age. Under the streetlamp earlier, I’d thought he was about my age, but maybe he was a little older.
“It’s not a very impressive name,” he said. “And you know, you’re not supposed to tell strangers your name.”
“I’m not a demon.”
“Huh? I mean… not a demon, exactly, but, you know. Strangers can be dangerous.”
Oh. That kind of thing.
I screwed up. And of course, he giggled again.
“Funny how ‘demon’ comes to mind before ‘suspicious guy.’ Figures for a trainee priest.”
“Shut up! That’s not the point. What’s your name?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“Just because. If you want to know that badly, why don’t you guess?”
“Fine! I’ll guess it.”
“Ooh, confident.”
Showing him how careless I’d been was embarrassing enough to light a fire under my competitive streak. Around here, names were usually saints, angels, or people from the Bible anyway. If I just kept listing them, I’d hit it eventually.
I looked straight at him—smiling vaguely as ever—and said the first name.
“Wrong.”
“Damn it! How many is that now?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Any close ones?”
“Not really.”
“Ugh—seriously? I’ve said all the common ones. Wait, maybe it’s not an Italian name?”
“It is.”
“Which is it?”
“It is an Italian name.”
His calm expression only made it worse. I was the only one getting worked up.
Watching him blink from the side, I almost felt like I could hear his eyelashes brushing together.
Then his eyes turned toward me.
“Hey… why’d you go quiet all of a sudden? Don’t stare like that. That’s kinda creepy.”
I snapped back.
“S—sorry. I was spacing out.”
“It’s fine. But aren’t you getting tired? It’s been a while.”
“I’m not tired, but… yeah.”
The busy district had gone completely quiet. The early birds had gone home; the night owls were holed up inside. The eastern sky even looked a little pale.
“You should head back,” he said. “You snuck out, right? You’ll get caught.”
“I do it all the time. I’m fine. What about you? Your parents?”
“…They’re not around today.”
“I see. Still, staying out’s not great. I’ll walk you home—and I’ll guess your name on the way.”
“Alright.”
We walked together through the slowly waking city. Every name I managed to come up with was wrong. One by one, the stars faded. A mail carrier’s bike passed us by.
He was just a little taller than me. I noticed how slender his neck was and looked away.
“That’s my place,” he said. “Mind talking outside? The kids are probably still asleep.”
“Yeah. And I will guess your name.”
He smiled, troubled again.
“Then let’s say this,” he said. “If you guess it before morning—before one of the kids wakes up and calls me—you win.”
“Deal.”
“But if you don’t…”
He hesitated.
“Then go out with me.”
I froze.
He laughed, clearly enjoying himself.
“It’s more fun when there’s something at stake, right?”
His cheeks were faintly red. His gaze dropped.
It hit me a beat later.
Did he just say he wants to date me?
My blood rushed so hard I could hear it pounding behind my ears. We’d barely known each other. I didn’t even know his name. And yet, an absurd, giddy feeling bubbled up inside me.
Then I realized something.
“Wait—if I win, doesn’t that mean we don’t go out?”
“Hm?”
The way he tilted his head—still smiling—made my face burn.
“N—never mind! I’ll think about it when I win! Let’s just do this!”
“Ah… okay. Good luck.”
I kept throwing out names—nonsense by the end, just sounds strung together.
“Wrong. Wrong.”
Somehow, it was fun.
Then the eastern sky fully brightened. The sun peeked through the trees.
A shack door opened, and a kid—maybe four years old—stepped out, rubbing his eyes.
“Mmm… morning. Big brother. Is that your friend?”
“Morning. Yeah. You’re up early.”
“Uh-huh. I’m gonna use the bathroom.”
“Can you go by yourself?”
“Yeah!”
“Good job. Wash your face too.”
I lost. I noticed it.
Which meant—
He turned back toward me.
“Actually,” he said, “I don’t have a name.”
“…Huh?”
“I use one when I need to. For adults. But I’m undocumented.”
He smiled gently.
“That was unfair. So let’s forget the dating part.”
At that moment, sunlight flooded in behind him. The clouds drifted away, and the morning sun revealed itself fully.
I squinted. His face was lost in the glare—but I saw the fine hairs along his skin tremble.
Before I knew it, I’d grabbed his narrow shoulders.
“I’ll do it.”
“…What?”
“I’ll give you one. A name. So I win.”
“Give me a name—”
“And if I win, you go out with me!”
He sucked in a breath.
I didn’t wait. I leaned in and whispered a short sound into his ear.
The kid came running back, and he pulled away as the child hugged him.
“Hey,” he said cheerfully, “wanna hear something special for waking up early?”
“What? What?”
“My name.”
“Really? I wanna know!”
“Come here.”
Watching him whisper into the child’s ear, I realized—that man is my boyfriend now—and without thinking, I grabbed at my own chest.
No one shall ever know my name!
No—yet I will whisper it to your lips,
When the sun is shining,
And my kiss shall break that silence,
And you shall be mine.
(from the aria “Nessun dorma”)