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Geno knew he should knock, but half the time Sidney was off hiding somewhere anyway. There was a reason Geno had a key and he was not ashamed to use it. He worried about Sidney all the time, alone and still hurting from his concussion. Someone stopped by every day, just to check in. Mostly Mario or Nathalie but Geno tried to whenever he was in town.
Today he had food with him, two big bags of groceries and two containers of borscht from the Russian restaurant across town that both he and Sidney liked. The cooking wasn’t quite as good as his mother’s, but Geno wasn’t going to tell them that.
“Hey Sid,” Geno called as he came in, shutting the door behind him. “I bring dinner and groceries.”
There was music playing in the den and Geno heard scrambling then a frightening crash and Sidney cursing. He dropped the bags and ran across the living room, his heart pounding in his chest. If Sidney got hurt again...
The crash was Sidney falling and Geno found him on the floor, next to his coffee table, hiding his face in his hands. There was red on his fingers and Geno grabbed at them quickly, trying to see where Sidney was hurt.
“Stop!” Sidney wrenched his hands back, covering his face again. “I’m fine. Just … go away for a moment.”
“Sid, you bleeding,” Geno grabbed at his hands again, his nose wrinkling at the smell. He paused. “Is … is nail polish?”
“Yes,” Sidney said, still trying to hide his face as he moved away from Geno. “Just hand me a paper towel.”
Geno frowned, but reached for a roll of paper towels sitting next to an upended bottle of red polish which he righted. He ripped off a few and then started to wipe at Sidney’s fingers for him. “You have polish remover?”
“Upstairs,” Sidney muttered. “I can do it myself.”
“You hit head?” asked Geno. He didn’t stop scrubbing at Sidney’s fingers and he felt Sidney’s hand relax a little.
“No. Just injured my dignity.”
Geno looked up at him, his eyes widening. He reached up a finger to touch Sidney’s bright red lips, Sidney pulling away before he could. “You wearing lipstick?”
“Geno, just go.” Sidney slumped, pulling his knees up and burying his face against them. “I can’t do this.”
“What you have to do?” asked Geno, sitting back. “I go get polish remover. Paint toes for you. Fingers too if you want.”
Sidney lifted his head to look at Geno. His eyes were rimmed with liner and Geno swore he was wearing mascara and maybe even some blush.
“Look pretty, Sid.”
“You’re not … you don’t think it’s weird?” asked Sidney softly.
“I friends with Ovi. Nothing you do is weird compared to him,” Geno promised. “Where you keep polish remover?”
“I’ll get it,” Sidney said, standing up. “You’ll do my fingernails? I can only do one hand nice.”
“No do flowers like you do on your toes,” Geno said, gesturing at Sidney’s toes. “Not that good.”
Sidney was bright red now, his toes curling into the carpet. “I don’t do this all the time,” he gestured at his face. “I saw Nathalie this morning so I didn’t think anyone else was coming over.”
“Sid,” Geno said patiently. “Is fine. Not first time I’ve seen boy in makeup. Or painted hockey player’s nails.”
“Ovechkin?”
“Ovi on both. He not a pretty woman.”
“Neither am I,” Sidney mumbled before hurrying from the room.
Geno frowned as he watched him go, pondering that comment before getting up to rescue the groceries. He quickly put them away, setting the borscht on the counter for later. He filled a small bowl with warm water and grabbed a washcloth before heading back into the den.
Sidney was back, fiddling with the bottle of polish remover and a few bottles of nail polish. “No red then?”
Sidney looked over at him, his face bare now. Geno was a little disappointed to see that. Something seemed to have dimmed in Sidney’s eyes.
“No. There’s a few I wanted to try out. If you don’t mind.”
“Nope,” Geno said, sitting next to him and taking Sidney’s hand. “Put other hand in bowl while I clean fingers.”
Sidney listened to him, draping his other hand in the bowl as Geno scrubbed the polish over his fingers. “Don’t tell anyone. Please.”
Geno squeezed his hand. “Nothing to tell.”
Sidney shut his eyes tightly and Geno completely ignored the fact Sidney was taking hitching breaths. Mood swings were part of concussions and this wasn’t the first time Sidney had cried around him.
Geno gently moved Sidney’s now clean hand to the bowl and started on the next one. He hummed softly along to the music until Sidney was done crying.
“Nails first?”
Sidney pushed one of the polishes towards him without answering. Geno shook the bottle up before opening the lid and carefully applying polish to Sidney’s thumb nail. He kept humming as Sidney started to cry again.
Geno wasn’t stupid. A language barrier didn’t keep him from understanding there was more going on here. But he also wasn’t going to push Sidney. If Sidney wanted to tell him, he would. For now, Geno would paint his nails and feed him borscht.